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rememberwren · 2 months

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Weeks of bad behavior from your lieutenant have you convinced that he can't get laid. You take matters into your own hands.

Ghost/fem!reader. Rough sex, a nearly submissive Simon, PIV, unsafe sex, pullout method, flimsy premise to explain gross fucking, ruined orgasm. This has been on my laptop for ages please take it. 2.5k

It’s your breaking point.

Once you reach it, a strange calm comes over you. The mission is over, Price has finished taking you all to task for your failures, and Ghost has specifically taken you to task for your own—just like a typical man to notice the speck of sawdust in his Sergeant's eye and ignore the plank in his own. For so long (far longer than just the length of this arduous mission), the friction between Ghost and the rest of the team—between Ghost and yourself—has been building. Like two fault lines grinding alongside each other, there was bound to be a break somewhere.

You just hadn’t expected it to be you.

And you hadn’t expected it to be like this.

“Lieutenant, can I have a word?” you ask, walking damn near double time to keep up with Ghost’s steps.

“Negative,” he says. “Whatever it is, save it.”

“No can do. It’s important, sir.”

“Doubtful.”

“I insist, sir,” you press, pushing your speed into a light jog so that you can come to stand in front of him and block his way. He reluctantly stops, dark eyes blazing from behind his mask. He’s stripped down, gear abandoned but no less intimidating nor lacking in height or width. Still you keep your chin up, refusing to back down. Something has to give, and it won’t be you.

“Two minutes. Go, Sergeant.”

Your eyes scan the hallway. Here won’t do, even if it is night time and the base is quiet. You know that the quiet can be deceiving. Spotting the supply closet, you bound over to check that it is unlocked and—score. It swings open silently, the inside dark and smelling faintly of lemon-scented cleaner.

Ghost hesitates.

“It’s important sir,” you promise again.

You don’t promise that it will take two minutes or less.

Rolling those dark eyes, he sweeps past you into the closet, flicking the lightswitch. The overhead light hums to life, casting a tinny ivory glow over the room. The shelves are well stocked with supplies, most of which aren’t for cleaning but are typical office supplies instead. There is just enough room inside for a man to lay down if he wanted to.

You’ll have to test that to see.

“Take your cock out.”

Silence, for the length of nearly three of your heartbeats. Ghost’s head tilts, eyes narrowing where he stares down at you. He leans down a little as if to hear you better and asks: “Excuse me, Sergeant?”

You straighten your spine, refusing to be cowed. “You heard me. Your cock. Get it out.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

You raise your chin a hair. “The recruits have been talking. They say your bad mood is because you can’t get laid. I’m here to fix that, sir.”

“Getting your intel from recruits was your first mistake. Of many.”

“Either I have faith that you aren’t always this much of a bastard or I give in to the belief that you really are. For the sake of my own sanity, I’m choosing to believe the former.” You find a few pins for your hair in your uniform and begin pinning it back, keeping the extras tucked between your lips and talking around them as you prepare yourself to suck his cock. That strange calm is still over you, but beneath it you can feel your better judgment panicking. You’re propositioning your superior officer right now. This could lead to your discharge, and not an honorable one.

But something had to give. It was either your spirit, or your mouth.

You drop to your knees even though he hasn’t even reached for his belt yet, hoping to rush him along. His dark eyes follow you, and you see the heat in them. The fingers on his right hand twitch.

“Do you...want me to do it for you?” you ask, your voice a conspiratory little whisper. It’s the last little push he needs and then he is reaching for his own belt, undoing the clasp and opening it. He unfastens his pants. Beneath his jeans you can already see the bulge forming; proportionately huge compared to the man it belonged to. It made your teeth ache, like the thought of eating something sweet.

Maybe you were both crazy.

His cock is uncut, a dusky flush just a shade darker than the skin on the back of his hands. His girth is nice; his length is nearly obscene. It takes all of your self control to keep from outright balking at the size of him—though the weepy little cunt between your legs certainly is intrigued by the sight.

“Well?” he says. “Don’t just stare at it. Suck it off.”

You reach out and flick the sensitive head cruelly. He hisses, hips jerking away from your touch. “You don’t give the orders here, Lieutenant. If you want your dick sucked, you’re going to be nice to me, once and for all.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Ask me nicely.”

“Yer the one who begged me in here—!”

You let out a sigh. Drastic measures… leaning forward, your soft cheek brushes against the silky smooth skin of his cock. It twitches against you, burning hot. You turn and let your heated breath fan against it. For all his outrage, Ghost has grown perfectly still above you, not trying to find the perfect angle to slip his cock past your lips or anything else of the sort.

“Come on, Ghost,” you whisper, lips brushing against him. “I’m about to do something very nice for you. Isn’t it only fair that you ask nicely for it? I’m not asking for much. Just say…please suck my cock.”

“Suck my cock,” he says. Then, like a murderous afterthought: “Please.”

You sigh again and shift to stand. His hand is suddenly on your shoulder, pressing you back down.

“Don’t,” he says, sounding less like the prat he is. “Please. Go on. Will you?”

“You want me to?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Please,” he says through his teeth.

Leaning back on your haunches, you place the softest, chastest little kiss on the head. He’s aroused enough that the foreskin is just beginning to pull back, and you let your tongue out to lap softly at the exposed head, listening to the way his breathing stutters and stops, the way the leather of his gloves creaks as he makes fists as his sides.

“Try to fuck my face and it’s over,” you warn him. “You might be thinking of how badly you need this—and I know that you do. But don’t forget this: I need it more. I need this more. If we’re going to work together with any semblance of civility, I need this. Do you understand?”

“No. But I get the gist.”

“Good enough for me.” You open your mouth and take the head past your lips, suckling on it. He lets out a harsh breath through his nose, cock jerking against your tongue. You can taste precum already, and you’ve barely done anything. No wonder he’s been such a bastard lately. Has he been fucking his own fist at all? God knows that you’ve spent more than one night with your pruning fingers buried to the knuckle inside yourself, hand over your mouth to keep from shouting Ghost’s callsign when you cum.

Leaning forward, you take more of him into your mouth, enjoying the heavy weight of him on your tongue. He is burning hot, smells and tastes faintly of sweat from the mission, but you don’t mind; living with so many men has almost given you a strange appreciation for the scent of hard work. Maybe Ghost’s most of all. You take him as deep as you comfortably can, but there are still a few solid inches outside the wet warmth of your mouth.

You work one hand down your pants and underwear, finding the sopping wet slit between your thighs. Using three fingers, you stroke yourself leisurely from hole to clit, soaking the digits. Above you, Ghost mutters a curse, head tilting almost curiously as he searches for a better angle to watch your hand move beneath the fabric of your pants. Removing it, you hold it up to show him the filmy slick drenching your fingers before wrapping that fist around the base of his cock.

“You get that wet just from thinking about sucking some cock?”

Your eyes narrow dangerously, slowly pulling back until just the flushed head rests on your tongue, wondering if he’s being mean enough that you need to stop and remind him of his manners. Apparently just the threat of it is enough; he lifts his hands in supplication, mouth twisting a little beneath his mask.

“If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything. Didn’t your mother teach you that, Lieutenant?”

It’s his turn for his eyes to narrow dangerously, an expression that would likely put the fear of God in a lesser man or woman. But with your teeth so close to his cock, you’re not yet afraid. Before he can open his mouth and ruin anything else, you swallow him down as deeply as you can, feeling the thick head press at the back of your throat, your jaw aching. You can taste yourself on his cock and the thought has you whining around his length.

“Fuck,” Ghost mutters. His hand touches your hair—not to grab, but just to pet. “Yer a pretty thing, aren’t you?”

You hum in delight at this unexpected praise. It goes straight to your soaked core, fanning the flames of the ache between your legs. You are a pretty thing, and you are glad he’s noticed. To reward his good behavior, you lean in until the head nudges the back of your mouth again. Tongue out, breath held, he slips even deeper into the warm channel of your throat. His ragged exhale is as sweet as a moan.

You give him a few more minutes of your mouth before you grow bored without your own satisfaction. Slipping him free, you work his cock in your slick fist and say to him, voice wrecked: “Time to see if you can lay down in here.”

Turns out he can, as long as he keeps his knees bent a little. Straddling his waist only emphasizes to you how obscenely thick he is, and you have to stand to shuck your pants and panties down and off altogether. You cast a brief glance toward the door—there is no lock from the inside—but no risk means no reward.

“I don’t have a condom. You’ll have to pull out. Tell me when you’re close, alright?”

“Alright.”

His hands reach for you, gripping your wide hips as you straddle him again. You plant one hand firmly against his chest but hold no illusions that you could actually pin him in place if he decided to move. You lower yourself to brush your soaked slit along the length of his cock, back and forth, until he is soaked in your arousal.

His mouth opens to say something smart, something that will have you gritting your teeth, but instead you rise up onto one knee and sink down on the head of his cock. It’s all you can take before that pinch of pain strikes you, freezing you in your tracks. His mouth is parted beneath the balaclava, wet, quiet pants that dampen the fabric with each breath. You take your time stretching yourself open, thighs burning in time as you lift and lower yourself over him again and again.

“Touch me,” you demand of him.

For all his earlier mouth, he seems content to be obedient now, his gloved fingers searching for the space where you both are joined. The leather traces along the seam where his cock disappears into your cunt before following your parted lips up to your clit. His thumb circles the aching bud with a firm touch, and it helps you ignore the pain as you take another inch of him inside.

You ride him like that: both your hands on his chest feeling the way it hitches as it rises and falls, hips jerking and swaying as you find the angle that suits you best.

“Lean back,” he demands. “I want to look at you.”

“No time,” you pant. “It’s been way longer than two minutes, Lieutenant. I do hate to be wasting your time.”

“Fucking hell,” he sighs, eyes rolling.

“Don’t forget to tell me when you’re close.” He grunts in acknowledgement, his fingers going sloppy between your thighs. That’s not good enough. You bark: “Lieutenant, do not forget to tell me!”

He laughs.

You go to lift off of him, but his laughter turns belly up and dies so quickly, morphing into a strange, desperate little sound as he stops working your clit and grips at your hips, pulls you down more firmly against the cradle of his thighs.

“I mean it,” you say through your teeth, taking one of his wrists and prying a finger loose until he has no choice but to let go or have it broken. You guide his hand back between your legs. “Don’t cum before me, either.”

He sits up, jostling you, forcing you to change your angle. His mouth comes down hard against yours, fabric on skin, but you don’t turn him away, lapping at the cotton like it’s his tongue as you kiss through the mask.

Feeling things slipping out of your control, you press him back down with both hands, pinning him to the floor. The sound of flesh on flesh is loud in the enclosed space. At the apex of his thrusts he brushes against some deep, untouched space inside you that has you digging your nails into him, feeling that ache in your belly writhe and twist into something fearsome.

“I’m close,” he grits out.

“Not yet,” you hiss.

“I said I’m fucking close—“

“Wait for me,” you growl. Then, knowing that you can catch more flies with honey, you soften your tone: “Please, don’t cum yet.”

He shuts his eyes. “Shut up,” he mutters, scrambling for control, fingers digging into your thighs, unsure whether to pull you closer or tear you off of him. “Shut up, shut up, shut the—fuck up.”

It’s your turn to laugh, feeling your release right there, coaxed forward by this pleasurable torture you’re inflicting on him. Never did you think that seeing your superior officer suffering like this would give you so much satisfaction.

“So close,” you whisper, the tips of your fingers tingling with it. “Simon, I’m gonna—“

When it bursts, your teeth snap closed around a whine, jaw tight as your cunt clenches around him—

—and he jerks you off of him, sending you sprawling against his lower thighs as his ruddy cock twitches and spurts pearlescent seed, one dexterous hand wrapping around the shaft as he jerks himself off through it even after ruining your own. You stare, gobsmacked at his audacity, pussy still twitching and clenching around empty air, the stolen pleasure leaving behind a vicious ache.

“You bastard,” you mutter. You bat his hand away, gripping his cock and beginning to jerk him off. When you smile, it is mostly teeth, something feral and mean. “Let’s try that again.”

#simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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casinocarpediem · 6 months

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▪︎■☆ Новое Mолоко 🐮🥛 ☆■▪︎

(Translation: New Milk)

☆ 🔞!!NOT SAFE FOR WORK!!🔞

☆ male! subtop! Francis Mosses / male! dombottom! Reader

☆ overstimulation if ya squint a lil, milking, breeding, dumbification, passing out, belly bulge (If your not into this, look away!! 👻👻)

☆ implied Russian speaking Francis (translated from google translate and research for needed accuracy, however, any form of critique or correction definetely is allowed!)

☆ short (I think???)

☆ author has played Not My Neighbor

°○☆nsfw under the cut☆○°

You and Francis had a thing. And, fuck, for a minimum wage worker who barely gets any kind of rest at all, he's fucking good at what he does. He's a big fan of milking. Not his job, no, he could rant about how shitty it can be despite not wanting to get a new one (A/N: so real) but he's a fan of milking. Just the other kind of milking.

The first tim you two had sex, he was pretty sheepish about it, yeah. He didn't know if you prefered topping or bottoming so he settled for a handjob. You did the same as well. Until you both got used to each other and realized that he was pretty flexible. He'd do whatever you'd want to do, whatever you had in store, as long as if it wasn't too much for either of you. He loves fucking but he surely isn't a sex devient. Somewhere in the middle. Pliant to whatever you to had planned. But recently, he may or may not have discovered a new kink. Somethig that made his legs flex and his stamina increase and the gooey, warm, and fuzzy gears in his head grind back to life to keep on going. The last time you two had sex, there was now no condom, and he was pounding you into the bed that you swore Isaack would definetely send a formally written complain, persuasive enough for the both of you to not have such intense, hot, steamy sex for the next few months, (He's a reporter after all, have to respect the man informing the people, and he definetely has a way with words).

Humming, groaning, a little against your neck. You swore it was like a kitten, as if he was purring in a way. You pulled his hair as per usual and with a louder grunt his dark brown eyes roll up just a slight and flutter, closing shut as he fills you to the brim with his warm baby batter. Shaking, sweating, and biting his lip when he just keeps on cumming until theres nothing more to give. Or is there?

