#I gotta clear some of this shit out Here Ya Go

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

The fact that young Norman is so model-esque is kinda funny though bc now I gotta picture Daryl and Merle bummin around back in the day lookin like

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

could u pls write a fic about a plus sized reader noticing Spencer doesnt look at her alot so one morning she wears lingerie and a see through robe and she teases him until he just takes her on the couch?

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

— summary: listen, it wasn't that you didn't love the domestic life with spencer, but god, you just really missed being touched (and penelope has a solution).

— warnings: uhh this is almost 3k of pwp firstly, penelope being the best wingwoman to ever exist, lingerie, teasing, unprotected sex, couch sex, vaginal sex, sub!spencer reid, dom!reader, kind of switch spencer and reader at the end, riding, heavy petting, subspace if you squint, mentions of oral sex (m and f rec), the reader is lowkey a freak (and penelope instigates it), clothed sex, the reader is dressed and spencer isn't, i held myself back from including a mommy kink, but that's the best you're getting from me, a lack of foreplay (be considerate folks), consent kink, praise kink.

— wc: 2817

⋆ a/n: HEY SO i really let this get away from me in the sense of this was meant to kind of be dom!spencer but i blinked and all of a 2k was written of sub!spencer so yikes!! but i really enjoyed writing this, it's been literally forever since i've written pwp so... here ya go!! i'm trying to be more organized with uploading because i really want to clear out my drafts before starting any new projects.

masterlist | AO3

“Pen, have you ever seen those TikToks where it’s like ‘he has a whole woman in his bed yet he’s playing World of Warcraft’ or some shit like that?” You ask the phone that’s tucked under your chin.

You’re in the middle of putting up laundry, but a feeling of unrest bubbled beneath your skin.

Penelope laughs, “And let me guess, that’s how you feel right now?” 

You sigh, looking down at the shirt that refuses to turn inside out. You throw it back in the hamper with a huff before grabbing a pair of – Spencer’s – jeans.

“I just – I’m not with Spencer for just sex, you know that, but it’s been like… forever since I’ve gotten any.” You can’t even listen to yourself talk.

“We’ve been in this like… domestic bliss stage, and while I love waking up to breakfast in bed and giggly showers, I’m horny and every time he does something so normal – something that shouldn’t even be considered sexy – I have to hold myself back from jumping his bones.” 

Penelope lets out a rather unattractive chortle, but she continues. “Listen sister, while I love the Boy Genius as much as the next person, he’s kinda dense. With all those brains, he’s rather hard-headed when it comes to romance.”

“I know, I know, and those are one of the reasons why I love him! The denseness is cute, but I’m starting to think I sabotaged myself.” You look down longingly at the MIT t-shirt. Spencer was away at the office right now, so that means whatever conversation you were having with the colorful woman on the other end was completely inappropriate.

“You know what I think?” She starts. “Oh God.” You sigh fondly. “Oh, hush! Don’t even act like my ideas aren’t good! Anyway… If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being quite the seductress myself, is that at the end of the day a man is a man, and they can be reduced down to their most primal instincts.”

“What are you saying?” You inquire curiously with furrowed eyebrows. “I’m saying that you gotta work with what ya mama gave ya! Men are dumb, they see a tit or a nice ass and they lose all cognitive function. So what I’m saying is to put on some lingerie and act like a little minx! Guys love it when you tease them and act like you don’t know what you’re doing! It’s about the chase, my fellow curvaceous protege.”

“So you’re saying to… seduce him?”  

“That’s exactly what I’m saying – Oh! Good morning sir! Yes, sorry, I’ll call you back when I’ve got the answer to what you need… yes okay bye-bye!” And with that, you’re left listening to the silence. 

You laugh, shaking your head in exasperation before taking a seat on the bed.

Seduce him, huh? The notion almost seems ridiculous, but it really isn’t that far fetched. You’ve had sex with Spencer before, you know how his brain works, what gets him needy and what parts of you turn him on. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea.

You don’t really own any lingerie, because for one, the material that’s supposedly the back of your underwear gets swallowed by your ass, and two, Spencer’s never complained about your granny panties. But hey, it doesn’t hurt to look right?

Okay, seduce Spencer Reid is a go.

Taking one last scrutinizing look in the bathroom mirror, you leave quietly, walking into the kitchen and pouring yourself a glass of coffee. Liquid courage as they say.

The light pink sheer robe hangs off of your ample form, the fuzz on the edge of your sleeves getting in your way and irritating you. God, if this doesn’t work, a woman by the name of Penelope Garcia is going to find herself six feet underground.

Spencer sat on the couch slipping his feet into a pair of mismatched socks – you’ve stopped trying to organize them a while ago – tucking them into his converse. He’s off today, probably having plans with the bookstore and the park before offering to make the both of you dinner. It’s endearing to say the least, but food is not something you're hungry for.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” You ask before taking a sip of your coffee. He hasn’t looked up, but you’re facing him now, your scantily clad body exposed by the thin satin of your white bra and underwear. A devil in disguise (you hope).

“Hmm, I was thinking about playing chess in the park for an hour or two before going to the bookstore. A new novel about quantum physics just came out, and even though it’ll probably be about stuff I already know, I’m always willing to look at it from a different perspec…” Spencer finally looked up, his sentence slurring a bit. “...tive.”

“Ah! That sounds exciting! I’ll text you what I want for dinner later if that’s okay? Or would you rather I go shopping with you?”

He blinks, his mouth hanging open intelligently, as though he’s still trying to process exactly what he’s seeing. “Yes. I mean no - I mean… I… what are you wearing?”

You spare a lazy look down, as though you had forgotten you even had the thing on.

“Oh this? It’s just really hot in the apartment today. So make sure you bring some sunscreen and a fan, yeah? Don’t want you getting a sunburn or having a heat stroke.”

“I - I’ve never seen that set before, is it new?” He stammers. You click your tongue as if you genuinely had to date the outfit back, when in reality the tags to the set itself sits pretty in the bathroom trash can. “I have no idea honestly, it looked comfortable though, so I just slipped it on. You don’t mind, right?”

“I… no. I don’t.”

You beam at him, “Perfect. Oh! Let me make you some coffee before you go, I know how hard it is for you to start your day without it.” 

You turn back around, and you could hear Spencer fruitlessly swallow a gasp. The back of your underwear might as well have been a piece of string, because your ass cheeks were basically eating the material. It was uncomfortable, but oh well, beauty is pain.

You smirk in victory, pulling out a medium sized thermos and pouring the rest of the liquid in it.

You didn’t hear him move, let alone walk behind you, but two large hands placed themselves respectively on your hips, the man tucking his face in the side of your neck. You shiver at the hot blow of air that escapes through his nose, and his grip on your skin turns a little tighter.

“What are you doing?” The question is mumbled, but you don’t miss it. “What does it look like? I’m making you coffee, silly.” He huffs. “No. I mean what are you doing to me?”

He presses forward, pushing his half hard cock between your cheeks. It was your turn to gasp, and you couldn’t help but put down the pot of coffee, pushing the now full thermos away to avoid any future hazards. 

You hold on to the edge of the counter, tilting your head further to the side to give the needy man more access. He takes the hint, peppering sweet, heated kisses on the sensitive skin of your throat. You shiver once more, sighing out a smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You know lying is useless, especially with the way your voice sounded so breathless. “You know you’re a terrible liar.” It was a playful dig, and his palms had begun to move, pushing on your full stomach to put more of your weight on him.

“Hm, but you don’t know every single thing I have in the closet, now do you?” You remark, yelping when he nipped at your earlobe. “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong and you know it.” You do. “Do I?”

“This is terrible foreplay.” He jokes and you giggle. “I’d say I’m doing a pretty good job, don’t you think?” You push your hips back and add a bit of friction onto his cock. He groans and you feel your pussy pulse.

“You always do a good job.” Spencer murmurs.

You’re turned around so you can face him, and you wish you could take a picture to savor the look on his face. He’s beet red, cheeks and ears flushed a beautiful hue that leaves a twinge of pride pooling in your stomach.

He cups your face, drawing you in for a long awaited kiss. 

You sigh into him, hands twisting at the sleeves of his cardigan to pull him closer. He lets you in exchange of pushing you against the counter until your lower back is digging uncomfortably into the marble.

“Where do you wanna go?” He finally breathes. You stare at him as if you were in a daze before processing his question with a blink. “Couch?” You ask. “Whatever you want.” He says before joining your lips together once more.

He walks the both of you backwards slowly, and he takes advantage of when your mouth parts in a moan as he flicks his tongue against the top of your lip. He tastes like toothpaste and you might be a little crazy to think that it makes him way sexier than it should.

Your eyes flutter open and you push him away with hands on his chest gently.

“Do you trust me?” You gasp.

“Of course.”

“Good.” You say with a smirk.

You make sure he’s close enough to the edge of the couch when you push him on it, quickly clambering onto his lap and settling your hands on his shoulders; his fall naturally to your waist and you grin.

“Hi.” You whisper quietly. “Hey.” He responds back just as hushed. “You can grab my ass, you know.” You tease and his eyes widen just slightly. “I…” You guide his palms to hold the meat of your ass and he grips.

“God.” It tumbles from his lips in a whimper and you fucking melt. 

“Sorry I’ve been such a tease today, Spencie.” You say sweetly with a fake pout. “I just needed you so bad and you’ve been so, so sweet to me, my sweet boy. I didn’t want to ruin it by asking you to fuck me stupid.”

“You wouldn’t have ruined it.” He corrects with a whine. You had begun to grind down on him and he gripped you tightly, helping you rut against him. “No?” You question. He shakes his head quickly, his hair bouncing along with the swings.

“No. ‘Would’ve done anything you asked.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“So, if I asked you to let me suck your dick until I’ve sucked the soul out of you, would you have let me? How about if I asked you to eat my pussy for breakfast, huh? Would you have done it?”

“Yes, yes, God yes! I want to… I wanna do all those things so badly.” He groans, all but pawing at you now. 

“I bet you do,” You coo. “I guess I haven’t been the only one pent up. But that’s okay, because I’ve got you, yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

You smile, leaning in to give him a kiss before traveling downwards to his belt and wrangling it open. You popped open the buttons of his jeans, sliding back so you can tug them down his legs. 

“Up.” You command softly and he obliges. 

You’re faced with his hardened cock bulging from under his black underwear.

“Oh… is this for me?” You know you’re being mean when you drag your fingertips over the spot where precum has begun to pool, only putting slight pressure on it just to hear that sweet sound of his breath hitching.

“Yes – it’s all for you.” Spencer whines and throws his head back against the couch. “All for me? My goodness…” You trail off as you drag his underwear down his thighs. His cock springs up and bobbles against his clothed stomach.

“Can I –” He licks his lips, “Can I take my shirt off?”

“Of course, my love.” You were just about to ask him anyway.

As he rids himself of his top you get up for a split second to take his pants and underwear off fully. As you go to undress yourself, he stops you.

“W— wait… keep it on please.” 

“Oh? You wanna be nasty and pull my panties to the side, huh? Dirty dirty boy.” You tisk, but in reality you feel like you’re about to explode. “Is that okay?” You smile at his question. “More than okay.”

You climb back on top of him, doing exactly what you said and pulling the white satin to the side before gripping his dick, lining it up to your entrance. He holds you steady looking up at you with those big brown puppy dog eyes as you sink down.

The stretch stings because of the lack of foreplay, but you can’t find it within yourself to care as the pain shoots up your lower back and is already fraying at your pleasure filled nerves. 

“So… so good. God.” Spencer chokes. 

Your lips are rolled between your teeth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You heave out a breath when he sinks down to the hilt, and he just rubs soothing circles on your hips. The feeling helps to guide you as you loosen up, and when you do, you give him an experimental clench.

He groans of course and you smirk lazily.

“‘Gonna ride you now, ‘kay?” You murmur as you lift your hips up before slamming down. Spencer practically shouts when he re-enters you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He’s a whimpering, cursing mess. “That feels good, baby?” You ask as you bounce. Spencer nods and fondness twists in your chest.

“You’re so tight. I think ‘m gonna pass out.” He says dramatically. You laugh, grabbing his hands and slipping them under your bra so they can cover your breasts. “Well, don’t pass out until we’ve cum, alright?”

He gives your breasts a reassuring squeeze. “Of course.” He huffs and you giggle again. The giggles die out though when you shift and his tip prods just right.

“Oh shit.” You curse but remain in the same place.

You ride him in abandon, the sound of skin meeting skin radiating out into the early morning air of the apartment. The sound is nasty and wet and it causes your head to swim. The buzz of mind numbing pleasure swims around in your gut, and you can almost grasp it.

“Spence I – I need more, can you…?” You moan out, your head tilting back. “Yeah, yeah, I got you, sweetheart.”

One hand leaves to rub furiously at your clit and your hips cant forward, sending you landing on his naked, sweat slicked chest. Your thighs burn and you rest for a moment, but Spencer doesn’t seem to match the same sentiment, because the other hand holds you by your hip in a grip that’s almost bruising. 

The fat is spilling through his fingers but he uses it as leverage as he now fucks up into you. You squeal, throwing your arms around his neck and tucking his face into yours. You mark him mindlessly, body trembling as you near your orgasm.

You can feel him twitch inside of you when he sets a pace, bringing you up and down in a way that indicates he’s nearing an end of his own.

“Together, okay?” You cry out, “‘Wanna cum together.”

“Okay, honey, okay.” 

He sets his feet on the floor and rubs harder at your sensitive bud, and the arousal that implodes inside of you is so blinding that you white out for a minute. Every one of your senses are overwhelmed, and you can hear him mewling into your ear before warmth paints your womb.

It’s silent in the apartment for a moment before you speak.

“I have to tell you a secret.” You whisper mindlessly, laying your cheek on a bony shoulder. “And what’s that?” He runs his fingers up and down your spine.

“This set is new.”

“I know honey, I saw the charge on my card.”

“What?!” You exclaim, pulling away from his body to search his hazy eyes with your wide ones.

“You forget I can see the bank statements.” Spencer says with a smile. “No, no. I – I didn’t mean to use your card.”

“You didn’t have to… I may have uh… may have slipped one into your wallet when you weren’t looking.” He admits sheepishly. You stare at a moment and then smile incredulously. “Did you… secretly sugar daddy me?”

“Oh God, please don’t call it that.” He says with a groan, leaning forward to bury his face in your chest.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever sugar daddy.” You tease, running your fingers through his sweaty locks.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[estrellami-1]

Steddie Week 2024

July 3rd Prompt: Mutual Pining

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

@steddie-week

“Robin,” Steve hisses, swatting at her arm with wide eyes.

She flails. “What?” She hisses back, slapping at his hand.

“Him,” he says, jerking his head towards the front door of Family Video. Robin frowns when she sees Eddie.

“What- oh, for fuck’s sake, Steve, will you quit with the high school shit? I thought you were past that.”

He looks hurt. “What high school- oh!” His expression clears and he shakes his head. “No, not- not that, you know I’m past that. Robbie.” He puts his hands on her shoulders. She tries not to squirm. “Robbie, his hair is up.”

Robin looks at him again: hair up in a bun, cut-off jean shorts, those weird tank tops with the stretched armpits that Robin didn’t understand unless she could see hints of a bra underneath. She turns back to Steve, still frowning, then suddenly her expression clears. Oh. “You like him!” She crows.

“Robbie,” he pleads. “I- I don’t- I don’t know how to do this anymore, you know how badly Nancy broke me-”

“I know,” Robin quickly says. “I know, your heart’s on your sleeve only until you brush up against someone else and they steal it, I know, Steve, but if there’s one person who falls harder, faster?” She points out the window. “It’s that fucker.”

“Okay,” Steve says, “but that doesn’t mean I can talk to him.”

“You might not have a choice,” she says, watching as he grabs the door handle. She nods at him, and Steve whips around as the bell above the door rings.

He whips around just as quickly, and Robin’s suddenly faced with two choices. She could either take over, let him hide in the back, or- “I’m taking my break,” she says brightly. “I’ll grab us some drinks from the corner store.”

“Robin,” he hisses, futilely grabbing at her as she dodges out of his grasp.

“Hey, Eddie,” she greets as she approaches the front door. “You’re just in time, I’m taking my break to grab Steve and I some drinks from the corner store.”

Eddie grins at her, then glances at Steve and his smile falls. “Yeah,” he says, “is he feeling okay? He looks red.”

Robin looks at him and turns to Eddie with a concerned look. “He does. Would you be able to stay here, just in case, while I run and grab those drinks?” He gapes, so she brightly says, “thanks!” As she runs out.

She’s a genius.

“See ya, Birdie,” Eddie says on his way out. 

Steve doesn’t speak to her for half an hour, which is a record for them. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I thought I’d give you a chance to talk.”

He buries his head in her shoulder. “I think he hates me.”

Eddie calls Gareth once he gets home. “Gareth.”

“Edward.”

“Not my name and you know it.” He sighs. “I think he hates me.”

Gareth sighs. “Are you talking about Steve again? Dude, he doesn’t hate you. I think that’s actually physically impossible.”

“Trust me,” Eddie says darkly, “it’s not.”

“Okay, well I swear on my mother’s life he doesn’t hate you, does that make you feel better?”

“Have you actually spoken to him in the last month?”

“Well, no.”

“Ha!”

“But I’ve spoken to Robin.”

Eddie groans. “Okay, but recently?”

“Uh, does Sunday count as recently?”

“Okay, in the last twenty minutes.”

“No, but I can. I’ve got a video to return anyways.”

“Huh,” Eddie says, “I always thought you got them from Robin.”

“Yeah, but I’ve gotta give them back, too. I don’t always catch her before work.”

Eddie’s head spins. “Okay, could you talk to her, actually? Just… confirm that he either does or doesn’t hate me, man, I feel like I’m going crazy-”

“If it helps,” Gareth says, “last time we spoke, she said he was being a dingus about you.”

“That’s no help,” Eddie retorts, “I don’t think she even knows what that means, you realize that’s one of her nicknames for him?”

Gareth sighs. “Okay. I’ll go talk to Robin and try to get an answer for you.”

“I owe you my life.”

“Shut up.”

“I’ll marry you.”

Gareth hangs up on him.

“Hey,” Robin says when she sees Gareth coming. “Wanna take the rest of the day off? My treat for royally screwing up?”

Steve blinks at her, then smiles. “Only if you come over later.”

“With all the ice cream I can carry,” she promises, laughing. “Go, get out of here, I’ll clock you out with me.”

“Thanks, Robbie,” he murmurs into her hair, leaning in for a hug. “You’re sure it’s okay?”

“This is my fault,” she reminds him. “Now go, already, you’d better enjoy this one-time offer.” She grins at him, and he grins back as he walks out, greeting Gareth on his way to his car.

“Emerson,” Robin says.

“Buckley,” Gareth replies.

“Did I royally fuck up?”

“Ah,” Gareth laughs, “I should’ve known this was your fault.”

