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almostempty · 2 months ago

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he knows (lucien x f!reader)

(lucien x f!reader) | wc: 3.2k | other fics | pic from here

UH HEY! I’m just gonna drop this here and scurry away to finish the other lucien one shot that i also started today, ….and then i’ll return to finishing divorced dad rock joel, and responding to all of the lovely people on here–but, like, i really just need this guy in the most emotionally unavailable and fuckable way, i hope one of y'all gets me

tags/warnings/thots: 18+/explicit, smut, toxic ex/fuckboy lucien, sex instead of communicating or processing emotions, angst but we fuckin’ and that’s the whole plot, we hit raw in my fics bc of my imaginary latex aversion or something, crying, biting, dom lucien vibes (? i never know when that’s the right tag), big dash of pls sexy man fuck the feelings away, tell me if there’s something i should add

– no editing, no thinking, wrote this in a fever dream while staring at one of the new gifs all afternoon, idk his character! I haven’t watched anything! i just saw the chains and the face and let the horny devil in charge of my sole brain cell take the lead, aka he's my barbie, i was trying to challenge myself to just do something short like 1k- but, uhhhh it’s only 3!

seeking feedback though (as always) so i can improve!! tell me all ur thots pls!

“I know,” Lucien argues, “but I never meant to hurt you.”

“I don’t care anymore.” You speak plainly. Small and quiet. Without conviction. Apathetic. Honest.

“Anymore?”

“Baby, please.” He looks at you with those stupid round eyes. He’s effortlessly put together like the wrinkles in his silk shirt were approved by a team of stylists to give him a hint of carelessness. Your incessant attraction to an emotionally unavailable man, it pulls you toward him like a bitter fate. Your therapist, Angie, says you need to learn how to find healthy attachment attractive, but if you shudder with disgust at the thought then what’s the point?

“Just listen to me,” he continues, talking in circles. Apologizing without taking accountability. Explaining away everything. His behaviors, words, decisions. Apparently, he floats through life at the whim of others. Like one of those ugly deep sea creatures, he tempts you like a glowing lure in the dark. Your eyes glaze over, everything shifting out of focus as you dissociate in your living room. No matter how numb you are, he calls to you.

You aren’t listening to the words. They don’t matter. It doesn’t matter if his tone is sincere or if it’s thick with flattery and empty promises. It’s more basic than that. Simple. The timbre of his voice. Unique to him. Imprinted in the chambers of your heart. A sharp ache spears through you, and something cracks. A fat, hot, tear escapes. With your shoulders drooping, staring at the ground, the tear falls, splashing on the floor.

When you look up, meeting his eyes, it’s over. Lucien pulls you close, wrapping his heavy arms around your frame, bracing for the crescendo, keeping you steady. Tears stream endlessly, flooding down your cheeks, sticking to your face and his neck as you bury your face into his warm skin. He’s still trying to placate you, speaking nonsense, thinking he can comfort you. Thinking he knows why you’re upset. Thinking he understands you.

When your therapist asked you to define love you had described it as being understood. Being seen. Being known. Being considered and prioritized.

Lucien thinks he knows you. Thinks he understands you. Does he think he loves you?

Following this line of thought hurts. Splitting you open, a raw beating heart, glistening, thumping, full of life, or a meal fresh and hot for a carnivore to tear into with its sharp fangs. Plump muscle, rich and dark, bleeding out, helpless. Snapping back into reality you shake, a violent sob racking your diaphragm as the pads of his fingers massage the back of your neck. Soothing. Coaxing.

You want it sharper. Rough. Violent. Distracting. Painful. Anything. With wet lashes, swollen eyes, and ragged breath you become fixated. Licking the salty tears from the dip where his neck meets his shoulder, you can feel his muscles and tendons beneath the flesh. So human and alive. He strokes his hand down your spine, attempting to pacify you, but it sparks something lurid and ravenous, instead.

You graze your teeth along his neck. “What are you doing?” he mutters the question over the top of your head. Maybe he does know you. “What do you need?” He growls, lowly, the hand he traces your spine with trails lower this time. He’s gluttonous and torrid. A hair-trigger to shift from his concern for your pain and the hole in your heart to a sordid desire to mollify you with his fingers and his cock.

Maybe it’s a perversion, the tangled experience of despair and desire, the duet of anger and arousal, the sick escape using sex to skip over the emotional suffering. But it’s exactly what you want. It’s the root of the fucked up toxicity. Of everything wrong between you. He does know. He does understand. The same heat that flickers in your core sparks in his.

Voracious and brash. You bite down, sinking your teeth into his neck, igniting a wildfire. An untamable beast. Again and again and again. Biting, sucking, kissing. His skin tender and raw, your lips wet and swollen. You run a hand along the back of his neck, tugging into his hair, anchoring your grip, and pulling a husky groan from his throat.

“What do you need?” Lucien repeats, this time with a sharper edge. He detaches you from the safety of the crook of his neck. His two hands. Unnecessarily large, warm, and steady brace either side of your jaw, his fingers wrapping behind your neck. He holds you in front of his face. Vulnerable. Messy. Heat radiates from your cheeks. You release a shaky breath.

“Don’t make me say it.” It’s a whisper. Pleading and demanding at the same time.

The cocky smirk that spreads on his face is sickening. It makes you want to slap him, to hear the crack of your palm against his cheek. It makes you want to surrender. Soft and pliable, ready to please and earn praise. It makes you want to scream. To bite him so hard you draw blood. To fuck him until he can’t talk.

You tell him all of it. Exactly what you need, what you want, what you refuse to say. You tell him all through your kiss. The hunger in your lips as you press them to his, the violence on your tongue, the desperate and vulnerable need to be cared for in the soft moans that rise from your chest, from your heart, from the blood in your veins. He chases all of it. The punishment and pleasure.

He backs you into the kitchen, caging you against the counter like a scene from a movie. Impervious to whatever protest you make as he clears space, blindly sweeping his arm over the counter before lifting you onto it. The edge of the counter digs into your soft thighs, but it doesn’t matter. You’re ready to drown in the vanilla musk and bourbon-spiced scent of him. The bass in his voice that makes your eyes fall shut and your head tip back against the cupboard behind you. The bruising pressure of his grip that he knows you crave.

“Baby,” he croons. His words are soft and gentle. As if he propped you on the counter to tend to your wounds. But his hands show no mercy. Roughly ridding you of your clothes. Dropping them into a pile on the floor. He’s ruthless with you. In ways you can’t be with yourself. In ways other lovers could never master. Harsh without being cruel. Deliberate without a plan.

He lets you tug his shirt over his head. Skin to skin the intensity is primal. “Fuck,” is all you can manage to say. The heat is overwhelming, prickling your nerves and sharpening every sensation. Lucien toys with you like it’s his favorite game. Alternating.

First, palming reverently at the flesh, sweeping his tongue over your hard nipples, and teasing the wet skin with his hot breath.

You let him make the decisions. Take the lead. You’re done arguing, done thinking, done with the guilt of letting him in the door, done with acting like you’re any better than him. You brace yourself, one palm flat on the counter, the other resting on his shoulder. Taking whatever he gives.

He switches up. Everything becomes pointed and precise. He sucks marks into your skin on the underside of your breasts. He pinches and flicks the pert bud of your straining nipples. The contact of his fingers, tongue, and teeth sends white-hot jolts of electricity straight to your cunt. He bites down hard enough to make you choke on a moan. Your whine fills the room, twisted with pain and pleasure.

“You poor thing,” he purrs. Your face is still wet from your tears. But now they’re tears of frustration. “Just a mess.” You reach for his belt, impatient, but he stops you. He’s not done looking. He lifts one of your legs, propping your foot onto the counter and posing you obscenely in front of him. His gaze makes your pussy throb.

He’s torn.

Studying your face. Everything unsaid in your eyes. The anguish and rage. The acerbic disdain. The nearly imperceptible longing.

Admiring your sex, spread open for him. Shining with your arousal. Swollen, slick lips so sensitive for him. Your core, fluttering with anticipation, achingly empty without him.

He holds your chin between his thumb and curled forefinger. His eyes swirl with lust and something you can’t quite place. “You have no idea,” he rasps. “No idea how much it fucking kills me to see you like this. And knowing I’m the reason why.”

You don’t know if he means it breaks his heart to see the way you suffer or if he means the sight of you dripping on the counter has him so hard it hurts. You don’t know which you’d believe anyway. He’s not hard up to find someone else to torment or to fuck. That thought makes your throat dry.

“I can’t stay away from you,” he traces his fingers down your soft inner thigh, closer and closer to where you need him. “How could I?” You tip your head to the side, your limbs and head feel heavy, drunk on a cocktail of everything you love and hate about him all at once.

“Then don’t.”

Your reply makes him smile again. He’s so handsome when he smiles it’s infuriating. “You could scream at me, kick me out, hate me–but you still let me touch you, you need me to touch you. Why do I love that so much?”

“You like feeling important.” You let your snarky comment out without thinking. His question was definitely rhetorical. A few emotions flicker across his face before, a dark little smirk curls the corner of his mouth.

He feeds off of your challenge. “There she is.”

“I never left,” you snap, frustration spilling over. He laughs, loose and easy.

“Listen to me,” Lucien says, low and velvety. Subduing you with the tension and proximity. “I know. You want me to use you. Like you’re my toy. Until you can’t keep those beautiful eyes open.”

“Yes.”

“I know.” He echoes. Then he closes the gap, kissing you with affection. Holding himself back, but you aren’t reserved. You’re greedy; you want it harder. He just said he’d ruin you, why is he being so gentle? He pulls back with something sincere in his eyes. A whimper falls from your lips, pouty and baffled.

“Gonna fuck you like I’m trying to ruin you, baby.”

You narrow your eyes at him. Sometime soon, hopefully? You don’t snap again, answering with another yes.

He leans in, breath fanning hot over your ear. “But, we both know that tonight you’re the one using me. Ruining me. I’m your toy.”

Your breath hitches at that. You mouth I know in response, not even able to whisper it. He doesn’t need to hear you say it. He nips your ear lobe and you loose a surprised cry before gasping out his name.