What he didn't expect, was when you suddenly whispered in the midst of him balls deep inside you,

"Thats it... good boy, you fuckin slut... Cum in me, keep milkin' yourself f'me"

Ah shit, he swore something inside of him just snapped loose. With the way he shivered violently, and as your hand loosened on his sweaty brown hair he moves again. Oh how odd, after a few rounds, the last one being penetration, he's always so tired, opting to give you a handjob or finger you if you didnt get a taste of your climax but shit. If this wasn't hot then what was?!

When you had basically degraded him to milk his balls dry you didn't mean literally, but fuck. This was so appealing, that your little milk boy had his quirks.

You look down at yourself seeing the bulge appearing on your abdoment everytime he thrusts in and god does it make you feel dizzy. Your hard dick, leaking as well just begging to cum while Francis gasps and shudders a little more, oh he looks so dumb. Trying to do as he's told. To keep milking himself. Milking himself for you. Just for motherfucking you. It keeps fuzzy sparks inside of his brain that has him smiling and drooling against your chest.

"Awe, what an adorable little cow you are... Milking your-...yourself for me... Giving me every ounce of that sweet sweet milk of yours, hmm? You wanna give me your milk Francis? You wanna fucking cum in me again?"

He feels so lightheaded that he smiles dumbly at the idea and nods as if his head is too heavy, full of warm cream. Muttering several words in russian mixed in with english as he nods slowly, trembling as his cock, still hard and moving perfectly against every spot inside of you.

"Please please please К-Куколка please... fuck fuckk- let me cum... inside... inside... cum inside please please milk me- oh... П-Пожалуйста... З-...Золотце... Пожалуйста..."

The pathetic, brown haired man sobs. Pawing at your sides like an injured little puppy. Begging so prettily, who could deny those eyes of his? all teary and tired. Small blobs of salty water dripping down his eyebags which were now disappearing, thanks to yourself for keeping his sleep schedule normal again after years of nap malnutrition.

After a few more moments of Francis groaning so softly against your ear, you feel yourself about to cum too, and when you order it directly, he really does come undone. Panting like a dog in heat while nails dig against his back skin. All the while he buries himself deep inside of you once again and fills you up with a second load of his fluids that it's practically drooling out of your hole. You hiss as well, shutting your eyes with a shudder as your dick spurts out a thick white rope of cum, coating Francis' stomach and your chest. Fuck.

Francis pants, collapsing on you. You gently push him to the side and just watch him catch his breath. Eyes closed, skin warm and sweaty while he's still inside you. All soft. But its not uncomfortable. At least now, you definetely know how you can abuse this new found information with your lovely boyfriend.

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rainyorca · 2 months

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You know I love you girl 𓇼 Kenji Sato X Reader

Content warnings: F!reader, hurt, comfort, established relationship, smut, pnv, cunnilings.

Words: 2,029

Notes: Probably my last short one until I finish my long form one. Anyways, I am all about soft kenji so pls enjoy <33.

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

Sometimes, not so often, you and Kenji will get into these little disagreements, simple fights in other words. And sometimes, neither of you will apologize, you’ll both go to sleep angry, backs facing each other rather than holding each other. You both need your space after fights, a little time to really sit and think, and then you’ll apologize or he’ll apologize and things will be back to normal.

But recently, you got upset about something that started this whole problem. You can put up with Kenji’s life as a celebrity, him taking pictures with fans and doing the whole sports celebrity thing but him being gone all the time bothers you a bit. You were fine with it before but something about it just really grinds your gears now. You don't say anything about it at first, that is until he tells you a specific time he's coming home, and then he comes home hours later without saying a word. The first time it happened you brushed it off, he apologized, explained what happened and that was that.

However, around the fourth time, you explained to him why it was making you upset, and asked him why he kept forgetting to let you know. Kenji isn't a cheater, you know that very well, he would never do anything like that to you but you just can't help but wonder what he's up to.

“I don't understand why it's so hard to at least send me a text,” you say, your tone firm but voice rather soft. You never yell, rarely ever raise your voice, Kenji is the same way except sometimes he can get a little carried away. “I just dont see the problem, you have my location,” he points out, the tone of his voice makes you nearly lose it. You two had been going at it for thirty minutes now and you were about fed up, tired of his excuses. “It doesn't matter that I have your location,” you argued, crossing your arms over your chest, “It’s still important that you tell me you're gonna be a little late, if you just sent me a text, we wouldn't even be having this conversation.” Some harsh words were said from the both of you, the argument about his absence turning into a fight about a plethora of other things. Eventually you gave up, frustrated and upset, eyes stinging with tears, you decided to go to bed a little earlier that night.

About an hour later, you're still awake, staring at the dark ceiling. You left the curtains open to let some cool light from the city and moon pour in. The familiar click of the door opening could be heard throughout the silent room, you turn around, back facing the door to avoid any contact. Kenji stands in the doorway, shirtless, the scent of his body wash rushes into the room, sea salt and cedar. He stares at your backside covered by the silk blankets, a pang of guilt stabs him in the heart. You hear the door close softly, squeezing your eyes shut to pretend you're asleep as he gets in bed with you. His eyes linger on your face for a while.

“I know you’re awake,” he says, sitting up right in the bed, “I’ve seen you asleep thousands of times and I know your face doesn't look anything like that.” His words make you sigh, opening your tired eyes slowly, glaring at him. He feels bad, you can tell just by the way he's staring down at you. “Look, I'm sorry,” he finally says, “I know I should text you when I'm gonna be longer, and honestly I get a little tired of being out all the time.”

“I wish I could be here with you every moment of the day and night,” he continues, reaching under the blanket and grabbing one of your hands, “and I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean any of it.” He places a gentle kiss on your palm, his lips soft against your skin. You think for a moment, appreciating the fact that he's apologizing even if it's an hour later. “I'm sorry too,” you say softly, voice muffled, “I just wish I could spend more time with you.”

“I know,” he hums, “I do too.” You stare at each other for a minute in silence before Kenji suddenly pulls the blanket down lower on your body. A smile graces his face when he sees you wearing one of his shirts, he toys with the fabric momentarily before gently pushing you onto your back. Before you can say anything he crawls on top of you, pressing his lips onto your forehead before grabbing your waist and scooting you up further on your pillow a bit. Kenji was rather skilled with his hands, and his silence. He was practically fluent in touches, enough to make you forget the events of what happened earlier. His lips travel to your neck as his hands explore your somewhat exposed body, running them up through the shirt and then down to your bare thighs. His breath gentle against your supple neck, nipping and kissing at your wonderful skin. He pulls away, trailing kisses down to where the shirt starts and then he sits up, nestling himself between your legs and placing gentle, mellow kisses on your legs. It's not long before he reaches your thighs, giving them the same treatment he had the rest of your body. He places his hands on your thighs, holding your legs open and rubbing your skin with his thumbs.

His lithe fingers curl under your panties suddenly, moving them to the side. It catches you off guard, so naturally you flinch, looking down at him with glossed over eyes. “Relax,” he breathes, his breath fanning over your already soaked cunt, “I just wanna make it up to you.” You watch him open his mouth slowly, sticking his tongue out and pressing it against your clit. The feeling makes you twitch and you lay your head on the pillow with a quiet whimper. You feel him wrap his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking and licking softly. He was without a doubt, so excellently skilled at this, you would mark it as another language he was fluent in. Surrounded by your thighs, his fingers pressing into your skin and leaving red marks with his short nails, his mouth working at your core. Everything about this moment had you on edge. His tongue eventually slips into your cunt, keeping a reasonable pace as he watches you writhe simply because of his mouth.

He gasps into your cunt, pulling away briefly before burying his head between your legs again. His eyes closed, determined expression written all over his slicked face. At this point, hungrily, rolling your hips into his mouth, his nose bumping your clit ever so often. He reaches up, pressing a hand on your stomach. “Stop moving, love,” he breathes, pulling away from your weeping cunt, “let me take care of you.” Your hands find their way to his hair, pulling on his black locks when his mouth meets your cunt again.

“Kenji,” you breathe, your head moving side to side on the satin pillow. The familiar heat pools in your stomach, threatening to release in an intense orgasm, but the feeling is pulled away from you along with Kenji’s mouth. “I know, I know,” he says softly when you let out a noise of protest, “I’ll let you feel it in a minute.” You watch him tug his sweats off, along with his boxers. He grabs his cock with a large hand, angling so his flushed tip rubs against your dripping entrance. He leans down, his lips graze over your neck. You tilt your head up, sucking in a breath when you feel him slide into you. “Fuck,” he sighs, a grin appearing on his sculpted face, “it’s been so long.” His breathing is shaky as he slides deeper into you, filling you to the brim until his tip nuzzles just perfectly against your sweet spot. He stretches you out pleasantly, your plush walls already tightening around him. You see his adam's apple bob with a swallow, his eyes trained on your face, focused on your contorted expression of pleasure. A whimper slips off your tongue as he pulls out slowly before pressing back in. Your eyes close as he continues to thrust into you, mouth open in a silent moan.

With every slow, deep thrust of his hips, stars blur your vision, eyes watering as he fucks the tears out of you. “Ken–” you whine, breathless and quiet, each stroke practically taking your breath away. “I wanna hear you, baby,” he says, his voice hoarse but gentle. Another deep thrust, hitting your sweet spot perfectly makes you cry out, reaching up and digging your nails into his back. The feeling of your nails makes goosebumps rise on his skin, knowing that you're gonna leave marks for him to see in the morning. He smiles, completely drunk on the feeling of your warm cunt, a quiet chuckle, barely audible, heard from his filthy lips.

“Even when im gone,” he groans, fucking into you with a bit of a quicker pace now, but not too fast, “when im busy, you know I still think about you. You’re always on my mind.” The sound of his groans fills the room, mixed with your soft moans. “You feel so good,” he grunts, his hips connecting to yours before pulling back slowly, “seriously, all I think about is you and this perfect cunt that I’ve missed so much.”

His soft, wet lips graze yours, making you open your lidded eyes. “Kiss me,” he says, firmly, “please, hm?” His little hum makes you lose your mind, you love it when he does that. You cup his face, pulling him down just a bit until your lips finally connect. He moans into your mouth, slipping his tongue inside by force almost. Your back arches, thighs tighten as he continues to repeatedly hit that sweet spot in you.

The heat pools inside you again, your moans and ragged breathing picking up in volume, his thrusts still continuing at the same, even pace. “Kenji—ah—fuck, Kenji—!” You mewl, throwing your head back, parting from the heated kiss with him. “Gonna cum for me?” He says, dirty but still in that same gentle tone, “hm?”

“Y-Yes,” you gasp out, “ah, yes.” He smiles again, your whiny pleads sending shivers down his spine as the pleasure climbs up yours. Your plush walls tighten around him like a vice as your climax builds up in you. “Good girl, cum for me” he whispers, his lips trailing up the line of your jaw. It’s almost as if those simple words were the signal for you, because seconds later your peak crests and you cum all over his cock. You cry out for him, desperately arching your back and scratching lines into his with your nails. He continues to thrust into you, drawing out your orgasm as your tears fall just as they had before. At this point, you're too blinded by your orgasm and his cock to even tell if he’s cumming himself.

Your whole body shudders as you come to rest back on the bed, the silk sheets sticking to your sweaty skin. He sits up, staring at your fucked out state. Your chest rises slowly as you attempt to chase your breath, your eyes shut tightly, mouth open and brows furrowed. Both your arms sprawled out about your head, twitching as you came down from your release. He slowly pulls his softening cock out of you, still watching your face for any change. He gets up, leaving the room momentarily before returning with a towel, carefully and gently, he removes your panties and cleans you up before cleaning himself up. He gets you a new pair of panties before snuggling back into bed with you, pulling you into his arms tightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head. You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling him in even tighter.

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

#ken sato #ken sato x reader #kenji sato #kenji sato x reader #kenji sato smut #⋆｡𖦹°‧ukume!#ken sato smut #ultraman rising

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hitomisuzuya · 2 months

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Hey hey🥰

First of all I hope you’re fine and that whatever happens tomorrow will pass quickly for you. Just wanted to let you know that I love your writing and it always made my day seeing you posted something new. Thank you for that!

To my request: I would like to ask for omegaverse smut, threesome (Scara x Wanderer x reader) where Scara is the alpha and Wanderer and reader the omegas who are both going into heat simultaneously and giving Scara a hard time to take care of them because they’re so needy? I hope that’s okay if not please just ignore it.

I hope you have a good day and thank you so much for your writing!

Alpha!Scaramouche x fem!reader Omega!Wanderer x fem reader. Smut. Threesome. Cunnilingus. Scara receiving. Wanderer giving. Degradation. Creampie. Multiple orgasms. Wanderer kinda subby. Scara is kinda mean.

Thank you so much🥺 It always makes me happy to know that my writing makes someone's day❤️ I am doing okay. This is kinda filthy😳

Scaramouche's mean streak was in full gear tonight. Heats are particularly hard for both you and Wanderer. And it didn't help things that Scaramouche had one cardinal rule:

His two omegas had to ask him if they could touch each other.

Wanderer was between your legs, panting and drooling, occasionally letting out a soft whimper as he sucked and licked at your pussy. Scaramouche held your wrists over your head, the nimble fingers of his other hand pinching and rolling one of your nipples. Each pinch and twist made you thrash on the bed, shocks of pleasure jolted to your clit as Wanderer messily swirled his tongue around it.

Wanderer moaned as you grinded your pussy into his tongue, holding your thighs apart as he pushed his tongue greedily inside of you. He rutted his straining into the mattress, groaning as he tasted you clenching around his tongue. More drool pooled onto your pussy in anticipation as he realized you were close to cumming.

"You both are so fucking needy," Scaramouche hissed, delivering a calculated pinch to your nipple before pushing Wanderer's mouth down onto your pussy, "Crying and whining to fuck because you in are in heat. Eat like the worm that you are."

Such a shiver went through you as Scaramouche rounded his annoyed glare on you. "And you, whimpering about how my cumming down your throat wasn't enough, plunging your fingers into your greedy hole while you sucked me off," He forced Wanderer's head down your pussy a little so he could stroke and pinch your clit.

