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siriuslylantsov · 1 month ago

Text

save a horse

pairing: joel miller x reader

description: joel puts on his old cowboy getup and it gives you an idea.

tags: MDNI! smut, porn w/o plot, no outbreak au, established relationship, age gap, fem!reader, unprotected piv, riding, thigh riding, dirty talk (kinda?), nipple stuff (bcs i think joel miller is a boob man), praise kink kinda, little domestic.

a/n: my first joel miller smut! because i've been reading an ungodly amount, i can't stop thinking about him...

wc: 2.2k

“oh my god,” your voice comes out stunned as you walk in, kicking the door shut behind you.

a cowboy. sitting on your couch. well, joel dressed as a cowboy on your couch.

he stands up with a grin, a little shy. “found this in my storage. from some years ago, can't believe it still fits me.”

flannel and jeans, old and a little faded–the jeans fit more snuggly against his thighs compared to his normal ones that you can't help but gawk. he's dressed the same way as always but this time there's a hat on his head and a belt around his hips adorned with a flashy buckle. his boots click lightly on the floor as he makes his way over to you, your eyes dart down to them.

“woulda wore the chaps too but that felt like overkill,” he says, dropping his hands to your waist. “d’ya like it?”

do you like it? you stare up at him a bit incredulous, at a loss for words as you check him out slowly. when you meet his gaze again, the shadow of his hat darkens the top of his face, yet you can still see the way his eyes glisten hopefully.

“yeah baby,” you whisper, leaning up to kiss his jaw, his beard scratching your lips slightly.

his grin widens and he pulls you closer, “good.”

“you did this for me?”

“well, yeah. thought it’d be fun.”

“fun how?” you tease, slipping your fingers into his belt loops and tugging them.

“hate it when you work blue,” he grumbles, his small smirk telling you otherwise.

“no you don't,” you counter with a knowing smile. your lips part as if you're going to say something but they quickly shut.

joel eyes you curiously, eyebrows furrowed trying to figure you out, “spill.”

you hesitate for a moment, chewing the inside of your cheek before speaking.

“i've always wanted to ride a cowboy.”

his head cocks to the side, eyebrows raised, amused. “oh yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe, nodding before jutting your head toward the couch. “sit please.”

you stand between his spread legs as he sits. leaning back, he lazily lifts a hand to unbutton your jeans, popping it off with ease as if he's done it a hundred times before–he has. when he pulls them down, you take your shirt off, leaving you in your underwear.

“what's that thing people say? save a horse, ride a cowboy?” you ask and joel stares at you shamelessly, eyes dragging down and back up, utterly enticed.

“‘s a song by um- big ‘n rich,” he murmurs distractedly as he hones in on the little bow on your bra, right in the middle. you pinch the tip of his hat and lift it off his head, placing it on top of yours instead. fingers snake itself through his soft hair and guide his head back so he can look at you.

“hi,” your voice comes out quiet, coy. you smile down sweetly at him and you find him mirroring it. “hi darlin’.”

your gaze trails down his body again, stopping at his thighs. it's obscene how good they look in his old jeans, he's obviously filled into them well. the fabric stretches tight over his limbs, hugging them perfectly. what if you just-

with a finger in the waistband of your panties you pull them down in one swift motion, moving your body to hover over his right thigh, now in between your legs.

he groans something pained when he realises what you're about to do, hands flying back up to your waist to urge you down and body scooting forward so it's easier. you gasp when you lower yourself, legs parted just right that your clit brushes against the fabric of his jeans upon contact.

fuck.

the patch of wet on the denim comes as a surprise when you draw your hips back, you didn't realise you were that wet. you rock your hips again, experimentally, and the friction is debilitating. you’d fall over if joel's hands weren’t keeping you steady.

speaking of them, he begins to guide you back and forth, and your eyes snap back to him in alarm. he gives you an encouraging nod, keep going. you have to hear it from him and he knows that.

“cmon, baby. want you to feel good,” he spurs while nodding again, pushing down to apply more pressure, your mouth falls open in a gasp. but you take his words in tow and keep going.

maybe it's a little pathetic how you rut against his leg, little whines escaping your parted lips, but he doesn't seem to mind. he's more than okay watching you like this as he rubs circles into your hip bone.

“joel, i can't-” you sob, legs beginning to ache from the way you were perched. it feels so good but you’re quickly regretting how you chose to go about this, half sat and calves straining from the weight. you pout, lips trembling, and he looks absolutely wrecked by this.

what you hadn't realised was that every so often your knee pushed into his crotch, he was being stimulated as much as you. the hard-on he's sporting pushes against the confines of his jeans, he’d gladly come untouched if he didn’t want to be inside you as badly as he did.

“yeah, you can, baby,” he grits through his teeth, “gimme this one, want you t’come first.”

his fingers start tweaking your nipple under your bra, and god, he starts flexing his thigh. he hopes the added incentive will help push you over the edge. to his delight, the oh so familiar feeling starts to build embarrassingly fast in the pit of your stomach.

your head falls back in a high, baring your neck to him. this in turn causes the hat to slowly slip off your head, he smiles and tucks it back on, repeating the motion of his thigh, bouncing ever so slightly.

“oh fuck. fuck. fuck-” you finish with a whine, body collasping into itself. joel reaches out to hold you to him as your hips stutter. his head dips to your neck, kissing the skin softly as you come down.

“there ya go. did so good for me, angel,” he speaks into your skin.

you get off his thigh and slump onto the couch with a groan, ignoring the startlingly dark patch you leave on his jeans. you're catching your breath when you nudge him playfully with your elbow, he's equally leaned back, head tipped to the side, looking at you with awe in his eyes.

“i think your bad joints are contagious, old man.”

this makes him scoff. you take the hat off, placing it on his lap before bringing both knees to your chest and squeezing to relieve some of the tension, they really did ache. to this, he laughs and drops his head to your shoulder.

“what? i'm serious, they hurt,” you defend, albeit a little petulantly.

“but you came?”

“yes,” you respond, dragging the word out in exaggeration.

“and ya felt good?”

“yes, miller,” you grumble, nosing the hair of his that tickled your face.

“i don't see any problem in a little hurt, s’what i go through every time,” he mutters quietly.

“every time, huh?”

you feel him nod dutifully and you chuckle. his age usually made itself known after sex–either by complaining about his hips or his knees cracking after a taxing session of eating you out, not that he minded.

he lifts his head and shifts, leaning in. “so when ya gonna ride this cowboy?”

impatient, but he had been waiting.

you look down to his crotch, still painfully hard, and the corners of your mouth pull down in faux sympathy.

“poor baby,” you coo, taunting although he knows you’re teasing. “want me to fuck you?”

his eyes meet yours in searing eye contact, deadpan, but the way his eyes crinkle at the corners betray him, he’s trying not to smile. with a curt dip of his chin, he nods, yes.

and who are you to deny him?

you nudge him to lean back again and put the damn hat back on his head. god, he looks sexy.

you settle on taking his pants off, leaving them and the belt pooled around his feet. and when you unbutton his shirt, you stop him from taking it off completely–liking how his skin peeked down the middle. you settle on his lap, legs bracketing his thighs. you kiss him, sweet and gentle, head tilted more than usual because of the hat. his hands drift up your back to the clasp of your bra, quickly unfastening it and letting it fall. you slip your hand under his boxers and palm him, you like the weight of him your hands.

“baby-” he drawls. “please.”

“i know, i know.”

you pull him out of his boxers and rise to your knees, positioning yourself accordingly. you swipe the tip through your folds a few times, relishing in the groan it earns you before pushing in, tantalisingly slow.

you brace yourself on his shoulders, it's always a stretch with joel. when he's bottomed out, you let out a deep long winded sigh. you stay like that for a moment, eyes closed. the angle is maddening and the way your weight settles on top of him drives him crazy.

you tentatively rise and sink back down slowly. fuck. you do it again and again. joel shoots you a proud grin, his hands back at your waist to help you. a breathy moan escapes you when the tip of him drags against your g-spot on the ascent .