He’s swift now. Purposeful. Undoing his belt, shoving his pants down and revealing his cock. Reflexively your hips tense and shift. Just looking makes you salivate. He runs his thumb over the bead of precome, drawing it along his length.

He knows how you want it. His fingers can coax you to an orgasm in no time, but you don’t want that. You want the resistance, the stretch, the dull ache, and intensity as your muscles work to let him in deeper. Nobody makes you feel the way he does. Full. Complete. Mindless.

It could be pornographic, vulgar, raunchy. The way he pushes your inner thigh further open with one hand while he uses the other to languidly stroke himself. The way he grips himself so tightly like he’s punishing himself. The way his jaw hangs slack and he mutters under his breath about how badly you need him.

To you, however, it’s a profound admission. A candid confession. The more he goads you the more it solidifies that he’s the one that needs you. That it flows so easily from him because he’s really talking about himself.

“You say you don’t care anymore, but look at you now, baby.” He shifts closer, at counter height you’re aligned perfectly. He glides the head of his cock up and down the folds of your soaked cunt. You shudder and moan, mesmerized by the sight.

“It’s almost sad how much you need me, like you can’t breathe without this,” he keeps talking.

He demands that you watch, as if there was a chance you could stop, as he lines up and sinks into you. You groan in unison. You’re so tight, he draws back out. Repeating the same motion, feeding his cock into you deeper and deeper each time. Your hot, plush walls pulse around him, adjusting. When he finally meets the end of you, he hums, pleased. “You feel that?”

You bob your head, nodding, agreeing. “Yes.” Your voice is breathy. “Perfect.” You grind against him as if you could take him any deeper, begging him to move with your needy display. It’s wholly overwhelming as is, every nerve within you alight as his cock kicks within you, tensing with the same craving to move.

He takes your hand in his, nestling your fingers around him. Somehow he feels even larger than he looks, like he shouldn’t be able to fit inside of you, but here you are feeling it and seeing it for yourself. Slowly, Lucien tilts his hips, almost pulling out of you completely before plunging in with force. He keeps up the tantalizing pace, guiding you to touch yourself. He watches your fingers with rapt attention, bracing a hand on your hip to keep you in place as he drives into you with another snap of his hips that edges you closer.

He gradually speeds up, a master at tempering his desire. Your hip flexor aches as you hold yourself in place but it doesn’t matter. You find your rhythm as he holds steady at a pace that has him landing brutal thrusts that force the words out of your lungs. Soft oh’s and fuck’s pour out of you, under your breath, adding fuel to the fire blazing between you.

Lucien savors your chanting and the image of you fixed in place, taking him eagerly. Your fingers move with urgency, chasing the release that looms closer and closer. Your mind is blissfully blank, reduced to something animalistic, removed from the burden of your history. “Don’t stop,” you plead, “I’m so close.”

He doesn’t stop. He fucks you at the same pace, all the way through it. As you contract around him, when everything pulls taut and snaps within you, crying out his name, when it’s too sensitive and you whip your hand away, and as you shudder and breathe deeper and deeper. As the ache in your legs from being spread wide open returns and your ass feels numb where the edge of the counter digs into your flesh. Another tear spills from the corner of your eye, but you can’t say what it’s from anymore.

When you fidget, he stops moving, letting you readjust. A sheen of sweat glistens all over your chest and you’re suddenly acutely aware of how loud the slick noises between you are. How easy it is to get lost in Lucien's hot and heavy magnetism. You know you were falling apart before he propped you up on the counter, but you’re sure you’re a complete wreck now.

Lucien pulls out but then leans against you, pinning the length of his cock between you, hot, slick, and messy against your sweat-damp skin. He floods your senses, all you can see, hear, and smell. Caging you in his hand find a possessive hold on you, one wrapped around the back of your neck, one wrapped tight around your thigh as you hitch it around his hip.

“You feel good?” he asks. You hum in agreement. You do feel good. You know he’s not done yet, and smile wide, still hungry for more. “How good?” he asks and you know there’s something coming next.

“So good.” You trail a hand between you, drawing a line down his chest and back up to cradle his cheek in your palm. Something about the prickle of his facial hair along your palm feels so natural, domestic, and sweet. You’re tempted to kiss his cheek, nuzzle against his ear, and ask him to take you to bed. But you can’t. You’ll never have that. Instead, you bait him. “I think you’re holding back though, I know you can fuck me harder than that.”

He scoffs, unamused, blowing a hot puff of air between you. His fingers dig deeper into your thigh, applying the kind of pressure that stirs arousal low in your belly.

The dark glint in his eye gives you butterflies. “I will, Baby,” his rumbling voice is innately sensual, but the condescension in his tone makes you tingly. You’re so close to him that you can feel his heart beating in his chest, you can feel the same pulse thrumming in his cock, still flush against you as he slants his lower half along yours. He’s all things heavy and firm, strong and sculpted, yet fitting so naturally against you. You need more, wriggling and squirming against him, you can’t contain the restlessness.

“You know,” he says slowly, drawing your eyes back to his. “You can keep trying to move on, but no one else will ever know you like this. No one else will ever ruin you the way I do. You can tell me you don’t care anymore, but you’ll never let anyone else in the way you let me. They won’t touch that part of you, the one that’s mine—because it’ll always be mine.”

It trickles through you slowly until your blood feels like it’s boiling. They’re tears of anger now. It’s like a sick double entendre.

“I know,” your words are steeped in every emotion cascading through you.

You don’t know if it’s worse that he’s right. That there’s a Lucien-shaped mark imprinted on your heart that will never fade. Or if it’s worse that he doesn’t even know it applies to him just the same. That he always comes back because he’s trying to fill the same void.

Maybe he does know. Maybe he does know and this is all he can do to make it up to you.

Maybe that’s why he leads you to your bedroom and lives up to his word.

Why he fucks you so hard you see stars. Why he doesn’t stop even after he comes deep inside of you with a possessive always gonna be mine. Why he litters your skin with more false promises and confessions. Why he gives you so many orgasms you lose track.

Maybe that’s why he’s still there when the sun starts to peek through your window. Why he fucks you slowly when you’re too tender and exhausted to take him any harder until you’re floating in limbo between a dream and reality. Why he stays there, just cradling your back into his chest and listening to the rhythm of your breath.

Maybe he does know.

PLEASE COME YELL WITH ME ABOUT THIS FICTIONAL GUY BC I NEED HIM IN A SUPER NORMAL WAY or tell me if my writing was incoherent or if you can't relate to the toxic ex that is still the best fuck of your life (cruel and twisted fr)

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

tags for the babes that let me annoy them with my thots <3

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy @indiegirlunited @syd-djarin

#lucien de leon x f!reader #pedro pascal character smut #lucien de leon x reader #lucien de leon x you #pedro pascal #ppcu fanfic #pwp fic #the uninvited #lucien flores #but not #lucien x f!reader

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thugbiscuits · 1 month ago

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— november fic recs. 18+ only

please note: none of these fan fictions were written by me. when you read please make sure to like, comment, and reblog. IT MAKES ALL THE DIFFERENCE. minors / ageless blogs will be blocked.

psst… hey cuties! i hope you all had a wonderful thanksgiving, or had time to spend with those you love. my month was.. meh, but the fics don’t stop. make sure to send some love to your fav writers during this season <3

joel miller fics .

୨୧ rewind (joel miller x reader, fluff) @hotgirlbedtimescenarios

୨୧ boop me once… (joel miller x f!reader, smut) @sp00kymulderr

୨୧ the older one (joel miller x f!reader, smut) @frannyzooey

୨୧ handyman (joel miller x f!reader) @mrsmando

୨୧ moonlight (joel miller x reader, smut) @pedgito

୨୧ feelings are a lot of work (joel miller x f!reader, smut) @iamasaddie

୨୧ stiff (old man!joel miller x reader, smut) @gutsby

logan howlett fics .

୨୧ watersports (wolverine x reader, smut) @plutodexay-nsfw

୨୧ need you close; (logan howlett x reader, fluff) @wadewnstonwilson

୨୧ how i look on you (logan howlett x reader, smut) @retrosabers

୨୧ anything for love (but i won’t do that) (logan howlett x reader, fluff) @meetmypointlessaddiction

୨୧ guard dog (logan howlett x reader, smut) @bpmiranda

୨୧ babe, im gonna leave you (logan howlett x reader, fluff) @gothgoblinbabe

୨୧ something happens and im head over heels (logan howlett x reader, smut) @logaenhowlett

୨୧ pornstar!logan fucking you dumb (pornstar!logan howlett x f!reader) @honey-on-your-tongue

୨୧ “i think you already know that” (logan howlett x f!reader, fluff, angst, smut) @yxtkiwiyxt

wade wilson fics .

୨୧ birds of a feather (dark!wade wilson x reader) @cvrnelians

୨୧ wade wilson boyfriend headcanons (fluff, smut) @soaked4mk

୨୧ a sight to behold (wade wilson x f!reader x logan howlett, smut) @macabrebatz

bucky barnes fics .

୨୧ my neighbor is a pornstar (series) (bucky barnes x f!reader) @brunchable

୨୧ imperfect for you (bucky barnes x reader, fluff, smut) @tojigasm

mouthwashing fics .

୨୧ curly headcanons (fluff) @izumizumii

୨୧ the crew's reactions to walking in on reader touching themselves (tulpar crew x reader, smut) @ridingtorohan

୨୧ sweet as you (curly x reader, fluff) @satori-runa

୨୧ NSFW curly headcanons (smut) @curly-my-beloved

୨୧ habits (curly x reader, smut) @grimmsbride

divider/mdni creds to @adornedwithlight <3 / header by me :)

lovey’s note: if y’all wanna come to my ask box and send thots and ramblings about any of these characters PLS DO. my lizard brain is running on these men

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #wade wilson x you #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson smut #mouthwashing curly #captain curly x reader #thugbiscuit’s fic recs

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ghoulphile · 8 months ago

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janey's dad | part two teaser

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 482 ➥ overall warning(s) | 🔞 smut; age gap, hair pulling, teasing, making out, mutual pining, squirting, choking, riding, dirty talk, lipstick kink, stockings, frottage, porn w/ feelings, porn w/ plot, mild angst w/ happy ending, divorced!coop, babysitter!reader, pre-war/bomb ➥ summary | “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --” ➥ notes | ok i don't know if it's the sleep deprivation or if i'm getting too in my head/have stared at this too long but i am begging y'all to help me 😭are we fuckin with this or?? 🫠 send helppp. i'm still working on this rn but i'm going crazy atm

feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | masterlist

Then broad palms slip beneath the hem.