“I didn’t think anything would happen! I thought, y’know, they’d talk!” She balls up her hands in her hair.

“Well, Eddie thinks Steve hates him.”

“Oh,” Robin says, “that’s okay, then, because Steve thinks Eddie hates him.”

“They’re idiots.”

“They’re our best friends.”

“So what does that make us?”

They both laugh, and Robin takes the tape to scan it back in. “How’s Aunt Betty?”

“Same as always,” Gareth shrugs. “How about Aunt Melissa?”

Robin sighs. “As hippie as ever, I think. She’s talking to me about marriage.” They both shudder. Robin looks at the screen. “You’re late,” she tells him.

He rolls his eyes. “By, like, a day, Binnie, can’t you just…” he wiggles his fingers at the computer, “write it off?”

She glares at him. “The things I do for family.”

Gareth snorts. “Speaking of doing things… what are we gonna do about them?”

Robin sighs. “Your idea of locking them into a closet is sounding more appealing by the minute.”

Gareth snaps. “I’ve got it! Blind date.”

“With each other?” Robin makes a considering noise. “It could work. It would have to be in Indy.”

“Talk to Eddie about places to go,” Gareth entreats. “Where you can be yourself.”

Robin snorts. “You can say gay bar, Nicholas, it’s not a bad word.”

Gareth screws his face up. “You know I hate my middle name.”

“I know, and I don’t know why, and anyways you started it with fucking Binnie.”

He flips her off, then stares expectantly. “So you’ll talk to Eddie?”

“Mhm. I’ll tell you what he says. Then you’ll tell Eddie and I’ll tell Steve?”

“Deal.” He holds his hand out to shake. “Oh, and make sure Steve wears the yellow sweater.”

Robin cackles. “You’re an evil genius. Will do, but only if Eddie wears his battle vest.”

They shake on it.

She speaks to Eddie later, about places to go, things to do, and comes to a decision. She speaks to Gareth that same day, who talks to Eddie the next day, the same day she talks to Steve. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Am I gonna hate it?”

“No!” She pauses. “I don’t think so? I’m setting you up on a blind date.”

“No.”

“Then you’re gonna stand them up, and do you really want that?”

Steve huffs out a breath, pinches his nose. “Fine. What is it this time?”

Robin claps and jumps. “Yes! Okay, it’s called Jake’s BBQ. Super accepting place. He’ll be in a denim vest.”

Steve cocks his brow at her. “He?”

“I thought it might help,” she said. “Oh, and I told him you’d be in a yellow sweater.”

Steve throws his hands in the air. “I guess all my choices have been made for me.”

“Please, there’s plenty of time to dazzle him with all your polos after the first date.”

Steve snorts. “When is it?”

“Friday, seven o’clock. I’m taking your shift.”

Steve raises both his brows. “You really want me to go.” She shrugs. “Alright, Robbie. No promises it goes well.”

“It’ll go great,” she assures him.

Three days later finds Steve on I-40E, getting closer and closer to Indy.

He finds the restaurant without too much trouble, grimacing when he realizes he’s going to have to be very careful not to spill on his sweater. He walks in, head on a swivel, doing a double-take when he sees Eddie sitting alone at a table. “Eddie?”

He looks over. “Steve?” His face hardens. “Look, if this is your idea of a joke, you can just-”

Steve shakes his head. “Joke? Robin sent me on a blind date.”

Eddie shuts his eyes on a sigh. “Did she happen to tell you anything about your date?”

“Uh, he’d be wearing a denim vest.” Steve’s eyes flicker down to Eddie’s chest, where his battle vest is on display. He grimaces. “Want to help me murder Robin?”

“Only if you help me murder Gareth after,” Eddie snickers, leading Steve back to his table. “C’mon, you drove all this way, you might as well get something to eat.”

Steve sighs, picking at his napkin. “What were you told?”

“Ah.” Eddie blushes. “That he’d be wearing a yellow sweater.”

Steve frowns. “I don’t understand that, actually, why this old thing?”

Eddie smiles. “Why the vest?”

Steve blushes. “With a shirt? I don’t know.”

Eddie’s eyes spark. “And without a shirt?”

Steve stares for a minute, then forces his eyes away with a quick shake of his head. “Why are we here, man?”

Eddie sighs. “I think Gareth just wants to humiliate me, honestly.” He stirs his straw in his drink, listens to the ice cubes clink. Takes a breath that shakes a little in the middle. “I, uh. Kinda have a really unfortunate crush on you.”

Steve’s jaw drops. “I thought you hated me!”

Eddie’s eyes widen. “No, I- I could never-”

“Well don’t say that, you did hate me in high school.” He shakes his head. “Why? Why me?”

Eddie laughs, loud and fake. “Listen, Harrington, I’ve had enough humiliation for today, thank you very much.”

“No, that’s not- Eddie, I like you too!”

Eddie blinks at him. “You- what?”

Steve nods. “That’s why Robin set me up with you.” He blushes. “And why I’ve been acting so weird,” he admits. “The last day you came in to Family Video, with the tank top? And your hair up?” He shakes his head, palms flat on the table, leaning over the edge of it. “I thought I was gonna die, dude.”

Eddie grins, pulling his hair back. “So, let’s say if I were to do this…” he pulls a hair tie off his collection of black bracelets, pulls his hair into a messy approximation of a bun.

Steve’s face is on fire. “Yuh- yep,” he says. “Y-yeah, that, that’s, uh.” He covers his face with his hands. “I need you to take your hair down before I do something that lands us both in jail for indecent exposure.”

Eddie chokes. “Rain check?” He jokes, taking his hair down. “And, uh. I brought the van. If you need to get it out of your system.”

Steve stares at him. “Get the check. We’ll get fast food on our way back.”

Eddie cackles, waves his hand for the waitress, and soon they’re in the van, Eddie’s hair back up.

Some time later, Steve calls Robin. “Hello?”

“Buckley, I’m going to murder you.” A pause, “Eddie’s helping. You want twin plots with Gareth?”

Robin shrieks. “I told you!”

“Yeah, yeah. Still gonna murder you.”

“As long as you and Eddie are done pining.”

“We done something!” Eddie crows, cackling, jumping back when Steve swats at him. 

“Ew,” Robin says, “please kill me so I don’t have to witness that, actually.”

“Robbie,” Steve says, then sighs, suddenly serious. “Thank you.” He smiles at Eddie, who smiles back and moves in to wrap an arm around Steve’s waist.

“Are you happy?”

He looks at Eddie, smiling at him, tapping his finger on Steve’s hip to the sound of the music coming from the speakers. “Yeah,” he says. “I am. Really happy.”

[corazondebeskar-reads]

could be

Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

this ficlet is brought to you by @iamasaddie's writing challenge! my assigned color was "pretty clicker" (which tbh idk if we needed to include the color but I did anyway lol).

genre: pwp (I tried my best) prompt: "whoa, that's a new one."

words: 1.7k

summary: jackson is not your home. joel miller is not your boyfriend. but they could be.

warnings: pwp, oral (m&f receiving), handjob, fingering, joel and reader are astoundingly bad at emotions, a few playful spanks, tommy makes an off-screen cameo, old man joel my beloved, antics, absolutely no proofreading or beta reading whatsoever rip sorry

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Whoa, that’s a new one,” drawls the man as he steps out of the shadow of the copse. “ If it ain’t the prettiest little clicker I’ve ever seen.” 

You scowl, tugging the hat off, boot scuffing the dirt as you grind the frustration of being caught out into the soil. It gives with some difficulty, the late autumn’s early frost already turning the ground to stone. “Shut up, Joel,” you mutter. 

“That always work for ya? How haven’t you gotten shot yet?” He says, jerking his head down at the ball cap you’ve adorned with the decapitated clicker’s face.

(Or should you say disembodied? Dessicated? Desecrated? Whatever, you cut the fucking mushrooms off a dead fucker and stuck them on a hat. The terms don’t matter.) 

“Yep. Not too many fools out here who will go looking for a clicker when they hear one.”

“It’s a good impression, darlin’, but it’s not quite enough to trick me.” He’s drawn close, maybe too close, and curls two fingers under your chin, drawing your gaze to his grizzled face. 

You roll your eyes. “You a clicker whisperer or something?” 

His lips curl. “Not quite, no.” He lets his hand fall from your chin, and you watch it go. 

When you look back up at his face, you’re caught. Trapped. His grin is solemn, as if he, too, feels the snare.

“You got somewhere to stay tonight?” he says, instead of acknowledging the way you’ve drawn a breadth closer. 

“Sure do,” you drawl. 

He chuckles. “Alright, keep your secrets. But, uh—my back ain’t what it used to be, so the forest floor ain’t gonna work for me today.”

Your lips curl. “Presumptuous, are we?”

“You’re lookin’ at me like a piece of meat, sweetheart.”

“Well, ain’tcha?”

“Guess you must be desperate, then, ‘f’you’re back for an old man like me.”

“Guess so,” you hum and give in. “How d’you always find me?”

“Hmm, don’t you worry ‘bout that, alright? All you gotta know is that I do always find you, and I’ve got some of Tommy’s peanut butter cookies in my bag for ya.”

“My hero,” you press one hand over your heart while the other makes the universal ‘gimmie’ gesture at his backpack. 

“Could be, y’know,” he mumbles. 

You both ignore the slip. He rifles around in the bag and pulls out a tin. You try to snatch it from him, but he pulls away with a wagging finger. 

“Nope, not yet,” he says with a teasing lilt, his drawl drawing out. He hands you one precious sweet and tucks the rest back into his bag. “If I give it to you now, you’ll just run off, and then what’ll I have?”

“A sense of satisfaction from being kind?”

You share a laugh at your joke as he leads you not to the safe “house” but up to the old, creepy lodge you avoid like the plague. Or. Well. Like the Infected. 

“Calm down, I already cleared it,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “It’s got a real bed, though, sweetheart, so I can take my time with ya.”

“You mean so you don’t break a knee fuckin’ me over a log?”

“It didn’t break. Jesus. How old do you take me for?”

“Old as shit,” you mutter. 

He just grins. 

“What?” 

“Nothin’. You just get brattier the longer you’re away. Ain’t got any good cock back home?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, but it’s close to the truth. There’s cock back home, sure, but then you’d have to fuck one of those losers, and you just know Joel’s ruined you. 

Ruined you with intent and precision, and now he’s taking you by the hand and leading you up into the lodge’s dusty halls and into what must have once been a nice guest room. 

You whistle. “Did you clean this just for me?” You ask, batting your lashes. 

“If I say yes, you gonna be sweet for me?”

“You wouldn’t know what to do with me if I was.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says, lying down on the bed with his hands behind his head. “So get your ass up here.”

You quickly shimmy out of your sweats and climb up to straddle him, but his grin splits wider in a lecherous stretch. 

“You think I brought you here for you to ride me? Y’can do that shit in the woods. Get up here.”

You hesitate. “I live in a fucking camp, Joel.” The “without running water” bit is obvious but unspoken.

“I do not give a shit,” he says bluntly. “Get up here.”

“Your funeral,” you say with a shrug, and let him help you settle over his face. You’re barely steady when he grabs your hips and pulls, bringing you to meet him. 

It’s been… longer than you can even remember, and oh shit. Either your memory hasn’t done this justice, or the last man to eat you out was fuckin’ terrible because this is nothing like you’ve ever known. 

But he doesn’t dive in and rush it. He doesn’t go straight to sucking on your clit; he doesn’t push three fingers into your cunt to work you open for his cock. 

Oh, no. You’ve been had, you think. This setup was an elaborate trap to wipe your mind clean and replace everything with thoughts of him. He’s brought you here to the second closest place of safety he knows so he can take his fuckin’ time with you. 

His hands are gentle on you, and he nuzzles into your mound to part your folds, his wide nose pushing between to seek out his prize. The tip of his tongue pushes out to help, tracing the tiny slit of your cunt. At the first taste of you, he groans, drawn out and filthy. 

“Shit,” he pants, hot breath scattering across the soft peaks and valleys. “It’s been too goddamn long.”  He seems to be talking to himself, which is good because you can’t wrangle more than a tangled gasping whimper in response. 

He brings his hands up underneath you to grip your inner thighs, pulling to spread you more so he can watch you start to glisten. “Atta girl,” he murmurs, nuzzling back in to lap it up. “Mmm, baby, is all this for me?”

“Shoulda known you wouldn’t shut up,” you mutter, even though you’re addicted to his filthy mouth most of the time.

“Shut me up then,” he says in a way you simply cannot refuse. 

You grind down on his face, expecting protest, but he moans in a way you can only classify as slutty. He buries his face between your thighs with a growl and gets to work. 

You can barely hold yourself up after the first orgasm he coaxes from you, all powerful tongue and gentle lips. 

“Y’ain’t quittin’ on me, are ya?” He taunts. 

“I thought you were gonna shut up.” 

He smacks your ass. “Turn around.”

When you do, he pushes you down to lay on him. “Get nice and cozy with my cock, sweetheart, ‘cause I ain’t done with you yet.”

You take the invitation but before you can pull him free from his jeans, he’s diving back into his personal all you can eat buffet and showing no sign of slowing. 

Eventually, you manage to pry his ridiculous monster cock from its denim confines and try, really try, to focus on it, but it’s so hard (you giggle as you tell him) when he keeps doing that thing with his teeth and your clit. After the third time, you find yourself just moaning and drooling around it; you give up and rest your head on his thigh, content to hold it in your hand and lick. 

He spanks you again. “Don’t be a tease.”

You try to protest, but he bests you by attempting to suck your soul out of your clit while hammering two thick fingers against your g-spot, and it’s all over for your brain. Poor thing never stood a chance against Joel anyway. 

You squirm away from the menace when he attempts to keep going and smack him in the face with a pillow when he whines. He wipes his beard on it and throws it back at you. 

You can’t hold back your questions now that you’re back up and running. “How d’you have the time for this?” 

“Hmm?” Joel grunts, a hand tugging lazily at his dick while he surreptitiously slides his hand down the length of your thigh and back up. 

You turn on your back, swatting his hand away. “You’re usually in a rush.”

He turns a little pink. “Don’t matter.”

“Uh, it clearly does. I’m asking.”

“Well, it’s nunya.”

You groan. “Think I liked it better when you were too busy eating me out to talk.”

“Now you know how I feel.”

You throw the cum-stained pillow back at him but miss by an embarrassing overshot. It arcs over him and into the floor between his side of the bed and the wall. 

You shrug. “Gone forever,” you say and throw an arm over your eyes dramatically. 

It’s a good thing, too, since the pillow hits you in the face. 

“I’m on watch here,” he says once you stop screeching indignantly. 

“Well, you’re not doing a very good job of it,” you let him know solemnly. 

“Ain’t alone. M’brother—Tommy,” he clarifies unnecessarily, “S’here too. He’s got it handled.”

“Oh my god, did you ask your brother to cover for you so you could get laid?”

He shrugs. “Why not?”

“Aw, Miller. You really know how to make a girl feel special,” you drawl. 

He plays it off with another eye roll and scoffs, but the thing is—you know. He stopped asking you to think about moving to Jackson a long time ago. But slowly, he’s been taking you closer and closer to town when you meet up. 

And you’re pretty sure he’s using Tommy’s cookies as a reward. Each time he lures you closer, he brings more treats the next time. You’d be mad at the absolute gall, but… it’s not not working, so you only have yourself to blame.

When you catch his eye again, he makes a point to hold your gaze and draw it down to his leaking cock, and you know he knows. You won’t go with him, so he’ll have you here. Jackson is not your home. But that quiet drawl in your head that sounds unnervingly similar to the man sprawled before you whispers, it could be.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

❥𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 || Stanley Pines ||

A/n: annnnd here's Stan's 🫡

Request:

Biting back hiss, you slowly sat up in the bed as your eyes quickly shifting to the clock. The time 2:45am flashing red on the clock. Stan's arms draped across your belly. You didn't want to wake him, though the sharp pain shooting through your body followed by your water breaking and nails digging into the man's arms was enough to pull him from the deepest asleep.

"Whys the bed wet?" Running his fingers through the silver strands, Stan blinked in the darkness.

"Stan..."

"I didn't have an accident did I?"

"Stan!"

"Is this some sort of prank...listen beautiful. I love a good prank as much of the next guy but if you wanted my attention that badly all you had to do was ask."

"Stan!" Gritting your teeth, hunch over in pain you took a deep breath in. "My water broke."

"Hehe good one...that's funny...I thought you said your water broke."

"..."

Looking at you, seeing that you were indeed not joking Stan's eyes went wide as he jumped out of the bed. "Shit! Why the hell are we standing around?"

Frantically rushing around the room, Stan started shoving random clothes in a suitcase. About to rush out the door a loud clearing of the throat is what pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Forgetting something?"

"Ph...hehe right can't drive to the hospital without the mother."

Arms wrapping around your hips, Stan guided you to his car. Once he knew you were safely in the car he placed a kiss to your head then cleared out his throat looking at you. "Hold tight doll face."

"Wait...wait?!"

Flashing you a grin, Stan slammed his foot down on the gas peddle, the car speeding off down the road as you felt your throat leap into your chest holding tightly on the handle. "Holy shit."

"My wife ain't givin birth on the side of the road." Stan humus pressing his foot down on the peddle as the car surged forward.

You were honestly surprised that the man didn't crash nor attract any attention from the cops as he pulled in by the emergency lane.

"Stay here." Rushing into the hospital you wanted to remind the man that you weren't going anywhere but Stan was already rushing off into the hospital.

Flexing his fingers, Stan let out a nervous laugh though you can tell by his eyes he was smiling, that he was truly happy. "You got a strong grip beautiful, think I taught ya a bit too much."

Relaxing into the hospital bed, you turned your head to the twins sleeping next to you. "Thank you Stan."

"Aw beautiful you don't gotta thank me, I'm just happy I got ya here on time." Stan brushed your air away. "You did an amazing job by the way."

Grabbing his hand, you then placed a small kiss on the back of his palm. "I love you."

"Love ya too Doll face...and these little bugs."

[toxicanonymity]

Let me stay awake.

7.2k, vampy!Joel x f!reader | vampire masterlist | playlist SUMMARY: Joel tries to take better care of you and plans a date night in. Next time he takes your blood, it feels amazing. WARNINGS: I8+, big girthy age gap (440s to 20s-50s), reader is in captivity, angst, hurt/comfort, dark fluff, POV alternates (twice?), a lot of character dev in the first half, a former blood donor joins the cast, chains, shackles, ankle collar, dry humping, groping, perfectly timed ejaculation. Captivity dubcon. SERIES IMMERSABILITY: Reader can menstruate, be lifted by vampire Joel, and has no allergies.