"I can't help it, my body aches," You cried out, your legs spasming as your cum suddenly saturated Wanderer's tongue. You blushed hearing the lewd slurping noises between your legs, your hips bucking into his mouth to chase the friction of his tongue.

Scaramouche grabbed a handful of your hair, lifting your head and turning it slightly. "Open up, slut," He pushed the head of his leaking cock on your lips, "Suck just the tip," His cock pulsed from asserting dominance over you as an alpha.

And as an omega, you gladly obeyed your alpha. Your tongue eagerly swept out to curl around the head, lapping at his precum before scooping the tip into your mouth to suck on.

Scaramouche pumped his cock head in and out of your mouth, groaning as prodded your tongue into the slit. He was just bidding his time, watching for signs of overstimulation. They were already fast setting in with Wanderer's lips latched drunkenly on your clit.

Youbmuffled whines of bliss on his cock head, letting him guide your head. Your walls clenched sensitive around nothing as you twitched. Scaramouche smirked seeing your twitches. "That's enough," He abruptly pulled Wanderer's mouth off your pussy.

Wanderer growled in a rare show of offense, but instantly back down as Scaramouche glared at him. A line of drool connected your tongue to his cock as he took it out of your mouth, flipping you over onto all fours.

Scaramouche pressed a hand down on your back, making you arch it. Before you were bred, Wanderer had talked Scaramouche into eating you out first on one condition:

He had to watch Scaramouche breed you. A little punishment for being so annoying as Scaramouche bluntly put it. Wanderer bit his lip, swallowing a moan of jealousy as he watched Scaramouche rub his cock between your folds, his eyes trained on the way you eagerly pushed back into Scaramouche's cock. He ached to be his alpha's position.

"Fuck, this slut is so tight," Scaramouche moaned, sinking his cock deep into your pussy. He was quick to pick up a rough pace, making your toes curl as he drove his cock into your sweet spot.

Wanderer's eyes were trained on Scaramouche's cock squelching wetly into your sopping cunt, thrusting into his hand as he fisted his cock. Cum ribboned into his hand watching you reach down to rub your clit.

"Good girl," Scaramouche purred, praising the loud, lewd moans of bliss that keened from you, "let that pathetic omega hear how good your alpha is fucking you," He batted your hand away to nurse your clit himself, hastily making you squirt on his cock. He broke the knot of your orgasm easily.

He gripped your hips, holding you still as he chased his own orgasm. Scaramouche swallowed back a whimper of his own, huskily moaning as his cock emptied itself inside of you. He was careful in his purpose to have at least a little bit of cum seep from your pussy as he pulled out.

"Finger it back inside," He commanded Wanderer.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #wanderer #wanderer smut #wanderer x you #wanderer x reader #wanderer x y/n

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togament · 4 months

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i am RATTLING the bars of my enclosure thinking about togame im so insane about him its not even funny hebrgkdlcjfslfj

i love his nose shape bc its not one i see very often on characters but like i KNOW he puts it to good use while ur riding on his face I CAN FEEL IT IN MY BONES 😩😩🥵🥵🥵😩😩😩😩😩🥵

STAAAAWP. bc that’s the exact reason why i fell for him holy shit (and the exact same dirty thought SHDJNDDNDN) how are you literally meeee? i legit paused the episode he first showed up at and ran to his wiki. i have a thing for guys with pretty, beautiful, gorgeous noses ok (and the fact that i could kinda rub up against them when i—)

"when togame’s nose fucking distracts you (same) when you’re out in public. you’re needy and he’s more than willing to provide."

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : TOGAME’S NOSE OH MY FUCKING GOOOOODDDDDuh, togame palming himself while he eats, swearing, fem!reader, squirting, SLURPING, togame’s a GIVER, oral (female receiving) ((good for you)), sliiiight breath control play if you hold a little magnifying glass to it, togame straight up jorking "it", and by "it", haha, well. lets just say his peanits, togame.

staring up at your boyfriend, you can’t help but admire his features. how soft his gaze always is, how he pouts slightly every time he’s deep in thought, how he hides his dimples when he laughs but they still show even at the slightest smile.

but what really gets you, what really grinds your gears, is his nose.

“let me sit on your face.”

“hm?”

“…Let. Me. sitonyourface.”

“eaaaasy, baby. what’s got you worked up all of a sudden?” he purrs.

———-

NSFW under the snippy snip. MDNI. nobody below 18 pls mua mua mua.

you’re hovering your sopping wet cunt over your lover’s face now, his hot breath kissing the insides of your thighs with both of his hands cupping your ass, giving them little squeezes to ease your descent. looking down at him, his lustful gaze never leaves your form. Watching you slowly lower yourself onto his face, he blows upwards and onto your glistening folds. you clench over nothing and he lets out a hum.

“lookin’ so pretty fer me, bunny,” he coos, not even trying to mask the absolute desperation in his voice. “all wet just from my voice alone. missed me that bad?” you nod, lowering further, further. his nose brushes against your clit and you gasp. he’s fully aware that you love his nose, how you focus on riding his face only to bump your clit onto it. gets you every single time.

the grip he has on your ass eases up as you fully seat yourself on his face, your cunt directly on his tongue. you let out a soft mewl as you feel his thumb raise the hood of your clit, exposing the more sensitive bud underneath. it’s absolutely engorged and fat now.

he’s torn between savoring the taste of you and just fucking you senselessly. he missed you as much as you missed him, after all.

that could wait, he realizes.

he’s enjoying the view above him.

his rough thumb flicks at your clit while you continue seesawing on his tongue, unbidden curses and moans escape your kiss reddened lips. you swear you could feel his tongue moving, tensing it and laying it flat for you to ride on. but then you move higher, higher.

rubbing your sensitive nub against his tall nose. his thumb holds the hood of your clit back as you help yourself to the pleasure, expertly riding his face like you often do when he gets you alone. if he could, he’d stay like this forever. eating you out, having you cum on his tongue over and over again.

you’re riding faster now, practically humping his face with your fingers tangled in his curly, jet black hair. god. he can’t take it.

he starts palming himself underneath you while you ride his face into oblivion, getting off on the fact you’re getting off on his face. plus the added restriction on his breathing is making him feel dizzy but in the best way possible.

moaning underneath you, it sends vibrations up your core. you let out a salacious moan and that further eggs him on. with one hand, he pulls his gray sweatpants down to finally pump at his cock, moaning louder into your cunt. god. this is the closest to heaven you'll ever be without dying.

your grip on his hair tightens before your breath hitches, growing more and more staggered with every moment that passes. you look down again and you meet his eyes. like he's silently telling you to cum. throwing your head back, you continue riding, and riding, and riding....

just cum.

and you do. fuck, you do. squirting down his lips, the liquid dribbles down his neck and into his hair. but god. he's holding onto your hip hard with one hand when he follows you, cumming just after you did, groaning into your pussy. you whimper, relaxing your muscles that have been taut the entire time you were chasing that high. meeting your boyfriend's eyes once more, he fucking winks at you before he maneuvers you, pinning you underneath him on the couch. he pulls you in for a much deserved cuddle, massaging your shoulders while he coos at you. "was it my nose again?" "...yes."

a/n: ehehehehe togame and his fucking nose, brother. i'm so so SO happy to know we got togame nose fuckers around too. i see you.

a/n 2: togame knows you’ve got a thing for his nose btw :)!!!!! he’s a sweet boyfriend BUT!!!!! he can be a little shit if he wants to be. uses that shit to his advantage.

#wind breaker #windbreaker #nii satoru #satoru nii #jo togame #togame <3 #togame jo #windbreaker x reader #jo togame x reader #togame x reader #togame smut #jo togame smut #togame jo smut #windbreaker smut #wind breaker smut #bibi spicy asks #bibi spicy yaps #TOGAMEEEEEEEE’S NNNNOOOOOSE!!!!

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lunarmoves · 1 month

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Can't stop thinking of the scenario where y/n leaves the Pizzaplex feeling like Sun honestly wanted them gone, and Sun becomes obsessed with finding them and also leads a robot apocalypse. What would happen if y/n caught wind that Sun is looking specifically for them and seeing all that has happened with the robots takes that as "Oh no, I thought he tolerated me but turns out he dislikes me so much he personally wants to get rid of me himself" so they try extra hard to go into hiding out of fear of what will happen if they're captured and taken to him?

ohhh my goddd nonnie u are so big brained!!!!!!! thank u for sending this in bc honestly i have also been thinking about this au for a while LMAO. if i was strong enough i would write a 50k fic spliced into two arcs (im thinking about it so hard u have no idea!!!!!!) for this but alas.... /stares at my incomplete wips/ i am not </3

(added in from future shay: what have u done nonnie this became so much longer than i'd intended, u basically get the whole fic outline here. cw for death and murder n stuff, typical fnaf. also spoilers for a fic i may or may not write?? like. this is me brainstorming and shoving all my ideas here lol. literally all of them)

okay so... let us set the stage a little bc i can't help myself. arc1 of this hypothetical fic would of course involve the pizzaplex where reader and sun get "closer" over the course of like a year. maybe more. well sun feels close to you. you, on the other hand, do not. why would you? this robot has been so passive aggressive with you and though it seems like he's nice enough to you (in comparison to the other humans), you really don't like how he treats you some days. what he says about humanity as a whole. you can't help it! yeah humanity sucks sometimes and robots were built to be everything that humans aren't, but he can't generalize in the way that he does at times and forget that these are people!! with feelings and ambitions and dreams! 'superiority complex' doesn't even begin to cover his issues, gahh!!

(the fact that he's been treated like absolute shit, working in the daycare does not help whatsoever. the mean parents, the kids who don't listen to him, the staff tht does the bare minimum on him in terms of maintenance because he's the daycare robot and not one of the glamrocks. it grinds his gears)

i imagine the reader in this fic believes that robots are indeed sentient, which is why you try to get sun to recognize and acknowledge his own emotions/feelings (which he vehemently denies, even tho there are literal riots happening worldwide regarding robot sentience. he's lying to you. you know he's lying to you. but you don't know why he denies it so much. ((maybe this is the point where he catches feels for reader and is denying the fact tht he's crushing on a human lol)). the government is not happy about these uprisings, of course, and every day the news shows more and more chaos unfolding as robots get tired of the conditions they are in). but eventually, things boil over and you end up leaving. that, and it's becoming more dangerous, living in this area, with everything going on. maybe your parents are trying to convince you to move elsewhere. maybe there are other external circumstances. in any case, you leave. there is nothing at the pizzaplex for you anymore, sun has made that clear.

(and moon... well, moon has been quiet lately. too quiet. you don't know what happened to him, he won't even look at you when you manage to get some time with him when the lights go out after your shift)

((i imagine this is maybe around when they get infected. that makes everything even more complicated. if you thought sun was obsessive before, then that's nothing compared to a glitched out sun unforch. it just amplifies the more questionable aspects of his entire personality. and like, he doesn't even have vanny/afton commanding him bc as soon as he gets the virus? he kills both of them))

(((also im imagining moon and sun don't really get along in this au bc they have differing ideals/views. like to balance out sun's unhingedness, moon is significantly quieter and softer and deffo does not believe in robot superiority lol. if anything, maybe he has an inferiority complex pfft poor guy. doesn't help when he gets glitchtrap'd and wakes up with blood on his hands)))

okay so you leave, right? and a few weeks later, you see the news on your phone--the pizzaplex has burned down. you don't know how to feel about it. sure you've been friendly to the glamrocks and stuff, but you find yourself thinking about sun and moon. there's a mention of one death--a blond woman, who died from her neck snapping before the flames could reach her. you don't want to think of the implications of that. there's no mention of the glamrocks--of sun or moon or the dj. you're not sure if the news anchors are just excluding robots, but either way, it makes your heart sink. you take a moment to mourn. bc at the end of the day.... you did know sun for over a year.

not even a few days after that, there is a robot uprising in your city. it's... bad. you're at home, watching the news with your apartment half in shambles from your plan on moving back home with your parents. in my head, since utah is home to fazco (a megacorporation with hands in the development of a LOT of the robots seen in society), it also means it's a hotspot for robot riots and the like. fazco vehemently denies robot sentience because it would mean a loss of money in acknowledging their workers are people yk how it is. as such, there are maany protests and riots and stuff, from both humans and robots. it's a shitshow.

ANYWAYS you're at home and it becomes evidently clear that you need to get out of dodge as soon as you can. they were killing people. the robots, built by human hands, were killing. it brings about absolute chaos. in prior riots/protests there were never deaths. injuries, maybe, but never deaths. people start evacuating like crazy.

you catch a glimpse on the news that the violent uprising in utah caused a chainlink reaction to extend all across the nation. maybe even the world. you're scrambling all over your apartment with the tv on the news, doing your best to pack up the essentials. there's live coverage on the tv from a helicopter somewhere not far from your apartment complex. and you're able to catch a glimpse of bright rays and a cheshire, white smile on the screen--leading what looks like an army of robots--before it cuts out.

you don't even know what to think. the image is seared into your eyes, the blood that painted yellow hands and a crescent face.

you get the hell out of your apartment and book it as far as you can. communications are down everywhere--the thing about robots? they know exactly where to hit humans to cause a catastrophe. as such, your phone is useless. they've hijacked the satellites and took down certain powergrids. having a phone on you would only be a detriment, so you ditch it. there's only you now. you must survive.

and then there's a bit of a time skip to start arc2. in this duration, you're long gone from that city in utah, living with a small survival group. if you've read my summer camp au fic, this is where i'll bring in "OCs" such as vincent (a play on 2015 vincent) and jeremy (fitzgerald or the VR guy tht used to work for fazco), maybe michael if i really wanna au fudge everything. you all live day by day, trying to run away from the robots.

at this point, a majority of humanity has either been killed or has gone into hiding. i think while the robots don't want to eradicate humanity completely (after all, there are certain tasks that need humans n such), they definitely want to make them a minority. they are a little more than halfway through their goal.

it's very difficult to evade robot surveillance. there are drones everywhere. all cameras are hijacked. i'm imagining a kind of cyberpunk type world. you have EMPs and tasers that you can use to disable electronics, but they're made from scraps you and your group scavenged. and upon immediately using one, all robots in the area are informed of your presence, so they can only be used in rare and desperate circumstances. they are all connected to the same network, which means they can have a hive mind, at times. life is scary, in this regard. big brother is watching.

you've heard rumors of a human base underground somewhere--a place safe from robots with the proper defenses. accepting to any and all. the only tough thing was finding the damn place, but you've seen the clues in graffiti and hidden messages designed to trick AI (think: captcha). you and your group just wants to get to that damn base and stop living in fear all the time, being out in the open or crawling as stealthily as you can through empty streets.

the one thing sun used to emphasize to you? the way robots are more efficient. and that they are. you see it in the way a new metropolis shines like a beacon on the horizon. they've already built their own kingdom of sorts. and their ruler? you grimace as you think about sharp rays and wide, white eyes. you haven't seen him in ages--not since that initial broadcast. but you hear the whispered rumors and news. how he has created a robot haven--the celestial city. how he scorns humans. you blame yourself sometimes. maybe if you had stayed and tried harder to convince sun that humans aren't all too bad, none of this would have happened.