Blunt nails snag on nylon, and calloused fingers dance along the silky skin of your thighs. At the whisper soft rasp of fabric as Cooper’s wrist rucks up your dress, your nerves tremble with white static.

And when he traces the strap of your garter, his thumb tucking beneath the elastic to stroke over an angry indent, you tremble.

“Think it’s about time you take these off, pretty girl,” a teasing forefinger brushes over the front of your panties, “don’t you?”

You comply without a thought, pulse thudding and mind foggy with desire.

Soaked cotton dangles from your ankle only to be yanked free by Cooper. With a cheeky wink and a husky, “For later,” he deposits them into his shirt pocket for safe keeping.

Oh fuck.

You almost swallow your tongue at the thought of him using them when you’re gone. Stroking along his fat cock with a fistful of panties, cumming onto the fabric as he fantasizes about pumping you full.

“You’re evil, you know that?” you croak, swallowing hard. “Nothing but a perverted old man.” It’s a punch to the gut when he flashes a roguish smirk.

“That may be, but you still want to fuck me. What’s that say about you, sweetheart? Now --” The skirt of your sundress flutters behind you, draping down over your ass to cover his legs. “-- Show me what you want.”

Smug asshole.

Who knew he was such a goddamn tease (you should’ve)?

You sigh, looking at him from beneath the fan of your lashes. “Please.”

“Well, go on. I’m sure as shit not gonna stop you.”

With a hummingbird heart, you shift until your bare pussy hovers over the bulge of his cock. There’s no doubt you’ll stain the dark fabric of his slacks as soon as you claim your spot on his lap.

You clench at the thought of leaving a mark, using him as you please.

Something you’ve wanted for so long, and now it’s so close you can taste it. It’s hard not to get greedy. To explore all those forbidden thoughts, enact your darkest fantasies now that he’s before you, so goddamn handsome and willing to indulge.

Your hips dip.

Everything flashes, white lightning; molten heat pumping through your body with every rabbit fast thump of your heart. The line of his shaft spreads your folds, hot and hard as the rough material of his slacks sparks delicious friction against your aching clit.

Your arms anchor around his neck, your fingers burrowing into the meat of his wide shoulders as you groan in unison at the silken contact.

“I can feel how wet you are, sweetheart.” He exhales through his nose in a heavy rush, his brow crinkling as hands tighten around your waist in a bruising vice. “You’re so soft and warm. Fuck - I wanna feel you squeezing around my cock.”

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fic: janey’s dad

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britcision · 1 year ago

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GANG I AM SURE IT IS OLD NEWS BUT I HAVE BEEN DOING MATH AND LEMME TELL YOU A FUCKING THING

EXHIBIT A: MITHRUN’S TIMELINE PER THE DUNGEON GUIDE

EXHIBIT B: KABRU’S TIMELINE PER THE DUNGEON GUIDE

EXHIBIT C: MILSIRIL’S COMIC PER THE DUNGEON GUIDE

HYPOTHESIS: Milsiril was bare minimum visiting, caring for, and feeding Mithrun at points in his timeline between year 480 (trying to recover) and 500 (appointed as a captain - this is also noted to have happened immediately when he was fit for work, since they were running out of people)

In the comic, Milsiril specifically references Utaya (year 499, from Kabru’s timeline - it’s the only demon incident in Utaya), as she uses the incident with the demon in Utaya to get Mithrun to eat and get his act together

Kabru lived with Milsiril in the elven capital from year 499 to 510

Milsiril specifically dislikes and avoids other elves… now with the apparent exception of Mithrun, who she thinks she might have quite liked pre-nuking

Milsiril would not want to go to Mithrun’s family estate and deal with his entire family every time to take care of him… and they may not have been keen on her dolls or cooking

The only thing we know about Mithrun and his family is that he hated his brother, and visits him every five years (brother has extended a permanent invitation for Mithrun to visit any time pretty sure Mithrun overestimates how much his brother cared/noticed he didn’t like him)

His parents deadass aren’t mentioned except to note that he’s the bastard child, and his parents ignored his older brother. There’s an implication here that they preferred Mithrun… until they sent him to a death squad

Milsiril has a repeatedly-mentioned tendency to take in strays, usually kids of short-lived peoples, and strong nurturing instincts that may/may not be pretty dehumanizing

CONCLUSION: there is a non-zero chance that Mithrun and Kabru LIVED TOGETHER FOR A FUCKING YEAR post Utaya at Milsiril’s house and just didn’t even fucking notice

I am losing my mind

This is incredible

Mithrun deadass coulda been The Crazy Uncle In The Attic for a full fucking year

He was busy going feral and blaming himself for Utaya cuz it “could have been different” if he’d been there and recovered for the same fucking year THE LAST SURVIVOR OF UTAYA was in the next room

What kind of unhinged interactions did they have

Kabru was fucking SEVEN the state of Mithrun in that comic woulda fucking RETRAUMATIZED HIM any mention of him being a dungeon lord???? NOPE

We know from the changeling incident that Mithrun barely considered Kabru a distinct person so 0% chance he would ever put it together but KABRU

Kabru is an observant little thot and his favourite thing is making assumptions from his observations

Just a MENTION of Milsiril and Kabru shoulda been all up on that

Mithrun FULLY DID mention her as Milsiril the Gloomy when exposing his backstory and Kabru just… tossed every single name in the garbage

(Which, fair. Elves live a long time, the odds of there being only one Milsiril are 0% and she wasn’t all that gloomy with Kabru, and, frankly, he had bigger concerns named Laios Touden)

Ugh too much too many bits Otta’s comic includes them actually talking about his adoptive mom but without names they were SO CLOSE I am going insane

Fanfiction

So much fanfiction

It MUST be post Kabru/Mithrun this ship is all angst and tbh the whole “desiring someone who can’t desire” is only gonna consternate Kabru for so long so once that is done I want a slice of “WAIT A FUCKING SECOND you’re the guy in the attic???????”

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #mithrun #mithrun dungeon meshi #kabru #kabru dungeon meshi #kabru/mithrun #but also LORE #milsiril #milsiril dungeon meshi #y’all have no idea i am eating this shit up

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beefrobeefcal · 10 months ago

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Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Joel Miller & his Darlin' One Shot: A Trouble Shared is a Trouble Halved Summary: You and Joel navigate settling down in Jackson as a couple with its ups and downs. (Post Outbreak)

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 3,900

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), talk of eating, weight gain, oral (f receiving), angst, established relationship growing pains, argument

Author's Notes: Am I back? Maybe baby! I'm delighted to finally do what was asked of me in a poll and I thank you all for your love and patience.

Thanks be to @neverwheremoonchild, @strang3lov3, and @notjustjavierpena for their eyes, thots, and brains. And thank you to @noxturnalpascal for the THOT that gave life to this fic so very long ago.

“Eatin’ like it's your last day on earth, Miller...”, you teased with a wry smile as you walked past him in the dining hall.

“Shut it...”, he grumbled, a bit of pink flushing his cheeks. He took another bite of gravy-flooded mashed potatoes.

“What helping’s this? Third? Fourth?”

Joel looked at you, exasperated. “The fuck? Can't a man enjoy his girl’s cookin’ without the third degree?”

You smiled at him, loving how much of a rise you were getting. It had been a few months since you and Joel had your first encounter, and while nothing was made official, more often than not, you’d find yourself entwined with Joel in your bed at night. His heavy, full stomach pressed against your back as you both slept peacefully. While you enjoyed your time together, you were beginning to feel something was lacking, hence your teasing.

The cold glare he gave immediately dampened the playful banter between you. You felt a twist in your mood and sour heat in your stomach.

He shook his turkey leg at you, giving you a scolding look, and warned, “You better knock that shit off, Darlin’... or so help me, I’m not gonna - .”

“Not gonna what?”, you asked, getting closer, and you voice dropped down to a cool whisper only he could hear. “Not gonna fuck me? Pretty sure haven’t been doing that lately anyway, so what’d be the difference, huh?”

He sat back with wide eyes and his mouth open in shock, and his full belly sat rounded out on his lap. You stood up, brow raised, and arms crossed.

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?!”

Joel was affectionate, but usually too tired, full or both to do anything but let you ride him. And not to say you didn't enjoy it, but it was starting to feel a bit one sided. He hadn’t done anything beyond finger you a bit to get you ready and then sweet talk you into being on top again. He’d apologize and praise you, but you wanted more. Especially now that there was more to him.

His eating habits had really started to impact his physique; his jawline was softer, his arms and thighs were thicker, but his stomach was truly the star of the show. He’d made do with the clothes he had for as long as he could, but at the rate he was eating and the limited physical activity he’d been doing, he had to trade labor and time for new shirts and pants that would fit him. And on nights when he ate like this, you swore you could hear the seams praying to their polyester gods for mercy.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“Coulda fooled me!”, he snapped, louder than he meant. “Seems to do the trick and make you whine and mewl like a beaten dog almost every night!”

You felt your face get hot as a few heads in the dining hall turned towards you. He sighed and his eyes softened as he saw your face fall a bit. But you held firm, pulling your mouth into a scowl.

“Not every night, nowhere near it. And I’m the one doing the work. I’m the one fuckin’ you!”, you hissed.

Before giving him a chance to say anything else, you quickly turned and went back into the kitchen.

*****

After storming out of the dining hall, you’d spent the rest of your shift cleaning the entire kitchen, probably to a degree it hadn’t been since its installation. You’d scrubbed and polished every surface with enough fury in your eyes that no one dared step in. It wasn’t until you heard the jukebox turn off and see the lights in the dining hall dim that you realized you’d been at this for a few hours.

As you leaned back against the counter, head down and thinking over how your and Joel’s interaction had escalated like that, you heard a small voice say your name. You looked up and saw Sally, one of the other kitchen attendants.