After Joel took your period, you told him he was doing a bad job taking care of you, which was true. But he did a good job at something. You slept like a baby. He was back with when you woke up. Now he’s sitting next to you on the mattress, back against the wall. Against his thighs, he’s holding a pen on top of a book that looks ancient.  He adjusts his glasses and opens the book. The pages are blank, discolored, and thick. Some have been ripped out. He takes the cap off his pen and asks, “What’d ya have at your old house that we don't have here?” then rests his hand on the page to write. His hand dwarfs the page, and you feel a surge of desire recalling his sounds of pleasure. No, you don’t want him, you tell yourself, as if you didn’t fantasize about him on your way to sleep.

“Freedom,” you answer, and he winces. 

He closes the journal with the pen keeping it partly open, then he turns toward you. “If ya just gimme a chance, sweetheart. . . I'm really gonna do my best. . .” 

When you stay quiet, he says, “Ya know. I think one day, we’ll get there.” 

“Get where?” 

“Outside, out in the world together.”

“Really?” 

He nods. “That walk we took was nice, right?”

“What walk?”

“Through the alley, that first night, when I walked ya to your car?” Right. . .what a gentleman. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Now your mind is drifting back to the way he gently pushed you against the brick wall to kiss you on that walk. Did he already know what he was going to do to you when he first pressed himself against you? 

His eyes are earnest.  “It can be like that again,” he nods.  “Just need a little time.”

You nod. 

He clears his throat, opens the journal, and picks up his pen. “So what do you need?” 

Your stomach twists. Answering would feel like resigning yourself to some dark fate. “I'm not gonna help you keep me prisoner,” you mumble. 

“Prisoner?” He dips his head and his brow furrows. “God, no,” he softly reassures you. He reads your face, then stares into the mattress and swallows.

You rephrase, “Well I’m not gonna help you keep me.” 

He looks you over with pleading eyes.  “I'm gonna go out for a while, okay? Can I get ya anything?”

There are things you need, but you still can’t bring yourself to acknowledge you’re there for the long haul. So you shake your head no. He goes to get the chain from the floor.

“Hate doin’ this,” he mumbles. “‘s’just for now.” He drags the chain over and lifts the sheet to expose your feet. He sees the scrapes and irritation on your ankle. “Shit,” he shakes his head at himself. “Hold on, sweetheart,” he mutters. “Stupid,” he mumbles at himself as he gets up.  He goes upstairs and takes the tray from breakfast with him.  He returns with the same tray. It’s holding a pair of his own wool socks in a fair isle pattern, a paper bag, and a translucent teal bottle full of water. “Lunch,” he says as he sets the tray down next to you. He puts the socks on you, and they're toasty. Then, he puts the cuff on over the sock. “Little better?”

“A little,” you answer. 

“Good,” he whispers. 

— JOEL —

He’s gotta do something about that chain. He’s about to lay down on the sofa to think, but when he moves a decorative pillow out of the way, he feels a rush of shame. “Oh my god,” he whispers. He’s so stupid. How did he not think to give you a pillow? He goes straight to a guest bedroom. The tall, oak door creaks as he opens it. The light from the window nearly blinds him. He blocks it with his forearm as he hurries over to close the heavy curtains.  He sneezes. He picks up an old pillow off the bed and fluffs it. Dust swarms around. There's no way he's giving you that. This whole room has a sad vibe. But he could make you a different room, maybe. His wheels start turning as he goes back downstairs - he has ideas for what room he could use, and what he could do with it. 

He says your name as he descends the final steps. “I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking,” he apologizes as he crosses the room.  He hands you the pillow and assures you he'll get a better one. Then he goes back upstairs.

After a little research, he packs a leather, cross-body bag and checks the weather. “Damnit,” he grumbles to himself.  Cool but no cloud cover. If it were another sunny day, he’d stay home, but this is too important. He puts on a scarf and grabs his parasol from the coat closet and tucks it under his arm as he pulls on his gloves. He’d rather endure the strange looks than come home without the energy to take care of you. 

-

-

Joel’s first stop is an erotic boutique. It's been a long time since he was anywhere like this. The mannequins in mesh bodysuits and strappy leather catch his eye on the way in, and he almost forgets what he came for. He can't help but imagine you wearing some of these things, but he'd rather just see you naked. 

He slowly makes his way through the store. Should he get you a toy? It seems like sexual health would be a basic need. No, he decides. It might make you uncomfortable. He doesn't want to assume, and doesn't want to invade your privacy. Plus, he has to be careful. He doesn’t want you to think this is all just to get him off. He knows how it feels to be fetishized.

“Can I help you?” Someone asks. Joel turns around and squints through his transition lenses at the worker’s face, then their name tag. Craig.  Where does Joel know him from?  Joel stays home a lot, but not as much as one might think. He needs some kind of social contact. 

Craig interrupts Joel’s thoughts, “You’re the one with the mansion, right?”

Joel chuckles. “Uhh, I dunno if–”

“Oh, sorry,” Craig  holds his hand up. “Ya know what? I must be thinking of someone else.” His lie is an unconvincing attempt to allow Joel his anonymity after the slip-up. He probably thinks Joel is in disguise. 

“No, no, it’s okay, man. I was just gonna say. I wouldn’t call it a. . . mansion,” Joel feels stupid as he finishes the sentence. 

“Okay,” Craig concedes with a playful eye roll.  “The house with the Christmas party” 

Oh, God. Joel hadn't even thought about his party. It's gotta be small this year, if it happens. Maybe it would be nice. Joel pictures you in a fancy dress sitting next to him at the table. He imagines having someone to kiss at midnight. 

“New year’s, “ Joel corrects him and sticks out his hand. “Joel.” 

“Right, right.” Craig shakes Joel’s hand and asks, “Friend of the Fishers, right?” 

Joel snaps his finger, “Yes! Right. You're in David's choir.” Another thing Joel forgot. His life has revolved around you ever since you stepped into it.  You're all he thinks about.  Joel starts to apologize, “Look, I dunno if I'm gonna make the Christmas concert this year, it snuck up on me.”

“It's okay, it's okay,” Craig reassures him with a wave of his hand. “Can I help ya find anything?” 

“Yeah, uh, it said online y’all have some cuffs and chains and stuff?”

“Oh yeah,” Craig nods. “Come with me.” He guides Joel to a back wall covered in all sorts of contraptions. “Looking for anything in particular?” 

“Yeah, something really comfortable and secure.”

–

As Craig rings up Joel’s purchase, Joel silently worries if this is going to work. 

“Want me to show ya how the lock works?” Craig asks. 

 “Uhh, sure,” Joel says. 

Craig takes the leather cuff out of the package and demonstrates the metal lock. He dangles the two keys. “One for you, and one for them,” he smiles. 

“And both cuffs have the same key?”

“Yep,” Craig nods. 

The cuff seems comfortable–the inside is suede and there's metal over the leather-–but Joel wonders if it's secure enough. What if you get away and he never sees you again? He looks at the metal loop on the cuff.

“Hey,” Joel asks and scratches his neck. “Y’all don't have any, uh, ID tags or anything do ya?”

“ID tags?” 

“Like the little metal ones that hang on a loop.”

“Ohhh, like for a collar.” Craig raises his eyebrows. 

“Or for this?” Joel asks, holding up a cuff. 

“Cool,” Craig nods as if Joel is an innovator.  “Gimme one sec.” 

Craig goes out to a nearby shelf and comes back with a few collars that have their own tag – mostly hearts, either blank or with something generic like princess. “This is all we got.”

“Y’all do engraving here?” Joel asks. 

“No. . .But if ya only need the tag, and it's gotta be engraved, I can tell ya where to go.”

–

When Joel is done with his next stop, he opens his leather bag and slips the metal tag into a zippered pocket. Damn, he thinks.  He doesn't even know your favorite color. He hopes you’re okay with a black heart. Certainly better than a bone shape. He starts his car and heads toward the library. 

-

When Joel walks into the library, he politely nods at the information desk, then heads to the computers. He sits down at one in the back row. He takes his gloves off, pulls his journal and a pen out of his bag, then logs onto the computer. He searches the catalog and the internet. What do you need? Food, water, shelter, this all seems obvious. What do you want? Freedom, he can hear you saying it. How much can he give you? How can he make you stay? How can he make you understand how much he cares? He retrieves a book and opens his journal to make some notes.

-

Joel puts down his pen, looks over his notes, then takes off his glasses, and rubs his eyes. He wishes you’d talk to him. What do you really want? 

He whispers your name out loud. “God I wanna make you happy.” He closes his eyes and rubs his temples. He has a headache. The sun is catching up with him. He shouldn’t have gone out today. He should go home. When he opens his eyes, he puts his glasses back on. Someone is approaching. He swiftly locks the computer screen and closes his notebook. 

“Joel.” It’s a kind, grandmotherly voice.

“Carol,” Joel smiles, and leans back as casually as he can. 

“You alright there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Joel nods, trying not to wince. She looks at the empty computer screen and closed notebook. 

“Okay, well, you know where to find me, dear.” 

“Great sweater, by the way,” Joel tells her. “Perfect color. Really makes your eyes pop.”  

“Oh, Joel,” she coyly pats down her white curls. “Thank you, dear--OH, Christy asked if you came in. Do you want me to get her?” 

Joel didn’t even think about her on his way in. He feels a twinge of guilt for silencing her call, ignoring her text. 

“Joel?” Carol asks, looking concerned. 

He snaps out of it and feigns a little smile. “Uh, no. No, thank you. Don't bother her.”

“Okay,” Carol says in a sing-song voice. “I'll leave you to it then.” She smiles and walks away. 

–

So she was expecting him. Oh, shit - he thinks through his mental calendar - Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. Warmth rises to his cheeks. It’s been so long since he’s felt his cheeks get warm. It must be something in your blood.  Not only has Joel taken blood from Christy, but she’s been his wingman before. They'd go out somewhere, and he'd listen to her drone on and on–she never took a breath–about  her armchair detective community. 

She’s always been a little too into the whole situation. If Joel thanked her for her help, she’d beam, “Any time.” She wasn't with him the night he met you. He wasn't on the hunt. But you smelled special, and he couldn't physically resist. 

Joel hears Christy greet someone. He can't dodge her, he just has to hope she walks on by.  He picks up his leather bag and puts it in his lap. He rifles through it until he finds a stick of menthol balm. 

“There he is,” Christy calls. 

Too late. He stuffs the menthol back in his bag without using it. He looks up, and she’s paused in the middle of the library with one hand on her hip and her eyes wide, even wider than usual.  

“Hey, Chris.” 

She hurries over. “So you are alive,” she teases with her arms crossed, then tilts her head, widens her eyes, and whispers, “figuratively speaking.” She laughs at her own joke. 

She knows as much about him as anyone alive. It's made a big difference having a friend who knows. This has been one of Joel’s better eras, but the era he’s moving into with you will be lightyears better. And it’ll be more than an era. 

“Kinda late,” she cringes lightheartedly. 

“Oh, no, no, none for me. I’m good, thanks. Sorry, I’ve uh – I’ve gotta go.” 

He stands up and puts his bag on.  She’s gonna know something’s up. He scratches the back of his neck, weighing whether to break down and tell her everything so she can help him know how to make you comfortable and happy. Plus, he just wants to talk about you. He wants to tell the world. But today he has one priority: taking care of you. 

“Waait a second,” Christy says knowingly, studying his face. “You’re glowing. You just got some good stuff, didn't ya?” She playfully punches Joel’s arm.  “Good for you,” she beams, then raises her eyebrows and lowers her voice. “Bet it was menstrual, O positive.”

“The blood type doesn't–”

“--You say that, but if you’d let me do my experiment. . .Oh! We’ve got some new microfilm downstairs. 1880s, if you can believe it.” 

“Not today,” Joel replies a little too quickly if he doesn’t want her prying.  

Her lips form a line and her eyebrows go up, then she shrugs it off. “Okay, mister. Hey, can you still take care of Cal next weekend? Nat and I are–”

“--Uh, yeah,” Joel starts to walk off. “If you can drop her off.” You might enjoy the cat’s company.

“Joel!” Christy calls after him. “Don’t forget this!” She’s holding his parasol. 

–

Next, Joel stops by the hardware store to get some supplies to secure you more comfortably. He’s sure he’s forgetting something, but this is a good start, and there’s always delivery. He doesn’t want to leave the house again this week. Thankfully, the hardware store is next to a Walmart, which has groceries, clothes, and pillows. He gets you some loungewear, socks, and new bedding. It’s the least he can do.

—--

When Joel gets home, he brings you four different pillows and some bedding. 

“Wasn’t sure what firmness.” 

He unlocks you and shows you the socks and lounge clothes. “These looked comfortable. Here, I can help. . .”

“I can do it,” you tell him. 

“Right.”  He turns around. While you’re changing, he says, “Let's order in tonight. Too tired to get anything started.”  

“I’m not hungry yet,” you tell him.

Then he shows you the new cuffs and chain. He rings the heart shaped tag onto one cuff, then puts it around your ankle. “Better?”

The chain is much lighter.  “Yeah, I guess,” you admit. “What’s this?” You look at the tag. 

“Oh I dunno, I just–I started worryin’.” 

You stare at him blankly. 

“I dunno, just in case.” 

“In case what?”

He swallows. “If ya. .” He looks around. He doesn't wanna say it out loud.  “If ya left. . . so ya could . . . I dunno, get back.”

Now there’s a hint of pity and bewilderment in your eyes. 

“It was stupid, sorry.” He takes a deep breath and manages a small smile. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll be right upstairs.” 

-

When he gets upstairs, he looks at his phone and has a message from Christy. His stomach drops when the picture loads. It’s his search history about taking care of adult human women and what makes them stay.

“God damnit,” he curses himself. Of course he didn’t clear his search history. He didn’t even log off. She's typing. She stops, then starts again, and he presses the heels of his palms into his temples. What now? Should he call her? She wouldn't tell anyone, but – Her message comes through with a woosh: “this is what librarians are for.”

“Ha," he scoffs with the slightest smile. He shakes his head and turns the screen off without answering.  He should be relieved, but can’t help but worry. He's seen her at her worst. God, he hopes that was her worst.  What does she want?

Another message comes in: “let me help you."

Of course that’s what she wants. Funny enough, he’s seen her at her worst specifically when she was trying to help. But it’s still tempting, because she’s smart and resourceful. She could tell him everything there is to know about you within an hour. He’d love to know what kind of clothes you’d like, your favorite foods, how to make you happy. But for now, he’s doing alright on his own. He doesn’t text back. 

-—You—

A while after Joel goes upstairs, you hear drilling, then clanking, metal jingling, things being dropped. 

Later, he brings you dinner. He doesn’t eat, but he sits with you.  Then, after you’re done, he faces you, cross-legged on the mattress.  He’s wearing his glasses and has his journal again. There are handwritten notes in it. From upside down, you can see the words “buy” and “do.” Some items are crossed through.

“I was thinkin’,” he studies the page, then looks up at you. “Ya might need a bed.” He looks at your face for confirmation.   “Right?” he asks. Wow, he really wants an answer. 

“I mean. . . yeah, I sleep in a bed, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Okay, I’m workin’ on a room for ya.”

For the next few days, he’s hard at work. 

—----

He comes downstairs one evening around dinner time and says,  “I was thinkin’, maybe we could watch a movie or somethin’.”

“Here?”

“Uh, no sweetheart. I was thinkin’, if ya wanna come upstairs for dinner, then maybe, after that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he smiles.

“Okay.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. Great.” He goes to the other end of the chain and takes a key out of his pocket to unlock the cuff from the floor.  As he's doing it, he mumbles, “You can, uh, pick the movie. If ya want.” The chain is sliding around on the mattress as he fiddles with the cuff. When the cuff is free from the hook, he puts it around his wrist, then locks it. Your breath hitches. He sees you looking at his wrist. 

“Don't wanna get separated,” he chuckles sheepishly, then puts a hand on your wrist. “Want yours here?” 

“Yeah.” 

He moves the leather cuff from your ankle to your wrist, and it's nice to feel his hands on yours as he fastens it. He smells good. Fresh, woodsy. He opens his palm and takes your hand to help you up. He holds the slack of the chain as the two of you walk upstairs. 

—

It's a large room with high ceilings. It's dark, but cozy. A fire is lit. There are plants, lots of plants. And bookshelves in the walls. He takes you through the main room, to a dining room with a huge table already set for two.  He offers you the head of the table and pulls out the chair for you. He lets the slack of the chain pool between your chairs, and you're both still wearing a cuff on your wrist. 

 You eat mostly in silence, which makes the jingling of the dog tag deafening when you move that hand. He asks where you’d like to travel. You’d love to just travel outside, down the driveway, but you humor him with more ambitious places.

The space is lit with gas candelabras, and it’s hard not to admire his handsome face and the way his eyes sparkle in the candlelight. Sometimes a flicker catches the silver in his beard just right.

After dinner, he takes you back to the main room. There's an oversized sofa with a large, soft blanket draped over it and pillows like the one Joel brought downstairs. There's a big, square ottoman. There's also a side table with two clean, empty wine glasses. The sofa faces the fireplace, which is quite wide, and there’s a screen mounted above it. Joel offers you a glass of wine, and you accept but won’t drink much of it. He starts the movie.

-

Joel puts his arm around you while you watch the film. The chain lightly clinks against itself as he strokes your shoulder, then your arm, and you feel yourself melting. He arranges the pillows and asks if you want to lie down. You do. He spoons you, with his free hand resting over your body. His chained hand is under the pillow, and it finds yours as the movie goes on. Your fingertips brush, and you don’t pull away. Then he fully rests his hand on yours. 

The hand draped over your side gradually begins to wander. He slowly, lightly strokes your side. . .then your hip. . . then your stomach, over your clothes. His breath deepens. His light, meandering touch makes you weak with desire and lulls you half asleep. 

“Thanks for being here,” he whispers. He kisses the nape of your neck. “I know it’s a lot to take in.” He kisses your hair. “But it'll be worth it.” His light touch continues, and you begin to tingle. “Won’t be stuck here forever. . .we’ll travel the world one day.”

His hand travels higher on your body as he moves it in loose circles, until he’s skimming the bottoms of your breasts. His palm grazes the outline of your hard nipple, and a hard shape twitches against your ass. You don’t flinch, but you inhale sharply through your nose, trying to suppress a wave of desire. 

Joel pulls his hips back and tucks the blanket between you, to your secret disappointment. Then he props his head up to admire you. “So many things I wanna do with you,” he murmurs, running his massive hand down your side again where he started. “And for you,” he whispers, draping his hand over your lower belly. Then, barely audible, so quiet you might be imagining it, “and to you.” He puts his head back down on the pillow and inhales your hair, skimming your top with his fingers.

His hand nudges under your lounge top, then his fingertips slip into your waistband ever so slightly, and you’re throbbing.  His fingertips skim your bare belly, dipping a little further into your pants. 

He asks, “You okay from. . .”

Your heart rate quickens. “Yeah, I think so.” 

“I can check,” he quietly offers. “Make sure I got it all.”

“Ok,” you whisper. 