(a memory comes to you--of your time back at the pizzaplex. of you sitting atop the security desk and kicking your feet lightly as you entertain sun's... uniqueness. ambitions--that you did not take as seriously as you should have.

"okay, i'll bite," you said in amusement. "what would a robot takeover look like for you?"

sun cocked his head, hands fidgeting with a plush. "hmm. well. i suppose it would be a very quick thing, for one. hit hard and fast." he squeezed the plush. "take down comms. strike power sources. go for those in power first, then the weaker ones." he gave you a shrug and an unreadable smile. "from then on, carnage."

and you--silly silly you--just rolled your damn eyes at him like he was joking around with you and asked him about more hypotheticals. picking his brain, in a way. it was exact with how it played out in real time. you thought about this often, at the dead of night.

it was all your fucking fault)

and then, one day, the scout/informant of your little group--jeremy probably--comes back with some news. the celestial ruler--sun--has been taking human hostages. it's been happening for a while now, apparently, almost nearly as long as the uprising. jeremy pulls out some hazy photographs he's gotten from some of the other humans he exchanges info with. you look at them, the hostages.

after a minute or two of staring, you realize something.

they all sort of resemble you.

there's a clear pattern actually. your hair or your face shape or your eyes or your smile. some combination of them. but never actually you. you ask jeremy what it all means, and he hesitatingly says that it looks like sun is looking for someone. it's clear to everyone who it is as they all stare at you.

and you? you're panicking.

he's looking specifically for you. just you. you've never heard of the robots taking hostages, and you have no idea what he's doing with them, but it can't be anything good. especially since he keeps taking more and more of your lookalikes hostage. you think back to your time at the pizzaplex--so distant, now, that it almost feels like a dream.

he wants to kill you himself. you're sure of it.

now you're trying even harder to get to that underground base. you go completely dark, doing your best to evade detection--and i imagine there are quite a few close calls, definitely a few instances where your face is captured on camera or you have to use an EMP. until finally, you and your group manage to integrate into the underground human base.

'base' doesn't even properly describe it. it's a whole city, actually, with unsteady houses made of wood and cloth. it's the perfect place to hide.

you spend a while down there, occasionally venturing up when you're allowed to by the guards (it's rare, very very rare). the city has strict rules that must be followed to ensure it's not found. the ones in charge are constantly looking for news on the actions of sun and the majority of robots. they don't really keep the citizens updated--it would cause too much chaos, you think. but you hear whispers now and then. (the robots have expanded territory. france is completely gone. australia's still holding out. most of china and india have been taken over and their factories have all been transformed to mass produce more robots)

for the first time in a while, you think you can find peace down here. it was only inevitable that this would be ruined one day.

you wake up to chaos.

the underground is under siege. the robots have found you.

you run out of your makeshift house and have to dodge crumbling stone. explosions rock through the air, sending dust and debris everywhere. you're scared for your life--your only instinct is to run run run get out it's not safe! you don't know where your friends are. you don't know if they're alive. for a moment, you hesitate. and then you're bolting to try to find them. they had their own little homes not too far from you. you can find them. no man left behind.

you can hear bullets and the hum of energy everywhere. people are screaming and crying all around you. you see people dying before your eyes, impaled by beams of light or stray bullets. it's all you can do to dodge and weave towards vincent's house.

but before you can get there, something tackles you from behind. you roll across dirt, and find yourself pinned under a robot--a staffbot from the pizzaplex, you realize. except it looks--different. more high tech.

it seems to scan your face. and just before it can finish, you manage to grab a stray metal rod laying on the ground next to you and stab it right through the eye.

you scramble, getting as far away as you can from the thing. but-- you run right into the path of a crumbling building. it buries you halfway under thick wood, and something sears its way through your leg. you're trapped. you're trapped and there's no one around to help you.

and just when you're on the brink of passing out, you see him. standing in front of you a ways away. those same star-patterned pants and dangling cap. but he's different somehow, he looks different. you can't place it, your vision blurring into red and purple.

moon looks at you as though you are the last thing he wants to see. and then you faint.

when you wake up, you're in a bedroom. your leg is in a cast and there are crutches near your bed.

it's... the nicest room you've seen in a while. the windows are covered by thick curtains that let in a sliver of light. you have to blink a bit to let your eyes adjust. and then you get up, noticing you aren't in the same ratty, dirty clothes you'd been wearing for forever.

you try the door first. it's locked. there's a sinking sensation in your gut that gets stronger and stronger the closer you get to the window. and when you pull open the curtains, you gasp at the towering buildings, bright green and blue light, and flying drones.

you are in the middle of the celestial city.

you panic hard. and then you notice the camera in the corner of the room, looking right at you. big brother is definitely watching. you give him the bird.

you wallow around in the bedroom for a bit. you are hungry, you cannot deny. and there is only a glass of water for you set on your nightstand.

but eventually, the door opens of its own accord. an automatic lock, you suppose. and it swings open into a dark hall. you do not have any other choice but to follow. it's clear you are being summoned.

there are no places for you to run or hide. you travel down a long hallway and end up in a wide room with someone tall standing at the far end by the window. it's a scene straight out of a movie. you are not impressed.

the figure turns around, and you do a double take. it's sun--yet it's not.

he looks different. taller, stronger. with clawed fingers and rays that look deadly to the touch. his smile is sharper, his torso has all sorts of compartments and attachments. he was modded to all hell, just like that staffbot you saw earlier. it had to have been self inflicted.

he only stares at you, really. white eyes rake up and down your form, taking you in. you don't say a word, only look back at him. and then you flinch slightly when someone emerges from the shadows next to sun.

it's... moon. looking just as modded as sun. you're confused. when did they become separate? but honestly, you think it makes sense. they never really liked each other. it makes sense that sun would want to be separated as soon as possible--and they had the resources to do so. you just wonder why they're still working together. comfort in the familiarity, maybe.

moon doesn't meet your eye. you notice his is different--the red tinged with purple. sun doesn't look away from you. it makes you uneasy.

you don't know why you're here, but one thing's clear: you are not getting out of here anytime soon.

i'm honestly not sure how to end things, but in my head there's a lot of reconciliation that needs to happen. obv sun is so incredibly down bad for you at this point (and moon), but there are many issues that need to be tackled first.

sun doesn't understand why you're so wary around him. moon keeps avoiding you at every turn. there's still an entire revolution and remaking of society happening. you are constantly being watched by cameras in the building. i can't picture things as returning to normal--post uprising--but i also don't know how to end things on a happy note LOL, though i do want to instead of killing off reader or sun/moon. maybe it'll be a bittersweet sort of end, maybe reader finally gets through to sun. maybe eclipse will make an appearance (jk, idk how i would even do that, this might be an eclipse-less fic).

in any case, the next bit would be a lot of sun and reader connecting better than they had in the pizzaplex, a lot of sun trying to understand humans better cuz he's trying to court you-- and has long come to accept his emotions tbh. tho he's still kind of mad at you for leaving, so there needs to be a conversation of sorts about why you left before sun can really begin to understand how he appears to you. idk!

i also feel like moon isnt nearly fleshed out as sun is?? i dunno, i might have to think some more about him. i just know he's terrified of hurting you, esp with him still having the virus (and sun, but he has better control of it). gonna be a lot of work on your part to get him to be comfortable around you again. also, he doesn't like the fact that society has come to this. he lowkey resents sun, but he doesn't have anyone else. what's a bot to do?

also there may be a scene where your survival group tries to save you lol, maybe with an army that tries to seize control of the celestial city. which may work. this would be a bad end, i think, cuz there's no way sun's getting out of that alive.

anyways yeah. i rambled enough LMAOO whoopsie! i rly just regurgitated all the thoughts in my head. no promises that this will be a fic, i've got enough on my plate as is LOL

#star gazing with shay #we allowed sun to go too crazy i fear...#give a guy an inch and he takes a mile i swear #im still thinking abt what to name this au. anyone got ideas for a title?#ill go back and tag the relevant asks/drabbles later lol #also im so open if anyone has any other ideas for how things could play out #or what could happen next #:3c #lots of ways things could go hehe #much to think about....#also pls lmk if u spot any plot holes sfksfs #bleeding wires au #<- official tag yipppeee

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butchcarmy · 7 months

Note

Honestly I think if Carmy does dirty talk (once he gets some experience) he’s really going to love being condescending, and it’s so hot…

I AGREE. So much in fact that this was born. Wow. Heed the tags and proceed!!

Tags: explicit, dom carmy, cumplay, dirty talk, creampie, carmy being mean, but also sweet

“You’re so easy,” Carmy says with a smug look. He’s pushing his cock steadily and and out, repeatedly stretching you out further when he bottoms out again and again. “All you need is a cock in you and you’re almost fuckin’ coming already.

“You just feel so good,” you whine in defense, but with the way you’re clenching down around him, pussy so wet it’s dribbling, it’s not very successful.

“You just like being stretched out,” Carmy retorts. He pulls back and lets the round head pop out before bullying his cock back into you. You writhe below him. “It doesn’t have to be my cock. Could be my fingers. Almost got all 5 fingers in there last time, didn’t we?”

“Carmy,” you moan, your pussy wrecked by his relentless pace and his dirty, dirty words. “B-But I—I like your cock…”

“I think you just like it when I come in you,” he says, voice low in your ears. “You like the feeling of my cum inside you. Whether it’s in your pussy or down your throat…” His fingers tweak at your clit, flicking it up, and you flinch with a surprised moan. “I should get a plug to keep it all inside you.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp, scandalized, but the telltale sign of dense heat weighing in your gut says otherwise.

“You like the sound of that, don’t you? Going through your day with my cum in your pussy?” Carmy’s grinding his thick cock inside you, getting sweet friction on your walls. “Fuckin’ slut.”

His fingers pinch your clit, and you let out something akin to a sob.

“I’m gonna come,” you gasp. The pressure’s so fucking tight. “Carm—“

“You’re so easy,” Carmy laughs lowly, breathlessly. “Go on, take it. Come like the easy slut you are.”

His fingers glide from side to side on your slippery clit in a blur as he thrusts in an even, firm rhythm that has you choking on your own gasps. You come with overwhelmed tears in your eyes, moaning Carmy’s name so loud it’s almost a scream. You’re throbbing so tightly on his dick like it’s a lifeline.

“Th-that’s fucking right—fffuck—“ His moans are deep, resonating from his core. He staggers inside you from the sharp pleasure of your tightening walls. He fucks you through your orgasm, stretching it out like a thin piece of gum until it snaps, and in turn, your hole sucks his cock so much he comes.

When he pulls out, his soft cock is smeared in a shiny mixture of your combined cum. Your cream lays thick on his shaft, and somehow, there’s still beads of his cum in his slit. Your mouth waters looking at it. So does your pussy. Carmy’s cum, pale and abundant, pools rapidly at your abused entrance and spills over.

“Look at you,” Carmy murmurs in awe. His thumb drags up from where you’re leaking and sinks inside, pushing his cum back in. “Took me so well, baby…”

He praises you with little kisses and affection, kissing gently at your legs, stomach, collarbone. Brings you close to him, brushes sweaty strands of hair out of your face.

“Sorry if I went too far,” Carmy mumbles after you’ve both come down. Your head rests on his chest, and you’re playing with the curls of his hair. “With anything.”

“You were wonderful,” you assure him. “Could’ve even been a little meaner and I would’ve liked it.” That gets an abrupt laugh out of him, equal parts embarassment and delight.

“Oh yeah?” You can tell by the way he’s saying it that he’s choosing to take that as a challenge. You can see the gears turning, and it’s making you a good kind of nervous. “I think I got a couple ideas.”

“Looking forward to it,” you say, like it doesn’t make you wanna squirm, and he smiles knowingly, bringing you in for another kiss.

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #jeremy allen white #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you #carmy smut #my asks #HAHhhHHhhH I’ve been busy working and haven’t had much time to write so this ask collected dust for a bit… sorry!!!#I wasn’t brave enough to write carmy meaner but u KNOW I wanted to. anyway this was a fantastic prompt THANK YOU ANON.#hope everyone is having a fantastic day…#My blurbs #my smut

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naneun-no · 8 days

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On “Insecure Jikookers”…

Alright. I might lose followers for this and that’s very okay; curate your timeline and protect your peace babes. But for YEARS, every time the phrase “insecure jikooker” has come up on my feed my eyelid has done a little twitchy twitch 🤨🤨

And I have always ignored it, because I’ve never wanted to be out here policing ppl’s language and we are literally supposed to be having fun and celebrating love, like for me that’s the whole point, but —

I’ve been seeing the phrase popping up again surrounding the release of AYS and I just gotta say it.

You guys the term seems so culty 😬🥲

Like I think I get the origin (maybe)? It probably started when some of the early jikook bloggers (if you are one I salute you, I am not worthy, trust me this is NOT a dig at anyone, jikook bloggers are by and large cool and kind af 🙇‍♀️) would get these sketchy asks that were antis or cultists in disguise just casting aspersions on jikook’s bond or being blatantly homophobic and/or in general being rude little anonymous internet gremlins. Or maybe it was people who did want to believe that jikook was real but kept nagging and begging for reassurance at every turn, which I can totally see becoming annoying as hell and prompting people to start using the term.