“Sorry - don’t mean to interrupt, but I’m tryin’ to close up and Joel won’t leave. Says he’s not leavin’ without’cha.”

You scoffed out a ‘for fuck’s sake’ then walked to the swinging doors, only to see Joel, still seated where he was before, leaning back in his chair and picking his teeth with a toothpick. His eyes met yours, and you knew just from the look he was giving, he had a lot more to say.

“Joel, go home. Need to close up and can’t if you’re here.”

He looked behind you at Sally and gave her a small wave. “I’ll help her close up, Sally. You run on home. We got this.”

“Joel!”, you hissed.

“Go on now, Sally.”

His tone left little room for Sally to argue, and she muttered a ‘good night’ as she passed by you then Joel as head made her way out the door. You sighed, clenching your jaw, feeling the frustration and anger that you’d just weeded down in your cleaning frenzy begin to rise again. Joel watched Sally leave, then turned back to you, smug look on his face, made all the smugger as he noted your irritation.

“Darlin’, cut that shit out and come’ere.”, he crooned with a small grin, hilding his hand out to you.

You glared at him, not moving from your position.

He kept his hand out and raised his eyebrows and let out a huff. “Don’t make this old man beg, baby…”

“I think this old man has a lot more ground to cover than just beggin’.”, you responded cooly, crossing your arms across your chest. Before Joel could answer, you turned and went back to the kitchen to finish your duties.

You figured there was a 50 / 50 chance of Joel following you in, so as the door swung open and his heavy footsteps lumbered towards you, you knew he was at least picking up slightly on the passive aggressive breadcrumbs you’d dropped. You kept your back to him, drying cutlery and putting them into their respective bins.

“Darlin’…”

Joel’s voice was set low in a growl, leaving you unable to tell whether he was angry or aroused. You jumped as his hand grazed your lower back and settled on your waist, giving you a small squeeze.

“You wan’me to beg?”, he huskily growled into the back of your neck as he pressed a kiss to your skin.

“I gotta finish closin’ up, Joel.”, you stated, keeping your voice as even and unaffected as you could muster.

Joel let out a frustrated sigh-turned-grunt and let you go, stepping back. He leaned back against the wooden shelf behind him, the wood creaking in objection to his weight.

“Fuck, you’re being-“, he started, before letting out a huff. “What has gotten into you?”

Turning around, you were met with something you didn’t anticipate – a dark, sullen, glaring Joel, eyes burning into you.

“Joel-“, you groaned, before he cut you off.

“Don’t fuckin’ Joel me.”, he snapped. “You got a lot of fuckin’ nerve. You know what you said in front of the people eatin’ their food out there? You said I wasn’t fuckin’ you right. And then, I sit here like a goddamned fool, waitin’ for you to finish so we can talk, and you turn your back on me.”

“Joel, I need t-“

“Shut up! I ain’t done talkin’!”

You close your mouth and swallow hard. While you’d seen him get mad before, Joel had never directed it towards you before, and lord almighty, it sucked.

“You think I’m a fuckin’ mind reader? Think I’m gonna know you’re not happy?”, he asked, sounding loud and desperate, as he stood up and stalked towards you.

As he looked down at you, realization of how much bigger he was, in height and weight, came over you.

“I have said someth-“, you tried to argue, but his large hand grabbing yours and tugging you against him stopped you.

“Don’t interrupt me!”, he barked. “You aint said shit! And now you – fuck! No. You know what? Ain’t worth it!”

His eyes glowered down into yours and you in turn felt your eyes begin to sting with tears at the loss of contact. This was the most emotionally charged you’d seen Joel, and you wanted that same energy and passion when he fucked you, not use it to berate you for needing him to give you the same time and attention he showered on the food you cooked for the whole community. You could feel your face getting hot from the anger that was boiling in you over how overlooked you felt, even if it wasn’t entirely true. You were in a heated, frenzied spiral and reason and rationale had abandoned you.

Before you could snap back and tell him how worth it you actually were, Joel’s eyes softened; he let out a deep breath and let go of your arm and stepped back.

“I’ll… I’ll see you at home.”, Joel muttered before he turned and walked out of the kitchen.

You stood silently and watched him leave, feeling your heart break and immolate in your rib cage and hot tears fall down your face. It hit you hard just how hurt you both were.

*****

The house was dark when you walked in the front door. Joel had left no lights on, and you knew Ellie would be at Dina’s house for the night. The only hint you had to deduce that Joel was in fact home was the dim light you saw through his bedroom window as you approached the house. You hung your coat and tucked your boots on the shelf before quietly ascending the stairs to go to your room.

As you tiptoed in the hallways, you passed Joel’s bedroom door and heard him moving around his room. You could see his shadow from the light slipping under his doorway and felt your stomach curdle and sour, your mind jumping to rash conclusions about what he could be doing in there.

Was he packing to move out and get away from you?

Was he trying to clean up to remove your smell?

Was he collecting your things that you’d left in his room so he could hand them to you and tell you to get out?

As the thoughts rippled through your brain, you knew Joel was more methodical than that. He wouldn’t just leave or make you leave like that… would he?

You stepped forward, forgetting about that floorboard. The creak that sang out made both you and Joel’s shadow stop. You kept still for a moment, but the shadow didn’t move either. You were suddenly thrust back into your childhood; the times you were trying to sneak down into the kitchen to grab a snack or watch a blue movie on cable television without your parents catching you.

That fucking floorboard.

The shadow moved slightly, signaling Joel was getting closer to the door, and you moved quickly to your room, no longer caring how much noise you made. As you reached to grab your door handle, you heard Joel’s door pull open.

“Darlin’?”

Your hand clasped the knob, and you closed your eyes, hearing his voice.

“Yeah, Joel?”

You were surprised how soft and calm your voice sounded; it was a stark contrast to the overwhelming, post-anger, anxiety-ridden mess that was your mind.

“Turn around and look at me, Baby.”

“M’tired, Joel… Just gonna go to bed and – “

“I said turn around.”

It wasn’t a request. His tone was gentle, but you could feel it in your bones that this was a command - a soft one, but a command none the less. Your skin prickled in a wave of goosebumps, up your body, culminating at the base of your neck.

Joel must have been able to see the effect he had on you, because the voice he used to speak almost melted the flesh from your bones.

“Darlin’, you’re gonna turn around and look at me. Now.”

You turned around and looked at him. His broad and hefty silhouette stood ominously in his doorway, backlit by the soft glow from his bedroom.

“You comin’ to bed?”, Joel said quietly, but there was an edge to his tone that made your skin once again pebble.

You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head at his question, then shook your head subtly.

“No, Joel. I figured we’d take the night an-“

“And what?”, he snapped, stepping out into the hallway and towards you.

When you didn’t answer, he took another few steps and growled in a lower tone, “And what?!”

Your eyes went wide as he got closer, and your fight or flight kicked in. Taking a step back, you hit your bedroom door, and stumbled through your words. “I… I-I thought… I figured that you’d wanna-“

“That I’d wanna what?”, he snarled, stepping close and his full belly pressed you further into your door.

“Th-that you’d… you’d wanna be… alone to-tonight…”

Joel’s hand came up and he grabbed your chin, forcing your face square to his. “And why d’you think that?”

“Because… because we fought-“

“And you think that gives you the right to not sleep in my bed?”

You were stunned; you had no answer for him, and you also hadn’t ever been this turned on by him with out him already being knuckle deep in your pussy. You swallowed hard and stared back at him. This was a feeling you couldn’t place; it felt like you were slipping under a spell that Joel was casting.

The only response you could finally give was a headshake, and Joel returned it with a curt nod and slight grin.

“Good girl.”, he purred and released your chin.

You followed Joel back into his room, and stood awkwardly as he closed the door. You’d been in his room countless times, and you’d never felt this out of place. You jumped when he put his hands on your hips from behind and pulled you back, the curve of your spine being the perfect angle for his heavy belly to fit against.

“You feel like I’m not takin’ care of you, Darlin’?”, he huskily mewled into your ear before nipping it.

“Joel, I’m sor-“

“Stop.”, he said, abruptly stopping you from finishing your apology.

“We’re past that, Darlin’. Both said things we needed to say, even if we said’em not so nicely.”

You could hear the small smile in his voice and couldn’t help the one that tugged at your mouth slightly. A whisper soft sound came out of you with a sigh.

But then his tone dipped down, and as he rasped into your ear; one of his hands on your hip slipped to your front as he cupped your denim clad mound.

“You got my attention, baby. You feelin’ needy?”

Your mouth opened, and our flew a feather-light choked whimper. He gripped you roughly and pulled you snug against him, enough so that you could feel his thick and hard cock press against your ass.

“That why you had an attitude with me today? Needed me to fuck you? Fix that ache in your needy pussy?”

You breathed his name out as your brows furrowed and your eyes clenches closed. “Joel…” Your hand snapped on top of his over your crotch, forcing him to apply more pressure and squeeze.

“Need me to remind you that you’re mine?”, he growled before biting the crux of your neck and shoulder.

You nodded, breathing rapidly, then you let out a squeal as he shook your hand off his, then turned and shoved you against the wall. He got close and his hands made quick work in opening and shoving down your jeans. His eyes snapped up to yours and his hand dove between your legs.

“Fuck, baby…”, he sighed, eyes rolling back as he felt how wet you were. “My poor girl’s floodin’ the basement and it’s’all my fault.”

You grabbed his wrist, stabilizing yourself, and let whining pants out with each breath as his middle finger began to dip in an out of your hole. The tip of his thumb gently circled you’re aching clit.

“Yeah… I know I been neglectin’ you, baby girl… but not ‘cause of nothin’ you did… no, baby… you’re just keepin’ me too well fed and I’m fit to be tied by the time we get home… if I could fuck you the way you deserve every night…”

“Oh fuck… Joel, I need y –“

“But you always lettin’ me get away with being lazy an’watchin’ your perfect tits bounce while you fuck this fat old man…”, he rasped, his lids heavy as he watched your face contort in need. “Jesus, Darlin’, you got e’ry right to be cross with me…”

As much as you loved his voice, you needed more. Fisting his shirt, you pulled his face to yours and sucked him into a desperate and messy kiss, teeth and tongues colliding, and it was sharp and splitting. You didn’t need gentle – you needed him.