“Good,” he slides his hand down your lounge pants. You’re not wearing underwear. You gasp softly as his fingers reach your clit. He pauses there, and an involuntary push of his hips lets you feel him through the blanket before he pulls back again. His fingertips get lower, then hook between your legs, and he softly gasps when he reaches your wetness. He runs his fingers through your folds, then uses his massive hand to hold the waistband open while he peeks at his fingers. 

“You did,” you whisper. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shoulda waited, though. I wasn too rough. Shoulda let it happen.” He lets the waistband close over his wrist and cups your  mound.

“You weren’t,” you tell him, closing your eyes, embarrassed at the whole situation. Now he knows how wet you are. 

His middle finger twitches and nudges your clit, then begins nudging it rhythmically. Soon, it evolves toward a more deliberate, pleasure-focused rub, and he inhales deeply, chest expanding against your back. 

“I think I should go to sleep,” you whisper, overwhelmed. His finger stops moving, but his hand stays in your pants.  

Joel offers, “Might sleep better if–” 

“Not tonight.”  You twist your hips away from his, already hating yourself for cutting this off, but knowing you’d judge yourself for continuing. 

He slowly withdraws his hand. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Somethin’ came over me.” 

On the way downstairs, he tells you again, “I’m workin’ on a room for ya. Just gimme a couple days.” 

He chains you back to the floor, then makes up the mattress with a new set of bedding and a comforter. He tucks you in, and leans over you. He wets his lips, looking at yours. You look away. He kisses you on the cheek, soft and slow. Somehow, it feels just as sensual as if it were your mouth.

“Night, sweetheart.” 

—-

The next evening, your room is finished.  He brings you upstairs and shows you what he’s done. It’s an actual bedroom, with a nice, roomy bed. There’s a reading nook with a big, comfy chair and a wall of books.  It’s dim, of course, but he shows you how to use the dials to remotely adjust the flames of the candelabras and chandelier. There’s a window with a curtain. It has steel bars, but at least it’s there. There’s a closet with clothes and some packages not yet opened.  There’s even a fireplace. 

“And here’s the best part,” he says excitedly, gesticulating in a way that makes the chain between you jingle. He brings you outside the bedroom and closes the double doors. There are two dark panels that create a heart where the doors meet.  “Check it out.” He retrieves a key from his pocket, and locks the door from the outside. It’s a heavy, satisfying click. He looks at you like you’re going to be excited. “So you can take this off,” he explains, holding up the chain. 

-----

You see Joel more often once you’re out of the basement. He’s happy to have you close, and you’re glad to have the accommodations. But you’re also confused, and a little depressed. You crave his presence and his touch in a way you know is unhealthy. You know it must be because he’s all you have right now, but your heart tells you there’s more to it. The whole situation has felt like a dream, and maybe that’s how you’ve coped. But the longer it lasts, the more real it feels.

One night, it catches up with you and you have a good cry. You try to be quiet. You try to stop, but you can’t. So you let it go, you just sob. 

After a while, you hear the heavy lock, and the massive door opens just enough for Joel to come in. He closes it behind him, then stands there rubbing his beard.  He looks at you like he’s lost, then cautiously approaches. 

“Hey,” he whispers. He sits down on the bed. You’re curled up, facing him. You don’t turn away. He strokes your arm, and you cry harder. “Oh, sweetheart.” His eyes are sad. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong. He knows. He lies down, facing you. He hugs you into him and you cry into his soft t-shirt, inhaling his scent with every gasp for air.  “It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

You close your eyes, wanting him to kiss you, and you’re disturbed by your own desire.  You pinch your lashes shut harder, and your whole face tenses. It hurts.

“This isn’t okay,” you sob. “It’s not gonna be.” You try to push him away, but he holds you still. After all the times he’s folded, apologized, and backed off, that’s not what he does. He holds you in his arms, making you stay there. “What are you doing,” you whine, and you push at his chest. He doesn’t budge. You half-heartedly hit and kick at him, and he cages you with his leg, too. It soothes you, like a weighted blanket, but you fight it. 

“Shhhh,” he holds you tight. His voice is deep and quiet against the top of your ear. “We’re gonna be happy one day,” he insists. “Promise, sweetheart.” You exhaust yourself crying, and he holds you. “I love you.” You try to ignore it, but that doesn’t stop your heart from fluttering. Soon you’re nuzzling your head into his neck, gripping his shirt in a fist like you don’t want him to go. He drapes a heavy blanket over both of you. He holds you like that until you fall asleep and your fist releases his shirt. He stays a little longer, then kisses you on the forehead and leaves. 

—--

The next afternoon, Joel approaches you and sits down on the edge of the bed. “How ya feel? Ya look good,” he whispers, and cups your cheek. You don’t shrug him off. 

“I’m fine,” you reply, wishing he would lie down with you again, but not wanting to invite him. 

“What do you want for dinner?” he asks. 

“I don't care,” you answer.  

He sits there in silence and places a hand on your knee. 

“Got ya somethin’,” he murmurs, and stands up for a moment. He appears to get nervous as he reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a shallow, velvet jewelry box. He sits down again and holds the box out for you to take, but you don’t. He opens it for you. It’s a necklace. He tells you what the stone is. It’s your birthstone. It’s thoughtful, but he only knows your birthday because he has your wallet. He faces you and puts his hands around your neck as he puts the necklace on, getting his face close to yours so he can see the clasp. With his temple nearly brushing yours, you feel a surge of want. There’s no denying it. The scruff of his cheek scratches you lightly as he finishes fastening the necklace. “There,” he says, and looks at you adoringly.

“Thanks.” 

“You’re one of a kind, ya know.” 

He wets his lips and you notice they’re chapped, dehydrated. He’s pale. You find yourself wanting to hug him, kiss him, but you don’t. He kisses you on the cheek. 

—

One night, Joel makes you a special dinner. He cuffs the two of you together, and you eat in the dining room at the big table with him again. He tells you he needs your blood again. “I don’t have to take much,” he says. “It can be tomorrow,” he offers. “Don’t wanna spring it on ya.” 

“It’s alright,” you tell him. “You need it.” And the truth is, you want it. You want him to take it. You want to be taken back to that moment against your car. You want something that overwhelms your senses and puts you on another plane. You need something to remind you that you aren’t just a girl in a room, and he’s not just some guy keeping you there. If you can physically feel all of that, maybe you can let yourself relax. 

After dinner, he brings you back to your room and unchains you. You sit on the bed. He turns on the fireplace and tells you he’lll be right back. When he returns, he has an old medicine bottle with a cloth. He wets the cloth and says, “I’ll lay with ya, til ya wake up, okay?”

You look at the cloth in his hand and say,  “You don’t have to put me to sleep.” He adjusts the cloth in his hand. “Don’t,” you shake your head. 

His brows knit, and he reads your eyes for a few seconds. 

“Let me stay awake,” you plead. 

“You sure?”

You nod. He closes the bottle again and puts it on your nightstand. 

“Thought it scared ya,” he mumbles. 

“Well it did, when it was a surprise.” 

He nods solemnly. “I’m sorry ‘bout that. I really shoulda. . . I don’t even know.”  If he had asked, you wonder if you would have let him. Surely not, so you can’t exactly blame him. 

-

“Okay,” he looks you over and gets on the bed with you. “You warm enough?” He nudges the cardigan you’re wearing. 

“Yeah,” you nod, and shrug it off. You’re cozy enough from the fire.

“C’mon, let’s get up here.” He guides you up the bed and gets you to lay down with your head on a pillow as if you’re going to sleep. 

He gets close to you, and starts lightly stroking your shoulder as he looks you over. His eyes glue to your neck, and he wets his lips, then he pulls his eyes back to yours. 

“You can choose,” he offers. “Where I take it.” 

You bite your lip as you watch his face and inhale his scent. 

“I can take it here again,” he caresses your neck. Then he holds your arm and lightly brushes his thumb across where you’d normally get an IV, giving you an unexpected surge in arousal.  “Or here.” 

He checks your face, then lays his hand on your waist. His palm skims your side, down your hip. “Or,” he runs his hand up your thigh under your dress. His thumb caresses your thigh, right near your pelvis, and he whispers, “I can take it here.” You’re nearly overwhelmed with desire already. 

“I dunno,” you whisper. 

He gently rolls you onto your back. He takes a deep breath, scoots down the bed, and gets between your thighs. He nuzzles your inner thigh with his nose, then whispers, "up to you, sweetheart."  You're throbbing.

“Tell me what feels right,” he murmurs and nuzzles your inner thigh with his nose.  His hair is fluffy and his eyes are dark and sparkly as he looks up at you. “God, you’re . . .” He reaches up and wraps a hand around your arm. “You’re perfect.” 

“Where do you want?” you ask. 

“Everywhere, anywhere. I want every inch of you.” 

You allow yourself a little smile and hold his eyes for a few seconds. 

He sits up again and offers, “I can make ya feel good.”

“I know,” you nod with a laugh.

“I mean, it’ll feel best, if you’re already feelin’ good.” 

You nod with butterflies in your tummy, telling yourself it’s for a practical purpose, and you might as well enjoy it. 

He nods and whispers, “Okay. . .good.” His eyes rove your body hungrily. He asks, “Anywhere ya don’t want me to touch ya?”

You say "no" so fast your cheeks heat in shame.

His eyes darken and he growls, “good,” as he prowls back up your body.  His triceps swell out from under his shirt.

He kisses you tenderly below your jaw and brings a hand to your breast.  You lift your chin with a sigh. He drags his lips and nose down your throat to your chest, pausing at your neckline. He looks up and you nod. He nudges the fabric aside with his nose, then plants a wet kiss on the swell of your breast, and his eyes close. He moans into your skin. Your gaze fixates on his softwash khakis, and he briefly removes his hand from your chest to adjust himself. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“s’okay,” you whisper.

“‘Sposed to be about you right now,” he murmurs, looking up at you. You tilt your head, trying to look at his pants, but the room is too dim. Truth is, you’re finding it hard to think about anything but his cock at the moment. You only felt the briefest hint of it the other night. You want to feel it all.

He slides his hand up your thigh again, and his thumb nudges just slightly under the crotch of your panties, making you twitch. He takes a deep breath through his nose, then withdraws his thumb and lets down the edge of your panties. He scoots up to lie to your side again, leaving his knee between your legs. He rests his hand on your mound, and slowly ghosts your clit, closing his eyes.  When he opens his eyes again, they sparkle, and his face drifts toward yours.  You don’t flinch, you don’t pull away. You let him kiss you.

With one hand still between your legs, he slides the other one under your head. He kisses you slow and deep, stroking your most sensitive spot through your panties.  Your mouths remain connected as his massive hand slides up to your bare abdomen. He gives your side a little squeeze before sliding back down and nudging his fingers under the hem of your underwear. He pulls his lips from yours and looks at you darkly. It’s not a question, but you nod as his hand slides down.  You gasp and his knuckles strain the fabric as he cups your naked heat.  “Good,” he whispers when he feels how wet you are.  “What if ya just. . .” he kisses you again, then murmurs,  “let your body decide." He plants a soft, open mouth kiss on your cheek, then whispers in your ear, "I'll go everywhere. You tell me when.”

You wrap your wrists around his neck and he catches your inner arm with his mouth. He wetly kisses the inner crook of your elbow, looking up at you. Then he drags his lips down toward your chest, where he pulls your dress down. Your skin hardens with goosebumps as your nipples sharpen, and he groans softly. He kisses your bare breast, then fixes your dress, and kisses your hard nipple through the thin cotton. You arch your back and sigh. He gets between your legs and backs up as he kisses his way down your torso. He lifts your dress and thumbs your panties, sighing “oh, God.” 

He lifts one of your knees over his shoulder and kisses at your cunt through the damp fabric.  Your hips lift into his mouth. He licks along the edge of the crotch, then your inner thigh. He leaves a meandering trail of kisses around your inner thigh, then plants his lips and leaves a hickey. He glances up at you and adjusts himself again, and you let out a little moan.  “C’mere,” You nudge him, pulling at his arms, wanting nothing more than him on top of you. 

He prowls up your body and plants his hands on either side of your chest.  Lays his hips into yours, and when the shape of his warm, hard package presses into your most sensitive place, you gasp and he lets out a low moan. “Should I take-” he asks, reaching for his belt.  You’re nodding before he finishes the question. He uses his left hand to unbuckle his belt. “Sorry,” he mumbles as he pulls away from you enough to take his pants off. Now he’s in long johns, and it’s quite a bulge you’re looking at. Your face and chest burn. You pull him toward you with your feet. He presses his throbbing arousal against your aching heat, and you moan. You card your fingers through his hair. “Feel so good,” you whisper. 

“Good,” he whispers, then kisses your neck again.  

He puts his hand on your thigh and you wrap your leg around him. He lightly grinds into you as he kisses your neck, then your cheek, then your lips again. Your mouths open and draw each other in. You breathe each other’s air and drink each other’s spit. Your lips tingle. Your chest tingles. As you kiss harder, he grinds harder against you. You badly want him inside you, but  you won’t, you can’t, you shouldn’t, you tell yourself. 

The next time his mouth comes to your neck, he teases you with his tongue and a bolt of pleasure shoots down  your spine. Your nipples harden.  He opens his mouth wider against your skin. “Do it,” you whisper, then feel the prick of his fangs against your flesh. “Do it,” you repeat, and his arousal swells against you as he sinks his teeth into your skin. Your hips lift against his. He moans into your neck, and as your blood flows into him, he gets harder. You shudder in pleasure as he takes what he needs. You move his hand from your thigh to your breast, and you lift your pelvis into his, whispering, “yeah.” You’re not lightheaded, not yet. He’s doing this slowly, pacing himself. 

His warmer, harder cock twitches against you, and you reach down to grope it desperately. He groans. You grind up against him and moan, “Joel,” with a surge of need overtaking you. He ruts against you slow and hard, warm and stiff, then his cock pulses right against your clit. He groans into your neck, and you grind back against him, and the whole front of you begins to pulse with him. “Oh God,” you gasp and grab his ass, pulling him against you harder as the warmth of his cum seeps through the thermal fabric, “oh fuck,” you sigh as you cum with him. 

As you finish convulsing, his fangs release you. His breath is humid against your neck. “Fuck, i’m sorry,” he mutters. He leans his cheek against your shoulder, and you can feel how warm his face is. 

“Don’t be,” you whisper. “That felt really good.” He pulls back and looks at you, cheeks blotchy. 

“Really?” he asks. He cups and adjusts his manhood through his damp bottoms. “I never. . .”

“I know,” you reassure him. “It’s my blood, isn’t it?”

He nods with his eyes half closed. “It’s incredible.” 

You nod. “It was good for me too,” you admit. 

“I could feel it,” he puts a hand on your panties.  He sighs and lays half on top of you. He strokes your face. “Can I do somethin’ for ya?”

You shake your head no. “I’m good.” 

He caresses your neck. “I’ll get ya some ice.”

“No,” your hand comes to his back, and you don’t let him leave. “Just stay right here.” 

You lay in silence with him half on top of you. Then he props himself up to look at you. 

“We're made for each other,” he whispers, looking at your mouth. He kisses you softly, then meets your eyes. “You don’t believe it yet.  It’s okay.” 

“It’s not that I don’t-”

“It’s okay. Don’t have to,” he reassures you. He rests his head close to yours on the same pillow, and nuzzles his nose against yours. “Just hope ya feel it one day,” he murmurs into your cheek. “I know ya will.” 

You feel it. You disagree, you think, but you feel the truth in it. 

He puts his arm all the way over you. His arm is solid, and you imagine very heavy, but it's not dead weight. It's tense, like he's actively holding you there, just in case. 

—----

---------

--------

His parasol was inspired by @gasolinerainbowpuddles mood board. 

Thank you so much for love for vampire!Joel and your patience for his story to continue.

I hear you about notifs not working, and tags too (i'm not receiving a lot of my tags either). consider checking my fic notifs blog @toxicfics or the "latest fics" link on my profile header once in a while to see what you might have missed.

[chaosandmarigolds]

"How are we gonna get up there?"

It was supposed to be an easy midnight to noon shift, one that you could just sleep through the entirety of it. Maybe a transfer or even maaaybe one emergency so you could have fun and drive lights and sirens. But no, turns out your Lieutenant was on shift AND?? your partner had called out so you got some random solider that happened to have their EMT.

So, that is how you ended up with Johnny MacTavish and Lieutenant Riley on your call. Now, that didn't answer the question as to why you were all staring up at a window that was easily ten feet off the ground. It was supposed to be an easy welfare check, house clinic workers had asked for backup so instead of fire and police they had just asked for military. Counterproductive in your mind..

Well the door was locked, and the only window that was somewhat close was the one you were all looking at.

With a huff of air you take a step back, snow crunching under the weight of you and the bright red med slinger over your shoulder, "I dont know, looks like a bathroom window- it's kinda small."

Johnny shrugs, turning his head back to you, "Couldea jus break down the door."

"No no," You frown, unclipped the bag and let it fall, "We...there's gotta be a way we could get in through the garage-"

"Stitches you're going up," the lieutenant then said, not even bothering to look at you. Maybe because he knew your face would be contorted to one of dismay.

You scoff, "What if they're armed?"

"Does it smell like they're armed?" He retorted and to that you fell silent. And no...it didn't seem like the patient inside had the capacity to be .. well...

It took a few minutes of coaching them both on how to push you up, thankfully the window was cracked so it didn't take long to push yourself through- after a moment of a stinging pain in your leg. And then came the fall, of which was onto the lid of the toilet and then onto the floor.

it took a moment of regaining your composure before you realized Johnny was yelling for you, so you reply with a quip, standing as you stretch your newly sore back. "Three years of schooling to be used as a fucking door opener" You mutter as catch the red med bag as it's shoved through the window.

with a small grumble you go to walk through the home, finding the patient laying in their bed. And against odds... alive.

"Hi, I'm a paramedic, some people were worried about ya." You begin, "here, let me let my friends inside and then we can help ya out."

The patient was staring at you, seeming shocked, "How did you get in?"

You clear your throat, "Not important. But...you might was to get your bathroom window resealed."

-

"Damn," your partner laughs the next shift, looking at the black and blues forming on your side and thigh, "you ate shit huh?"

"Not on purpose."

"Yeah, anyway- how was your shift with Lt and Soap?"

"Who the fuck is soap?"

He blinked, "Sergeant Mactavish?"

You gagged on the fourth energy drink of the day and then laugh, "Oh! Yeah it was fine. Lieutenant really likes Blackpink too."

(Based on real events, at least till the end. :p)

[princessbrunette]

jj making you kiss his cock because you made it hurt

(you were wearing his shirt and it made him harder than it should have😭😭😭😭)

-🏹

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅🎀༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

he’s been holding himself back all day, trying not to be a total perv. you’re just existing, and with your sweet nature there’s no way you know to that extent how much you’re torturing him as you walk around in his muscle tank and a pair of cotton panties. your side boobs are on display, one wrong move from a nip slip every five seconds— just going about your day, walking around the kitchen of his house making some late lunch.

you lift your arms up, arching your back trying to crack it as you stretch, a quiet moan leaving you from how good it felt. apparently, that was his final straw.