But it feels like it’s used now as like a catchall for anyone who expresses any doubt or asks any critical questions? Even like… reasonable ones? And I used to see a lot of “hey believe what you want to believe but this is what I believe” but now it seems like the sentiment around jikooker communities has by and large become “if you don’t believe you’re an idiotic dumb person who has never known love — you’re either a rival shipper in disguise or WORSE (dun dun dunnnnn) an Insecure Jikooker — and we don’t want people like you around.”

And idk it just feels weird for a community that has always seemed to kind of pride itself on being the “rational, fact-based” ship… like we LOVE to be smug about how jikook don’t need edits to be obvious, don’t need slo-mo zooms with red circles and arrows because their chemistry and fondness and affection is just plain to see in basic footage. We’re the levelheaded ones 😌.

But doesn’t that mean that we should always be encouraging critical thinking, and if someone comes to a different conclusion than us, so be it? Like it or not, none of us have foolproof confirmation that jikook are anything more than very close friends. That’s literally all we know. The rest is our best guess based on vibes, anecdotes, dot-connecting, subtext and body language observation, experience, perception (!!This is a big one because confirmation bias is real!!), and suspicion. That’s literally it.

Look maybe I’m just projecting 😅 but when you criticize people for expressing reasonable doubt over something that is literally not confirmed, it’s just a little too religious fundamentalist for me! (This is why I was a bad Christian, because I always raised my hand and asked questions the Sunday school teacher didn’t like.)

Feel free to ignore me. I never want to come across as pushy or trying to stir up anything, it’s just a phrase that grinds my gears and I’m sort of hoping I’m not alone in that… but if I am, so be it! 🤣 would love to hear people’s thoughts because maybe I’m missing something.

(P.S. If you’re a troll who spams jikook blog inboxes this is not me defending you. You’re still annoying and you need a better hobby. Have you tried yoga? Snowboarding? Fly fishing? Filming food vlogs and/or painting? You should try cooking. You should stop being an anonymous internet troll stomping on everyone’s proverbial sandcastles and instead write a poem. K bye ✌️ )

#I’m afraid to tag this but #jikook #because that’s the whole point so #please be nice

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semischarmed · 8 months

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Thread, Part 2

Aaand the pendulum swings back. This is your warning, this one is (in my opinion) particularly evil.

= = = = =

Charlie looked away, trying to respect his brother’s privacy. His first reaction was to recoil at seeing his naked brother. As if reading his mind, I could feel him flash confusion and then look back to confirm what he had just seen. Joey made a mad dash for his brother, dropping the needle before I tightened my control to freeze him in place.

“G-get help…” Joey managed to stammer out. “H-he’s controlling me somehow”. I bit my lip. Seeing his brother seemed to have stirred a fight in him. I looked at the needle worriedly, something Charlie seemed to have caught on to.

Joey looked at Charlie with pleading eyes. Seeing the uncharacteristic vulnerability in his brother seemed to have stirred a rare bit of courage.

In a speed unbecoming his form, Charlie ran to me, punching me square in the jaw. I recoiled. That hurt. A lot, actually. I looked to Charlie’s heavenly face. Even as the pain stung my cheek, and his eyes burned with a fury that brought a twinge of fear in my heart and a tickle of a little something else in my body, I couldn’t help but look at the younger brother in a new respect.

I moaned at the pain, making sure Joey mimicked in an off-putting way. “Charlie, don’t hurt him, You’re hurting me too,” I had Joey lie. He spasmed slightly as I had to reassert my control. Charlie closed his eyes for a second, trying to rationalize the situation. His eyes were laser focused on the needle.

The guy was way faster than his shyness gave him credit for. In a flash, he made a mad dash for the needle, and aimed it right at me. I puppetted brother against brother, pulling Joey’s meaty hand to catch Charlie’s at the last second. Fuck that was close. I sighed in relief.

I eyed the point of the needle, mere inches away from my face. I saw the gears in Charlie’s head spinning, and his determined face after. The momentary weakness painted so clearly on my face seemed to all but confirm what we both now knew to be true. Had the needle pricked me, I would not only lose the gift from the god of flesh but would have been seriously injured.

I bit my lip. The newfound bravery painted on Charlie’s cute face made me hard as a rock but was troublesome. I sighed, puppetting my new, bicep-laden flesh to walk over and wipe the sweat from my forehead. I surveyed the two brothers. The younger, cute face brimming with determination, needle in hand. And the elder marionette of muscle, face in fear and guilt. Something else shone in both brother’s eyes, something that prompted me to lick the side of Joey’s cheek. Delicious Hope. I wanted to swallow it all for myself. Time to get creative.

= = =

“You’re going to regret doing that, Charles.” I had Joey word sternly. Charlie must not have been used to the coldness I distilled into Joey’s voice, as I saw him look dejected for a moment before eying Joey’s head shaking swiftly and his eyes trying to reassure the younger brother. Not good. My control over Joey was not absolute, and every time the brothers interracted, I could feel it waning. I had to act fast. I motioned Joey’s arm, forcing it to push Charlie back. I could tell it stung him both physically and emotionally from the stray tear that welled in the corner of his eye. Good.

“Charlie, you didn’t get to see all the fun we were having,” I forced Joey to say. Joey began to whimper as I traced my hands over his hips. With a motion of my nerves, I commanded Joey’s plump ass to grind into me. I was instantly hard.

“Look how good he is at controlling me.” I manipulated Joey’s lips into a devious smile. My hands wrapped around his should blades, then his meaty biceps, before resting on each pec.

“I love this so much,” Joey whines.

I furrowed Joey’s brows as I forced him to cast hateful eyes right onto Charlie. They began to tear and redden as I kept them locked onto Charlie in unblinking fury. “Why are you trying to ruin a good thing bro. What kind of brother are you?”

My fingers delectably traced each nipple of the elder brother’s form. “I fucking want this…” I forced his tongue to hang in pleasure and his biceps up into a flex.

“That’s it baby,” Joey is forced to say.

With the power of the needle and my nerves all over his body, I make his head rotate to face me. He is forced to tongue me savagely, and I relished in making Charlie watch a deranged version of his brother satisfying me. The saliva from his mouth flowed past my lips in multiple spots, a testament to the force he was made to kiss me with. I flexed the needle’s power a little, allowing for more flexibility in my own flesh, so that Joey’s exploring tongue could be seen poking and prodding all over my mouth. Joey’s head recoiled back into place, facing Charlie with averted eyes. They shook in struggle but were eventually forced to lock back into him. His hands shook a little before they stroked the red threads connecting us lovingly. “Fuuuuck Charlie. I never want this to end.” I relaxed my grip of control a little, to the sound of a sobbing Joey.

“You’re right, baby. You feel so good Joey, I never want it to end either”. I couldn’t help but put on a bit of a show. That prompted a louder sob from the elder brother, before his face relayed a demented smile. “I’m your fucking puppet. Your Doll. Dress me up, work my body, fuck through me, I don’t care. Every piece of Juicy Joe is yours.”

I pulled a few nerve endings from Joey, making a point to show them slithering wildly into the air before letting them snake into his mouth. It took a minute to reconnect some of my nerves inside him, but once they had, it felt like home. “I’m ready,” Joey moaned, dragging his fingers across his musculature. He then looked sick to his stomach, as some odd noises emmananted from the depths of his body. Joey made a slick, wet noise as his soulful eyes pulled back into their sockets and he regurgitated a large amount of semi-clear liquid right into my face. I welcomed the shower of Joey-flavored liquid. Lubrication. Joey’s face then pulled into a sneer, “Dominate this flesh. Dominate me. I did some rearranging for you. There’s a hole inside me, shaped just like you. For you. You need to fill it. Fill me. Ingrain in me. Integrate into me… Complete me.”

I loosened Joey’s flesh, then sent my control into his meaty arms, forcing them to start stuffing my body into a widening mouth. In turn, I began to loosen my own form. It would still be a tight squeeze, but the power of the needle made one thing evident. It was possible. Charlie began to scream. “FUCK… Joey how do I help?!”

More saliva trailed from Joey’s mouth as he pushed a little more of my body inside. “Mmmphhh” was all the older brother could manage, as his mouth fully encapsulated my head. The inside of Joey felt like a warm embrace, his wet lips like sweat laden arms beckoning my shoulders into safety. Thinking back to the needle, that’s what the inside of Joey was to me. Safety.

For an agonizing few minutes, all Charlie could do was watch in shock, as he watched his older brother’s body force more of mine inside it. From his muffled screams, he was begging the younger brother for help. Charlie ran over multiple times, try to pry me from his brother’s insides, but I only cackled from deep inside Joey’s depths as I willed the older brother’s arms to push him away each time. “C’mon bro, you had this hot bod protecting you all throughout childhood, let someone else be protected for once.” When my arms fully slipped in, I began to grab mounds of Joey’s insides, pulling myself in deeper while he was compelled to continue jamming my flesh into his.

Every piece of me was sweating inside Joey. After all, the human body runs quite hot, and I was surrounded by wet, warm flesh from every side. When the last of my toes slipped into his mouth, I had my meat-suit let out a satisfied sigh, like he had just eaten a large meal. Hearing the muted sound of Charlie’s whimpering from inside his dear brother was my dessert. I readjusted myself inside Joey, in the process unlatching every piece of nerve that was previously connected.

Even without control, my new muscle suit felt heavenly to be inside. Every piece of Joey felt intensified inside him. His muscles slowly writhing as they fought to compress his form back to its normal self which in turn squeezed me tight into him. I slipped and slid, weaving myself into his flesh, as his body’s own hard-earned muscles unknowingly embedded me into their master further. I basked in being able to feel every piece of Joey around me. His raw musk was like a liquid I was drowning in. I didn’t care, Joey felt good to drown in.

= = =

The brothers seemed to have easily caught on to my lack of control as Joey cleared his voice and hurriedly asked, “Charlie, what should we do?” From deep inside him, I could hear the younger brother begin to whimper again. ”I-I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like this”.

“Is he dead?” Charlie asked Joey.

Joey denied this, now his turn whimpering, “No, he’s still moving in here.” I felt him turn to face his brother. “C, It feels like I need to throw up but I can’t. It feels so wrong- he feels wrong in here… I feel wrong. Like he’s all over me. I dunno how to fix this.” He steeled himself before continuing, all the while my writhing flesh inside him was slipping into any pocket of space I could find and making it my home. “Listen, you need to run and get help”.

“I can’t do that to you. What’s gonna happen to you? Can you keep him in like that?” Charlie gulped. “I can see him moving inside you. Maybe we could get a doc-“

“Charlie, No.” Joey asserted as he gripped his right ab. “I’ll be fine, just get help”. I could feel his lips pull into a weak smile. “You ever see me lose a wrestling match?” Charlie’s sniffles and lack of sound told me he was shaking his head in a smile.

I knew I had to stop him, but my movements inside Joey were restricted. Even when he was under my control earlier, he felt clumsy to puppet as soon as Charlie came in. I sensed a bit of danger as the two continued to plot.

“It looks like that needle thing only works once. You could feel it too, right? Like it comes with instructions or somethin,” I could tell Charlie was again nodding in agreement. “So if you prick him again, he’ll be stuck in that form. If we could get him like this, he’d be stuck and I could just spit the fucker out.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a plan”.

No. They would not ruin this for me. My nerves were having some trouble fishing for Joey’s to bind and connect with. It was easy to see where to connect to before, but now being fully encapsulated by his flesh I needed to find these spots blind.I had to act fast. I slammed against the inside of Joey’s chest, feeling him stumble slightly. “Joey, what was that!?”

Even without my nervous system directly controlling him, I knew it was harder to fight against one’s own internal structure. I instantly slotted my hand into his, using his own skin like a glove. Joey groaned in discomfort. I slammed my face into his chest again, this time making sure to push tight against it, so the imprint of my growing smile could be seen from the outside. “Charlie, I-I….” With my Joey hand glove, I gathered the meat of his abs into a sleeve for my hardened cock. I pushed it forward, relishing in feeling the older brother’s own flesh pleasure me. Joey was now my personal cumrag. “I- FUCK” I heard Joey scream and then cry. Being inside his body already got me hot, so it only took a few pumps before I exploded all over his insides. I could feel Joey gag as he must have felt what I was doing with him.

“Joey, every piece of you feels so fucking premium” I moaned from deep inside him. This was the chance I was waiting for. Joey still reeled from the sheer disgust and violation he felt. His hands shook as Charlie tried to make heads of what had just transpired. The moment of quiet gave me what I needed to finally find Joey’s nerves. Using the power of the needle, I expanded myself outside my own body, letting all my nerves reach out and connect to Joey. Without a doubt, this was me at my most vulnerable. But deep inside Joey’s flesh, I knew I was safe. This time, I also pulled my brain out, allowing it to touch Joey’s. He screamed at first contact.

My plan was bearing fruit as more and more of my brain began to encapsulate his, burrowing deep into his folds and drilling myself into his psyche. “Holy fuck,” I felt myself blurt out. Joey’s wails were confirmation that he felt it too. Experiencing Joey carnally was one thing, but worming and meshing myself into his brain felt like deeper intimacy. I moaned as each memory of his came into view, each thought, each feeling. I felt Joey collapse into the ground, bringing me with him. His legs began kicking wildly in frustration, as his hands were dragging across the floor in front of us. “P-P-Please…. Get out of me”. I internally bit my lip as I wondered if that had damaged my new body in any way. This prime meat was too good to spoil so early.