He finally pulled back, breathing heavily, same as you, and a grin tugged at his parted lips.

“Oh, Darlin’…”, he cooed, finger and thumb still working your cunt in tandem. He leaned in, ghosting his mouth over yours and asked in a voice so soft, you could have cried. “I need you to know how bad you got me, baby… tell me what I can do to prove it.”

Emboldened by his lust-blown eyes with heavy lids looking at you desperately, you put your hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle push down. A smile pulled at one side of his mouth, instantly understanding your silent request. He stepped back and groaned as he lowered himself down, joints cracking as he got on one knee, and he looked up as he pulled your jeans down further then helped you step out, one leg at a time. As he de-robed your second leg, he lifted it over his shoulder, and he scooted forward, and your eyes stayed trained on him, catching every detail, every twitch of his face as he breathed huskily and inhaled your scent. You watched his eyes flutter and roll back, like you were a buffet of fine cuisine, and he was a starved man. He pressed his nose in your crux and nudged in further, panting and swearing under his breath as he let your aroma and essence envelope him.

He took his time, as if he was making sure to catch every flavour, every note of your taste and smell, almost punishing himself for allowing you to feel unappreciated. His hands reached behind and pulled your hips forward into his face and you whimpered out a gasp as your shoulders planted against the wall behind you being the only thing keeping you upright.

“Joel…”, you breathed out, swallowing, trying to alleviate the dry mouth your open mouth breathing had caused. “Joel, please…”

He groaned into your warmth and opened his mouth, finally letting himself have a taste. His tongue licked out between your folds, starting slowly, but began to increase in intensity as he realized this was his favourite thing to savour. He grunted and panted as he lapped at you, his grip that held you so firmly to his face hurting you in the absolute best way possible.

Your fingers pulled his hair, aiding in keeping your core tightly affixed to his gaping maw, and you rocked your hip, mewling and crying out, begging him for more. Joel was in no position to deny you want you needed, not only because of the iron-clad connection currently created by both of your individual efforts, but he was eating his favourite thing. He’d denied you both for so long, he would happily suffocate between your thighs before ever taking a proper breath again if it paid the price of his sin. The noises he made as he ate and licked and devoured you sounded obscene - he sounded like a starved and feral dog, gnawing at a cut of meat tossed to him out of pity. You’re sure that if you saw his eyes, they’d be a black abyss like a shark’s as it bit down on its next meal.

The sounds he was ripping and peeling out of you were music to his ears, championing him further, pushing him harder to make you give him more of those delicious noises. He was rocking his hips in time with his mouth and tongue, letting his throbbing cock rut against the inside of his jean’s rough zipper. Between that, your taste and your fingers pulling his scalp taught with hair, he was in pure ecstasy.

He brought his hand attached to the shoulder your leg was propped up on and pushed two thick fingers into your core and began to pump them in and out - again, in time with his own hips’ rhythm. The white-hot burning coil that Joel had been slowly winding with his mouth finally sprung loose and snapped. You arched your back, silently screaming out as your body went rigid, and vaguely heard Joel growl. He continued to suck hard on your twitching and swollen clit and punched his fingers up into you as your rode out your orgasm. You heard liquid hitting the wood floor before you heard Joel let out a series of high-pitched groans.

His fingers slowed and his mouth was panting hot, quick breaths on your aching core. You looked down at him, chest heaving, to see him shakily pull his fingers from you and shove them in his mouth. Joel was a beautiful and carnal sight: breathing hard in grunts as he sucked his fingers clean. The act looked primitive, like he’d accessed his baser instincts, and he was satisfying a basic human need, a millennia in the making.

“Joel.”, you croaked, and he looked up at you with blurred eyes that slowly began to focus. He slowly pulled himself up, heaving his heavy belly. You helped him come back to his fully height and he leaned into you, pressing his forehead to yours. You could smell yourself on him as he kissed you softly before resuming your connection through foreheads.

“That was…”

“Yeah… fuck yeah… taste so good.”

“I wanna return the fav-“

Your hand cupped what you thought would be his hard cock, but stopped when you felt him softening and his jeans were warm and damp. You pulled your head back and looked at him, prompting a huffed laugh from Joel, pink flushing up his neck to his cheeks.

“You’re my favourite meal, Darlin’. You got me hooked.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

He pulled you away from the wall and onto the bed. He laid back and groaned as his spine relaxed. His full belly domed above him, moving gently up and down with each breath and you sat up, giving it a rub.

“You ate well tonight…”, you cooed, unbuckling his belt and opening his jean to access the mess he made.

He chuckled, supporting his head on an arm as he watched you with a grin. “Couldn’t help it… you serve food too good to not destroy myself on it, Darlin’.”

You shot him a look as you peeled back his damp and sticky underwear.

“Like I said, Darlin’… you serve up a good meal.”

beef's glossary: The term "blue movie" is an old-fashioned slang term used to describe pornographic films, usually of the low budget variety.

TAGLIST: @theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @nerdieforpedro @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@vabeachazn @clawdee @iamasaddie @tightjeansjavi@rubyfruitjungle@lilmizmoz @strang3lov3

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toxicanonymity · 1 year ago

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he's only human

1.1k, raider!joel x f!reader, OC Carter x himself

kinktober-ish special? mild voyeurism w/ a seasonal flare 🎃 Raider Master | About Raider Carter SUMMARY: PWP with inner conflict. Joel POV as he goes down on you, then Joel's right-hand man Carter hears/sees a glimpse of you and Joel for the nth time and has intrusive thots when he jacks off. A/N: Overlaps with the end of ✨ hunger, starts with Joel POV and shifts to Carter POV. This one goes out to @romanarose, charter member of the Carter fan club - feels like so long ago lmao. @toxicfics for notifications. WARNINGS: oral f receiving (from Joel), brief p in V (Joel), mild voyeurism then jacking off (Carter), mild angst - intrusive thots.

Joel’s had his head between your legs before, but not like this. Not intentionally, not because he craved it. Not for his pleasure or yours. Not with his hand wrapped around his cock. God damn, it’s paradise, he’s like a starved animal. You taste like home. He’s dreamed about it– in a cozy log cabin, he had you laid out on a sheepskin rug by a fireplace and just devoured you without a care in the world. Then he woke up and remembered not to be that happy. Now that he’s let himself have this, he can’t physically get enough.

He opens his mouth wide, tonguing you hard, mapping and claiming every crevasse of you, thirstily taking every drop of you he can find, nosing your clit, kissing it, sucking, thumbing it as his tongue gathers slick from your entrance again and he palms your breast. There’s nothing else in the world right now. His world is between your thighs.

“Joel,” you whimper. His cock twitches dangerously close to climax and he stops moving his hand.

“I want it,” you beg. God damn, it’s the prettiest sound.

Joel pries his mouth off your cunt and catches his breath.

—Carter—-

Carter comes up the hill and sees the fire roaring with two big pots of water. The dog growls quietly at him, but quickly goes back to working on — is that a duck head? Carter walks up to the fire and peeks into the pots—hot damn, a duck in each. As he approaches the trailer door, he’s probably a little quieter than he needs to be. He hears you and Joel both moaning. Joel’s moans are muffled, and yours are unrestrained. Carter’s cock twitches when he realizes what Joel’s doing. Blood rises to his cheeks and he swallows, but doesn’t walk away just yet.

“Ain’t done,” Joel growls and Carter’s heart jumps, thinking Joel’s addressing him. It wouldn’t be the first time Joel kept going with Carter right there. Certainly not the first time in earshot. But the first time doing this. Carter could look if he wanted to right now, but he doesn’t, not even when you completely unravel as you moan Joel’s name. He can picture you writhing in bliss, even if he doesn’t want to.

Shit. Carter adjusts himself. He should go. As he turns to leave, it’s a quick, involuntary glance he takes. A split second but it sears the backs of his eyelids. Your spine is arched, nipples jutting toward the ceiling as Joel pushes his length into you. Carter’s heart races and he doesn’t linger. As he begins to walk away, Joel sighs, “ohhh, fuck.”

Carter’s quickly gotten hard, too hard. This is too much, it’s not gonna go away. He shouldn’t let himself get like this, too easy to turn on. He hasn’t relieved himself in too long. The old magazines are so faded and wrinkled by now, they just remind him of the outbreak. He thinks about how all the models are probably dead, the men and the women. His mind sometimes drifts to you, he can’t help it.

Alright, he’s got to do this quick. The woods, the edge of the woods. Like he’s just taking a leak. Carter palms his hard cock over his pants on his way to the forest. This damn dog better not snitch on him after Carter kept his mouth shut earlier.

When he reaches the woods, he urgently undoes his pants, takes his cock out of his boxers, and spits in his hand. He sighs when he wraps his hand around it. He tries with all his might to pry his thoughts away from what he saw, but he keeps coming back to different scenes of you and Joel. He really can’t really help it, it’s the only sexual content he’s seen in years that doesn’t depress him, and Joel isn’t shy about it at all. He knows Carter would never do anything. If Joel knew some of Carter’s thoughts, though. . .

He tries to think about an ex-girlfriend, but he thinks of you in Joel’s lap. He thinks about the last girl who sucked him off, but he feels ashamed, he shouldn’t have let her, she was desperate. He thinks about you in Joel's lap again. Carter thinks about you in his own lap—no, fuck no, he squints his eyes shut and shakes his head trying to force the thought away. He thinks about Halle Berry in James Bond, she wasJoel's favorite Bond girl too. Carter thinks about you writhing under Joel right now–NO!

He thinks about the goddamn preview of Jessica Biel in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2003, with her low rise jeans and tank top that never got to grace the big screen--he's tried to construct this movie from scratch in his mind on long treks. He thinks about Jessica Biel cresting the hill begging him for help, nipples poking through that tank top, raising his rifle, looking for Leatherface, Jessica Biel's jeans riding so low, but somehow still hugging her body. Then he thinks about your body, and Joel grabbing your ass, and god damn it, he tries to think about nothing at all.