“no, nope— you gotta— there’s no way you don’t know what you’re doin’ young lady.” he marches over, pointing a finger which rustles the black bracelets on his wrist at the force. you turn and face him, all confused and doe eyed as expected.

“huh?”

“dont huh me…” he corners you against the kitchen counter pressing his hard on directly against your front, a small gasp leaving you. “yeah, know what that is don’t ‘ya? you are killing me.” he hisses, a tinge of amusement in his otherwise serious tone. he looks good, lounging around in only a black backwards cap and grey sweat-shorts, his shirt being stolen right off his floor by you.

“what did i do?” you mewl, allowing him to manhandle you — slipping his hands round your back to your ass cheeks so he could pull you even harder against him, clearly trying to relieve himself with some friction.

“walk around in my shirt. lookin’ all sexy n’shit. this right here should be a crime. you should definitely let me lock you up f’that. shit, maybe i’ll handcuff you too.” he teases with a shrug and your lashes flutter at the suggestion. “you got some penance to do, missy.”

“what do you want me to do jayj? didn’t know i was teasing you i swear.” you promise, jutting your bottom lip out poutily. unable to resist, he leans in to kiss it — but stops right before he does, hovering over your lips with a better idea.

“gotta kiss the booboo, babydoll.” he steps back casually, standing crotch forward with his hands on his hips as he gazes down at his clear erection. “you made it hurt so like, it’s only fair you kiss it better right?” he explains further when you continue to blink at him.

“yay!” you giggle, delighted by the idea as you sink to your knees — barely giving yourself enough time to get comfortable as you eagerly bury yourself into the musky material of his shorts, kissing him everywhere all up and down his covered cock. he rolls his tongue over his lips before biting down, stomach tensing at the feeling of you mouthing at him, happy little moans leaving you.

“jesus, really getting in there, huh?” he comments and you nod happily, pulling back from a moment to look up at him lovingly.

“can i suck it? will that make it all better?” you mewl needily, and for a second he feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. he sighs, a chuckle rolling off the end of it as he bends at the waist, clutching your chin and cheeks in his hand.

“nothin’ would make me happier, sweetcheeks.” he smiles before reaching down and slowly dragging the hem of your shirt up until your tits spill out. “wouldnt complain about you lettin’ me see these pretty ass titties either.”

you briskly remove the shirt, and without being asked you peel your panties off too — totally naked on the kitchen floor making him wince, dick unfathomably hard. you press your body to his legs and get back to work, licking the grey material of his shorts until it was shades darker above where his dick lay.

“eaaaasy, damn. down girl, how about you let me take you somewhere a lil’ more comfortable, yeah?”

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅🎀༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

[pedge-page]

I'm new to ur page idk if this is done but I...I want Joel to piss inside a plushie....

Puddles - a Plushies x PK drabble

Notes: I've been waiting to write this one so here we go! Can read more plushies!Joel through Plushies Series masterlist, though they can all be read as standalone fics

Warnings: Pisskink!Joel, piss kink, Drunk!Joel, solo masturbation with a stuffed animal, yes he is pissing inside poor plushie, plushie fucking briefly

18+ ONLY

- - - -

He may have gone a little bit overboard when Tommy invited him for the crew’s so-called ‘happy hour get together’. He knew they all liked to go out and celebrate with a few drinks after completing a project, and this last one they just wrapped up for some posh client with outrageous requests was no different. 

Joel usually liked to skip out on them. First, because he didn’t want to know what these clowns might be up to when they get tipsy, letting whatever sober-less things go on follow his mind to the next job site. But also because he’s getting too old for that college level shit. Hangovers aren’t nearly as fun when you’re pushing well past middle age. 

But, he didn’t want to be home alone since you were going to be working late.

So, two beers turned into twelve and a few more various alcohol spiked beverages here and there, and boom. Joel’s swaying side to side along the sidewalk with Tommy guiding him all the way up the front door.

“You sure you don’t need me, brother?” Tommy asks hesitantly. 

Joel, with lolling eyes and a grin, confidently waves him off after successfully entering his key into the door after 6 tries.

He stumbles through into the dark alone, and the first thing that hit him is how badly he wants to curl up on your plushie filled bed. He thought about you all night; your shampoo filling his nose when you cuddle him, the smooth streak of your naked back when you finish a shower, the wet indulgence of your pussy when he eats you out.

He’s never going to admit it, but the man is clingy as shit when you’re around. And he’s craving some much needed plushie pussy time.

Shit, the alcohol is really swimming in his brain. 

And, he realizes, with a firm and shiver-some squeeze to his crotch, elsewhere in his body. 

Ironically, the bathroom is not what beckons him.

With a devious smirk, he instead tumbles into the bedroom. Through the moonlit drapes, a wave of beady eyed babies stare back at him.

“Hello freaks,” he chuckles. They probably miss you too. Honestly it’s really rude, if you think about it, the way you abandon your buddies here AND Joel all in one night? Atrocious behavior. Someone ought to teach you better.

“Daddy’s home."

He falls forward, his knees catching the edge of the bed. An array of colorful volunteers practically jumping up and down at his presence to be engulfed by the precious aroma of Joel Miller.

That’s how drunk-Joel is seeing it. In reality, if they could run for their fluffy lives, they would. 

A quick hand snatches one yellow blob by its neck. His eyes struggle to get a clear picture—whether from the alcoholic haze or the darkness obscuring his vision. Possibly both. The dark bill and flappy arms come into focus.

“Duck,” he muses to himself. “Bet ya name is Duckie, some shit like that. She ain't good with the namein.” He rolls the unfortunate one over to its back, inspecting its caliber. Its definitely older: matted fur smushed down in certain areas, lack of vibrant coloring, some faded and torn edged fabric on its bow tie. Bitty holes sewn up here and there with mismatched (and poorly seemed) threaded needle. Your college waitressing job used to be for a place called the Quavern, so this little guy’s gotta be your graduation farewell from that team.

“Well mister Quakers. You n' me gonna get to know each other real well right now. Got something I need ya to hold f’me,” Joel slurs. One hand frees the button of his jeans while the other begins to prod at a loose tear in poor DuckDuck’s underside. He pokes and prods and scissors a little too harshly with his sausage fingers before a tell-tale rip echoes in the room. “Oops,” he chuckles with very little guilt as he forces the hole a bit wider and palms his crotch a bit harder. 

Yeah, he gets hard when touching your stuffed animals. He can’t help it! With all the naughty activities you do with them, they’re practically hug buddies by day, sex toy by night. His mind feels foggy, but the building sensation along his lower stomach is the only thing churning his actions. With a few lazy pumps, Joel slots his mushroom tip at the cottony hole he’s made in the poor plush. He pushes through, groaning with his head tossed slightly back as dry softness envelops his pulsing length. 

“Shit—that’s it. Take it little guy.” He bites his lips and peers below, watching his dick penetrate the stuffed animal.

He knows he should put it down, sew it up, put it back, and go do his business in the bathroom like a good, well trained boyfriend. But then again, he knows how fucking pissed you’ll be if he defiles your plushies again. Then you’ll never leave him unattended at home, and that means more pussy drinking and rubbing on these fuckers for him.

Joel doesn’t even realize he’s pissing inside the poor animal until it starts to sag heavily with the weight and wetness coating his hand. “Ooohhhhhhhhhh,” he gasps with furrowed brows. As his bladder empties, the duck grows damper and darker, the fur and cotton soaking it up from the inside out until it’s dripping down his ballsack.  He thrusts inside a few times, the warm wet sensation making him choke out a curse. It’s not quite like your pussy, but the heat is better than nothing. He pushes it flush against his pubic bone, another rush of liquid hissing through and muffled by Mr Quack’s soft innards.

If he wasn’t so fucking wasted right now, he’d fuck it into oblivion. give it the good ol'Miller beating. Fertilize its eggs, if you will. But with his bathroom situation now relieved, Joel yanks the thing off and chucks it to the ground. His brain collapses just as he falls towards the bed, drowning in his own much needed slumber.

-

you shake your head and laugh, hands on your hips at the sight in front of you.

Joel’s out cold face forward in your bed. His jeans are loosely wrapped around his hips and his old tee still on, so if it wasn’t for his loud snoring, you’d assume the man was dead. He hadn’t even made it fully on the bed, his tip toes still holding him up on the floor and legs dangling at an angle.

A few of your stuffed animals had managed to crawl out from underneath him, scattered around when he most likely dropped onto the bed. You pick them up one by one: dusty Carly the Crow, the now famed Mr Oinkers (with battery pack turned OFF), Whiskers the Cat, and poor old Puddles the Duc—

Your disgusted screech has Joel sitting up so fast he nearly capsizes off the bed. The confused, hungover lump is met with his bewildered and screaming girlfriend who’s yanking him by the neck and wringing him viciously with as much might as you can muster.

“STOP—FUCKING—PISSING—IN—MY—PLUSHIES!” You roar with wild eyes and gritted teeth, choking him within an inch of his life. You shake his neck up and down like you’re going to hammer his head into the bed post. 

It takes him a moment, with wide eyes and hands wrapped around your wrists, before his gaze lands on the poorly discarded evidence of last night: a very overly yellow duck soaking into the floor boards in a puddle of liquid gold.

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow

[oneforthemunny]

cowboy!eddie ask:

OH MY GOD THESE COWBOY EDDIE SMUT FICS!!!!!

horny hours ahead.

Just think about this. At the first stage of their relationship, eddie and reader had a thing going on, a situationship but not an official relationship, so reader is head over heels for eddie, and eddie is smitten too but their pride gets in the way. So one night reader is having fun with her girlfriends at some town gathering ??? ( i don't know how they're called) and she wants to make eddie jealous. She wears her favourite sundress, red with spaghetti straps and lace and all and she flirts with other boys from town ALL NIGHT LONG. So our cowboy gets furious and wants her to himself and just needs to make it clear to her.

You can take it from here with your absolute best taste in smut writing.

this was so much longer than I meant it to be holy fucking shit.

18 + MINORS DNI

he really just enjoys the banter the two of you have, but honestly, he thinks the two of you are exclusive. he thinks it's so cool how you're not super clingy and will let him work, and then he picks you up and you guys chill.

that's never the case now is it?

you're convinced he's just fucking with you. playing a sort of cat and mouse game that you have no interest in partaking in. he rarely calls you, usually only comes by to take you out and then fuck you, leaving your apartment early saying something along the lines of "gotta get back to the horses, baby, they don't care that I'm sleeping in. they wanna get fed." in reality, it's the truth. he's not one to hump and dump, but he's gotta take care of his animals. still, you're furious.

the flower festival, to welcome in spring, is always downtown. most of the town shows up, there's a parade, and lots and lots of booze. more importantly, there's a band and you show up, wearing your favorite little red number (eddie's fave too) one that always catches between your ass cheeks when you walk, holding your cleavage up and sitting pretty on your chest.

eddie's drooling when he sees you, grinning over at you when you catch his eye. the only thing is, there sits lynette, the town whore that's always had a thing for eddie. she's a regular buckle bunny, who's pined after him for years. she's tried everything.

you're seeing red, and it's not just your dress. furious, you go up to chris, grinning and placing your hand on his bicep while he escorts you to get a drink. you don't look at eddie but you can feel his gaze on you.

the whole night goes like that too. eddie watching you flirt from boy to boy to boy, giggling, batting your eyes, twirling your hair. what does it for him is when harrison plucks his hat off his head, placing it on yours with a wink. eddie's had enough.

"'scuse me." eddie grins, calloused hand wrapping around your upper arm. "'m gonna take this little lady from ya for just a second."

you don't protest, letting him drag you, boots scuffing against the cobbled ground of the street. eddie is taking long, striding steps towards the parking lot, unrelenting in his grip on your arm.

"eddie, let go of me! I'm not done hanging out with my friends!" you huff.

"friends?" eddie scoffs, jaw clenching in anger. "fuckin' friends, yeah, they seem like they wanna be your friend." he seethes.

you scoff, rolling you eyes. "oh, don't tell me you're jealous, cowboy." you snap. "we're not anything special anyways. you're too busy with all your other little ladies aren't you?" you challenge, eyes squinted at him.

eddie blinks, scanning your features. "have you lost your mind?" he asks.

"no, but you certainly have. now let me go." you snap, wrenching your arm out of his grasp. "go talk to lynette or-or alice. I don't want to distract you."

"why the fuck would I talk to either one of them?" eddie throws his hands out. "why would I -hey, I'm talkin' to you." eddie grabs your arm, spinning you around to face him. "you gonna walk away from me when I'm talking to you?"

"who do you think you are?" you scoff. "you don't get to talk to me like that. not when you ignore me all week, and then think I'm gonna spread my legs and be on your booty call rotation with those other bitches. I'm not interested in that."

"what the fuck are you talkin' about?" eddie huffs, jaw clenched. "I told you, I had auction all week, and I was gonna take you out thursday, and you said you were sick!"

"because I'm not going to be played by you, eddie!" you shrill in the parking lot, uncaring of the people around you who might hear. "I'm not going to be competing for your attention with these other girls-"

"-goddamit!" eddie yells, slamming his hand in frustration on the metal of his truck. "I don't want any of those other girls. I want you." his eyes are intense, fierce, chest heaving hard under his band tee. you swallow thickly.

"I don't know who's told you I've been with other girls, but I haven't alright? when I'm not workin', or sleepin', I'm trying to be with you." eddie huffed, moving so he trapped you against the car, tattooed arms caging you. "I want you, you little brat, not anyone else but you."

your bottom lips quivers, flushing under his sweet gaze. your lips are on his in a moment, hands raking through his curls in an intense kiss that lead to the two of you fumbling around in his back seat of his truck.

eddie's belt buckle pressed against your thigh, the imprints of whatever saying or figure onto the soft skin while he thrusted into you, hard and unforgiving. his hand cradled the back of your neck, holding you close to his chest, while his other gripped the headrest for balance.

he was abusing that spongey spot inside of you, sure you'd be gushing soon. his thrusts were hard, breath heavy in your ear, curls falling loose from his bun and tickling your neck.

"you ever act like that again, and I'll use this belt to blister that cute little ass, you hear me?" eddie sneered, grunting when you clamped and gushed over his cock, strangling his thick member around your velvety walls.

"and you ever put on another man's hat, darlin', and you'll be in real trouble. don't you ever do that again." eddie growled.

"'m sorry, 'm sorry." you whimpered, nails gripping the fabric of his shirt, balling it between your fists.

eddie pounded you out, leaving you filled and flooded at the same time over his seats. good thing they're leather, eddie thought when he saw the mess you'd left behind.

he took you back to his place that night, pounding you out all night until the roosters were crowing, making you wear his hat while you rode him until your thighs were trembling and giving out.

eddie watched you, tangled under his sheets, the golden light of the morning sun on your skin, your parted lips puffing out air against his inked chest. he knew the horses would be waiting, but he couldn't bring himself to get up just yet. to leave a sight as precious and perfect as this. he knew you'd be around for a while, he'd make sure he could keep you around, keep you happy and all his for the rest of his life.

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Street Rat: Chaggie - Aladdin AU

STOP! THIEF!

Vaggie: *running theough the streets of Pride with a small mob on her tail, hood drawn, and mask up* Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Mobster Boss: I'm gonna sheer your clit off for stealing from me, you little cunt!

Vaggie: Oh, so I have time then! You'd have to find the fucking thing first! *scales the nearest building easily and starts running along rooftops*

Mobster Boss: Don't just fucking stand there! Get her!

Goons: *scramble to find a way up to the roof*

Vaggie: And like that, I'm in the clear- WHOA!!!! *dodges a swinging hammer aimed at her head and speeds the other direction* Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Goon 1: She's over here!

Vaggie: *parkour jumps onto the next building and starts shuffling down the wall when a hand reaches out and pulls her inside* Shit!

Angel: For fuck sakes, Vags! Get in here!

Goons: *look down to the alley below* Where'd she go?! Where'd she go?!

Goon 2: Uh.... that way! *starts running the opposite direction with the rest following*

Vaggie: *exhales heavily* Thanks, Angel.

Angel: Psh! Don't thank me. Thank the girls for letting me hold you in here.

Vaggie: *eye widens and she looks around the room at all the girls in various stages of undress with a blush* Uhhh..... Hello, ladies. Um... thank you for letting Angel help me out.

Girls: *huff and go about their business*

Angel: Yeah, they're not a fan of broke ass bitches and bastards.

Vaggie: I can see that.... Oh, by the way. Here. *plops a wad of Hellbucks into Angel's hand* That should cover the rest of what I owe you.

Angel: Daaaaaaamn, Vagina. You really risked your neck for this haul, didn't you?

Vaggie: Vaggie... *shrugs* Better in the hands of those who need it instead of some greedy mob boss who just uses it as a spicy fleshlight.

Angel: *thumbs through the wad of cash with a smirk* Awwww, yeah. Gotta love musky money~ Well, thanks for the "donation"! So, what other trouble are ya getting into these days, Vagina?

Vaggie: For fuck sakes, it's Vaggie and you know it.... and that's fucking disgusting. I'm just trying to stay alive on the streets. You know that.

Angel: Well, there's a big festival going on in the middle of town today! Lots of schmucks with loose change for easy pickins if you catch my drift.~

Vaggie: ....What's the festival for?

Angel: Eh. Some prince or something coming to try and sway the Princess into marrying him. Doubt it's gonna work.

Vaggie: *scoffs with a snort* Not if those demon goats have anything to say about it.

Meanwhile:

Charlie: I am NOT meeting with Prince Seviathan!

Lucifer: *sweating* Come on, sweetie. Just talk to him a little. He traveled all the way from Envy to see you.

Charlie: *huffs and crosses her arms* How could you expect me to even consider him as a possible suitor when he's such an arrogant idiot! He's a jerk to literally everyone, Dad!

Lucifer: Oh, I'm sure he's gotten better since his early teens, baby.

*trumpets herald Seviathan's approach*

Lucifer: Just..... try to talk to him. *glances at Razzle and Dazzle* And YOU TWO be on your best behavior!

Razzle & Dazzle: *hooves tuck behind their backs as they sit up at attention* Baaa!/Baaap!

Lucifer: Good! *sighs* I'll be downstairs to greet him. *leaves*

Charlie: *arms still crossed* ......You two didn't actually agree to that, right?

Razzle & Dazzle: *hold up one hoof each that has their toes crossed*

Charlie: Good boys!

[he-calls-me-kitten]

Playlist Drabbles #01

Writing random smut drabbles based on songs from my playlist (Solomon, Asmodeus, Mammon)

"We don't gotta be in love, no,

I don't gotta be the one, no,

I just want to be one of your girls tonight."