“attagirl. there she is," joel mumbles, always keen on your sounds. “feels good, huh?”

“mhm, feels- so good, joel,” you sigh, rocking back and forth now.

“i bet,” he responds with a grunt, “can feel you squeezin’ around me.”

you whimper at that, back arching and effectively pushing your tits closer to his face. he tries to lean closer but the hat stops him, hitting your sternum.

“stupid fuckin’ hat,” he grumbles, tossing it away. it flies somewhere beside the coffee table and you laugh, ducking down to kiss him as he continues making incoherent annoyed noises. a hat is not going to deny him what he wants.

he hums low against your lips, trailing his kisses down to your neck. he nips at your skin, placing a peck to your collarbone before reaching his destination. his lips close around your nipple, hand securing itself between your shoulders to hold you firm against his mouth.

“oh fuck,” you breathe. you look down to find him already looking back up at you and the sight is depraved, downright filthy.

you card a hand through his greying hair and tighten, speeding up the motion of your hips. his free hand tweaks the neglected nipple and he is everywhere. you can’t handle it. a weak grunt sounds from you and he knows.

“joel please-” you cut yourself off with a broken moan as he begins to suck, pinching the sensitive bud between his teeth. he switches over to the other one and repeats, leaving you a whining mess in his lap.

“s'okay, baby. i got you,” he coos, lifting his head up to kiss you again. he pulls your body closer, holding you to his chest, bracing you. because before you know it his hips jump to meet yours, fucking up into you.

he swallows every lewd sound you make, responding with a quick snap of his hips. “always take me so well, pretty girl. like you're made for this cock, huh?”

“mhm, i love it,” you slur.

he grins, breath growing heavier as his peak nears. he recognises the expression on your face instantly, eyebrows pinched together and eyes fighting to be closed, he knows you're in the same boat and he’ll be damned if he doesn't get you to cum first.

“you close, angel?” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours. when you nod, he hums sympathetically, fucking you harder. his hips slap against yours incessantly and you let out a muffled cry, holding onto him for dear life.

“that’s it, take it,” he encourages as he feels your walls clamp down. “cum for me, baby.”

your nails leave crescent shaped imprints on his shoulder, back, anywhere you can hold onto as you tip over the edge, keening loudly, it borders on a scream.

his orgasm quickly follows as his hips stutter, spilling into you with a shudder and a groan. he lazily fucks into you a few more times, riding out the aftershocks before stilling.

the two of you sit there, breathless, skin sticking to each other . his head dips and falls onto your chest as he hugs you to his body. his breath comes out in soft puffs against your skin, warm.

“that was...,” you mumble, heart finally slowing down.

he chuckles, dry and low that it makes you shiver. “yeah.”

“joel?”

he lifts his head up, eyes soft and admiring when he looks at you. he hums in acknowledgment.

“wear the chaps next time.”

he laughs again, something heartier as he takes in your face, deadly serious. he kisses your chin, “yes ma’am.”

reblogs and replies are appreciated :) | m.list

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller one shot

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luvvictoria · 26 days ago

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bro. Dad Bod!Price. Oh lawd I'm feral again.

Captain Price with a slight dad bod — It’s a little soft around the middle, but still enough muscle for when things get serious. His broad shoulders and arms still have that power, but the gut has a bit more... character, adding to that rugged, comfortable vibe. He’s definitely the type who loves a good steak and beer after a long mission.

Flirty, confident banter — Price isn't shy about showing affection, but it’s always got that playful edge. He's the kind to give his girl a smirk while wiping off his beard, letting her know he’s been thinking about her all day. When they’re in public, he pulls her in close, wraps an arm around her waist, and plants a kiss on her temple, always making sure everyone knows she’s his.

Teasing in private — He loves teasing her about her special appreciation for his dad bod, and he’ll make sure to flaunt it. Maybe after a shower, he’ll let the towel hang a little lower, letting her get a good look, and give her that ‘What do you think?’ look, before bursting into laughter when she blushes and tries to act cool about it.

Spicy moments — Late-night raids aren’t the only things that get him worked up. After a long, exhausting day, Price pulls his girl in by the waist, making sure she feels the heat of his body. He’s the type to take his time, slow and deliberate, but when he’s in the mood, there’s that raw, animalistic energy that matches his deep, throaty voice.

Post-battle intimacy — He likes to unwind in ways that aren’t always conventional. After a mission, when everyone else is passing out, Price pulls his girl to a quiet corner, flicking off the lights, and making her feel like she’s the only thing that matters. It’s about connection, but he’ll remind her who’s in charge when things heat up, and he’s definitely not shy about showing that alpha energy when it comes to the bedroom.

Sweetness underneath the spice — Despite the tough exterior, Price is a softie when it comes to his girl. After a particularly intense night, when the aftershocks of passion still linger in the air, he’ll wrap her in a blanket, brush a kiss against her forehead, and whisper sweet words of reassurance about how she’s the best part of his day. And maybe a bit of a proud smirk when she’s worn out from him. "Good girl."

His little guilty pleasure — Price likes to indulge in spoiling his girl a little, whether it’s bringing her a snack in bed or giving her a special gift that has nothing to do with the warzone. It’s the little touches that show he’s thinking about her when he's not the hardened soldier everyone else sees.

AND LIKE LET'S THINK ABOUT THE TWO OF YOU AFTER A MISSION , SITTING AT A FIRE CAMP AND HE JUST EATS YOU OUT LIKE WHOIUUGHH

"You know, after a mission like that, I've gotta admit, I've earned a little… relaxation," Price murmured, his voice a low rumble in the quiet of the night.

"And what kind of relaxation did you have in mind?" you replied, a smirk playing on your lips as you took a sip of the whiskey that burned its way down your throat. The campfire crackled, casting flickering shadows across the rugged lines of Price's face. The tension in the air was palpable, like the moment before a storm breaks.

Price leaned closer, his gaze intense. "The kind that involves you, on your knees, and my cock in your mouth." His words were a command, but there was a hint of a question in his eyes. He knew what you liked, and he knew you'd give it to him, but he liked the chase, the power play of it all.

Without a moment's hesitation, you set your drink aside and knelt before him. The firelight danced across your skin as you unzipped his pants, revealing his hard, throbbing length. You looked up at him, a challenge in your eyes, and took him into your mouth. He groaned, a sound that was half pleasure, half relief. His hands found their way into your hair, guiding you, setting a rhythm that was both gentle and demanding.

The world around you faded into the background, the only sounds the crackle of the fire and the soft, wet noises of your lips sliding along his shaft. The scent of his desire filled the air, mixing with the smoky scent of the campfire. His breathing grew ragged, and his grip on your hair tightened. You felt the power shift, the dynamic between you clear as day: he was the captain, and you were his willing subordinate. But here, in the dark, with the fire's embers kissing your skin, you both knew it was more than just a game. It was a raw, primal need that had been building for hours, maybe even days.

And as you took him deeper, his eyes never leaving yours, you felt that need echo through your body. Your own desire grew, a warm, wet ache between your legs. But you knew better than to act on it just yet. This was his show, his moment of dominance, his way of unwinding the tight coil of stress that came with leading a squad of soldiers into battle. You'd get yours soon enough.

Price's eyes narrowed, and he pulled you away, his cock glistening with your saliva. He turned you around, pushing you down onto the makeshift bedroll, his hand on the back of your neck, keeping you in place. "Now, it's my turn," he growled, and before you could even gasp, his mouth was on your pussy, devouring you like a man starved of the taste of a woman. His tongue slid against your clit, flicking and teasing, and you moaned, arching your back in response. The heat from the fire was nothing compared to the fire he was igniting within you. His hands were rough, but tender, as they parted your thighs, holding you open for his inspection.