He focuses on his cock. He spits on it again. His eyes follow the veins as his hand glides along his light tan shaft. He’s blessed, he knows it. He moves his hand faster, cups his balls with the other hand. He pumps his stiff shaft, closing his fist over the pink head. It's a nice dick. Maybe he’ll have someone to give it to one day. He thumbs the precum at his tip.

He thinks about you sitting on Joel’s cock in the van that day you ran, only a foot away, the way the sex smelled, he pictures Jessica Biel cresting the hill again for a split second then remembers Joel is splitting you open on the table right now, just right over there, he can still see it, he can hear it, and you’re probably falling apart right about now–oh shit–no, fuck, uughhhhhhghhh—his cock begins to pulse. He angles it onto the leaves in front of him. “Ahhhhhh,” he sighs as quietly as he can as he empties himself. He feels a rush of guilt.

He can so vividly picture the barrel of Joel’s gun right between his eyes right now. More vividly than what he just saw in real life. Carter would never, ever do anything. Honest to God, he doesn’t want to, he really doesn’t. It’s just that he’s only human, and you’re there, and sometimes it feels like Joel can’t go even a few minutes without touching you in places that shouldn’t cross Carter’s mind–your thighs, your ass. Joel makes sure everyone sees you’re his, and sometimes that just. .. .does something.

You are Joel’s. Carter loves you and Joel together even if you make Joel a little crazy, even if it’s caused more friendly fire than Carter ever thought he’d clean up. You make Joel a little crazy, but you also make him a little better. You’re Joel’s, that’s how it should be. But you’re also a pretty girl, who makes pretty sounds, and that’s hard to ignore sometimes.

-------

Thank you so much for reading! I was writing the next part of raider with a brief turn in Carter POV and my fingers slipped.

#raider!joel #raider!Joel miller #Joel Miller x reader #joel miller smut #raider!carter #kinktober #toxicanonymity ☠️#joel miller x female reader #someone jacks off #boyd holbrook #boyd holbrook smut

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themultifanshipper · 7 months ago

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ok hi hello i have a little bit of a switch up ask for u 👉👈 could u mayhaps do a lil oscar thing that's just stupid cute angst where the reader is having some self esteem issues and oscar notices bc he's staying with lando in monaco after the race and them + some friends are planning on going out to what happens to be readers favorite club or bar but reader isn't feeling it. oscar immediately cancels and stays at landos n just. comfort fluffy bullshit please i beg <3

also pls flood my inbox with thots/requests bc i will be flying home from seoul tomorrow and i need shit to do on the plane pls and thank u

Made it a bit smutty at the end bc that’s what I do, yanno?

Warnings: bit of angst, lil bit of fluff, smut at the end, friends to lovers type shenanigans.

You were excited at first, going out to your favorite club, with your favourite boys, in your favourite city.

You and Oscar were staying at Lando’s flat in Monaco, excitedly getting ready to go out when everything started to go wrong, bit by bit.

Your hair wasn’t laying how you liked it and it frustrated the hell out of you. It had been fine all week and now suddenly, on the night you knew there would probably be cameras around, it was being a bitch.

Then there was the outfit. Oscar had picked it out for you, and it was truly gorgeous, but you weren’t convinced you would do it justice, especially if your damn hair was going to be a catastrophe, along with your skin that had suddenly decided to become oily as fuck.

Then there was the sight of your body as you passed the mirror. It wasn’t ugly by any stretch of the imagination, but you had eaten a big meal earlier so you felt a bit bloated, your mind exaggerating the barely-there bulge that Oscar insisted nobody (including him) would notice. But you weren’t a skinny, hairless, bronze goddess of a model, like most of the women they frequented, and you knew the media would pick you to pieces if you didn’t look perfect for the cameras.

So you started to spiral, and locked yourself in the bathroom.

You had no idea how much time passed until Oscar inevitably came knocking.

“I can’t go out Oscar!” You called out in a shaky voice.

Worried, he tried to open the door and found it locked so he knocked on the door harder.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“It’s too much for me, Osc. Everything is shit! My hair is shit, my body sucks, everyone’s gonna laugh at me because I don’t fit in with you lot” Your voice cracked as tears started clouding your vision.

Oscar started panicking slightly and he tried the door again, with no luck.

“Please open the door, I'm sure everything's fine! I don’t kno-“ he was interrupted by Lando coming around the corner.

“Mate, they’re waiting for us at the club. How long you gonna be?”

“Uhhm…” Oscar said, unhelpfully.

“I’m not going Lando!” You called through the door.

Lando lifted an eyebrow at Oscar in confusion.

“You go, we’ll catch up.”

Lando nodded and sauntered off, leaving Oscar on his own in dead silence. After a while you asked, “Is he gone?” as you got up from where you’d been sitting on the floor and approached the door to listen out for any movement.

“Yeah, please open the door now, it’s just me” Oscar said softly.

You did so and he gasped at the sight of you.

“Sweatheart, you look amazing!” He took your face in his hands, thumbs wiping away the tears “Your eyes are a bit puffy, sure, but your hair looks fine! And that bangin’ bod of yours in that? I knew it would look stunning on you!” He wrapped his arms around you and you giggled wetly into his neck.

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m really not. You look like a wet dream come true!”

“Awww, Osc. Don’t go sappy on me.”

He laughed as the hug ended, a bit too early for your liking, and you just stood there smiling at each other like idiots.

You broke the tension with a sigh and picked your phone up to check the time.

“I don’t want to go out Osc, I’m really not feeling it tonight.”

“No problem, I’ll stay in with you”

“You don’t have to-”

“But I want to”

“Osc, you got p2, you need to go out and cele-“

He didn’t let you finish as he kissed you gently to shut you up, and when you got over your initial shock, you deepened the kiss, his hand came up to cup the back of your head and the other slid around your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss got more passionate.

You separated, eventually needing air, and panted into each other’s mouths.

“That’s better than a p2, baby. I’ve waited a long time to do that.”

“I love you, Osc”

He grinned and squeezed you tightly as he kissed your forehead “God, I love you too sweetheart.”

You were both sat on the sofa, drinking a glass of probably very expensive wine you found in Lando’s pantry, still in your fancy clothes (although fancy for Oscar meant a white shirt and black jeans), chatting about how the two of you had been dancing around each other for years.

Oscar put his empty glass down on the table. “You know, just because we’re staying in doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun” His hand wandered up your arm, to your neck, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind then?” You asked

“Dunno” His expression remained neutral, but his voice betrayed his amusement. “We could take our clothes off and see how we go from there?”

You giggled, putting your own glass down and shuffling closer to him “Sounds like a plan.”

You all but ripped each other’s clothes off in your haste to get naked. He gently prised your legs apart as he sucked two of his fingers into his mouth, getting them wet before testing the waters and sinking one inside you.

You both groaned, you because he could reach deeper than you ever could on your own, him because you were so hot and wet and tight.

It didn’t take long to get to three fingers, stretching you out before he withdrew completely and lined himself up, rubbing his cock through your folds a few times to get it nice and wet.

When he slid into you, it felt like coming home after a long day, like this is where he belonged. He stayed like that for a minute, hips still and head in the crook of your neck, as he tried to concentrate on not coming immediately.

When he was ready, he leaned up to kiss you and mumbled “I love you, so much” against your lips, before pulling out a bit and then giving an experimental thrust, which drove you both wild. He was so thick, his cock stretching you in the most delicious way, that you whined at every movement, and his hips quickly picked up speed.

You could only cling on to him as the pleasure was almost too much, your orgasm building too fast, making you tighten around his cock as he drove it deeper and deeper into you.

You tried to convey something to him, but the only thing that came out was a pathetic whimper.

He got the message anyway, a hand slinking down to rub messy circles into your clit, sending you hurtling over the edge as your vision blacked out.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Come on my cock, fuck-” and with that he reached his own end, pumping you full of him, as he gently ground his hips into yours, bringing you down slowly, the two of you in complete bliss.

Let’s just say, after that day, Lando had to replace his now stained sofa, and he never let you both stay at his place again.

#my thots #oscar thots #oscar piastri #op81 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri smut #f1 #formula 1

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ryomens-vixen · 1 year ago

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Alright Spooky Slutz, There's how this is gonna go!

I'm doing two Jujutsu Kaisen Kinktobers, Halloween themed of course~ And there maybe a bonus one if I have time!

Bride Of Sukuna (Chucky!Sukuna)

Contains: NSFW, Comedy, Yandere Tendencies, Vulgar language, Non-Con.

Summary: You are Sukuna's widow wife tasked with finding Lord Ryomen a vessel. Without a willing participate you chose the next best thing...a child's Doll- Oh boy, He is NOT happy.

Date: Surprise! 🎃👻🍬

Get Ready to SCREAM for Ghostface Suguru!

Contains: NSFW, Stalking, Yandere tendencies, Knife play, Blood Kink, Predator and Prey Kink, Major Character d3ath.

Summary: You haven't heard from your Ex Boyfriend Suguru for a year, he deleted on all social media and even changed his number the day you broke up with him. Even Satoru and Shoko haven't heard from him....until you get a mysterious call on Halloween night.

Date:

BONUS!!!

If I actually get to it

👀👀👀👀-!!!!

Contains: NSFW, Sub-Dom Nanami, Stalking, Predator & Prey kink, Yandere tendencies, Power dynamic.

Summary: [Redacted]

Date: [Redacted]

Happy Simping 🎃🎃🎃 Updates coming soon.

Appreciation Tags: @gojos-thot-patrol @biscuitsngravie @candycandy00 @blkkizzat @colourstreakgryffin @satkuna @callm3senpaii (They are some amazing writers and I enjoy them very much please follow them, like and reblog their works)

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #ryomen sukuna #jujustsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #geto x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk x reader #sukuna x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento #kinktober

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loquaciousferret · 2 years ago

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The Moon and Me

Summary: The team-up between you and tough-guy Joel Miller is causing a rift with his brother and partner, Tommy. Given the choice between losing you to keep the peace or choosing you once and for all, there’s only one decision Joel is going to make.