(One of your girls - Weekend ft. Jennie, Lily-Rose Depp)

Solomon is just happy you're here with him right now. Wrapped up only in his bedsheets and his arms. He can't sleep, no it would be a waste. He needs to cherish this - he won't have it for very long.

When you're both back home, you'll be surrounded by everyone again. He will never be your only one - not with those brothers in the competition. But he is one of the many that gets to feel your warmth and affection and for now, this is all he needs. It's more than he can hope for.

"MC? You're still awake aren't you?" He coos softly knowing you're not asleep yet either.

"Yes, just like you." You say, tracing the bags underneath his eyes with your pretty fingers. He can feel his heart melting. What a lovely apprentice he has.

"Can we go...one more time?" Slowly, his hand traces your curves, so you can refute him anytime. But you clench your thighs around his waist and kiss him on the mouth, smiling.

"I'd like that." You say coyly. His eyes darken in desire as he climbs on top of you, positioning himself between your legs. He's not the only one that does this to you - but it's just been you and him every night since you came here. He'll have to give that up soon - but atleast not yet. Atleast not tonight.

"Please tell me I'm your one and only,

Or lie and say atleast tonight,

I've got a brand new cure for lonely,

And if you give me what I want,

I'll give you what you like."

(Give you what you like - Avril Lavigne)

Asmo doesn't always like using his powers. Why did he always have to use them to make people like him? Wasn't he enough just as he was? Wasn't he beautiful?

Who else can answer him, if not the only person who doesn't get affected by his charm. "MC..." He barges into your room, desperate to be held. To be loved.

"Asmo...you're so perfect." You cradle his face as you ride him. Tears pool at the corner of his eyes, out of joy, out of reassurance along with the obvious pleasure of your walls clamping down on him.

"MC...You really mean that?" Like a wounded puppy he tilts his head to the side, intertwing his fingers with yours. He bucks up his hips upward, deeper inside you. You moan and struggle to balance yourself.

"Of course, Asmo..." He doesn't care even if you're lying at this point. It just feels good to even hear you say that. He feels so loved and ethereal as you gently press kisses on his neck and shoulders so you don't blemish his flawless skin. And he impatiently flips you around to return the favor.

"With all the lights off,

Everything is wrong, but it's alright,

Everything is wrong, but it's alright,

You're the only good thing in my life."

(You're the only good thing in my life - Cigarettes after Sex)

Mammon feels like shit some days. With his sin taking over, Lucifer's overbearing rage, his brothers' disappointment - it's all too much for him. Sick of being holed up in his room, he decides to get out of house to clear his head.

You are late that day, and he's already disgruntled about it. Maybe he'll go out and fetch you himself. Some attendant you are. They should increase your hours at HOL.

But lo and behold, there you are standing right at the door. "Hey Mammon, going somewhere?" He takes you by the hand and leaves the house. "Oi, you know Devildom like the back of your hand, don't ya? Take me somewhere new." He asks.

You take him to a hotel with a shimmering pool. He's never been here before, but he feels an odd sense of familiarity with it. Especially when he kisses you fervently, his hands practically ripping your clothes off you. He feels so much better once he's inside you.

"The Great Mammon likes this place. Bring me back here again soon." He says as he keeps driving with one hand on your thigh. His life might be a hot mess but atleast you're here. And that makes everything so much better.

[lanadelnegan]

could you do jdm x male reader? maybe mostly angst and possibly a bit of smut? literally whatever you feel like writing is perfectly fine

You Belong to Me

Negan x Male Reader

Summary: Negan and y/n (Alexandria’s leader) have unspoken feelings for each other, that lead to frustration, anger, and smut.

Warnings: 18+, smut, EXTREMELY FILTHY IM SORRY, anal, rimming, blowjob, spit kink, choking, cum play, angst, negan being a dominant verbal zaddy

Note: I’ll be honest.. I finished this whole thing before I realized you asked for jdm and not negan. 😭 I PROMISE I’ll do a jdm one too. But I hope you also enjoy this one. I think it might be my favorite so far. 😘

Note#2: and I know you asked for a “bit of smut” but I got carried away and well, it’s a lot. And it’s filthy. Forgive me. 🧎‍♀️ I’m terrible at following directions, clearly.

Your jaw twitches as Negan walks past you, making sure to brush his hand against yours as he happily whistles the melody that's grown to haunt you over the past couple months.

"Come on, y/n. Let's see what kinda goodies you got in the cupboard."

Some bystanders watch as you follow Negan into your own house, allowing him to browse around.. not that you have a choice.

You glare at Negan with your arms crossed while you lean against the frame of your kitchen entrance.

"Who were you before all this?" You ask him and it must catch him off guard because he turns from the open fridge to face you, raising his thick brows.

"Before what?" He chuckles amused. "Before the dead started walking?"

You answer him with a simple nod.

"Why, y/n? You think if you play mind games.. try to get in my fucking head.. that I'll just what.. stop? I told you already. You belong to me." He approaches you slowly, tilting his head to the side. "Do I need to remind you of that?"

"Not trying to get in your head. Just making conversation since you're standing in my damn kitchen, making yourself at home."

"Well, ya know what. I wasn't planning on settling in. But since you're offeri-"

"I'm not." You say through your teeth, making it clear that he's not welcome here. Negan looks at you at eye level as a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"That.. is no way to treat your new house guest, y/n. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna bake us some fucking cookies." He walks away, leaving a scent trail of leather and cigarettes behind as he opens your cabinets, pulling out what he needs to get started.

You look to the front door, contemplating your next move and strategically thinking of how to get this psycho out of your house.

"The supplies.. your men are loading them up. Don't you need to leave soon?"

"Oh, right! Thanks for reminding me. Could you be a fucking doll and go tell Simon to head on out without me?" His smile widens as he turns on the faucet, washing his hands.

Hesitantly, you do as he says, leaving to find Simon and explaining the situation before heading back to your house. Some fellow Alexandrians watch you curiously before Carol quickly catches up to you.

"Y/n! What's going on? Where's Negan?" She asks panicked, noticing the Saviors are leaving without him.

"In my fucking house. He's staying."

Her brows crinkle as she walks quickly beside me, trying to keep up. "How long?"

You shrug annoyed. "Keep an eye on things for me while he's here. I'm not letting him outta my sight."

Carol nods, turning away and you jog up the steps to your house. You enter your house and the smell of freshly baked cookies fills your nose.

"You gotta try these, y/n. I would make one hell of a fucking house wife. First the spaghetti, now cookies? I gotta stop spoiling you like this." He takes a bite out of one, groaning at the taste before holding the plate out for you to take one.

"Hmph." You breathe out annoyed before grabbing one and taking a bite, dropping it back on the plate.

"Welllll?" Negan asks expectantly.

"Tastes like shit." You glare at him as the smile on his mouth fades into a scowl. He nods disappointedly as he slides the plate onto the counter, walking past you without a word.

You turn and watch him disappear up the stairs before following after him, smiling to yourself proudly at the accomplishment of hurting his feelings.

He makes his way to your room, walking in without hesitation and kicking his shoes off.

"What the hell are you doing?" You ask following him. "This is my room."

"Wrong, y/n. Whatever you have.. belongs to me. So, this room? Is mine." His voice is deep with anger as he shrugs his jacket off his shoulders.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I would love a hot shower.. in my bathroom." Negan announces, walking to the master bathroom attached to your room.

You refuse to let him stay in your room by himself, so you defiantly kick off your shoes next to his, slipping off your pants until you're left in boxers and a black t-shirt. You fall into bed defeatedly, listening to the sound of running water coming from the half open bathroom door.

You start to doze off before the water shuts off, leaving nothing but loud silence.

Negan sighs loudly from the bathroom. "The fuck are your towels?" You hear him rustling through the cabinets under the sink.

"You took them all last time." You call out.

"Goddamn it." He walks out of the bathroom, completely bare and wet. You shamelessly watch as water runs down his body, traveling through the v-shape in his abdomen before reaching his long, veiny cock.

"Like what you see, y/l/n? ... Told you my dick was bigger than yours." Your eyes quickly snap away as he uses his dirty shirt to wipe the excess water from his toned body.

"Gonna need to borrow some boxers unless... you'd rather me sleep in the nude... From the look on your face, you'd probably prefer that anyway, huh?" Negan chuckles and you run a hand down your frustrated face, looking up at the ceiling.

"Top drawer."

Negan makes his way towards your dresser, opening the drawer and browsing through. You can't help but let your eyes roam to his backside, admiring his firm ass. His eyes catch yours in the dresser mirror in front of him and you freeze, holding his eye contact.

The corner of his mouth raises like he caught you red handed and he chuckles as he bends, slipping your boxers up his long legs.

You get up, frustrated with yourself and quickly walk to bathroom, desperate to get away from him, but he cuts you off.

Your jaw ticks as you look down between the two of you, refusing to give him anymore attention.

"Get outta my way Negan."

His smirk widens as his hands go to rest lazily on his hips. "You gonna make me?"

You shake your head annoyed and push past him. "I'm not fucking doing this with you." You slam the bathroom door shut behind you, leaning against the wall and exhaling a deep breath.

You attempt to think about anything but him, trying to calm the growing length beneath your boxers.

"Fuck." You whisper out, frustrated with yourself. The bathroom mirror is still foggy from Negan's shower and your mind drifts back to the thought of his wet body emerging from the steam.

You look down at your hardening cock and bite your lip, keeping your hands by your sides and restraining from touching yourself. You finally compose yourself after a few moments, tucking yourself under the waistband of your underwear and letting your shirt hang over.

When you exit the bathroom, Negan is already laying in your bed on top of the covers, one hand behind his head while the other rests on his hairy stomach. You don't allow yourself to look as you climb into the bed next to him.

"I want to make one thing clear, Negan. I am sleeping in my bed for the simple fact that.. it's my fucking bed and I'm not letting you kick me outta my own damn room. Don't get any weird fucking ideas."

Negan chuckles. "Case you forgot, I have a whole fucking handful of wives back home. If anyone in this bed is getting any ideas, it's you."

"Sure is strange that you're in my house when you have so many wives at home, isn't it? .......Did you kill their families too? Force them to be with you?"

Negan turns his head to you, his expression serious now. "You should probably go sleep in the other room. Before I lose my goddamn temper."

"Like I said, this is MY fucking room. YOU get out." You throw the covers over yourself as if to convince him you're not leaving.

"Fuck it." Negan stands up to leave the room but turns to face you when he reaches the door. "You know why you belong to me, y/n? .. ... Because your people don't respect you. You got them into this shit because of your own choices. I just happen to reap the benefits of your own stupidity."

You throw the covers off, angrily making your way over to him before stopping directly in front of his face. "And you think your people respect you?! You've tortured them. Abused them. They don't respect you, Negan. They're scared of you. There's a difference."

"Are you scared of me, y/n?" Your eyes widen when you feel his dick twitch against yours. He subtly presses his body closer to you, barely touching his cock to yours through your boxers.

You noticeably gulp and his eyes drop to your throat, making him grin.

"No." You breathe out, glancing down to watch his tongue lick his bottom lip.

He softly chuckles before leaning into your ear. "Then why do you have goosebumps right now?"

If you didn't have them before he said that, you definitely do now from his raspy voice vibrating against your ear and his dick rubbing against yours through the thin material.

"From your body language, you are most definitely scared.. or turned on.. One of the two.. Guess it just depends on which one you'll admit to." Negan grins devilishly, daring you to make a move.

You stare at him for a moment before spitting angrily in his face, making his eyes shut tightly as he wipes your saliva off his beard.

You don't have time to regret your decision because Negan's hand suddenly grips your throat, tightening and walking you backwards towards the bed. "That's how you want it to be, huh? Good.... I can be rough too... On your fucking knees."

You don't fight him, knowing he'll win so you willingly drop to your knees in front of him, keeping your hands by your sides.

He pulls out his semi-hard cock, stroking it a few times in your face until it grows to full length. "Gonna put that fucking smart ass mouth to use. Open." He demands.

You don't move, and instead glare up at him through your brows, ignoring his request.

Negan chuckles darkly before bending down, tightly squeezing your jaw with his hand, prying your mouth open.

"Open. Or I'll choose another hole." He grins before spitting directly into your mouth.

You reluctantly obey, allowing him to enter your mouth and he gives you no warning before ramming his cock deep down your throat. You choke at the sudden feeling, attempting to jerk away but his fingers roughly push your head forward, holding your face against him until your nose is pressed into his pubic hair.

You feel lightheaded as if you could black out before he quickly yanks your hair back, causing you to exhale a deep breath. He pulls you up completely this time, bringing your face close to his.

Negan's eyes search yours. "Tell me to fucking stop." His breathing is erratic and his voice is deeper and raspier than before.

You stare back at him silently, giving him consent without using your words. He smirks before turning you quickly and positioning you until your knees are on the bed and your face in a pillow with your ass in the air.

He climbs on the bed behind you, yanking your boxers down and sliding them off your legs until your bare ass is exposed to him. You feel his large hands rub your ass cheeks before squeezing roughly and spreading them apart.

"Mm. I am gonna have some fun with you." He says before diving in, pressing his face into your ass and using his tongue to pleasure you. Your cheeks blush and you moan at the sensation of his tongue swirling around inside of you.

After a few moments of licking, he pulls back, spitting on your hole and leaning back until he's lined up behind you. His finger lightly circles your hole before pushing through, knuckle deep. "Mm, goddamn you are tight."

His finger retreats, leaving you empty and desperate for more. "You ever taken a dick before, y/n? You think you're ready for me? He chuckles, teasing the tip of his cock against your hole.

"Negan.. shut.. up. Just fuck me."

"Beg."

You remain stubbornly silent at first, but when he starts to get up from the bed, you give him. "Please."

"Sorry, what was that?" Negan positions himself behind you again.

"Please. Fuck me."

Your eyes widen with surprise when Negan reaches around to your face, fish-hooking your mouth with the finger that was just inside you and jerking you back until your body is pressed against his. Chills cover your body as his low voice whispers in your ear. "Can't fucking hear you." His finger leaves your mouth, gripping your throat instead and squeezing firmly.

"Please.. Please fuck me, Negan." You beg louder and he lets you go, pushing you back down into the mattress.

He enters you fully and suddenly in one motion, not giving you any time to adjust and you cry out at the pain. His heavy balls slap against yours from underneath and he pounds you relentlessly, harder and deeper with each thrust.

"So fucking tight." Negan groans through his teeth. "Wish your people could see you right now. Bent over and moaning from my cock."

He grabs your hair, yanking you up again until his mouth is next to your ear. "You think they'd be disappointed, y/n? Knowing whose dick you're taking?"

"Shut up."

"What if they knew how much you liked it?" He reaches around you, gripping your hard, leaking cock in his hand while still pounding you. "How this cock throbs for me…. Look. At. That." Precum leaks from your tip as you both watch Negan's thumb rub it around on your tip. From this angle, his dick presses perfectly into your g-spot with each thrust and you moan louder when you feel your orgasm builds up inside you.

Negan releases your cock and pulls out of you suddenly, flipping you over until you're laying on your back.

He positions himself in between your legs and pushes back into you, making you both moan out together.

You reach for your dick, desperately needing to stroke it but Negan grabs your wrist, pinning it above your head with the other. "No fucking way. You belong to me, remember? This dick belongs to me. I'm making you cum."

You arch yourself into him until his dick finds your g-spot again, hitting it hard over and over.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuck." You cry out as your cum spills all over your stomach. Negan groans as he watches you come undone, pumping into you faster.

“Gonna cum in this tight fucking ass.. cause it belongs to me too. That okay with you?”

Before you can tell him no, he stops thrusting, holding himself deep inside of you. “Ahh Fuck. Fuck.” You feel him pulse against your walls over and over, filling you to the brim before he finally pulls out.

Just when you think it’s over and the guilt starts to set in, Negan pushes your legs back further, pressing his hands against the back of your knees as he looks down at your hole. “Lemme see you push it out.”

“No.. wha-“

“Now.”

You sigh, giving in once again as your muscles flex and you feel his load leak out of you and run down.

Negan swipes it up with his finger, pushing it into your mouth suddenly, making you taste him.

Your brows scrunch together angrily as you try to turn your head and spit his fingers out but he overpowers you until you give in, sucking his seed off his fingers. You can’t deny he tastes fucking good and it makes you moan.

“Taste good?” Negan chuckles, watching you enjoy the taste of him.

“Much better than your cookies.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Overtime 7

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss, Mr. Hansen, runs you ragged but you find solace in an unexpected friend.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Jake Jensen.

Author’s Note: This one is dedicated to my dearest @thezombieprostitute

Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

“Not so fast, critter,” Hansen drops a keycard on your desk as you hike up your bag. “I need you to go down to the East location and grab a package. Fuckwads delivered it to the wrong office.” 

“Sir?” You glance at the time. It’s almost seven. You’re already well past your usual sentence. “I can get it in the morning. They probably already locked up--” 

“They’re waiting for you,” he interjects. “Was just on the phone with them. This can’t wait. You go get it and bring it to me.”

“Um, okay, sir,” you swipe up the card and turn it over. “Back here?” 

“My house. I got shit to do. I do have a life,” he scoffs. “Melora wants to have a sit-down and if it keeps her off my back, I’ll flex and give her something to chill the fuck out.” 

“Yes, sir, I’ll get it--” 

“Christ, critter, don’t sound so fucking enthusiastic,” he chortles.  

“Yes, sir.” 

You sidle away from the desk and step around. For a moment, you think he might stop you as he hovers on the other side. You wish he’d just leave you alone. He already ruined your dress and your day. 

“I won’t be long, sir,” you promise over your shoulder. 

You trod out heavily and wait by the elevators. The building is desolate as most people left at five. You’re used to be a straggler. Even when Mr. Hansen leaves early, you’re kept behind. 

As you step through the doors, someone calls out for you to hold them. You put your hand out to trigger the censor and Jensen sprints through. He gulps in a breath and turns around, nearly colliding with the wall. 

“Hey, thanks,” he huffs. “Oh, hey.” 

“Hi,” you stare ahead and hit the lobby button. 

It’s quiet as the elevator shifts into motion. You sway and keep your eyes locked on the doors. You cross your arms and squeeze the strap of your purse. 

“Uh, what happened to your dress?” He asks. 

“Accident...” you shrug. 

“Oh, wow, must’ve been a big one.” 

“It’s fine,” you insists. 

He’s silent again. His breath gusts out and he sucks it in, opening his mouth to say something then thinking better of it. As the doors ding and open, he doesn’t move. 

“Well, have a good night,” you say. 

As you step off, he follows you, “wait, wait,” he calls, “um, so, I was chatting with someone in logistics. They have an opening. Looking to fill it internally. I hope you don’t mind I mentioned you.” 

“You...” you scuff to a halt and face him. “Why?” 

“I just figured maybe it would be good to move into something new. Away from that jackass.” 

You frown, embarrassed. It’s not like you never tried to get something else. You’ve been to interviews and never heard back.  

“Um, thanks, that’s nice of you to think of me.” 