You felt his breath hot against your skin, a stark contrast to the cool night air. His teeth grazed your inner thigh, making you jump before he plunged back into the task at hand. He knew just how to touch you, how to make you squirm and beg for more. His tongue danced around your clit before sliding down to delve into your wetness. You bit your lip to keep from crying out, your body trembling with every stroke.

As he ate you out, you couldn't help but think about the man behind the mission, the one who held your life in his hands. The man who was now worshiping your body like it was a sacred temple. His beard tickled your thighs, and you reached down to grip his hair, urging him closer, needing more of him. Your orgasm was building, a pressure cooker ready to blow at any moment.

Price sensed your urgency, his movements becoming more deliberate, more intense. His thumb circled your clit as he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them just so. The sensation was exquisite, and you couldn't hold back anymore. You screamed his name as you came, the sound echoing through the night and mixing with the distant howl of a wolf. The tremors of your orgasm shook through your body, leaving you weak and panting.

He didn't stop, though, continuing to lick and suck until the last spasm of pleasure had rippled through you. Then, with a final, lingering kiss to your swollen flesh, he pulled back, a satisfied smile playing across his face. "Now, that's the taste of victory," he murmured.

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astonmartinii · 2 months ago

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day five: santa community service | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem single mum!reader

max swore in a press conference and now he's a mall santa with an itchy beard

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

maxverstappen1

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 893,092 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: don't swear kids.... on a serious note, i had so much fun meeting the amazing kids of amsterdam (and delivering some gifts)

view all comments

user2: ummmmmm who is that woman ????

user3: that's what you've taken away from FOUR TIME WORLD CHAMPION MAX VERSTAPPEN BEING A MALL SANTA IN PUNISHMENT FOR SAYING FUCK

user4: ummmm yeah she's snug as a bug in a rug in the back of max's car that's REAL FUCKING INTERESTING

landonorris: why no picture of you as santa... pussy

maxverstappen1: gotta leave some girls for you haven't i mate?

landonorris: well by the looks of the third slide you've already got a girl so it's free range for me right?

maxverstappen1: third slide?

maxverstappen1: OH FUCK

maxverstappen1: she's never going to speak to me again now

landonorris: well you've just sworn again so maybe you'll get more community service and meet her again

maxverstappen1: i'm not dumb i got her number but like now she's going to see this and think i'm a freak :(

landonorris: you'll have to whip out that max verstappen charm again i guess

maxverstappen1: life is a prison

user5: NO ONE POST THE PICTURES OF MAX WITH THE KIDS IT WILL DO IRREPARABLE DAMAGE TO MY OVARIES

user6: i need dad max more than air at this point

danielricciardo: what is this depression session in the comment section maximus - you're a catch even with the creepy instagram etiquette

maxverstappen1: i had to do so much work to convince i wasn't a dork while in a FULL SANTA COSTUME and now i'm not even at step one i'm at step minus 100000000

danielricciardo: that's not very christmas spirit of you maxie

maxverstappen1: life is unfortunately not a hallmark movie so like she'll be a normal person, see that i've posted a pic of her sleeping to my 13 million followers and run for the hills

danielricciardo: okay humble brag

maxverstappen1: DANIEL HELP

danielricciardo: i think you'll be just fine

maxverstappen1: well thanks for nothing - USELESS

user7: oh so max gets generational headloss in all settings

user8: he's so real for that tho

user9: if this doesn't sort itself out i pray for george russell

georgerussell63: ???

user10: he is going to take it out on you ❤️

georgerussell63: oh fuck

maxverstappen1: @fia get him

yourusername

liked by landonorris, user11 and 2,457 others

yourusername: went for the mall santa and met her hero, how will i ever top this now?

view all comments

user12: FOUND YOU

yourusername: this is very creepy who are you

user12: oh i'm just a humble f1 fan who watched max verstappen crash out over thinking he fumbled you

yourusername: fumbling me? has he seen himself?

user12: oh girl i've just stalked your entire account your face card is insane

yourusername: i do not know what that means

user13: YOU HAVE A KID ????

yourusername: yes?

user13: so we could feasibly get step dad max - DILF MAX?

yourusername: are you people okay?

user13: he's down bad for you queen you gotta get in there

yourusername: excuse me?

user14: WAIT - you don't have a husband right?

yourusername: no...

yourusername: wait why am i replying to you people?

landonorris: how did they find you first i put so much effort into my investigation

oscarpiastri: you annoyed max until he gave you her name?

landonorris: RIGOROUS

yourusername: you people have a lot of followers, what are you doing here?

landonorris: max is your daughter's hero and you don't know me?

yourusername: damn that's an ego

landonorris: excuse me ?

yourusername: idk maybe my daughter loves max because he's plastered everywhere in the netherlands - she watches the races with my friends

landonorris: we drive the orange cars

yourusername: oh she hates yall

yourusername: i might have to block you two

oscarpiastri: I DID NOTHING IT WAS ALL HIM

maxverstappen1: ummm hi!

maxverstappen1: I'M SO SORRY PLEASE DON'T THINK I'M A CREEP

yourusername: why would i think you're a creep?

maxverstappen1: NO REASON

maxverstappen1: so that coffee?

yourusername: okay .....

yourusername: i was going to text you but yk kids and she's addicted to the games and has held my phone hostage

landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and 702,300 others

tagged: maxverstappen1 & yourusername

landonorris: didn't leave monaco fast enough and now i'm stuck third wheeling - AND lola still hates me :(

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user16: CAN WE SLOW DOWN WE'RE GOING SO FUCKING FAST

yourusername: isn't that kinda their job?

user16: oh you gagged me there, congrats queen

user17: okay well now i'm obsessed with them and i need to know why lola hates lando so much

landonorris: she's a hater - just like her mother

maxverstappen1: y/n is allowed to hate you. in fact i'll support her in all of her hating i don't care

landonorris: i literally stayed for an extra day so we could all do something fun for christmas and HERE WE ARE

yourusername: i don't hate you lando, but i have to support my daughter in her dreams

landonorris: SHE SAID HER DREAMS WERE HER EXPLODING MY CAR WITH HER MIND

yourusername: LOL

landonorris: that is not 'LOL' that's attempted murder - i'm going to put your child in jail

maxverstappen1: woah lando that's too far

landonorris: and telepathic murder isn't ?

maxverstappen1: first of all it's telekinesis and second of all - lola can do what she wants

user18: oh boy he got attached quick

yourusername: this is nothing compared to lola

maxverstappen1: what? i love my biggest fan

danielricciardo: well fuck me i guess

maxverstappen1: yes

danielricciardo: max! y/n is right there (text me later)

maxverstappen1: oh wait ewwww

maxverstappen1: i meant get fucked.

yourusername: you can complain about third wheeling all you want but i'll deal with it if you keep taking these cute ass photos

landonorris: it's torture being an artist 💔

maxverstappen1: we also paid for everything lando, you can deal with watching your best friend being in love

landonorris: we're best friends ???

maxverstappen1: i'm your best friend - you're third at most

landonorris: ????

maxverstappen1: 1. lola 2. y/n 3. lando (maybe)

yourusername: awwwwww you're so sweet darling

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 14,859 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: i support the fia's wrongs because they brought you to me

view all comments

user19: okay miss girl this is cute but i will NEVER let the fia live

yourusername: oh this is their one pass, next time i'll unleash lola's telekinesis

user19: tell lola that we thank her for her service

user20: but please don't blow up lando please

yourusername: she said orange cars - sorry osc

landonorris: what about a red car?

yourusername: oh she likes charles so no chance

charles_leclerc: taste 💅

maxverstappen1: i guess i'll let them off just this once because i love you

yourusername: you're so generous

georgerussell63: wanna forgive me as well

maxverstappen1: why would i do that?