Pairing: Joel Miller X Female Reader

Content Warnings: Angst!! mentions of death, alcohol, age-gap!!, SMUT 18+ mdni, kind of somno. Maybe more. Read at own risk.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Not written in so long but I’ve been in Pedro Pascal thots for days now and can’t finish my Din Djarin fic so instead I wrote this. Not proof-read in any way.

Not canon timeline or events. Probably not even canon Joel character, just need to satisfy my thots.

NSFW under the cut do not press keep reading if you are a minor pls thx!

“What have you turned into? Huh?” He spat. “Playing house with some little thing half your age.”

“That’s enough. Don’t bring her into this.” Joel responded gruffly, a warning in his tone.

“No, really,” Tommy persisted. “What’s it all about, anyway, Joel? Burying your sorrows in some 25 year olds pussy? It isn’t gonna turn back time.”

“Stop. Don’t you dare talk about her like that.” Joel didn’t raise his voice, calm but forceful.

“I have to. This is all about her. You’ve gone all soft over that girl and she’s probably only here with you because her daddy got himself killed and she needs a replacem-“

“I said, enough.” He practically yelled this time, anger and venom in his tone in response to his brother’s words. “Get out.” He spat.

Angry footsteps approached the door where you had been listening and you slipped down the hall to avoid being seen. You got to the kitchen and opened and closed the back door loudly in front of you, feigning that you had just returned and making enough noise to be sure to alert the men to your presence.

As you turned round you just caught the back of Tommy’s head and the front door slamming.

You breathed a sigh of relief that he was gone, leaving you and Joel alone, but tensed up again at the thought of how Joel might act around you now. Would his brothers words be playing on his mind? Things could change quickly in this world if there was any erosion of the trust that you had been carefully constructing between the two of you.

A door opened and Joel came towards you, you smiled, desperately trying to act natural and avoid any hint that you might have heard his and Tommy’s exchange.

“How has your day been?” You asked cheerfully.

He huffed with his typical response. “Well, I’m alive, so.”

You pursed your lips, but smiled again, turning his words into something positive. “So, good, then.”

He scoffed, and you noted that he still hadn’t met your eye throughout the short exchange.

“What did you get?” He asked, bringing your mind back to the reality of the situation.

“Oh.” You fumbled, reaching over and grabbing the pack you had come back with. “Um, it wasn’t too bad actually. Got the basics and a little more.”

He gave no verbal response but nodded approvingly. He finished what he was doing- topping up a glass of whiskey, and left the room, tending to the front door, locking every bolt and chain.

“What about Tommy?” You asked, even though you knew the answer “Is he here?”

“No.” Joel replied sharply, “He won’t be coming back tonight.”

His tone made it clear there was to be no more questions about the matter.

This was serious. A possible rift this large between the two brothers and you knew only your presence was to blame.

“You hungry?” You called out to him as he turned the corner away from you.

“Yes.” He responded briefly.

You had been clutching the edge of the counter with all your force and only realised now when you looked down and your knuckles were white from the pressure. You cursed under your breath, and got to working on some kind of dinner with the supplies you had managed to get this morning. Some canned foods that you managed to heat and present in a way that resembled a meal. You made a plate for Joel and a small one for yourself, your appetite depleted with anxiety.

You grabbed the plates and made your way out of the kitchen before turning and gathering the whiskey under your arm for good measure.

Entering what was set up as the living room area, you eyed Joel. He didn’t return the attention, pretending to be busy fiddling with a pocket knife. You set the food in front of him and he grunted in recognition (his idea of giving thanks) and you sat in a chair opposite.

You ate in silence. Usually you chose to fill these gaps and talk at him rather than with him, but you didn’t trust yourself to act natural and hide what you knew about his and Tommy’s confrontation.

“Was good.” He nodded as he finished eating and pushed the plate away from himself. He took the last sip of his whiskey and you offered him the bottle automatically, which he took, still not once having met your eye.

“I was gonna try wash my clothes, tonight.” You said.

He didn’t take the statement as an offer, filling his glass with no response.

“I can do yours, too.” You clarified.

“Don’t have any spares.” He responded gruffly. He was a man of few words at the best of times but 6 words throughout an entire meal was unusual even for him.

“Just your shirt, then.” You said.

He conceded with a nod.

You pushed your plate towards him, less than half eaten. Your stomach churning with uncertainty to the point you couldn’t choke it down.

“You should be eating more.” He said, but took the food anyway.

You watched him intently as he cleared the plate before reaching to take it back along with his previous empty one. You left the room, both failing to acknowledge each other any further.

You got to the kitchen and left the plates in the sink. The water didn’t run in there, but him and Tommy had been working at fixing it.

Tommy. You thought hard again about their conversation and what might have triggered it. What slight had Joel committed that Tommy chose to blame you for. You couldn’t put your finger on a good explanation.

You kept yourself busy for the rest of the day in your room to avoid Joel. Counting, sorting, tidying the small number of possessions you had, then starting again to fill the time. When it got dark out, you started to get ready for bed, stripping off your clothes and putting on some spare socks and underwear and a large oversized shirt. The water did run in the bathroom and you imagined you could wash them somewhat in the bathtub. When you left your room, Joel’s shirt hung on the handrail for the stairs, waiting for you.

You picked it up and walked to the bathroom, as you reached for the door handle it swung open in front of you and you bumped into Joel’s bare chest.

“Oh.” You said, “I’m sorry. Didn’t know you were in here.”

For a split second you got to analyse his body, his broad shoulders and chest, littered with scars that stood out white against tanned skin.

“Gonna let me out?” He said, snapping your gaze towards him, where you found him staring right ahead, dodging your face completely.

You side stepped and he passed you without another word, leaving you with just a hint of the scent of him. Musk, salt, whiskey.

You kneeled in front of the bathtub and ran the tap, the water was clear and clean but nowhere near hot. It would probably work, though. You reached for the rare bar of soap that rested on the edge of the bath, deeming its use a worthwhile sacrifice for the feeling of clean clothes.

You dipped all of yours into the water in a pile, saturating them before removing them one by one, scrubbing the fabric together with a small amount of soap and rinsing. Repeat. Your mind wandered, with the mundane task barely taking up any thinking power.

You imagined how it feel to be close to him. How warm would his chest be if you were pressed up against it. What he would taste like if you were to kiss his skin.

You shook your head and frowned at yourself. It was no use thinking that way. You knew on that one fact that Tommy definitely had the wrong idea. There was no level of intimacy between you and Joel. There never would be. He was right about the fact of you being half his age, a fact you were definitely both astutely aware of. It had to be enough for Joel not to ever think about you in that way. But it didn’t stop you from thinking about him.

Before you knew it his shirt was in your hands, and your face pressed into the fabric. His scent was comforting, despite being mixed with sweat, dirt, and blood. You inhaled it nonetheless. You imagined how your scents would smell mixed together in some kind of moment of intimacy or passion.

For fuck’s sake. Get it together. You tell yourself, and plunged his shirt into the water.

When the washing was complete you drained the tub, the water grey with filth, and began to wring out each item carefully as much as you could. Hopefully they would dry overnight so you both could dress again in the morning.

You draped his damp blue shirt to dry, where he had left it on the rail for you, and retreated into your room in silence.

As you lay in bed, waiting for sleep to take you, you could ever so slightly glimpse the moon and stars watching over you through a small crack in the boarded up window.

The next few days passed slowly. The tension from Joel didn’t let up once. You co-existed in the space whilst barely acknowledging one another. There was no sign of Tommy’s return.

On the third night, as you and Joel ate another meal in painful silence, your thoughts bubbled to the surface and despite your better judgment, your words of confession spilled out before you could stop them.

“I heard you.” You blurted. “You and Tommy. The other day. I know why he’s gone.”

For the first time in days, he met your eyes, shooting you a look you couldn’t decipher the meaning of.

“That’s none of your concern.” He spoke almost through gritted teeth.

“Well, it is, actually. It was about me. It directly concerns me.” You were usually slow to challenge him but the guilt and anxiety of the past few days had turned into some kind of twisted courage.

“You’ve been acting differently ever since.” You accused. “So I know part of you must believe what he said, or at least you have a suspicion he’s right.”

He scowled.

“Just admit it.” You challenged again.

He downed the last few sips of his whiskey and leaned back, running a hand through his hair. He tilted his head to one side.

“I don’t particularly care why you’re here. He could be right. Why would it matter?”

His admission practically knocked the air out of your lungs. You were angry. His words were cruel, even though you know he didn’t mean them to be. He was always matter of fact, always suspicious. You should have known that that would apply to you as well.

You scoff almost in derision, humiliated and almost offended at the accusation that you could just be using him.

“Look, I get it.” He continues. “We all have to do what we must in this world. I’m not saying I blame you.”

If his words were meant to console you, they did the opposite.

“How dare you.” You responded.

He raised an eyebrow. You had never spoken to him like this, even when he deserved it fairly often. You weren’t a hothead and you usually didn’t let his rudeness get under your skin, you were forgiving and sensitive and you knew his front was all about self-protection, letting him get away with most of what should be considered unacceptable.

“You really think I’m here because I need you?” You spat, almost disgusted at the accusation. “I’m here because I choose to be. I’m here because I lo-” You stuttered and you knew he noticed, his eyes twitching. “Because I like you. I like your company. Despite how unpleasant you insist on being most of the time. On a good day you are funny. You can almost be kind, and caring- in your own way. But don’t for one second think I’m using you for my own protection. There was a time before you and there could easily be a time after you.”

His eyes widened at your outburst. He was practically smirking and it enraged you even further.

“You’re only in this situation, having these doubts and suspicions because of your own insistence on not talking about the past. You refuse to let yourself know me. If you knew my story you wouldn’t believe Tommy, or doubt my intentions, for even a second.”

He still didn’t respond, just watching you carefully as you got more and more flustered.

“For the record, I lost my father long before this mess started. I’ve been taking care of myself since the beginning and before that. I was 16. He was a cop. He was killed in the line of duty. Before any virus, anything. And I looked after myself from then on. He was a good cop. He was brave and intelligent and he taught me never to rely on anyone else. And I don’t. Least of all you.”

His lack of response kept your emotions heightened.