“Yeah, no problem. I hope it goes well. You should get an email. They seemed very interested to have you,” he explains. 

“Right,” you agree, “thanks again but I... gotta go.” 

“Oh, sure, sure,” he gives a crooked grin. “See ya tomorrow?” 

You nod and turn away. You stop again and spin around. He nearly walks right into you. You clear your throat. 

“Jensen, I think maybe you should avoid coming around Mr. Hansen’s office,” you say. “He doesn’t like.” 

“He doesn’t seem to like anyone. Not even you.” 

“I know, but...” 

“Yeah, I know. It’s not helping you. Well, maybe I’ll see you in the courtyard at lunch.” 

“Maybe,” you echo. “Good night.” 

You flit away as you’re reminded of the keycard still clutched in your left hand. You have shit to do. Oh gosh, is that Hansen’s voice in your head? 

The only bright side is that it’s no longer raining. Your care chuffs before it starts and you give a long, dreadful look to the hood. Don’t give out now. 

You head off, away from your apartment, and grip the wheel as you hunch forward. You try not to lean to heavy on the gas but you just want to go home. The traffic is less than the rush hour clog but it’s still tediously slow. 

You finally get to the East offices and use the card to swipe into the building. The lack of instructions has you searching around the empty lobby. A security officer approaches. 

“Can I help you?” He asks gruffly. 

“Sure, uh, I was sent my Mr. Hansen at central--” 

“Mm, this way.” 

You follow the uniformed man to a back office and he hands you a flash drive. A flash drive. It could literally be an email. You hide your urge to scream behind a smile and leave. 

Now to drive all the way to Mr. Hansen’s house. You’ve been there once or twice but only in passing. It’s all the way at the other end of the city and beyond your building. You need to top up your tank. Your exasperation mounts the long you sit in the driver’s seat and you idle at a red sign and think. 

Another job wouldn’t be so bad. You don’t want to get your hopes up but you don’t know how much longer you can take this. Something’s got to give and Jensen talked you up. Maybe this one will work out. You’ll take anything at this point. 

You finally pull up to Mr. Hansen’s house and follow the long drive to his reclusive home. His perfectly landscaped lawn and gleaming facade irks you. You don’t know why but in contrast to your cramped apartment, it’s a mansion. 

You get out and march up the walk with the flash drive in hand. You stop at the door and fix your skirt, making sure you don’t have any more incidents. You press the doorbell and try to ignore the lens. Mr. Hansen’s voice comes from the speaker. 

“Get in here.” 

You sigh and let yourself in. You stop on the mat and look around the interior. It’s just as nice as the outside. 

“I’m gonna leave it here, Mr. Hansen,” you call through as you hover your hand over the key tray. 

“Critter, get in here,” he demands. 

You repress another frustrated exhale. You grip the drive and step out of your flats. You pad towards his voice and peer into the front room. You swallow a squeak as you find him shirtless and cradling his face. There’s a split in his brow and his eyes is turning purple. What the heck? 

“You wanna get me some ice,” he winces and hisses as he pulls his hand away. “Shit, she’s still got a hell of a right hook.” 

“Sir?” You blink at him. 

“Hurry up, critter,” he snaps and stands, staggering just a little. He goes to the mirror mounted above the artificial fireplace and checks his reflection.  

You look around and scurry through the next door. You find your way to the sleek kitchen and search the matte black fridge. You find an ice pack and a dish cloth and return to the front room. 

Hansen lays on the couch and waves you over. You approach and hold out the ice. He grabs your wrist and yanks you close. You’re force to sit on the edge of the sofa as he brings the pack to his face. You adjust it behind the cloth and he whimpers. 

“Ahhhh, critter, much better,” he keeps a hold of you. 

[macabr3-barbi3]

A Practical Demonstration Chapter 2- A Hands on Approach (Alastor/Reader)

Ao3 Link!

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

Tags: Sex Toys; Non Sex-Repulsed Alastor; Reader-Insert; accidentally adding angst to porn

In the couple of weeks following your ‘practical demonstration’ for Alastor, all confidence you had in the glow of a mind blowing orgasm had bled from you- you had a few packages from VoxTech sitting unopened under your bed where you couldn’t see them or think about how hastily you had purchased them. You avoided being near Alastor when you could, eyes glued to the floor and face a matching accessory to his coat when you couldn’t escape or offer up a satisfactory excuse to leave the situation. 

He hadn’t asked anything of you since that night, thankfully. He seemed content to watch you blush and stammer and make eye contact with anything but himself, sometimes going out of his way to corner you by yourself and ask you how you were, how your research for Velvette was going, how you were sleeping at night; shit-eating grin always present and growing with every stuttered syllable you uttered. But he never mentioned that night, no inquiries about the rose toy or the others that he had spotted in your nightstand, despite his mention of being thorough about the various pieces of ‘technology’ you had in your possession. 

You were mortified, honestly, at how thoroughly you had misjudged the situation. Having thought that the Radio Demon was interested beyond his own self-proclaimed desire to know about the strange device was a hard hit to your self esteem, and a large part of why you were so determined to not be anywhere alone with him anymore. You couldn’t stand that kind of embarrassment again. 

“What do we have here?” Sitting at the bar while Husk poured you a drink, your phone is suddenly snatched out of your hands. “Ohhhh, ya got a date tonight, huh?” Using one pair of hands to hold you back, he uses the other to quickly swipe through some of your messages with Velvette. 

Despite your constant denial at wanting to meet anybody, Velvette had set you up with one of her models for a blind date. They were perfectly adequate, she had said, nothing like any of Val’s whores- you could see the way that Angel’s nose flared a bit when he saw that message- but hot, and it was the least she could do for all you’d done for her and for her shoots. 

(You were glad she at least had the sense to leave mention of your deal out of it, probably knowing how nosy Angel was and not wanting anything to get back to Val in passing.)

Husk manages to get the phone from Angel as he pulls up the photo of the model, and his exaggerated wolf whistle in your ear has your cheeks flaming. The cat gives your phone back to you while Angel hoots and calls for a couple shots for the two of you. “Babe, if I’d known ya were on the market I could have hooked ya up but I gotta say, Velvette’s got some good taste for you!” 

You roll your eyes. “I’m not ‘on the market,’” you tell him, “she just won’t take no for an answer. I’m meeting them for dinner this one time only, and-“

Husk drops a drink in front of you. “What’s the hold up?” He asks. “Why are you so against going out again? What if you two really hit it off?” He glances at Angel. “Sometimes it takes a time or two to really know someone and if you’re a good fit.”

Angel rolls his eyes. “Come on, sourpuss, you can just say you like me!” He tries to ruffle a hand into Husk’s fur, but the former bats him away. “Anyway, she’s already got the hots for someone- but if she's waiting for him though she might as well sow some oats if ya get my drift.” He winks at you, making a lewd gesture with his hands before you can huff and turn away. 

You down your drink in one go, Angel cheering you on, before announcing that you had to go get ready. Declining Angel’s offer to scour his room for something sexy, you just head to your own. 

Maybe he had been right though- after what happened with Alastor it was clear that he wasn’t as interested as you had assumed. Maybe going on a date with someone else would be good for you, help you get your mind off the Radio Demon and stop indulging in some pointless little crush that was just going to end with you getting your stupid feelings hurt. You supposed if this date went well there wasn’t any harm in planning for another one. As you opened the door to your room, you took another look at the picture of the model that Velvette had sent you. They really weren’t bad looking-

“Good evening!” Bringing your eyes up from your phone, Alastor is standing just inside the doorway of your room. While it’s no secret how he got in- ‘melting into the shadows’ isn’t a method of transportation you would assume to be hindered by doors- you wish you had some sort of warning before essentially walking into him. There’s a brief stumble before he places his hands on you, one under your own and the other on the small of your back as he rights you. “My apologies for the startle, dear, it seems I’ve given you a fright!”

“No problem,” you tell him, trying to take a step back and realizing he’s not yet released you. “It’s my bad, I should have knocked.”

“On your own door?” 

You flush. “Right, yeah.” You notice now how close you are to him, your bodies mere inches apart and one of his hands still protectively placed on your spine. “Either way, no harm done.”

He makes an affirmative noise before releasing you, and you kick the door closed as you step away from him to the closet. You pull some items from their hangers, tossing them onto the bed, and you can feel his crimson gaze on you as you move and try to decide what to wear for this dumb date. You take a deep breath before finally asking, “something that I can help you with?”

“Assuredly so!” Looking down at the pile of clothes you had amassed, you didn’t realize he had re-materialized next to you, and his voice so close to your ear was a shock. You trip over a skirt on the ground that had slid off the bed, landing hard on the ground as you stare up at Alastor. He holds out a hand to help you up which you gratefully take, allowing him to pull you to standing. 

He doesn’t release your hand, instead tugging you closer to him so your bodies are pressed against one another, closer than they had been when you nearly collided. “It’s in regards to our deal,” he says quietly, the whisper of his breath ghosting across your heated cheeks. He’s so close that you can smell his cologne, something woodsy and dark and so Alastor that your mouth nearly waters. 

“I have a date tonight,” is what you blurt out, your own voice a mere wisp in the space between the two of you.

He’s released you again and taken a couple steps back to sit on your bed. “Cancel it,” he says, and one of his shadows brings forth one of the VoxTech boxes from under your bed. “Terrible manners, of course, I do apologize for placing you in such an awkward position. But I’m afraid this simply cannot wait- you’ve quite the collection here, my dear, and we’ll need to start right away if we wish to proceed in a timely manner.”

Your head is spinning from how quickly he’s moved away from you again, and how quickly your night has taken a turn. “Right,” you say dazedly. “I guess I can, reschedule or something.” It wasn’t like you had really wanted to go anyway.

One of his eyes seems to twitch a bit. “Lovely,” he says, and crosses his legs at the knee. He pats the bed next to himself and gestures to the box he had placed there. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You couldn’t even remember what you had ordered as you shot off a text to Velvette- something came up, say sorry for me- and took the box in your hands, placing your phone on the stand next to you. You can’t look Alastor in the eyes as you manage to get it open and see what it was- a remote control vibrator, one that curves in such a way that it can stimulate the bundles of nerves both inside and outside the body. The remote is a tiny thing, an ‘on/off’ switch and two buttons for the different sections of the thing so you can have varying speeds on either spot. 

“Interesting,” Alastor says, and inspects the toy where you hold it in your hands. “I assume an item such as this works in a similar manner to the one from last time?” 

You nod, not sure if you’re hoping he will leave it at that or ask for another demonstration of the thing. “It’s very similar. Both ends vibrate rather than the, uh, suction on the last one.”

“I see,” he says, fingers steepled under his chin. “And is that more preferable to the suction?”

You take a deep breath. “It varies from person to person,” you say. 

“What do you prefer?”

In the span of a blink he’s in your personal space, his smile light and curious. “God, uh, I’m not sure,” you babble, intoxicated again by the smell of him. “The last, um, demonstration was the first time I’ve used anything with suction. But other people-“

“Quite frankly, my dear, I don’t give a fuck about other people.” The shock of hearing Alastor swear has you sucking in a sharp breath as he comes ever closer. His smile has taken on a dangerous edge, his eyes dark and lethal as they look you over. “My deal is with you- I wish to learn about the technology itself, of course, but how others use the things are of no concern to me. My concern is you, and how you are using devices made by my enemies.” His voice cracks around the static of the last word.

And fuck, if you hadn’t been aroused already, that would have sent you the rest of the way there on a bullet train. The single-minded focus in his gaze as he watched you was making you dizzy, your hands trembling slightly as you held the vibrator, remote discarded back into the box. 

“Right,” you say, instead of burying your face in the too-close junction between his chin and shoulder. “I guess I should…” you trail off, nodding vaguely at the object in your hands, and Alastor gives you a tight smile before leaning back out of your space to let you get to it.

Like last time, you don’t make eye contact as you remove your bottoms and lean back against the pillows. You’re aroused enough that you don’t need to use any additional lubrication, so you clench your eyes shut as you slide the long end of the vibrator into yourself, taking a moment to breathe and adjust as you do so. It settles into place, the opposite end curved in a way that it can rest gently against your clit, and you feel blindly for the box to get the remote out to turn it on.

“What a curious thing,” you hear Alastor say, and when you open your eyes he has the remote in his hands, rotating it to get a look from all angles. Your heart jumps into your throat as the implication, the possibility of his fingers pressing the buttons for you, out of your control. “Have you any idea why the remote is external from the device rather than part of it, like the other one was?”

You struggle to get your breathing under control. “I think it’s so you can have a… a partner or someone with you,” you tell him, earning you a raised eyebrow. “Some people really like the, you know, the idea of someone else being in charge of their pleasure.”

You could burst into flames with the heat of his gaze. He leans closer to you, one hand again coming to rest on your thigh like it had last time. “And what about you, darling? Is that something that interests you?” His grip on the remote is light in his free hand, easy enough to relinquish should you ask him to hand it over. But…

“I might enjoy it,” you whisper, “with the right partner.” You nod to the remote in his hand. “Sometimes a hands-on approach is needed to get more information.”

His smile is interrupted only by his exhale of breath before he presses the button to turn the device on, and your eyes slam shut as the sensations take over. In your quest to fist your fingers in the sheets you knock over the box that it came in, but you pay it no mind as Alastor toys with you, pressing the buttons for either end of the vibrator in a pattern that makes sense only to him, and that you can’t keep track of. 

Not that you want to. You’re already so in your head about the situation, not just another ‘demonstration’ but something that Alastor was actively participating in with that remote in his hand. It’s making you lightheaded with how turned on your are, and you nearly miss the next question he asks you from being so focused on your body.

“How intriguing,” he’s said, and you pry your eyes open to see what looks like a sleep mask dangling from a tendril of shadow. “What is this for?” 

“Some people- fuck -“ you interrupt yourself as he ratchets the vibrations a couple levels. Your breath is coming in short bursts as you fight to keep a clear head. “Some people like to have their, fuck, their eyes covered so they can’t see, what the other person is doing. I’ve never seen the appeal,” you add, anticipating his next question. 

He hums lightly to himself. “Are you quite sure? You do so frequently close your eyes in the throes of pleasure,” he says with a teasing lilt. “You don’t think that you would enjoy it?”

You shake your head on the pillow, your hair splayed out in a halo beneath you. “I don’t, God, I don’t know,” you mumble, and you hear his dark laughter before the lights in the room all snap off at once. 

Your heart stutters in your chest. You can’t see him, can’t see anything, and his comforting weight no longer seems to be perched on the edge of the bed. Were it not for the vibrator still buzzing inside you and kicking up another level, you might have thought he had left. You moan into the darkness, desperate for some sign that he was still with you, and are graced with his sharp claws dancing across your collarbone. Your eyes clench shut despite not being able to see anyway, in an effort to control yourself.

“What do you think, hm?” His touch vanishes only to reappear in the form of fingers brushing a couple errant strands of hair from your face. “Can you see the appeal now?” Again, his point of contact with you is gone.

“Not knowing where I am.” His voice comes from the opposite side of the bed, and you turn towards it with a gasp. 

Then from the foot of the bed- “Not able to see what I’m doing.” There’s a rustle of clothing- surely not his own , you think deliriously- before he’s back in your ear. 

“Not able to guess where I’ll touch you next.” His breath is hot against your ear and the vibrator has sped up again, a new pattern that has you letting loose a stream of curses as your hips move, chasing the feeling. One of his hands comes to rest on your hipbone, claws sinking just so into your flesh where he grips you. It takes a moment to realize he’s asked a question.

“What?”

“You must pay attention, darling, this is quite important.” He’s turned off whatever allows his voice to take on the radio quality. “I recognize that this has progressed beyond the means of a typical demonstration, so I must have your explicit consent. May I have your permission to touch you?”

“God, yes,” you groan, body tight with tension while you wait for his hands on you. They start where you don’t expect them, one placed lightly on the underside of your thigh and the other slowly starting to drift down your leg towards your upper body. He switches between his skin and his claws, swapping them out as he maps imaginary paths on your skin and across your navel, barely scratching you but the implication is there.

“So responsive,” he mutters. “Tell me- do you think your date tonight could have brought you to such a state?”

Your what ? 

Oh god, your blind date. Your eyes fly open to the nightstand where your phone is buzzing with missed calls and texts from Velvette. You had told her to apologize with no explanation, she might have been worried about you. You should really-

“Eyes on me, dear.” Somehow you’ve forgotten about the vibrator still buzzing happily inside you, so focused on Alastor’s hands on you that it slipped your mind until now- he’s kicked it up to the highest level yet, the feeling forcing a cry out of your mouth as your back arches. “And I believe I asked you a question.”

“Fuck,” you force out when you catch his gaze. His eyes are glowing, the only light available in the darkness, illuminating the dangerous curve of his smile as he looks down at you. “I don’t- I don’t know,” you get out, struggling to focus. You can feel the orgasm building, so much more intense than it had been last time, and he was right here with you, helping you through it .

“Come now,” he tuts at you, “that’s not very fair to your date. Have you no faith in them?”

“I barely know their name,” you groan out, the tension building, and you don’t miss the way his eyes narrow. You can’t stop your mouth from moving, despite your brain screaming at you to shut the fuck up before you say something stupid. “Something- something Velvette did- and fuck I didn’t even want them, I want - Alastor- ”

The tension breaks, your body tensing hard as you hit your release, his name falling out on a moan without permission from your brain. You’re distantly mortified at the thought of doing that a second time but you can’t focus on much else but the way that the pleasure in you is overtaking everything.

There’s a snarl and the sound of fabric ripping, the glow of Alastor’s eyes disappearing as you hit your peak. After a few brief moments of overstimulation the vibrations stop, and the lights come back on, Alastor’s shadows fading from the lamps.

He stands across the room, the remote for the vibrator placed on your desk. “Quite illuminating,” he says, and with the lights on you can see the thin sheen of sweat across his forehead, the way that his fists are clenched at his sides without his cane in them. He seems to be at a loss for words, something you’ve never seen before. He closes his eyes, swallows hard and gestures to your bed where you still rest on it. “I’ll be sure to send for a replacement as soon as I can.”

Following his gesture, you see the deep claw marks in the bed at your side, torn straight through the duvet and sheets and straight into the mattress. There are feathers and bits of thread and fabric still floating in the air from the force with which he had apparently dragged his talons across and into the bed.

Your brows furrow as you look back at him. “How-”

“I’m not sure a ‘hand-on approach’ is something that I can be part of going forward,” he says tightly. 

Your heart thuds painfully in your chest as you watch him, sure that this will be the end of it. You’ll go back to normal demonstrations of normal technology and largely being vaguely cordial with one another- the way you have been since you made the deal. It used to be enough, but you’ve had this taste now of something more, of him , and you’re not sure that you can go back to how it used to be.

“Darling.” At the sound of his voice you look back up at him, eyes glowing and his smile strained. “I’m sure that you understand this is for your own safety.” He glances at the gash across the bedsheets. “I had assumed that I was more in control of my own emotions. Clearly I am not- I will not risk the next thing I shred in a moment of weakness being your flesh.”