maxverstappen1: also we're declaring our love for each other do you wanna GET THE FUCK OUT

georgerussell63: lola is talking about blowing up f1 cars with her mind i don't want to be a victim

yourusername: oh she won't blow your car up

georgerussell63: phew

yourusername: she'll bite you in person

georgerussell63: CRIKEY

georgerussell63: well i guess you guys can go back to declaring love now ...

yourusername: thanks i guess?

yourusername: love you maxy, i'm so glad we met you

maxverstappen1: i love you more, i love having both of you in my life

user21: this was very fast but this is also very cute

user22: i think we gotta get lola on sky sports - maybe she'll bite the british bias out of them

yourusername: do NOT threaten her with a good time

yourusername: however, i will say, lola doesn't actually bite she's very well behaved and just has a bit of a feral way about her

maxverstappen1: but it's so adorable :(

hulkhulkenberg: so ... paddock play dates

maxverstappen1: WE'RE THERE

yourusername: that would make the paddock a lot less intimidating for me

hulkhulkenberg: my daughter also prays on the downfall of everyone but me so they'll have that in common

maxverstappen1

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 1,245,038 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: maybe santa is real ... love of my life was top of my list this year

view all comments

user25: idk about you guys but i've never seen him happier

user26: after this season i'm so glad the christmas break has treated him so well

user27: i can't wait for the rest of the grid to think he might let up now and then mad max get released first corner in melbourne

maxverstappen1: whatever i gotta do to get that winners trophy for lola

yourusername: this is the happiest holidays we've ever had, you've made my dreams come true and truly are the best person i'd ever want around lola. i love you <3

maxverstappen1: i wouldn't want to be with anyone else now, you guys are it for me x

maxverstappen1: now come downstairs i'm strategically placed underneath the mistletoe

yourusername: there's mistletoe?

maxverstappen1: .... the christmas fairy must of put it up ?

yourusername: you know you don't need an excuse to kiss me right?

maxverstappen1: hehehehehehehehehehe

user28: wow he's such a loser i love him

yourusername: he's * my loser and * he LOVES ME

yourusername: sorry that was rude

yourusername: but he's so worth showing off

maxverstappen1: i can't wait to show you off to the world on international tv - i gotta mark my territory

yourusername: as if i would ever look anywhere but at you

landonorris: fine! you guys are cute! i'm taking all the credit for connecting you two

maxverstappen1: and just how did you do that?

landonorris: i found y/n's instagram duh!

yourusername: actually @user12 found my instagram

user12: omg shout out

maxverstappen1: i also had y/n's number the whole time...

landonorris: CAN YOU GUYS JUST LET ME HAVE THIS? IT'S CHRISTMAS?

yourusername: you got us socks for christmas ??? (thanks tbf)

landonorris: ALL MY BUDGET WENT TO LOLA'S PRESENT I HAD TO GET ON HER SIDE

maxverstappen1: you mean the mini MCL36 that she's been glaring at since she opened it?

yourusername: i think she's practicing her telekinesis for 2025 ❤️

landonorris: FUCK

yourusername: she just wants maxy to win lando, you can't deny her that

landonorris: i can feel her puppy dog eyes through the phone

maxverstappen1: i'll do anything to win for her - ANYTHING. merry christmas xx

landonorris: that's so threatening

yourusername: that's so romantic

fin.

note: ENJOY

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen

2K notes · View notes

alnilaem · 4 months ago

Text

coyote head and the body of a man — (e)

ghost/fem reader There's a killer on the loose. But your logging town is small and quaint and doesn't even appear on maps, so you know you're safe. That all changes when a gruff, big, taciturn man shows up at your workplace one day. Or; Simon is a fugitive serial killer, and you're the housekeeping girl that caught his eye.

cw for explicit content, graphic violence, possessive behaviour, size difference, cunnilingus, stalking

pinterest board | ao3 | for @spidehpig <3

You believe you were born in the centre of an exploding star.

Born on the crest of death and fated for a bleak life. Dead, before you even had a chance.

The universe sweeps before you. Infinite. Expansive. Hungry. You float at the mouth of the galaxy and it swallows you whole, but doesn’t seem to like the taste of you—too bland, too trite—so it spits you back out and sends you tailspinning.

You land with a lack of courtesy. Tossed between trees and dropped in a basin. You find yourself in nowhere, Oregon. In a town flecked by a lake inlet and a clement fjord, where the moose population outnumbers the people population. It has a maritime allure but strangely enough, isn’t commercial enough to be a tourist hub. It’s too hidden in the thicket. Too deep in a borehole.

Every day here is the same. It's an abyss that yawns before you with no end in sight, lacking undue entertainment and vividness and excitement. There’s no light pollution so far off the beaten track, so oftentimes, you’ll wish upon shooting stars for someone to come for your deliverance.

There’s a reason they say be careful what you wish for.

The day isn’t even halfway over and your bone tips already ache with hard work.

It isn’t to say your workplace is busy. In fact, it’s the exact opposite. A cut-rate motel with more vacancies than residents found far-removed from the highway, taking only cash, no card, which is good for deterring paper trails and welcoming the transient but is bad for providing records when the police come knocking.

You’ll get the occasional trucker, the sparse backpacker. In any case, folks stay here when they don’t want to be bothered. They’ll drive past the splintery welcome sign and stop at the diner for earthy, full-bodied coffee and a slice of famous rhubarb pie. They’ll recuperate in the motel and leave before sunrise, and you’ll be there to clean up what they leave behind, scrubbing the memory out of the fibreglass bathtub for whoever’s next.

It’s a place where time fleets away. Hallucinatory. Where people pay their due and you hang your head because after all, you’re nothing more than the housekeeping girl. Cottony pinafore and a black dress. Mary Jane flats. Fingers desquamating from years of bleach and vinegar stuck in your nail beds. You get handed dog-eared tips and in return, you don’t ask questions. But maybe you should have.

You’re sliding the window cleaner back into its compartment on the cleaning cart just as your boss scales the veranda. He’s grinning and sporting sweat stains across his armpits. A patchy beard. A loose tie.

Your nerves lock up tight when he grasps your shoulders. His razorous fingers and the pinchbeck of his wedding band saws under your skin. The dregs of his afternoon drinking knocks into you, and you try not to let your body betray you. Despite that, your eyes water and your nose crinkles. You white-knuckle your dress and almost pop the fabric of your pinafore.

“How’s my favourite employee?” he grins. “Is she workin’ hard?”

There’s an irreverent innuendo somewhere in his smile. You ignore it and opt for a stale smile.

“I’m working,” you eke out. “I've got to restock the bathroom, then I’m done.”

“That’s good, peach. Real good,” he watches you collect toiletry essentials, then tacks on, “there’s a man in the lobby.”

You falter. The travel-sized shampoo bottle almost slips between your forefinger and thumb.

“An outsider.”

It’s an observation, not a question. If the man in the lobby were a local, Phillip would have given you a name because in this town, everybody knows everybody. The fact that a name was bereft tells you your new guest came from elsewhere. Maybe he’s cutting through the main road on his way to Yachats for your town’s cascade mountains and bigleaf maple, or for the diner’s famous rhubarb pie. In any case, he's in need of a rest stop.

“Mh. I’m gonna check him in. Just wanted to let you know I’m givin’ him this room, so try to hurry it up, okay peach?”

You blink slowly. This motel holds twelve rooms—there’s never been a need for any more—and currently, nine of those are occupied. That leaves three. There’s no reason for your boss to put up the new guest in Room 11, especially when you’re still cleaning it.

Phillip reads the question in the bend of your eyebrow. He smiles knowingly and pats your head. “He requested a room on the higher level. Room 9’s aircon is busted and Room 6 shares a wall with the Pettie’s. They’re loud.”

You sigh. “Ah.”

“Sorry peach,” he smiles like he’s apologetic, but you don’t think that’s the case. “Just get it done, alright? And add some extra coffee packets."