“You are so arrogant. And so self-important. I don’t need you. I chose you. You think everyone is driven by selfishness and a need to survive. Well I’m not. I choose to still find happiness, joy, laughter, music. That’s what makes us human, if you remember what that means. You and Tommy and anyone else who thinks I’m soft- well, I just don’t care. If everything you do is just driven by self-preservation then how are you any better than those monsters that we are hiding from. You would be a shell of a person if every choice you made was from a need to survive. But you would know all about that.”

Your words came out more hurtful than you had imagined but you meant every one of them. What was the point of struggling through this just to survive. You were here to live. To remember the past and find whatever scraps of it you could to rebuild something worth living for in the world you now inhabited.

His face was blank, betraying no emotion at your words.

“But I’m not going to come between you and Tommy. I know where I’m not wanted.” You spoke calmly now. “And I get it, blood is thicker than water. I won’t be the reason you lose your family. I know how that feels. And I’ll be fine. I was fine before I met you. I will be again.”

You raised from your seat and walked out of the room, speaking your final words without turning to face him. “I’ll be gone by the morning.”

You climbed the stairs and hot tears spilled from your eyes. At least they hadn’t started while you were yelling at him. That would have really undermined your point.

You slammed your door in frustration and looked around the room you had called home for the last 6 months here with Joel. You thought back to when you first met, bartering in the commune. You offering whiskey and him cigarettes. You remembered how it felt when his hand grazed yours the first time you traded with each other, his warm calloused skin and the way you practically squirmed under his intense gaze. You never would have thought then that you would become somewhat of a team. That you would grow to care for him and to-

You interrupted your own train of thought to consider what you had almost said to him in the heat of the moment. That you had grown to love him.

Part of you wasn’t sure it was true. You were only 20 when the outbreak happened, you had barely dated, barely slept with other people, never developed feelings that you thought might be love.

But you had decided that had to be what you felt towards Joel. A sense of home in wherever he was. The last thought on your mind before falling asleep and the first when you woke up. Knowing you would go hungry so he could be full, thirsty so that he might be satiated. Hurt so that he might be safe.

The tears spilled again, uncontrollable. You had picked the worst possible person to fall for, in the worst possible circumstances.

You gathered what few things you had into your pack and lay down, exhausted. Peeling off your clothes that were stuck to your flushed and tired body, discarding them on the floor and crawling into bed in your underwear. The sheets were cool and provided relief.

You tossed and turned, the house remained silent. You never heard Joel come to bed and guessed he was downstairs finishing the last of his whiskey that you had managed to save for him.

You thought about what you would have to do in the morning. You had to go far from here, somewhere you would never have to come across him again. You couldn’t stay within any proximity that would allow the potential for chance meetings. It would hurt too much to be so close but so far from the man you wanted.

You didn’t know how long you had surrendered to sleep for when you were awoken by the creaking of the floorboards on the landing outside your door and the scratch of your door as it opened. Confused by half-sleep and emotions you were still in your own world until weight on the mattress disturbed you and, next, warm hands on your neck.

“Joel?” You whispered in a groan. You were still confused and unsure, stuck in a space between dream and reality, the only clarity provided to your senses was his distinct scent as you breathed in.

He was rolling you from your side onto your back, one strong hand still on your neck and the other on your waist. As you woke up properly you were startled.

“Joel? Wha-“ Your protests were met by him shushing you.

He had never been in your room before, not even when you were awake. And you had never been in his space. Whilst the rest of the house was shared, you were both very private in your separate bedroom sanctuaries.

“Joel-“ You tried again but were interrupted by words this time.

“Can’t you just be quiet?” He said, but there was no annoyance in his tone. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought he only sounded nervous. “You’ve said your piece tonight. It’s my turn now.”

As your eyes adjusted to the light you took him in, the shadows on his beard, his forehead. He looked as handsome as ever, and where his strong hands touched you, fire radiated.

“What you said about blood. About family. You’re wrong. You’re my family now. I do choose you. Choose you every day. Would neve- Could never choose anyone else.” His words were barely more than a whisper, and you almost couldn’t believe your ears. Tough, hard, cold Joel muttering words of pure adoration.

“I don’t underst-“ Your words were cut off with a gasp as he began to run his hands up and down your body.

“You’re not leavin’ tomorrow.” He breathed, his lips tickling the crook of your neck where he was leaning his head. “Won’t let you.”

You let out almost a laugh at the insinuation. Could it be true? That he wanted you as much as you wanted him? That he would really be willing to keep you practically against your will, just out of a desperate need to be with you?

“What you said, got me realisin’ what a fool I’ve been. Not havin’ the balls to show you what you mean to me. To prove myself to you. ‘n I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You were barely convinced it was reality, these confessions just too shocking to register as true.

You were only convinced by the feeling of his lips on yours, the taste of whiskey and tobacco strong but not unpleasant. Everything about him was exactly what you had imagined, strong but gentle, forceful but cautious.

“I’ve been a fool, baby. Really I have. Never should have let you think you were anything less than the most amazing, beautiful thing that, hell, I don’t know what I’ve ever done right to deserve.” His words were punctuated with kisses, on your lips, neck, and onto your sternum.

You suddenly realised how naked you were compared to him, just your bra and underwear to cover yourself and you became self-conscious, lifting your arms to his chest to push him off slightly. The action made him tense up and you witnessed an expression of fear or embarrassment in his eyes, maybe he thought he had the wrong idea.

You silenced his worry by once again connecting your mouths in a kiss, and you’re not sure what gave you the confidence to reach down and toy with his belt, struggling with the buckle to undo it. It was then you took notice of the erection in his jeans. It almost made your jaw drop, palming it gently and finding it’s size. It was big. Definitely bigger than anything you had had in the past.

His mouth twitched into his signature smirk, breaking the kiss to taunt “You like what you see, baby?”

You felt a blush creep into your cheeks, which he must have seen or felt somehow as he chuckled. He leaned back, his own hands unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans with ease. He pulled them down and his boxers, his hard cock springing out, already leaking from its tip.

You took it into your hand and stroked gently, and he sighed in relief.

“Your hands- so small- so warm. ” He stuttered, his hands wandering once again, this time round your back where he unclipped your bra and pulled it from your body.

“God-“ He muttered, before taking a handful of your breast, kneading it gently and continuing to breathe deeply as you quickened the pace of your hand around his hard cock.

You were pliant and submissive beneath him as his hands roamed your body, he grabbed both your hands with one of his and pinned them above your head before starting to touch your inner thighs with the other.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked, anxiety returning when you thought about your relationship up to this point. You couldn’t think of a time he’d ever indicated he was attracted to you, and a terrible thought was trying to convince you he was only doing this as a way to comfort you or convince you to stay.

“Am I sure?” He responded, incredulous. “I’ve wanted this since the first day I laid eyes on you baby. Never thought in a million years you’d want the same.”

He whispered the words into your skin, his beard tickling you as his mouth moved.

His free hand drifted from your inner thigh to your clothed sex, palming it gently. You squeezed your legs together involuntarily and became aware of how wet you already were. He did too, smirking again as he hooked a finger under the fabric and felt your slick entrance. He slipped one finger in immediately and you gasped, hips keening up towards his touch, your body unable to resist the overwhelming arousal and desire. It had been so long since someone else touched you like this. The fact that it was him, now, was unbelievable. He curled his fingers slowly, eliciting moans from you that must have seemed almost exaggerated.

“You like that, baby?”

You whined in response as he continued, his pace slow, teasing.

“Please,” You whined, no shame and no attempt to hide just how much you were already at his mercy.

He complied, releasing the grip he still maintained on your hands above your head and removing the other from inside you, using both hands to pull down your underwear, leaving you both exposed. He was still wearing his shirt, and you reached up, clumsily attempting to undo each button, simultaneously pulling him towards you for another desperate kiss.

“Wanted this for so long-“ You confessed in a whine as he touched you again, this time circling your clit gently.

“Yeah?” He responded.

“Please Joel-“ Your words were almost begging.

Sooner than you could finish speaking your thoughts, he was guiding his dick towards your entrance, nudging it gently before pushing all the way in. You both gasped simultaneously at the sensation, a perfect fit, stretching you so pleasurably.

You continued without the need for words, the room filled with the sounds of skin, the squeak of the bed, and the passionate, satisfied, desperate moans of two people who did not know how much they both needed each other until they finally took the chance.

His thrusts which had started off slow and gentle had been consistently gathering in pace and force, his hands unable to settle, roaming every inch of your body as if he was mapping you out under his touch. He squeezed your breasts, your hips, your thighs, whilst your hands explored his wide back, shoulders, chest.

You thought your pleasure couldn’t be enhanced any more until he reached one hand down to play with your clit, his thrusts still relentless. Your moans became a string of unintelligible pleading, his name rolling of your tongue like a desperate prayer.

“Yeah, that’s it baby. Say my name baby, god- fuck.”

You thought it was impossible but his thrusts increased in force, and as they did so you felt a knot of heat gathering as an orgasm approached.

“Joel- ah- fuck- I” You couldn’t get a warning out before you came hard, clenching and writhing under him. His pace still didn’t let up, he didn’t stop playing with your sensitive clit, and his volume increased, grunts and moans of elation as you tightened and contracted around him repeatedly.

“Yeah baby, cum on my cock baby. Too good- fuck.” His thrusts grew sloppy as he reached his own climax, “I’m gonna cum.” He groaned.

He pulled out and a few strokes of his fist later, white hot spurts littered your upper thighs and stomach.

He collapsed next to you briefly, pressing wet kisses to your neck and collarbones, his cock twitching, sensitive from the first sex he has had in months.

When he stood, you were still so overwhelmed from your own orgasm that you failed to open your eyes to investigate his movements. As quickly as he had left, he returned, and you felt the cool wet edge of a towel cleaning you off. He tossed it on the floor before resuming his position next to you.

You opened your eyes and took in what you could of his face in the dark. You reached up and wiped sweat from his brow, pressing a kiss to his throat. In a swift motion he grabbed both your arms and turned you to face him fully.

“You still leaving in the morning?” He asked gruffly.

“Not a chance.” You whispered.

That night you slept with the light of the moon and the man you loved, watching you, protecting you.

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