Leaning to sit up from the bed you wince at the shape of the vibrator still inside you. Blush staining your cheeks you remove it, pulling on your bottoms from the floor as you try to approach him. “Alastor, wait,” you say, but before you can reach out to grab his arm he’s re-materialized by the door.

The upturn of his lips now is forlorn as he watches you. “I believe it best that we go back to our initial arrangement,” he says. “I shall let you know when or if I need any further demonstrations.” With that he fades into the floor, the lights flickering as he vanishes.

With a cry of frustration you grab the remote off the desk and chuck it at the wall, where it splinters into little plastic pieces.

[toxicanonymity]

night walks: soaked

3.6k / creepy!joel miller x f!reader / night walks

Warnings:  I8+ mdni, alcohol, dirty talk, grinding, jacking off, oral F receiving, unsafe P in V sex, creampie, angst. very brief ass play. drug references. impaired editing. Shoutouts: various anons & night walks asks and Qs including @selfproclaimed-moviecritic and @missannwinchester. Picks up from Morning After. Floor plan here. Can read alone I think.

A loud clap of thunder startles you awake.  You sit up in Joel’s bed, untangling yourself from the sheets.  Joel’s not there.  There’s music coming from the other side of the basement, and the clink of weights.  You look around for your clothes and remember they’re out there scattered around the couch.  Great.  You get out of bed, wrap the sheet around you, and sheepishly emerge from his bedroom.  Joel counts down from five as he finishes bench pressing then racks the weight.  He’s shirtless.  He sits up and wipes his brow.  He does a double-take when he sees you walk in, then looks you up and down with a twinkle in his eye. 

“Lookin’ good,” he says. 

You gather your clothes from around the couch and say “Just getting dressed.” Your phone is dead.  “What time is it?” 

“Hell if I know.  Look perfect to me, pumpkin.” He doesn’t take his eyes off you. “Real life goddess.”  Lightning flashes outside. 

You sit down with your clothes in your hands and look away as he watches you get dressed. You’re too tired to care and your head hurts. There’s a loud clap of thunder as you pull your tank top on.  Joel picks up his water bottle and takes a swig, then puts it down and stands up to stretch.  You pull your sweatpants on under the bed sheet.  He walks around the couch and you do your best not to ogle his glistening body, dressed only in shorts.  You start putting on your shoes and the fridge opens behind you.

“Hair of the dog?” Glass bottles slide out and clink against each other.

“Nah, I gotta go.” 

“In this mess?” he asks as thunder rumbles. The blinds are pulled up on one window now and it looks pitch black outside. “Didn’t ya walk here? Gonna get soaked.”

He comes back with two beers and hands you one.  He also brings cold pizza.

“Seriously, what time is it?”

He looks back to the kitchenette.  “Four somethin’.” Shit, no wonder you’re hungry. 

“Thanks.”  You bite into a slice of pizza first, then take a sip of your beer. 

“Attagirl. Let’s watch somethin’ while this clears up, hmm?”  He turns on Netflix.  His recently watched list is mostly action movies and nature documentaries.

You slide your shoes back off and ask, “You like animals?” You’re wondering if it’s his own Netflix history or someone else’s. 

“Hell yeah, who doesn’t?” 

You raise your eyes in surprise and nod. “Got a favorite?” Thunder crashes. 

His face gets serious and he exhales like it’s a really difficult question.  “Well shit, can’t pick just one.  But big cats are cool as hell. D’you know leopards are basically nocturnal?” 

He hands you the remote control.  Not really caring what you watch, you idly click on the #1 trending: You. 

“Oh, not this creep again,” he says and leans back with an exaggerated eye roll. “Addicting, though, ain’t it?”  He looks at you, takes a sip of beer, and rests his hand on his inner thigh.  You put on Narcos.

You watch a few episodes and have a couple of beers as it storms outside.  At some point, you bring your legs up on the couch and he coaxes your feet in his lap.  He massages your feet.  You don’t talk much, and when you do, it’s nothing serious.  But it’s still the most talking you’ve ever done.   You mostly discuss different shows and the neighborhood. 

“Why haven’t I seen ya at the pool before?” he asks. 

“First summer here,” you say.  

“Wanna go sometime?” 

“I dunno,” you say. “Don’t like the sun much.” 

“Oh hell no, not in the day,” he laughs. “They don’t lock the gate at night.”  He winks at you and gives your foot a squeeze, running his other hand up your calf to massage it. He lowers his voice and adds, “We could go any night ya want.” 

-

There’s a long moment of silence. He takes a deep breath as he kneads your calf and watches you watch TV.  His face darkens.  You have to assume you’re both thinking about the same thing - the pool at night.  Joel scoots closer to you on the couch and pulls your calves into his lap.  His cock hardens against your leg through his thin sweatshorts. Then he gently bends your closest knee to make room for himself.  He gets between your legs and slowly lunges toward you, laying the bulge in his shorts against the crotch of your pants. 

“Any night ya want,” he repeats, then brings his mouth to your neck.  He kisses and lightly sucks your delicate skin and gently presses his hard length against you.  Then he kisses you on the mouth.  He tastes like beer. He puts his forearms down either side of you and slowly thrusts against you.  He kisses you on the neck again, then murmurs, “my turn,” behind your ear.  “Show ya what this mouth can do.”  You have flashbacks to the blow job you gave him the night before. 

Joel makes his way down your body and hooks his fingers into your sweatpants.  As he brings the waistband down, he kisses the crease of your thigh and you squirm uncomfortably. “I’ll take your word for it,” you say somewhat cruelly as he plants a wet kiss just above your mound.  The truth is you already know, from the restaurant bathroom.

He pauses.  “What’samatter, pumpkin?” 

“I just feel so dirty,” you admit. 

He smirks and opens his mouth to say something predictable, but you cut him off. 

“Physically dirty. I need a shower.” 

He pauses. 

“So take one,” he offers. He sits back and extends his hand to help you up. You hesitate and he raises his eyebrows at you. “Why not? We got time. Shit, I could use one, too.”  

You swallow hesitantly. Showering with him?  Far too intimate.  First you end up in his bed, then his shower, all in the same 24 hours?

He seems to read your mind and clarifies, “Ladies first.” The storm isn’t letting up. You don't have anything to lose and definitely need a shower.

-

The back of his bathroom has a frosted window and a free-standing shower with no door and a drain on the floor. The ceramic tiles of the wall are dark peach with one row of black just below the window.  The ledge of the window holds the  soap, body wash, and shampoo.  

“Faucet's kinda weird,” he says.  “I’ll get it started.”  Your eyes scan his bare back as he turns on the shower for you, standing out of the way of the water but getting lightly sprayed by tiny droplets.  The water is loud.  He has a couple of small tattoos you don’t remember seeing before.  They look abstract from what you can tell, but they’re faded and the lines are blurred from age. 

“Guessin’ you like it hot,” he says and turns the dial.  He gets a towel and hangs it on a hook for you.  

“Thanks.” You stand there awkwardly waiting for him to leave.

“Mmm hmm.” He hesitates by the door to his bedroom, a few feet away from you with his arms crossed. He checks you out, then uncrosses his arms and abruptly steps forward into your space.  He grabs your ass and pulls you into him, your hips meeting his.  He grinds himself into you again, sending a fresh pang of desire through you.  He kisses your mouth, then your neck, and sucks your earlobe. He grabs the hem of your shirt from behind and takes it off, discarding your tank top.  Then he slides his palms into your pants, leaving his thumbs hooked outside your waistband.  He takes your pants down, dropping them to the floor as he grabs your bare ass cheeks and pulls you harder into him, his clothed hardness pressing into your naked front. 

Steam billows over from the water.  He goes to check the temp, his tented shorts getting sprayed again.  His back muscles are a sight to behold.  They flex gracefully under his skin with every movement.  He must spend half his time working out.   He checks the water and mutters, “Alllriiight.” You step toward the water.  He turns and looks. “God damn, pumpkin,” he says as he shamelessly observes your naked body head on. 

“Shut up,” you whisper to the ground and cross your arms.  Lightning flashes outside. Your parents always told you not to shower in a storm.  It’s exciting, somehow.  "I'll be quick," you say.  

"Take your time," he mutters and slowly walks backwards, palming himself as he takes in your form again.  You watch over your shoulder as he disappears into his bedroom. You imagine he’s about to jack off.  If you’re honest with yourself, you’d rather he wait for you. 

-

You turn down the heat a little and examine his array of products in the frosted window, briefly distracted by the silhouette of your reflection. You soap up your body, starting with your shoulders and back, probably using way too much shower gel.  You close your eyes and inhale deeply as your hands slide over your body and your nostrils fill with Joel’s aroma.

You open your eyes to see two silhouettes in the reflection and your breath hitches as they combine into one. Joel’s strong arms wrap around you from behind. He wordlessly gropes a soapy breast and presses his naked, rock-hard length into your back side, sliding his other hand across and down your stomach for leverage.  He grunts, “Mm” as he presses his cock against you. His voice is low and smooth as he mutters, “Filthy, aren’t we?”

His hands slide down your waist to your thighs.  His stiff cock shifting against you makes you weak in the knees.  He presses it against you again. It swells and you moan softly.  

“Yeahh, that’s my dirty girl." 

You start to warn him, “Joel-” He bends his knees, putting his hands on your hips.   “Don’t let me fall,” you say. you're still covered in lather.

As he slowly stands up straight again, he drags his hands and cock up your slippery body and runs his closed mouth up your neck to the back of your ear.  “Nothin’ wild in here, baby,” he murmurs. "We’ll get clean together. . . ‘fore we get real dirty.”  His voice echoes low and sexy. You breathe a sigh of relief. Knowing the perils of getting soap somewhere you wouldn't want to.

He plants a kiss on your jaw and uses his hand to bring your mouth toward his. You turn around to face him. His lips press into yours as his arms wrap around you again, your tits pressing into his chest.  He looks a lot different with his hair somewhat wet.  Sexy in a new way.  He reaches his long arms down and squeezes both your thighs below your ass, then slides his hand up your crack and grabs a cheek with an, “mm” into your mouth. 

You drape your arms around his neck.  He works his hands up your back, massaging what’s left of the lather into you, and slides his hands through your underarms on the way to your breasts.  Your nipples pucker under his palms as he massages your breasts from the front and watches a small trail of bubbles slide down between them. “Fuck me,” he breathes.  He looks up at your eyes, then turns you around again.  

He brings you you both directly under the water again.  He rinses your back, then gets your breasts again from behind, pressing gently against your ass with his cock as stiff as ever.  “You’re gorgeous, pumpkin.”

“Thanks,” you whisper and begin to rinse your own body.  The sight of your own hands gliding across your skin is something he has to see.  You turn to face him and he’s covered with your lather, from his light chest hair down past his happy trail to his slippery cock. He watches you darkly, and begins to slowly stroke his raging erection.  You reach down and grab it.  His lips part.  

“You’re always ready, aren’t you?” you ask. 

“For you? Hell yeah.” 

You stroke him gently, assuming he would stop you if it was a bad idea. He doesn't.  His grunts and sighs echo off the tile. “All yours, baby,” he murmurs.  He puts his hands around your waist and watches as his hips thrust into your fist. When he’s about to come, he says, “Guess anywhere goes?” taking his cock from you.  He points it at your stomach.

To hell with it. You kneel down. “Tits,” you say.  

“Fuck yeah, baby.”  He breathes audibly and you watch tension spread across his face.  Then he shoots a huge load all over your chest with a long groan that echoes and makes you ache for him.  

He helps you to your feet.  “Still need my head between those legs, baby.”

“Do you mind if I, uh-” you look down at the cum on your chest.

“Sure, pumpkin.”  He quickly washes and rinses himself, and gives you a light slap on the ass as he steps out to let you finish bathing. 

-

You dry off, wipe the mirror with your hand, and use his mouthwash.  Then you step into his bedroom with a towel wrapped around you, tucked under your armpits.  His hair is fluffier again.  He has on pj pants but still no shirt. He sits down on the edge of the bed and looks up at you, captivated.  He murmurs, "c'mere," and spreads his knees.  You stand between his knees and he unfastens your towel, letting it drop around your feet.  “So fuckin’ hot,” he whispers, his eyelids heavy as though hypnotized by your body. “How ya keep your hands off yourself, hmm? Body like this.”

He takes your breast in his mouth and closes his eyes as he sucks at your nipple and palms the other one.  He moans, "Mm," into your mouth.  He releases your breast and gently pulls you by the hamstrings toward his lap.  You straddle him. Your naked cunt dampens his pants as you meet his warm package, already semi-hard again. 

Fuck, it’s all you want. You can’t get enough of it. Watching him jack off only made you want it more. 

He lies back on the bed, taking you with him then rolls over so he’s on top of you.  He slowly kisses his way down your naked body, his lips brushing away the remaining water droplets in your cleavage and belly button.  Between your legs, it's even slicker than before the shower.

He slides off the bed and kneels on the floor at the foot of it.  He pulls you by your thighs so his head is right between your naked legs. “God damn, you got the juiciest pussy,” he whispers right to it.  He plants his nose at your entrance then drags it upward, slickening your clit before digging into your cunt with his tongue and lips.  He moans and grunts as he devours you.  When he thrusts his tongue into you, all you can think about is his cock and how bad you want it.  

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Joel,” you say. 

He looks up at you from between your legs but doesn’t stop.  He knows you’re enjoying it, why should he?

“Stop,” you say.  “Come up here.” 

He knows what you want.  You can see it in his eyes.  He rests his head on your inner thigh and asks with puppy dog eyes, “Why? Don’t like it?” He knows you do. 

“It’s not what I want.”

“What do you want?”

“I think you know what I want.”  Your hips lift and your legs try to lift him toward you by his underarms.

“Hell yeah, I do,” he says and palms himself.  “But lemme hear it, baby.  Just this once.” He plants a kiss on your clit and swirls his tongue, looking up at you.  

You sigh.  “I want your cock.”

“Damn right,” he says and takes his pants off.  He takes his time making his way back up your body.  Far too much time when you’re desperate to be filled. 

“Jesus, give it to me,” you beg. 

“Ohh, I’ll give it to ya,” he says.  He reaches down and fingers you, then nudges your asshole, using your slick to push the top section of one digit inside.  

You gasp. 

“Ya like that?” he asks. 

You moan softly.  “God, I just want you inside me,” you beg. 

“Yeah, baby.” He removes his fingers and uses his other hand to drag the head of his cock through your slick. 

“Now,” you whisper and grab his wrist, stopping him with the head of his cock at your entrance. 

“Yeah, baby.”  

He presses forward and nestles his cock for entry.  “Yeah,” you nod.  "Now."

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes. 

When your bodies are aligned, the clean skin of his stomach against yours is a feeling you didn’t realize you needed so badly. 

He shoves his length into you with a grunt.  You moan softly as your body accepts him, then you bite your lip.   

“Don’t hold back on me now, sugar,” he murmurs, staring down at you darkly. “Tell me what ya want.” 

“Fuck me,” you say. 

He smirks and backs up enough to slam into you again, watching your mouth fall open with his girth.  He retreats once again and slowly fills you to the brim. Too slowly.  Then he slams into you again and slowly backs up. You moan unrestrained and wrap your legs around him, using all your leg strength to pull him closer into you.  

“Fuck me, really fuck me,” you beg him, “Faster,” you say. 

“Think about it all the time, don’t ya,” he says as he continues fucking you slowly. 

You nod. 

“Hell yeah,” he says as he moves his hips and buries his cock inside you, accelerating but barely. 

“All the time,” you say, and he speeds up a little more. “Fuck me,” you beg him.

“Yeah, I’ll fuck ya,” he whispers, and finally he does.  

He rails you at a perfect rhythm. He watches your tits bounce, occasionally dipping his head for a taste of your skin. He plants his mouth on your neck and marks you. It barely takes any time at all until your spine is arching and he’s saying “yeah, come for me, baby.” 

As you see stars and flutter around him, he says, “God damn you look hot when you come on this cock."  He fucks you through it and doesn't stop. "So damn hot," he repeats. A minute later he bottoms out with a shudder and pulses into you. It isn’t as much as usual given that he just emptied himself in the shower but his stamina sure is impressive for his age. He rolls over and lies on his back next to you.  

“That’s where it’s at, baby,” he pants.  “All about communication.”  He goes to the bathroom and washes up then pulls on his pajama pants.  He goes back out to the couch while you get dressed again.  You're too physically satisfied to feel bad about asking for it.

-

When you join him on the couch, he’s gotten the weed box out and he’s rolling a joint.  

“Not for me,” you say.  “I should really go.”  

“Still rainin’,” he says.  

“Barely,” you shrug. 

He looks at you and nods.  “Alright, pumpkin.  ‘Least lemme give you a ride.” He squeezes your thigh and stands up. 

-

He stops his car in front of your house and your aunt comes to the window then walks away.  Joel sees her and sighs.  

“What?” you ask him. 

“Nothin’. See ya around, pumpkin.”  You go around to the basement entry.

Your Aunt knocks on the basement door soon after you’re inside. 

“Was that Joel Miller dropping you off?” she asks. 

“Why?” you ask. Her eyes fall on your neck and you cover it casually.

“Oh, honey,” she says.  Then she  just shakes her head.  “That man is trouble. He’s probably shagged half the neighborhood.” 

It’s just gossip, but your heart still drops. “He was giving me a ride.”

She looks at you skeptically.  “A ride from the back of the neighborhood?”

You don’t have an answer. “How do you know that for sure about him?”

She puffs out her cheeks and exhales.  “Guess I don’t.  Ask anyone, though. He’s got them coming and going at all hours.” 

You swallow, waiting for her to say something else, then say, “We’re just friends.  Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

“Just be careful, honey.” She starts to go back up the stairs then comes back down. "Actually yeah, there's someone your uncle wants introduce you to. Real nice boy he works with."

"Uh - okay," you stammer.

"Great," she nods, "I'll tell him." Then she finally leaves you alone.

-

You have a lot of questions you don’t want to ask.  You know Joel’s not a good guy.  The last thing you should do is get more entangled with him.  You're not thinking with a clear head and you know it. 

You lay down on your bed, exhausted, and plug in your phone.  When it turns on, it chimes with a text from a new number.  The text on your lock screen says “Hate me ‘cause they ain’t me.”  You roll your eyes and crack a a smile. Sounds like Joel knew what your aunt would say to you.  At least he’s aware of his reputation? Is that a good thing?  How does he have your number?

You open the text, trying to think of what to say.  There’s an earlier message from him. It's from overnight - a topless photo of you.  You remember now - he said you should see how hot you looked.  You posed for him and gave him your number to send it.  

-

Thank you so much for reading and engaging!

-

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339   @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy @str84pedro @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor 

NW: @tehweeana@ele-meno-p@swedishscumfuck