You furrow your lips. Displeasure flutters over you but you wash it away with a smile, refusing to irk him. You nod and pivot, bones bending against your skin for an escape as his hand whispers against your bum in an encouraging caress.

Anger simmers in your marrow. Phillip simply chuckles, disparaging.

“That’s a sweet peach.”

His voice gets muted by the tinny, rattling radiator as you make it to the bathroom. You stock it up dutifully—perhaps taking extra long to ensure he's not waiting outside for you—and spritz air freshener around the room when you finish. It’s a flaky, expired bottle of Platinum Ice which barely masks the town’s deep-seated smell of old-growth forest, petrichor and woody debris. You hope the new guest doesn’t have a sharp nose.

You make sure to stuff the coffee station with extra packets before stepping out of the room. Off the mysteriously stained carpet, onto the veranda. You putter around with your large keyring, thumbing through the nickel-brass since you also have a key to the elementary school, post office, and city hall (aptly titled shitty hall by locals, since this town isn’t much of a city and the building’s roof is held together by nothing but rusty rivets and tassels of sprig collected in the corners). You’ve got so many keys because again, everybody knows everybody, and it isn’t rare to see the housekeeping girl at the motor lodge supplementing her income as a part-time teaching aid.

Finally, you find the master key. You lock the room and roll the cleaning cart into the utility room before locking that too. Your wrist drags across your forehead, wiping away sweat, and you tug on your dress because perspiration has pasted it onto the pert curve of your breasts, the squish of your thighs. You furtively glance down your bodice and watch how the sweat pocks your skin, knotting your nipples against your cheap bra. Lament catches you in regards to your shower after work—it’s going to be freezing since the heating system here is so fickle—and in the paroxysm of your grief, the sound of heavy breathing eludes you.

You don’t hear his footsteps. He’s an ambush predator. Stalking and shadowing in the tall grass, waiting for the moment your hackles melt to bite into your neck like an unripe stone fruit. You don’t see him, but you feel him. His breath tickling down your neck. The erogenous zone behind your ear.

A gasp parts your lips and you whip around, coming face-to-face with a paunchy chest plated by moth-eaten flannel. You heft your head up, exercising the hinge in your neck. Paling at the sight that greets you.

He has a Cabela’s cap on. It’s pulled over his eyes, but a few blonde curls peek out from under the crown of his hat. He has a damaged, blistered face. A cauliflower ear. Nicks on his cheeks that distend from his skin and have turned pallid with time, rippling like seafoam petticoats on waves as he flickers his jaw. He wears jeans and mud-clogged boots and holds a duffel bag.

His gaze unties you. You slowly find words, fitting them in an orderly queue in your mind as you avert your gaze and stare at the floor. Squirming. Preening. Sweltering.

“Welcome to Sockeye Inn, mister…”

Silence. He lets your words awkwardly trail off. Doesn’t do anything to belay the discomfort in your belly. The man simply stares at you with brown eyes.

Humiliation crawls up your spine and settles on your cheeks. It burns through your skin, withering you away, to which you fidget with your fingers and baldly nod towards the door.

“Your room is ready,” you murmur. “Enjoy your stay, sir. Uh– if you need anything just give us a shout. Phone’s on the bedside table.”

Foolishly, you wait for a response again. Nothing. He towers over you, owlishly blinking, one slower than the other because he seems to have a lazy eye. You clench your skirt and softly shoulder past him, heading for the stairs as you hear him putter with the keyhole.

You’ve halfway scaled it when a rasp distorted by what seems to be years of cigarettes stops you dead in your tracks.

“Bring me a BLT and root beer.”

You burn up at the muscle in his voice. The drag. Just as you’re about to reply, his room door slams shut and rocks across the veranda.

Your dress is stickier than it was before. Perhaps an ice cold shower isn’t so bad after all.

The end of your shift slowly arrogates.

After delivering food to Simon Riley—you glinted at the logbook while waiting for his order, reading his name—you left his room as soon as possible. You set the food down and found yourself plugging your nose. The Platinum Ice you sprayed before didn’t accost you— instead, it was pomade. Lucky Strike cigarettes. Decaying heartwood. Bleach.

You pointedly breathed through your mouth. It didn’t actually help though, since you could taste it then. The ethanol in the air drizzled over your pockmarked tongue and glided down your throat. Collected in your stomach.

You almost retched it back up at the sight of him.

Through the foggy shower wall, the colour of his hazy contour was striking. It seemed to be a tight fit for him, hemming in his lumberjack build. The shampoo bottle looked like a damn accessory in his large hands and his chased shoulder blades pressed soap against the glass pane, sudsy.

Your curiosity pulled your gaze lower. Down to the heavy mass between his thighs, thick and fat. Bulbous.

His spine suddenly went erect, straightening like a chary animal. As if by the agitated pappus of his skin, his chin lifted in your direction, and that’s when the earth collapsed under your feet and you beetled for the door.

You distract yourself in the kitchen. Emptying the dishwasher. Taking the garbage to the bear-proof receptacles. Putting the oven on steam clean. Kate, the kitchen supervisor, stares at you oddly under her hairnet but she isn’t going to reject a set of helping hands.

You scrub at a pan hoping it will erase the image burned into your mind. Hoping that the steel wool will have the same effect on your temporal lobe as it does on the pan. You don’t realize your hands are chafing and the pan is flaking, not until Kate is passionately complaining beside you, her spit dashing onto the side of your face.

“—fuckin’ freeloaders. They drain our taxes but can’t even do their damn jobs. Wait until one of their family gets butchered, you’ll see, that’s when they’ll start taking this seriously.”

She waves a newspaper in your face. The paper stack fans in front of you, blowing you with cool air. You’re just barely able to read the big, blocky headline.

Connection Made Between Ventura, Gilroy and Eugene Serial Killer — Aptly Coined the Ghost.

“Eugene!” Kate slaps the newspaper, frazzled. “Not even three hours from us!”

You scarcely listen to her, her voice ripening into white noise as you scrutinize the police sketch on the newspaper’s margin. The offender is drawn with an overripe balaclava and probing eyes. Dark brown, as if his corneal opacity has laid claim before death. His eyelids have no tension, but a furl of crow's feet gather at the corners. It’s uncanny. Eerie. And even though he’s pressed on paper, you can’t help the unease welling inside you.

A part of you waits for the other shoe to drop. For him to manifest and crawl out of the paper, dripping ink and viscous tar, ruining your Mary Jane flats and the floor you’d just mopped.

Hemlock hits the back of your throat. Lemony, sedgy. Your eyes fixate on the information detailing his crimes. Spines broken and necks snapped with inhumane strength. Pieces of flesh carved with the precision of either a surgeon or a butcher. Rigour mortis locking the victims in a scream, nail beds caked with skin which implies a struggle, but leads nowhere since the Ghost’s DNA hasn’t been found on any database.

(He’s as elusive as his name suggests. Investigators say he could be foreign, or that he has a clean record. The latter seems unlikely for the violent calibre of his crimes.)

There’s also his modus operandi—slicing off his victim’s ring finger, taking it with him. A cruel reward.

“They say he’s taking Route 101,” Kate tacks on. “That he’s a long-hauler. How the hell will they catch a long-hauler?”

You shake your head, shrugging. Your tongue is too heavy and your gums rub against the round of your cheeks when you try speaking. The sentence gets snagged on your molars, and all that comes out are sparse words, lamely falling to the floor with how out of breath you are.

“…They’ll catch him.”

“They better,” she shortly huffs. “I don’t want this town making the paper for all the wrong reasons.”

Death comes to you in a cornfield.

You’re sprinting through the crop, barefoot and scantily clad and pricked by thorns. Your clothing catches on thistle and corn husk, slowing you down, but the quick-footed trampling at your tail keeps your pace steady and stable.

Your lungs burn. Your bones rasp. Your eyes well up with how fast you’re moving, with how your retinas strain to see more in the pitch black than just reflective corn silk and the crescent moon.