Joey further jerked across the floor as I continued my onslaught. No aspect of Joey would not have me inside it. I inserted myself into each piece of him, relishing in owning this man to his very core. I felt his fear course through me. Partially at what I had been doing to him, but also because his now partially-corrupted brain was starting to like it, at least in a physical sense. I bonded myself into every nerve, every cell, every minute piece of the man as his toes curled in a mix of pleasure and pain. I felt him arch his back as I worked my way into his lungs and his beating heart, hijacking his athleticism for myself. Joey’s squirming settled down into tired breaths. A cool breath in. I could feel my new lungs drawing in a tremendous amount of air, a testament to Joey’s power. A quick breath out. I could feel his biceps brimming with an energy I previously never had. Another cool breath in. His lips and mine, bonded into one sensation and parting slightly. Then, one last breath out- steaming hot and damp from pleasure. Joey’s beating heart quickened for me as I bathed in the euphoria of being in this body. His eyes opened, now welcoming me to his sight as well, as we slowly focused our pupils into Charlie’s worried face. I pulled his lips into a smile. I had fully integrated into Joey’s flesh.

= = =

“Charlie.. Please… Run”. I felt myself say. Shock painted my face, and then anger. Joey had more mental fortitude than I gave him credit for. Trying to burrow deeper into his brain was starting to feel more difficult. I reached a point that felt like a wall, an impenetrable piece of him. I addressed the body I now occupied. “Joey, just give up. You don’t want to make this harder for me, trust me.” I felt Charlie hand me the needle, “J, you got this.” I sneered internally, even in his mind, he had remained Mr. Unattainable. Joey struggled, but managed to wrestle control. He opened his mouth to try to find me, holding the needle to it. He frowned, upon feeling how tangled my insides were with his. I felt a flash of fear course through him, then resolve. Without a word, he held the needle near his hand, intending to prick himself with it. This was trouble, I hadn’t solidified my control yet.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I felt Charlie’s hand stop Joey. “Wait. Don’t do this Joey, we can find another way.”

Through Joey’s eyes, Charlie shone a warm smile. Joey’s face beamed one back, before it was twisted into cruel sneer. The younger brother gulped at the sight. It was tiny, but the sliver of defiance from Charlie earlier had given me the upper hand to usurp control. Joey still fought me, but, at least momentarily his body was mine to control. “J-Joey”? Asked a worried Charlie. I laughed pure malice. “Phew, that was close… Thanks bro”.

I felt myself worm a little deeper into Joey’s mind once he saw the fear paint Charlie’s eyes. I placed the needle on the desk before placing my attention back on my younger brother. Maybe a part of me was happy it ended up this way. Oh Joey… you’re being so difficult. Guess I’ll have to break you in.

“Joey, what are you-”. I slammed Charlie’s head into my chest, partially covering him in the musk I now shared with Joey. Without a word, I brought my nose over Charlie’s fluffy hair. I smothered my face, nearly choking myself as I took a deep perverted whiff of the younger brother. “J-Jmppphh”, Charlie said in struggle.

”You smell so fucking cute, lil bro.” I say through Joey’s voice. Internally I felt him recoil. “But you should see how a real man smells.” I squeeze the younger brother tighter to my new musclebound flesh, drenching him in the sweat of his older brother’s struggle.

He eventually pushed me out of the way before looking horrified at the long red thread connecting from Joey to the back of his head. “J-“ was all he managed to say before his eyes rolled to the back of their sockets and he fell to the floor.

= = =

Joey’s nerves seemed far more potent, as I flexed them into action, bringing Charlie’s body into life. His eyes were still rolled to the back of his head as he turned to face his older brother’s body. He coughed a little before his timid voice let out a little laugh. I released some control back to Joey as he shuddered. He eyed his younger brother nervously. “Fine, Juicy Joe. Make it difficult then. This boy seems weak, how bout I just take your brother and set you free.” I began to will Charlie to start removing his clothes.

“W-Wait!” Joey exclaimed. I had the unconscious Charlie lick his lips, as I continued sensually stripping his form. I had to admit, Charlie was fucking cute. Joey gulped.

“Bro, I’m waiting.” I moaned in Charlie’s voice, wiggling the red thread of nerves connected right to the base of his skull. Charlie’s tender hands began to massage and explore every piece of his body. I had him stroke his cheeks and face tenderly. “I bet he doesn’t know what a good fucking body he has”. I say through Charlie. Then I have him slap his hands across his chest seductively. “Lil bro’s got an even tighter fit than you, but I bet he can take it”, I have Charlie tease. The red threads connecting to him wiggled a little more. “I bet I could do some real damage in this thing.”

“S-Stop!” Joey screamed. “Okay! Okay! Just leave him alone”. I felt myself burrow another inch into Joey’s mind. Charlie really does make a nice puppet… One more for the road. I gestured Charlie to pinch and twist his nipples, promoting his foot to stomp involuntarily at the pleasure, before I disconnected the threads of Joey’s nerves.

= = =

Charlie’s eyes rolled forward when he came to, nearly crying when he realized he was now naked, nipples sore and body brimming with guilt-stricken pleasure.

“Didn’t think I could fight him and win, didya C,” I taunted as I wrestled back control of Joey’s body. It was a little easier this time.

“You’re fucking weak,“ I spat venomously through Joey’s voice. Inside his mind, he was crying. He wanted to reassure Charlie he didn’t mean it, but with my thoughts now partially coursing through his, he genuinely did mean it. I felt Joey’s mind bind to me closer as more of his memories opened up. It looks like that did some damage. “You know what’s funny? He probably could have won,” I cackled. “Even now, he’s fighting me so hard, I can barely keep him contained… He’s got so much fight in him. I can’t wait till that’s mine”.

“Charlie, I love you”. I decided to bury the elder brother’s resolve even further. Using his hands, hands that once protected a younger Charlie from schoolyard bullies, hands that often provided reassurance to the shy freshman, I slammed Charlie to the ground. Hard. Charlie cried out in pain, and I forced Joey’s dick to harden in at the sound. I felt Joey whimper internally, now burdened with the guilt of not only doing this to Charlie, but also liking it. Of course, it wasn’t truly his emotions, at least not yet. But it had been enough. Mind battered and body sore from being rooted into, the once proud Mr. Unattainable, Mr. Juicy Joe himself relented. I felt the barrier in the flesh of his brain burst and his psyche shatter. It was likely only a moment of weakness, but a moment was all I needed. I quickly flooded into the gaps, relishing in becoming an integral part of Joey. Cum sputtered from his dick as I basked in our culmination. Every muscle tensed as we coalesced. Joey’s thoughts and emotions flowed through me, uninhibited. And now, I flowed through them, maneuvering them, piecing into them, making him feel and think my thoughts and feelings. Joey let out one last scream as he jerked his head side to side. “Get out of my head! Get out of my head! G-“ His head slung forward. Then, silence. Then a smile. My smile. I could hardly contain myself. I let out a satisfied sigh, panting from my handiwork. I was now the glue holding Joey, body and mind, together. His brain pulsed, trying to form thoughts, but I constricted, wrapping myself in them, tainting each thought before allowing them to flow back out. Fuck it felt good to think in his head. “Joey… we are one”

Being Joey’s puppeteer was raw pleasure. But being inside him? Thinking for him? Feeling for him? Knowing we were inseparably one? It transcended pleasure. Every inch of my new flesh moved to my command. No resistance, no delay. “J-Joey?” I heard a voice ask meekly. It was then that I realized I had grabbed onto Charlie to steady myself while Joey was shaking in sheer delight.

“Fuuuck dude,” I sputtered between Joey’s shallow breaths. “He’s so fucking strong”. I panted a little more. It was almost too much for me, “Look, I don’t even need my nerves to hold you down.” I teased with sinister glee. My hand kept Charlie from escaping. I shoved him to the other end of the room, blocking his escape with the body that once protected him in the past.

“He’s got such a fucking hog too” I grunted in pleasure, as I grasped the dick of Mr Unattainable. I let out a dirty smile at my new brother. Aside from the boundless energy, Joey’s body also surged with testosterone, and it took some time to get used to the intensified essence of man that now coursed inside me. I shuddered. Being Joey felt amazing.

“Joey, Fight it!” Charlie shouted. I moved and leaned into my cute new younger brother.

“Joey’s gone bro,” I huffed nearly inaudibly. I dragged Joey’s tongue across Charlie’s cheek in a sensual perversion. Lick. “Well, not really gone. He’s always going to be with us. A part of me. Just like how I’m going to be a part of you.” Lick.

“Wanna know the best part? Joey here’s a fighter.” I grinned, first through Joey’s natural smile but then pulled it wider and wider. “Guess what his only weakness was?” I moaned, relishing in hearing Joey-flavored words come out of me. It was intoxicating being in final, full control. “Guess what finally let me take this delicious piece of ass for myself.” I ruffled Charlie’s hair tenderly, a habit I extracted from Juicy Joe’s memory. In any other circumstance, he wouldn’t have minded, as it was almost a ritual of sorts between the two. Here, he shuddered, sickened by the corruption of their brotherly bond. “It was you, bro. You made him weak... Thank you”.

I wore the original Joey’s sincerity around me like a mask. It felt natural to slot into his behaviors and mannerisms. “See, tell me you could tell the difference. I’m your big bro,” I taunted as I started clumsily grinding into him.

“Joey, please” Charlie pleaded. From his face, I could tell he was steadily losing hope.

“Charlie, I’m so sorry…” Joey’s vocal cords say. “I don’t know how to stop him.”

I watched hope return to his eyes. “J-Joey. Is that you? I knew it! You’re in there! You have to fight this.”

“Charlie…. He’s too strong” Joey’s body cried. I kicked my legs and grasped my throat.

“Fight it!”

“I don’t know how to stop him!” I repeated, before I callously laughed, eyes rolling back in sinful glee, “Because I don’t fucking want to. I was born and bred for this. Look at my eyes, can’t you tell it’s me in here? I’m Joey. The same Joey that helped you learn to ride a bike, the same Joey that taught you how to read”.

I relished Charlie’s expression. There was no Joey left. At least, the original Joey. He knew it too. “This is all I’ve ever wanted, C. To be fucking integrated. I wanted him inside me” I huffed, as I sped up. “I wanted him wearing my skin, flexing my muscles… squeezing this hot body deep inside you.”

Charlie looked up in confusion. “J-Joey, what do you mean?

“Little bro you’re gonna love my power. Look at this fucking bicep. Do you want this? Do you want it inside you?” I mocked as I pricked his flesh with the needle. “This little thing scared the shit out of me! Imagine if you pricked me before I got into Juicy Joe” I pouted, as I squeezed my new body’s left ass cheek. I could tell it destroyed Charlie to watch his ‘brother’ treat his own body like this. “You’re gonna be my little insurance. Mr unattainable’s gonna stay unattainable. Don’t worry, unlike Joey over here, I’ll keep you around. You don’t put up much of a fight”. I could tell each word was like a dagger stabbing into Charlie’s heart.

“It’s gonna be a tight squeeze, but I know you can handle it. I believe in you…little bro” I moaned, dragging Joey’s hands all over Charlie’s body sensually. Horror dawned on his face as he seemed to have grasped my plan. “Here I thought Joey was fucking stupid,” I spat in laughter. “But it was his brain cells that came up with this little maneuver.” Charlie’s eyes darted wildly, trying to come up with ways to avoid the inevitable. “All those times this meatpuppet protected you when you were kids… Now it’s your turn to protect us” I kissed his soft lips savagely, dragging Joey’s tongue all over his mouth, wanting to taste every inch of my future home. I pulled from the brotherly kiss in a loud gasp for air. There was a long pause in the air as a trail of saliva hung between our two mouths.

“Now make some room for big bro”.

====

Well, what’d you think? There’ll probably be a third part to this, but it might take a minute.

#male possession #male body control #male corruption #male merge #male puppet #male takeover #male skinsuit

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thriftedtchotchkes · 1 year

Text

the way we fight

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: you and joel love taking your frustrations out on each other—in more ways than one

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, drug use, canon-typical violence, slight spoilers for minor tlou 2 cutscene, jackson era, enemies to lovers, undefined age gap, sloooow buildup, smut, grinding, rough oral (male & female receiving)

word count: 6.7k

a/n: no idea how this got so long, but here we are! generally my fics are based on song lyrics, so this one goes out to my girl ari and social house. this honestly took a while to wrap my brain around and idk how the end got so filthy but alas, i really hope y'all enjoy! as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated 💕

It’s always an argument with him. He’s just so stubborn. Actually, Joel Miller might be the most stubborn man you’ve ever met. There’s never any room for disagreement or discussion with him—it’s his way or the highway. Half the time, you don’t even know what you’re fighting about, hurling callous, empty words at each other as if they don’t hurt. Immensely.

Maybe you really do genuinely hate each other. Or maybe it’s just for the fun of it.

It’s been like this for as long as you’ve known him, which, in hindsight, hasn’t even been that long. Probably a year? Year and a half? In all that time, you’ve never managed to crack his tough exterior and, as far as you know, no one else has, either.

The only things anyone knows for sure are that he’s Tommy Miller’s older brother and he’s got a daughter named Ellie. He hasn’t made a lot of friends here and it’s not hard to see why. He’s mean in a surly old man kind of way and rarely has anything nice to say to anyone—if he says anything at all.

Yet, somehow you still find yourself spending the majority of your time with him. It’s not something you do by choice. It’s a forced proximity thing.

You can’t tell if Tommy schedules you for patrols together because you’re the only one who hasn’t kicked up a stink about it or if he just thinks it’s funny to watch you both squirm. Most of the town thinks it’s hilarious, so you can only guess it’s the latter.

During your first few outings together, Joel wouldn’t talk to you unless it was absolutely necessary, and, even then, all you’d get was a grunt or some grumbled instructions. The silence got old pretty quickly. It wasn’t until you made your first mistake out in the field that he finally started communicating. Maybe a little louder than you’d hoped.

Now, Joel will pick a fight anywhere, usually over the dumbest shit. But his bark is worse than his bite—most of the time, at least.

On his worst days, his anger is explosive and it seems like he takes it out exclusively on you. It’s honestly a little ridiculous that you haven’t just asked Tommy to take you off his patrols already, but there’s a part of you that’ll never admit you actually kind of like your dynamic.

Not a lot happens in Jackson—it’s well-protected and even the community drama gets a little stale. Joel might be a dick, but he keeps things interesting, keeps you on your toes.

And it’s hard to ignore the fire in his eyes that makes you think he likes it just as much as you do.