The midnight sky is close to swallowing you whole, but at this point that would be an act of mercy. The whistle of his cleaver slicing through the air and the stomp of his boots are promptly catching up, heckling you, barely whispering against the flowy cotton of your dress.

By a cruel twist of fate your foot catches on a tiller and sends you flying. Your nose softens the impact, the crack of cartilage reverberating through your skull, glutinous red spurting down your chin as you try scrambling to your feet.

But true to his name, Ghost, he slips through matter and suddenly, he’s standing in front of you.

Black, sweaty tank top. Freshly sharpened meat cleaver. Stout arms. Predatory eyes. Rotting balaclava—which at this point, you’re starting to believe was grafted onto his face, fitting him like skin.

You raise your hands for mercy.

But you should know dead stars have exhausted all their luminosity—that after death, they hold no power. That space is a graveyard. That’s why the Ghost poises his cleaver behind him. That’s why the last thing you see is his cleaver handle swinging towards you, about to collide with and shatter your cheekbone into a million pieces—

—but daylight strikes you with no clear trajectory.

It’s your alarm that rings, waking you up from a nightmare, telling you to brush your teeth and scrub yourself down and pop your supplements before biking to work. You do so sluggishly, standing under the shower spray as you massage your cheekbone. Burning your toast as you scour the news for developing details on the Ghost case. Ordering a cup of coffee from the local diner and gulping it down behind the motel lest Phillip catches you.

Your nightmare—omen, prophecy, portent of death?—pursues you like the persistent stench of fish on an angler’s hands all morning. You flinch at the slightest noise while scrubbing toilets, you constantly look over your shoulder while sweeping floors.

Malaise builds in your blood vessels like creosote. It doesn’t thin into fluid, flowing in and out of your appendages and around your sex until you situate yourself in front of Room 11. Fluffing up your skirt and puffing out your chest.

You announce your presence and rap the door with your Mary Jane flat because your hands are occupied with new bed sheets. Your knuckles blanch around the linen, quivering, struggling to keep it in your grip. The sheets almost flutter to your feet when a voice penetrates the door, abrasive and husky. Rough. Grating against your spine and shaving down the vertebrae.

“Door’s open.”

You wait a few seconds before contorting yourself against the threshold. You try the handle and lo and behold, it’s unlocked, swinging open when you press your weight onto it.

You step inside and toe off your flats. Next to Simon’s boots, they look fit for a doll, and a dizzy spell ricochets through you at the size difference. At the stark reminder that he’s as big and packed as a thick tree stump.

You walk inside and heed the CRT television playing the news.

It does nothing to soften the scream that rips out of you as you round the corner.

Simon is in bed, pulling on a cigarette. His pudgy tummy and bristly chest are bared, the steel wool of his happy trail disappearing into the bed sheets furled around his hips. The flat sheet is thin enough to outline something stirring. Something thick and pressed against his inner thigh.

He stares at you, eyes of Argus. It’s so intense you’re sure he can sense the slick running down your back. The dew that settles in the gusset of your panties.

You stutter. “I can come back later.”

Simon sits up with a groan. It rattles you. His joints must be fettered with age, or hard work, but in any case your head goes cottony with the picture of him splitting wood and hauling heavy bovine flanks.

You swallow thick as he shakes his head. “It’s no problem, sugar. I’m not even here.”

The pet name makes you squirm. You sure do feel like it—sugar, that is—with the way you could melt on his tongue, wedge yourself between his teeth. Turn syrupy and sappy at the back of his throat.

He takes another drag of his cigarette. You watch raptly as his jaw feathers around it, lips proffering another plume of smoke.

He blinks. “Well?”

You eke out an apology and fiddle with your hands.

“I’ll have to, um, change your bedsheets first.”

Simon shakes his head. He taps the ashy casualties off the tip of his cigarette and you watch as it sinks onto the bed sheet, almost burning through the floral motif. “No need.”

“Well,” you cough, forcing your eyes away from him, “if I don’t, my boss…”

Simon pricks up. The hind of his spine straightens the same way a dog would sit straight and plumb after hearing rustling in a bush. His muscles tighten, thick, and his face twists into a sneer. The bed sheet around him falls and you lock up tight lest it bare his pubic bone.

“Is he a minger?”

“I’m sorry?”

He huffs. “‘s he a bully?”

“Oh, no,” you blandly laugh. “Mister Graves isn’t a bully. He just…”

“Makes you uncomfortable?”

There’s a lapse between acknowledging his question and spitting out an answer that makes you kick yourself. Simon already looks dubious. You hug the sheets closer to your chest and smile, your cheeks feathering like beeswax.

“He’s a kind man.”

“Not wha’ I asked,” he says. The bed creaks as he leans forward, the sheets slipping lower, scarcely covering his sex. “I asked if he does stuff he shouldn’t be doin’.”

Your heartbeat quickens. Briefly, you wonder if he can hear it. He probably can, albeit softly, due to his lumpy cauliflower ear.

“He’s a married man,” you mumble. “He doesn’t touch me if that’s what you mean. Not like that.”

“There’s only one way to touch someone,” Simon grunts. His chest starts churning a little, as if he’s agitated. “Does he put his hands on you?”

Your skin burns, remembering. A phantom scar runs through you, long and creeping, mapping all the places in which Phillip’s pinchbeck wedding ring has burned you. The suture of your spine, the pappy flesh of your neck, the rise of your hips where his palm has melted through your dress and smarted your skin.

Your silence makes Simon grunt.

Panic surges up your throat. You feel the need to defend Phillip, in some approximation of gratitude and fear since you’re on his payroll and you don’t want to reap the consequences should you rat on him and he find out.

“No!” you hurry. “Mister Graves isn’t like that. He’s a good man. Honest.”

Simon’s eyes push against your skin. He scrutinizes you, tests you. Waits to see if you’ll fidget too much and flake away and sink into the carpet.

He growls. “You fancy him, is tha’ it?”

Answering yes is the only way to shake him off your leg. You do so archly, so it seems as though the thought of your boss has you flushing when really it’s Simon. He’s fully upright, and now you can see the girthy base of his cock. Stirring, twitching. You suppress a moan.

“Yeah…” you murmur. You can feel your makeup turning blotchy, running down your cheeks. “It’s just a bit…embarrassing, is all.”

He lapses into it again. Staring at you. Razoring his way into your head and thumbing through your consciousness, searching for an Achilles’ heel. A crack he can break into a hole because he has the size for it—barrel-chested, stupidly thick fingers.

Simon slips out of bed and disturbs the coiled aches of the mattress. He holds a washcloth over his crotch. It’s crusty and keeps shape and covers almost nothing, confirming your inkling.

His bulbous cockhead winks at you from under the hem. It’s heavy. Leaky. Dripping precum that laves down his legs and gets caught in the wiry hair of his thigh.

Anxiety pools in your armpits and around your groin. Or maybe that’s just arousal. Brackish and sticky, rubbing your pussy lips together, hugging your clit.

Simon pulls on his cigarette once more and then folds it into the bedside table. You should scold him. You should tell him that he’ll have to pay for damages even though the wood is already degraded and mouldy. You should scuttle out of the room and call for Phillip, but that would be a crueler fate. Instead you stay fixed to the carpet as Simon steps forward. Cock swinging between his legs, tummy jiggling.

You don’t know whether he’s going to pull you in for a kiss or rip off your dress or—and you’re unsure why you think of this—take you by your skull and smash it against the television stand. He has the muscle to, surely, but somehow you know he won’t. And the thought of that makes your skin hot.

You’re at his mercy.

You gird yourself for his lips or for your dress to be torn off, but your preparations flux away as Simon steps close and crowds you against the television stand. The stench of Lucky Strike cigarettes and gamey meat impair you, as he reaches behind you and increases the television volume. You want to say something but cotton fills your mouth and the news report floods your ears. It’s fragmentary—you can only heed oddments of the news anchor’s latest updates.