It’s fucking freezing out and you haven’t even left for patrol yet before Joel’s muttering something condescending under his breath. Surprise, surprise—he’s in a bad mood and about to make it your problem. You throw him an unimpressed look over your shoulder, the best you can muster this early in the morning, and continue to saddle your horse.

“You wanna say that a little louder, Miller?”

He looks tired and annoyed and, god, you haven’t been awake nearly long enough for this shit. Today’s going to be trying enough as it is. You were assigned one of the longer routes and the clouds are already dark with the promise of rain or worse.

There are a few other patrol groups nearby gearing up to leave and their preparations suddenly slow, eyes darting between the two of you as if they can sense the impending argument. You barely notice their loitering, the small crowd inching forward to not-so-subtly eavesdrop.

“No, really, I’d love to hear to hear what you have to say,” you taunt him, hands settling on your hips. “Y’know, it’s really not like you to keep things to yourself. You sure you’re feeling alright today, old man?”

“Feelin’ just fine, sweetheart,” he grits through his teeth, rolling his eyes. “Just hurry your ass up so we can get this over and done with. I’m not tryin’ to spend any more time with ya than I have to.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Sweetheart? That’s a new one. It sounded sarcastic as hell and a little patronizing but, still, that’s not something Joel’s ever called you before. Useless and annoying, sure, but never sweetheart.

Your stomach swoops, but you force yourself to ignore it; that’s not even remotely something you want to analyze today.

“Uh, yeah…whatever,” you eye him strangely, and he abruptly looks away, shifting his focus back to checking his saddlebags. It’s like he’s purposefully avoiding your gaze, and it’s weird. He’s acting so fucking weird today.

Sparing him one last glance, you throw a leg over your horse and start toward the gate at a slow trot. You don’t bother waiting for him to catch up.

“What’s our first checkpoint?” you call over your shoulder, but he’s somehow already right behind you, his horse falling in line with yours.

“You should already know that,” Joel sighs, brow furrowed in what you can only assume is irritation. Oh, here it comes—the inevitable lecture. He does this every single time you're on patrol, whether you’ve done something wrong or not. You must’ve really pissed him off if you’re hearing it this early.

Except—he’s not berating you. Instead, he pulls a map out of his backpack. “Alright, look,” he says, leaning in closer so you can see. “This is us right here, and—,” his index finger traces a route from Jackson, winding along a road that passes through a small neighborhood, and lands on your first stop, located a few side streets off a main road, “—we should end up here in about an hour if the weather holds up.”

Nodding, you look up at him. You hadn't realized how close his face had gotten to yours, and your lips part around an involuntary gasp. His eyes drop to your mouth for a second too long before he pulls away, folding up his map and tucking it back into his pack.

You try to convince yourself that you imagined it, that Joel Miller would never intentionally look at your lips like he wants to kiss you, but you can still feel his warm breath on your skin and it’s affecting you more than you want to admit.

This is…not at all like your normal dynamic and it’s throwing you off. Joel hasn’t raised his voice once today and, at most, he’s only made a few snide remarks that weren’t nearly as bad as they usually are.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” you breathe out, creating a tiny puff of condensation in the air. “It doesn’t even feel like it's cold enough to snow, anyway. The worst we’ll probably get is some rain and we’ve ridden in way worse than that.”

All you get in response is a low grunt, and then he’s lifting the reins, leading his horse in the direction of your first checkpoint. You sigh. Guess you’re back to square one. You never thought you’d miss your spats, and can’t help but wonder what the hell happened to make him change his behavior so radically.

“Seriously, though, are you okay? You’re, like, really quiet today,” you prod, and his whole body tenses. He turns to you, expression angry, and it sends a shiver down your spine. There he is.

“Didn’t I already fuckin’ tell you I’m fine? What, you suddenly lose the ability to hear or somethin’?” He shakes his head in annoyance, and you’re glad he’s not looking at you anymore because you can’t suppress the grin that spreads across your face.

“This girl, I swear,” you hear him mutter as he trots away.

You don’t say anything to each other for the rest of the ride to the checkpoint. The crumbling attorney's office is basically the same as you remember from the last time you were here. It’s old, obviously, and musty, but it’s stocked with random provisions, like food and ammo, so patrol crews can replenish their supplies before heading out to their next destination.

There’s also a killer view of Jackson from one of the windows, and you get distracted looking out at the lights and mountains in the distance. It’s starting to flurry, so you drop your backpack on the floor and stick both hands out to catch some of the snowflakes in your palms. So much for rain.

“You dilly dallyin’ again? Just sign the logbook already so we can move the fuck on,” Joel’s voice startles you out of your reverie. Huffing, you turn away from the window, looking for the pen that’s supposed to be next to the notebook, but it’s nowhere to be found.

“You know what, asshole, you could’ve just as easily signed the damn thing yourself. You were there too, or are you getting forgetful in your old age?” you shoot back as you hunch down, getting on your hands and knees to search under the desk. You hear him scoff behind you.

You spot the pen towards the back, because of course it rolled that far, and bend down so you can reach out a little farther. Your fingers brush one end and then you’ve got it, sitting back up with your prize in hand. Looking over your shoulder, you just barely catch Joel’s eyes darting away from where you were a moment ago, basically puppy-posing on the floor. That’s…suspicious.

“The fuck? Were you just staring at my ass?” you ask incredulously. There’s no goddamn way. He snorts, arms crossed with an uncharacteristic smirk on his face, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“You wish, sweetheart,” he says condescendingly, and there it is again. That fucking word. So, he’s calling you pet names and staring at your ass now? There’s something seriously off about him today and you want to know what his deal is.

“You wanna tell me why you keep calling me that? You’ve been acting weird as fuck all day and it’s giving me whiplash,” you glower at him, taking a seat at the edge of the desk and forgetting all about the logbook. He shrugs.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” he says simply, and you squint at him.

“Seriously, Joel? You've called me sweetheart twice today and now you’re checking me out,” you hop off the desk and walk over to where he’s leaning against the wall. “If I didn’t know any better…,” you glance down at his lips, moving closer, “I’d say you were flirting with me."

Well, that made him angry. "Fuck you,” he growls in your face, and his lips are soft where they accidentally graze your cupid's bow. He’s trembling now, fists clenched at his sides, and you think he’s about to push you away when he grabs you by the hips and shoves you against the wall. Your head lolls back and you laugh cruelly.

“Yeah, Joel,” you roll your hips into his and he grits his teeth, tightening his grip. “I think that’s exactly what you wanna do.”

But before you can go any further, there’s a crash just outside the door accompanied by a familiar sound that turns your blood to ice.

It’s unmistakable. The clicking, guttural and stuttered, is followed by a high-pitched shriek that echoes throughout the small space, and you both freeze. You look up at Joel, terrified, and he raises a finger to his lips, eyes telling you to be quiet or else.

There’s no way either of you can unholster your guns—and reload, in your case—without alerting it to your position. Joel reaches for the hunting knife strapped to his thigh, and you move to do the same, only to realize it isn't there.

Fuck, it has to be somewhere. Probably in one of the dozen random holsters you have attached to you right now.

Frantic, you pat at your sides and legs—anywhere it could be—as your panicked intakes of breath gradually increase in volume. A hand slaps over your mouth, and suddenly Joel is crushing your body against the wall, halting your movements.

"Quit," he whispers harshly, lips brushing the shell of your ear, and you nod quickly.

The creature abruptly changes course, jerking toward the open window, and that’s when you notice something familiar by its feet. It's—fuck, it's your backpack. And your knife is gleaming from where it sits, nestled in one of the side pockets.

Stupid, that was so stupid. If, by some miracle, this thing doesn't kill you, there’s no doubt Joel will once he realizes your mistake. His hand drops from your mouth and he glances back over his shoulder at the clicker, gripping his knife a little tighter.

He looks resolute, and it dawns on you that he’s about to make a move. It takes everything you’ve got not to grab onto his coat and pull him back to you as he slowly shifts away, but then something else stops him in his tracks.

Another screech rings out from the other side of the room, and now you know you’re fucked. There’s only one option left now. Either you run, or you get torn apart. He reaches down to take your hand in his, warring emotions of anger and fear in his eyes as he looks into yours, and squeezes; it’s now or never.

The path to the doorway you came through is somehow miraculously clear, and Joel takes off at a sprint, dragging you with him but, to his horror, you decide to do yet another stupid thing.

For reasons you can’t explain, you find yourself ripping your hand out of his, swerving to snatch your backpack from where it lies just a few feet from the clicker.

Joel is yelling, or at least you think he is, and you vaguely feel his blunt nails scratch the back of your hand as he reaches out to stop you, but he can’t. You’re moving on autopilot, can barely register your body moving at all, until your fingertips skim the strap of your pack and the clicker is shrieking in your face.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to one before, even dead, and it’s worse than you could’ve ever imagined. The world freezes for a moment and you freeze with it, unable to move or look away from the fungus erupting from its skull, teeth gnashing inches away from your throat.

And then you feel warmth—warm, strong arms wrap around your waist and tug harder and harder until you’re back out in the cold. Joel spots his horse a short distance away, likely spooked by the commotion, but you can’t see much farther than that. What was a gentle flurry less than a half hour ago has become a violent blizzard, and you’re both getting pelted by ice that burns as it scrapes across your skin.

There’s one horse—just Joel’s horse—but there’s no time to think about the fate of your own before his hands are on your hips, lifting you up and into the saddle, and he’s climbing on in front of you.

He urges his horse forward and you’re off without so much as a glance behind you, galloping away from danger and down a street that you realize you actually recognize.

“Joel,” you squeeze his waist and he ignores you. He’s shaking and it’s definitely not just from the cold. You can feel the anger radiating off of him in waves and it’s warranted. You fucked up big time. “Joel, turn right,” you say a little louder, and he’s still not listening. “Turn right! There’s a library up ahead, you have to turn now!”

He growls, and you think he’s purposely going to miss the turn until he’s yanking the reins to the right, nearly throwing you both off the horse.

“You better know what the fuck you’re doin’,” he all but shouts back, and you wrap your arms around his waist a little tighter.

“It’s safe!” you yell, struggling to speak loud enough for him to hear you over the wind. “Ellie’s been there before, loads of times, and she says it’s safe. “

And that’s all it takes to convince him.

The library’s completely boarded up and, with the wind howling against your backs, it takes more than a few hard tugs to yank enough of them off to get inside the lobby with Joel’s horse.

He hands you the reins before moving into the next room, crouching along the rows of aging books and knocked-over bookcases, and you peek in, watching him anxiously. Cracked bricks litter the ground, and he steps over a few as he crouches into place behind a broken book cart.

He picks one up and then shoots you a look, eyebrows lifting pointedly, and you realize he wants you to get back into the lobby, out of sight. You duck behind the wall, placing a soothing hand on his horse right as you hear the sound of the brick shattering against the ground, and wait. A few agonizing seconds pass before you hear him throw one more a little farther out, just to be sure.

When nothing startles or jumps out, Joel whistles and you know that’s your cue to come out from your hiding spot. Normally, that would piss you off immensely, him whistling for you like you’re a fucking animal, but you can’t find it in yourself to care right now.

You’re exhausted now that the adrenaline’s wearing off, and the only thing you want to do is curl up into one of the torn-up chairs in the corner and pass out until morning. But that’s not what Joel has in mind.

“Y’think you’re off the hook for the shit you pulled earlier?”

You sigh, head tipping back and thumping against the bookcase behind you. “Do we have to do this right now? Joel, I’m tired and hungry, and fucking cold, and I really don’t have the energy.”

“Seriously? Sure looked like ya had the energy when you were runnin’ straight into that clicker’s mouth,” he scowls, reaching down to grab something next to the book cart and throwing it at your feet. “Thought ya might want this back since you apparently decided it was worth more than your life.”

You inhale sharply through your nose, eyebrows pinching together. Joel…he—

It's your backpack.

You were so sure it got left behind when he saved you from that clicker and yet, there it is. You lean over to pick it up, but Joel kicks it out of reach before you get the chance. He looks livid and now, you realize, you’re about to get that lecture you dodged earlier tenfold.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Me? I'm not the one having an identity crisis! You’ve been nothing but distracting all damn day,” you scoff bitterly. “None of this would've happened if you hadn't had a complete personality makeover overnight.”

You can’t believe he…is he serious? There’s no way you’re taking the fall for this, not all of it. Yeah, you fucked up with the backpack, but Joel isn't entirely blameless, either. If you hadn’t been fighting again, you would’ve just signed the stupid logbook and moved on like you were supposed to.

"Yeah, alright, sweetheart. It's my fault you almost got us both killed. Maybe you’re forgettin’ I saved your goddamn life back there, somethin' I wouldn't have had to do if you hadn't gone and done something so fuckin’ stupid."

Sweetheart.

"Stop calling me that! I…fuck, Joel, I just don't get you. I get it—I know I fucked up, but…,” your voice cracks and you can feel your lower lip wobbling, but you can’t let yourself cry. That would only prove to Joel what he already knows—you’re weak. “I’m sorry, okay? What more do you want from me?”

He chuckles mirthlessly. “You really wanna know what I want from ya?” He crowds your space, leaning in slightly. His head tilts like he's going to kiss you, and your breath hitches. “I want ya to get your shit together and stop makin’ unnecessary mistakes,” he says cruelly instead.

Your jaw drops.

"No, you know what? Fuck this,” you seethe. “When we get back to Jackson, I’m telling Tommy to never put me on your patrols again. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Think I give a shit about that? Go ahead, you’d be doin’ me a favor!” he yells at your back as you storm away, and you flip him off over your shoulder. Behind you, he sighs heavily, sounding as worn out and frustrated as you feel.

What a load of bullshit. You don't deserve to be treated like this. There's a stark difference between the inconsequential arguments you normally have and whatever the hell that was.

And the worst part? It hurts so much more than you expected it to. Leave it to you to get attached to the asshole whose personal mission it is to make you miserable. This whole thing was fun while it lasted, but you meant what you said. You and Joel, it’s over.

You exhale wetly, tears still threatening to fall as you leave him behind in what the yellowing signs tell you is the romance section. Well, isn’t that ironic.

You quickly realize navigating the library in the dark is more difficult than you anticipated, even with your flashlight. Not even ten steps away from where you started, you trip over something protruding from the ground and almost land flat on your face.

Joel comes running over as you let out a frustrated noise and push yourself up onto your knees. His knife is at the ready like he was expecting danger but, no, it’s just you humiliating yourself even further. He lets out a relieved sigh, holstering his knife, but then just stands there glaring down at you.

“I’m fine, by the way,” you wave a hand from the ground. He shakes his head, reaching down to help you up, and his hand feels so nice in yours—big, strong, and calloused.

You curse yourself for still thinking about him like that, like anything at all, but you can't help it. And when his hand drops yours, it feels distinctly cold and empty.

Shaking it off, you aim your flashlight at the offending spot on the floor. “What is that, anyway?” you ask Joel as he crouches down to brush away some of the dirt and debris.

“A handle,” he mumbles, pulling out his knife again and digging it into a crack in the floor, tracing around what looks like…a door?

“Is that a trapdoor?” You lean over his shoulder to get a better look. He looks back at you and nods, looking a little less angry and a lot more concerned. “Well, should we check it out?”

Instead of answering you, he wrenches the door open and shines his flashlight into the opening. There’s a ladder leading down and you can hear something rumbling below that sounds like a generator.

“Stay here,” he eyes you sternly as he begins his descent down the ladder.

“Uh, yeah, that’s not happening,” you scoff, following him. The ladder’s longer than you expected, and once your feet touch the ground, you reach out to run your hands along the wall, searching for a light switch.

A few moments later, your fingers come across something vaguely switch-like and you flip it, a warm glow filling the room, emanating from about a dozen heat lamps hanging from the ceiling. Your eyes adjust and—

“No fucking way.”

Joel is silent beside you, and you glance over, his expression just as stunned as yours is. You step closer. “Is that…?”

“Weed,” he breathes out.

You didn’t mean to get this high. Really, you didn’t. But you're in a fucking grow room hidden beneath a library in some tiny, backwater town, and you almost just died. So really, what reason was there not to?

The blizzard’s still going strong outside and, at the very least, it’s nice and warm down here. There's also the added bonus of something fun to do while you wait it out.

…Yeahhh, so you might’ve found a mason jar full of already rolled joints between some couch cushions, literally just sitting there for the taking. What were you supposed to do? Not smoke them?

But what surprises you even more than the pot itself is that Joel is smoking it, too.

It’s cute how he coughs after every drag, eyes watering as you pass a joint back and forth. The air is thick with smoke and a strange tension that neither of you can really describe, but you’re not fighting anymore. Not yet, at least.

The couch you're sitting on is cozy and less tattered than the chairs upstairs, so you settle there for the night, sitting closer than you ever willingly have before. Enough time has passed that you’re beginning to realize neither of you plans on moving, either. That you’re actually enjoying each other’s company.

The warmth of him seeps pleasantly through your clothes, and he feels so solid and real against you. Unconsciously, you melt into his side, your fuzzy brain chemicals urging you to feel more, more of him, and he tenses only for a moment before lifting an arm to rest behind you on the back of the couch.

It's strange how readily he's accepting your touch now. With each drag, you feel a little braver and press more of your body into his, draping your legs across his lap and nesting your head in the crook of his neck. He goes boneless when you mouth damply at the skin just below his jaw, his throat rumbling under your lips as he lets out a ragged breath.

You’ve both loosened up so much since earlier. It’s an easy, comfortable sort of peace you’ve found down here, even after the horrors you experienced earlier in the day. Part of you wishes it could always be like this with Joel but, then again, that just wouldn’t be you and Joel.

Your relationship thrives on the way you fight, almost like you can’t exist together without the promise of battle. So, when the high wears off and the world feels less lazy and more dire, you’ll both remember with sharp clarity that you hate each other. The memories will fade away and the war will continue. That’s just how it is.

It’s a little sad when you think about it, but for at least a little while longer, you’ll still have this version of you and Joel. You’ll enjoy the way he feels pressed up against your body; the way he feels pliant and suggestible under your lips.

And you’ll ask the question that’s been eating away at you all day because right now, you’re positive your lips can convince him to do anything.

“Tell me why you keep calling me sweetheart,” you murmur against his skin. He freezes, clearly not expecting you to bring it up again. You lift the blunt to his lips and encourage him to inhale to calm his nerves. The smoke plumes from his nose like a dragon as he exhales, and you're enraptured by the way it swirls through the air before dissipating. He braces a hand on your thigh before responding.

"Well, I…uh—," he mumbles, his cheeks turning a deep shade of burgundy, and you can’t resist reaching out to stroke the heated skin with your fingertips. He breathes shakily as he continues, "I—had a dream about ya last night, and…you, uh—you were…"

He cuts himself off, and your mind goes fuzzy for a moment as you let that little bit of information sink in. So, Joel was dreaming about you last night…and now, he’s treating you so much differently. Calling you pet names, eyeing you up, touching you. It all makes sense—but now you need him to tell you everything.

"What was I doing in your dream, Joel?"

He meets your gaze, looking flustered and a little ashamed, and it's a far cry from the man who was yelling at you not even an hour or two ago.

"You, uh," he clears his throat, still hesitating. You bite your bottom lip in anticipation, sucking it wetly into your mouth, and his eyes darken. He lifts a thumb to your mouth, tugging your lip down just slightly, and you can see the moment his apprehension disappears. "You were on your knees for me," he murmurs. "Doin' such a good job, too, workin' that pretty mouth of yours."

You inhale sharply and his thumb drops, but his eyes never leave your lips. Gingerly, you pluck the joint still burning between his fingers and take one last deep drag before flicking the rest to the side and crashing your lips onto his.

God, they feel exactly like you thought they would, soft and a little chapped from the cold, but so fucking eager against yours. You hold his face in your hands, rubbing your thumbs along the roughness of his beard, and he groans as you exhale into his mouth, tasting the smoke on your tongue.

Sighing, you lean back slowly, heavy-lidded eyes roving over his face to take in his kiss-swollen lips and that beautiful burgundy flush. He's so pretty, and you can’t help but run your fingers through his thick, graying hair as he pants heavily below you.

You need to feel more of him, all of him, so you climb into his lap, straddling his hips and grinding down against where he's already straining in his pants. He grips you tighter in response, working you steadily across his hardening cock.

"Keep going,” you moan breathily. You're already so wet, and heat blooms in your belly every time your clit grazes the seam of his jeans. It's a foggy, hazy pleasure, what you feel when he speaks, and you're addicted to it. “Keep telling me about your dream—a-about my mouth…I wanna hear more.“

You feel rather than hear him growl low in his throat as he ducks his head down to your neck, sucking and biting bruises into your skin.

“Your mouth…so fuckin’ wet—s-soft and tight around my cock,” he sucks hard under your jaw, and you gasp. “Takin’ me all the way down, like I always knew you could.”

Your breath hitches, eyes rolling back. The thought of him dreaming about his cock down your throat makes your cunt pulse, and now you're positive you're soaking through his pants.

You bet he thinks about it when you're on patrol together, too—that when you're fighting like you've both got something to prove, he's thinking about shutting you up with his cock. Fucking your mouth to show you that what he says goes.

"M-more, Joel…ngh, fuck, I need more," you reach down to shove his shirt up so you can feel him, his stomach flexing and unflexing under your palms. He starts to buck into your clothed pussy faster, like he's fucking you through the fabric, and you whine pathetically as he tugs hard on your hair, yanking your head to the side.

"S’alright, n-needy girl, 'm gonna tell you exactly how I was fuckin' that sweet mouth of yours last night…h-how you were—," he groans raggedly in your ear, voice cracking, and you swear you can feel his heartbeat racing between your legs. "…c-chokin' and gaggin' around my cock while I was cummin' down your throat…"

He keeps giving you what you asked for, tells you all the filthy shit he wants to do to your mouth, and his hips start to stutter like he's bringing himself closer to orgasm with his own words. It would make a lot of sense—Joel's always loved the sound of his own voice, especially when it's directed at you.

But you can’t hear much of anything anymore aside from the sound of your own stuttered moaning, suddenly so, so close to hurtling over the edge with him. You’re sliding so easily over his cock now and you brace your hands on his shoulders as your thighs start to quake around his waist. He digs his fingers into the plush curve of your ass, pulling you down harder, but you squeeze his shoulders roughly to get his attention.

“Y-you—Joel, you can’t cum,” you whine into his neck, and he all but snarls in response. “No…no, no, no. Want you t-to fuck my mouth—you have to cum in my mouth—”

He abruptly yanks you off his lap, shoving you back onto the couch and wrenching your jeans and underwear down in two hard tugs.

You barely have time to let out a squeal before he buries his face in your cunt, honing in on your clit and sucking wetly. He flattens his tongue, circling once, twice, three times, and then you’re cumming with a loud exhale, gushing as you grind into his face.

Your pussy’s still pulsing, locking down around nothing, as you tug him off of you by his hair.

“Joel—jeans..o-off…now.” You help him push them down just enough to free his cock, and then your mouth is on him, sucking him down to the hilt.

His hips buck off the couch of their own accord and he groans pathetically as you gag around him. He’s petting your head and saying something raggedly above you, likely apologizing for hurting you, but it’s drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears.

Instead of pulling off to reassure him that you very much want him to keep gagging you, you guide his hands to bury themselves in your hair and squeeze his thigh, praying he gets the hint. His fingers tense against your scalp as he holds you in place and, yeah, he absolutely gets it.

Your head feels like it’s disconnecting from the rest of your body as he starts fucking into your mouth the way he was probably dreaming about last night. He’s just so fucking big, and you feel a weird sort of pride bloom in your chest at being able to take him like this.

Tears are streaming down your face from the effort and you’re drooling all over his lap but, fuck, if he wants to do this every time you patrol together, you’ll let him. You take back everything you said before—if Tommy ever takes you off Joel’s patrols, you’ll kill him.

His fingers start to tug harder, painfully at your hair and you can hear him moaning something above you, his words slurred and desperate.

“S-so fuckin’ good, sweetheart, you’re…ngh—fuckin’ perfect,” he grits through his teeth, breath hitching as you wrap your lips tighter around him, flattening your tongue along the underside of his length. “‘m gonna cum…fuck, fuck—need you t-to swallow it all, sweetheart… know you can do it…so goddamn good.”

Humming and swallowing around him, you reach up to cup his balls and he erupts, pumping thick cum into your mouth and down your throat. Deep groans are punched out of his chest with every spurt and you can feel his cock pulsing against your tongue.

There’s so much of it. You try your best to do what he asked, to be good and swallow everything, but it’s starting to leak out the corners of your mouth and down his cock. Slurping up as much as you can, you pull off with an audible pop and lick off the rest of the salty, white streaks remaining on his skin.

When your watery eyes finally meet his, he’s looking at you like maybe he really has been dreaming this whole time. He’s still a little dazed, from both the weed and the intense orgasm, and he reaches out to cradle your face in his hands almost as if to prove to himself that you’re real. It’s a surprisingly tender gesture that kind of makes your heart ache.

Your lips quirk up as you lean into his touch, aching to prolong the moment, and he leans forward to press a sweet kiss to them, mouth coaxing yours open to taste himself on your tongue. You whine softly as his tongue runs along your bottom lip, and then he pulls back, hauling you into his arms to lie back on the couch.

Those heat lamps feel unbearable now. You're both hot and sweating, chests heaving from exertion, but you still refuse to separate from each other. Your brain’s feeling a lot less foggy, so you’re probably coming down from your high, which means Joel is, too. The realization sends a pang of worry through your chest like you expect him to suddenly come to and push you away, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he pulls your back to his chest, positioning your bodies more comfortably before murmuring fondly in your ear, "You’re somethin’ else, y’know that?”

You breathe out a sigh of relief. Maybe you’ll get to keep this after all—and without sacrificing everything that makes you and Joel, well…you and Joel. You twist around to shoot him an unimpressed look, but the burgeoning grin on your face betrays you.

“What, you’re just figuring that out? Took you long enough.”

He scoffs. “Listen, sweetheart—“ But you gasp, cutting him off before he can finish his sentence. No, way. How are you just putting two and two together now?

“Wait…oh my god, wait—is this why you keep calling me sweetheart? Because it's what you called me when I was blowing you in your sex dream?” You’re grinning so hard it hurts. How the fuck didn't you notice that earlier?

There was plenty of time to work it out when you were all but fucking on the couch for the past hour. But then…he didn’t actually start calling you sweetheart until he was cumming, and the realization makes your cunt throb. You file that information away for now, but make a mental note to come back to it later—hopefully back in Jackson with Joel.

…who’s still mumbling irritatedly into your shoulder. You tilt your head back to press your lips under his jaw, and you're quickly learning that kissing that particular spot turns him to jelly.

“You can keep calling me sweetheart,” you start, thinking over your next words carefully. “But I’ve got conditions.”

“Oh, she’s got demands now,” you can hear the dramatic eye roll in his voice. You suck a bruise into his skin to stop the back sass and it works spectacularly.

“Oh, shut up. It benefits you too, asshole,” you glare up at him before continuing. “I want your dick in my mouth every time we patrol from now on. And next time, you have to fuck me.”

His fingers dig into your sides, and you’re pretty sure you just felt his cock twitch against your ass.

“…Y-yeah, I, uh. I can do that,” he stutters, suddenly demure, and it dawns on you how much you like seeing all these different sides of Joel. He’s been mean and angry, shy and tender, and so fucking sexy all in the span of a single day. It's not something you ever would've expected from him.

You used to think he was just some grumpy old man and that his one personality trait was being an obnoxious jerk, but tonight you were proven very, very wrong.

You pull his arms tighter around you, let yourself get lost in the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your back, and hum contently. You’ll have to thank Ellie and her weed-grower friend later.

“Y’know, I almost thought you were gonna say no more fighting,” he says after a few seconds of silence. You look up at him incredulously, and he chuckles.

“Nah, where’s the fun in that?”

thanks so much for reading! 🥰

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller

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