The Ghost is still at large. Corpses keep popping up around California and Oregon, each with their ring fingers sliced off. The tipline has been leading investigators nowhere, shepherding them to the end of the earth and over the edge, floating, where they’ll move through molasses and will never be able to catch him.

White male. 6’4”. 196 centimetres. Brown eyes. Heavyset. Likely military background. Likely a surgeon, or a butcher. A dangerous, ruthless individual.

If spotted, do not approach.

Simon’s breath fans against your neck, rousing the bristles of your warm cheeks. He turns off the television and steps back. An ether opens up in the pit of your stomach as your gaze falls on his bulging pelvis, on the purplish veins and webbing muscle, sitting like a tuft under his navel, disappearing behind the washcloth where his cock stirs.

Simon tuts. “World’s goin’ to shite.”

You nod.

“You shouldn’t be out here anyway,” he tacks on. “Should be at home takin’ care of your man’s house. Keepin’ safe.”

You flash your naked ring finger embarrassingly fast. “I-It’s just me…and my cat.”

His eyes darken. His head tilts down at you. He purrs.

“Better get started on mine then,” he breathes. “Put yourself to good use.”

You shyly get to cleaning his room.

You try to ignore his hand disappearing behind the washcloth, pumping his cock. You can’t ignore the silk ruining your panties. Scarcely, you manage to ignore the caution creeping up your back. Your lower instinct that screams at you as you feel his stare tracking you across the room, burning. Smouldering. Warning.

Daylight scissors into you.

It melts the sleep in the corners of your eyes. It clears the haze in your head. It interrupts the sultry dream you were having. Your flesh is still pocked and your clit is still peaked, as you rehash the contents of it.

You can still feel Simon’s weight on top of you, sweat compressioning you, the sheets gathering under your slick back. Your underwear had dangled from one of your ankles, flapping and swaying as Simon pounded into you. Your head bobbed over the lip of the mattress. Your tits bounced, nipples caught between his gnashers. Your slick ran down your cunt and over your asshole, pooling onto the floral bed sheets. You just quit your job. You didn’t care about the sheets. Or the Pettie’s down the veranda. Phillip was on the other side of the door too, and he could hear everything. Your moans. Simon’s balls dragging over your furled hole. His groans—

—And the sudden tearing of cartilage and skin stretching, rubbery, as Simon shifted into something else above you. Something larger. Deadlier. His drool dripped onto your chest, and his cock was suddenly too big for your pussy, popping back out until only his tip managed to squeeze inside your puffy hole. He snarled down at you, but it got covered by a creeping balaclava. You still reached your orgasm, quivering around his cockhead. Watching him go spotty and graphite-like in your vision, as if he were a composite sketch.

You get out of bed and wash the absurd dream away under the shower. The nozzle hits your clit weakly, and you never reach your high. You show up to work pigeon-toed and sweaty. Pent-up. You scrub harder at bathtubs and almost snap at Phillip when he swats your bum. Almost. Simon is watching from the dining hall, and he makes you skittish.

The day rolls by sluggishly. There’s a Do Not Disturb sign dangling from Simon’s door, so you don’t get the chance to see him in his room. You huff and puff at the Pettie’s and give Kate attitude. It’s the peak of afternoon when you’re sent home, shoulders stiff because Phillip squeezed them and tacked on, ”I can always help out if you’re stressed, peach,” before shepherding you out the door.

You bike into town. Indulge in the diner’s famous rhubarb pie because the motel’s cherry pie is nowhere near as good, though you’ll never tell Kate that. You polish off your treat then ride to the beach (which is more of a graveyard for birds and braided, washed ashore sea meadow), and prop your bike against the wooden bollards.

The beach is familiar with you. It sees you when you're overwhelmed by the monotonous colour of your life. You never worry about meddling kids or loud teenagers or anything, because the stench of fish usually keeps them away anyway. It's your own Shangri-La. Your little Eden. Albeit overcast and greyscale, with an ocean spray that gets into your hair and dries out your mouth.

You slip out of your Mary Jane flats and wade through the sand dunes, breathing in salt and sulfur and tasting it on your lips. You maneuver around seawrack and driftwood and eventually find yourself seated behind a tussock of seaoats, watching as the waves lazily beat against the shore.

It's easy for you to lie down and get comfortable among the scent of iodine and the feel of pillowy granules. It's also easy to let your eyes flutter shut, lulled into limbo by the ebbing tide and murmuring waves.

You stir awake with flaccid lungs.

Presentiment hangs in the air, thick, like a blanket of smog. It interrupts your breathing pattern and makes you light-headed. Vertiginous. Makes you see things that aren't there…

…Such as the off-white scleras and twists of dilated blood vessels that stare at you from the foreshore.

They approach you eerily. Two pieces of driftwood floating over the waves, jolting slightly as it hits the sand, splintery and mossy and heavy.

The man feathers toward you from the blue glow of the beach. You squint through the darkness, because maybe it's the sheriff, but you know he walks with a drunken gait and he…strides like a bear on its hind legs.

The way he lurches for you says otherwise. Perhaps he's rather a panther or a coyote, or some crude backyard breed of all three.

A large palm splits itself over your mouth. An arm lays beside you and secretes a musk of sweat and iron. A knee digs into the plush of your cunt, agitating your clit, as a warm breath fans over your pulse point.

"Waited for me, didn't you?" he rasps against your neck.

In your stupor, you brace your hands against his shoulders. A sticky substance coats his skin, too viscous to be sweat.

Nausea knots in your throat. Tremors wash over your body. You dig your nails into his flesh, and when your hands don't fall through it like you hoped, you gravely realize he's made of muscle and skin instead of your drunken, sleep-inspired imagination.

You experience a cruel loss of equilibruim. If you weren't already lying down, you'd collapse to the ground. You go limp in the sand, thawing into his hands which you unwillingly notice are caked with that sticky substance too.

"There's dangerous folk 'round here," he grunts. "What if someone else followed you? A big, bad man?"

A chord of recognition stirs in your brain at his voice. That brash accent.

"Simon…?"

He chuckles. "It's me, sugar."

You squeeze your thighs together but it's abortive. He pries them apart anyway, and cups your pussy through your panties.

He rubs you through the gauze, knuckling your soft lips. Through the darkness you barely see the misshapen silhouette of his mouth. That snarl, curling off him as if he suffers from some chronic wasting disease, slowly atrophying and turning into some vestigal cadaver.

He kisses down your sternum. Grips your hand and forces it over his crotch. Your fingers brush over the solid mass. It's hard due to both stiffened denim and his thickening cock.

"All for you," he mumbles. "Take it out, sugar."

You fumble with the metal teeth of his zipper. You pull him out with both hands and your mouth goes dry. Tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. Deadly nightshade hitting the back of your throat. Despite you, your thighs squish together, and a rumbling chuckle slips through the seam of his lips.

He's huge. Fat and heavy, so much so you need both fingers to wrap around him.

"Give it a kiss, yeah?" he coos. "Like a sweet girl."

You spread your lips against his cockhead. You pull away and a string of precum chases you, but Simon is pushing your head back down and bucking his bristly pubic bone into to your nose.

"There it is," he grumbles. "Such a big girl, aren't you?"

You look up at him with wide, wet eyes.

The stiffs of hair on his pubic bone tickle your nose. You smell sweat and iron, but you can't tilt your head away, because the stout muscle of his arms keep you in place.

Fighting is futile. His cockhead hits the back of your throat like oleander and he holds your jaw in place, dimpling your cheeks with his rough fingers, letting his balls slap against your chin.

Just as you're getting used to his size, he pulls out, breaking the strands of saliva and precum between you.

"Take off y'panties, sugar."

You pull them off and squirm at the way the gusset clings to your pussy lips a little while longer. Simon takes it against his nose and sniffs it, running his fingers through your pussy, spreading your slick.

You don't get a warning before he's curling one of his fingers into you. Massaging your walls. Scissoring you open. Thumbing your clit.

He adds another and twists them deeper—meaner—into you. He swallows your whimpers but spits them back into your mouth when he empties his saliva down your throat. He keeps stroking the inside of your pussy, your sticky walls, and rubbing your clit.

He squeezes your cheeks together and gives you a big kiss. He coos condescendingly into your lips, and licks away your fresh track of tears. "It's supposed to hurt, baby. Don't be mad, alright? It'll feel good soon."

He gets deeper and deeper. Knuckle-deep, when he curls his fingers inside you. You lock up tight and thrust your hips through the bulk of your orgasm, trembling and quivering around him.

Your lips quiver around a plea when he pulls his fingers out. It's a lapse of judgement on your part—you know it—but you can't help it anymore.

"Please what?" He grins. It's ugly. Like a truss of stitching falling off his face, mangled and chewed up.

"Can you g-go…" you squirm when he rolls his tumb over your clit, agonizingly slow. "Can you go–"

"C'mon baby," he whispers against your lips, "spit it out. Big girls use their words."

"Canyougodownonme?" you gasp and grip onto him, bucking your cunt into his palm.

He chuckles against your mouth. He kisses down your chest. He crinkles his nose against the husk of your pussy. He deeply inhales and vibrates at your scent. He darts his tongue out and flattens it against your dewy folds, licking a stripe up your slit.

You writhe but he holds you in place with those big, thickened hands of his. They're wet but at this point you can't tell if it's your arousal or that mysterious substance on him. You can't even think about it, not with your thoughts melting away, escaping you like the humming waves.

Simon's a bit too aggressive in how he eats you out. It doesn't come from a juvenile attempt influenced by sex-on-screen with undue emphasis, but rather his tongue spelling devotion into the fat of your cunt.

Your fingers flex into his blonde head of hair. It's closely cropped, but you still manage to pull him closer, grinding yourself down on the bumpy bridge his nose. You pull on his hair and he growls and sends a quake up your spine. He wraps his lips around your clit and swirls his tongue further into you, softly suckling your juices out.

The waves fold over each other, beating against the shore. They crest and crash and just as they race up the sand dune, teasing your flexing toes, your second orgasm crashes into you too. You twist and twirl Simon's hair in your grip and almost miss the feel of something cold being slipped onto your finger.

You're shaking, trembling, as you raise your hand. You're hazy and the moonlight is shrouded by clouds. It makes the mystery object look smeared across your vision, blotchy and spotty.

You hold it a little closer to your face, examining the twinkle as Simon massages your thighs to ease the quiver.

You turn your hand over and whisper your thumb over its curve.

You bristle when you realize what it is. It hangs off you a little loosely, burning your knuckle.

A pinchbeck wedding ring.

Stained with red, and still warm from the body it was pulled from.

Bile gathers in your throat and burns your mouth. Tears gather in your eyes. A small gasp parts your lips, billowing out of you like the mushroom-head of a flare just as realization fully commits itself to you.

You shiver. Both through realization, and your orgasm. "…What did you do to him?"

"Took care of him," Simon grunts, caressing your hair. "I'm supposed to handle the monsters under your bed, ain't I?"

You spare him a glance. You heed the white of his teeth and a smudge of—you know it's blood—across his cheek. His eyes, hidden in the shadowy canopy. His nose, bent out of shape and speckled with blood.

"You're not going to hurt me."

He brushes your hair back. "No."

You pant into him when he captures you for a kiss. "…Why?"

"I'm supposed to take care of ya," he grunts. "That's what couples do, no?"

He pushes something in your grasp—a folding knife. Your thumb slips over the two initials engraved into the handle—your initials.

"How do y'feel about Kate?" he asks.

Your coworker flashes into your mind. "I like her"

Simon—the Ghost—grunts. "And what about that bloke at the diner? What's his name?"

"I– Franklin?"

"Hn. Does he bother you?"

You thumb through your memory. Perhaps what you say is an embellishment, giddy of what Simon's going for.

"He did steal my bike once…" you mumble.

Simon pricks up. His chest puffs out and squishes against your arm. "He married?"

"Yeah, um," you swallow, "for about ten years."

"You want his pretty ring? Or his wife's?" Simon asks, then kisses you. "Anythin' you want."

Your lips stretch into a smile.

Simon cups your cheek, blood rubbing off on you. For the first time ever, you feel exhilarated at the thought of the future. At the thought of being taken care of. Doted on.

Suddenly the town doesn't feel so cold anymore. It doesn't feel like an invisible barricade is hemming you in. Simon is your ticket out of here, and a ticket to your new life.

You can abandon your pinafore and Mary Jane flats and maybe he'll spoil you with frilly socks and a cute sundress. Maybe he'll fuck you in his truck or in gas station bathrooms as the corpse of a man who wronged you rots in the truckbed. Maybe you'll get caught but at least you'll be together and at least your name will finally be known.

Not as the housekeeper girl, but Mrs Riley.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost/reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #cod x reader #cod mw2 #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod smut #orion writing

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himbosandhardwear · 27 days ago

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Steddie I Tiny Bit of Angst I idiot4idiot I First Kiss I 1.8k I SFW

“We're out of Mountain Dew,” Eddie yells into the living room.

“There's another case in the garage, I think,” Steve yells back, “I'll go look.”

Eddie slams the fridge shut. “No, don't get up, I've got it.”

“Quit being sweet on me!”

He's teasing, it's nothing, but Eddie's pulse jumps anyway, horrified that he's being obvious again. “I'm not sweet on you! I'm repaying my life debt!” Not the whole truth but not a lie either. Satisfied that he's dodged a bullet, he jogs to the garage, grabs the 12 pack from the moderately-wealthy-person's-modest-second-garage-fridge and drops it off at the ultra-wealthy-person's-expensive-and-shiny-main-fridge. He brings two back to the living room, gets ready to leap over the back of the couch so they can resume the movie, before he realizes Steve is MIA.

“You taking a shit?” He yells out.

Steve doesn't answer, which he supposes is answer enough. He resumes his roll over the back of the sofa, cracks his can open, chugs, and waits for Steve to return.

The TV is still paused on Kurt Russell’s rugged face. What a man. Eddie idly wonders what Steve would look like with a beard. He could sketch it out and then hide the evidence in one of his old D&D manuals.

Speaking of Steve…

“Yo, did you fall in?!” No response. “Hello?”

Okay, now it's getting weird. A chill runs down his neck.

Steve is fine. There's nothing to worry about. It's just weird he hasn't responded yet; the downstairs bathroom is ten feet away.

He jumps up, just to check for himself that Steve is okay. Which he is, because everything is fine.

The bathroom is empty…

“Okay, this isn't funny, asshole! You know I have trauma!”

No response to that either. What the fuck.

“Steve,” he yells up the stairs next, “seriously, dude, where are you?”

He takes them two at a time, because there's no good reason for Steve not to be yelling back. He pictures him being chewed on by a last remaining Demogorgon and preemptively starts planning his own sacrifice. Because if Steve is dead on Eddie's watch, killed while Eddie had his head in the garage fridge, he doesn't deserve that second chance at life.

“Hello?” He croaks down the hall. All of the doors are ajar, but that's not unusual. They're forever in and out of the various rooms; Steve into Eddie's, Eddie into Steve's, the both of them into his parents' empty room because they have the better bathroom.

Still nothing from Steve. It's getting ridiculous. He's not being eaten by a monster either, too quiet for that, so what the hell is going on?

He marches into Steve's room and finds it empty too. He almost continues on to Steve's en suite but he stops, notices the comforter on Steve's bed is missing, which is weird. A clue, maybe? He glances around, a look underneath, a peek around the side of the bed, but it's nowhere to be found.

He goes to call Steve's name again but then he hears something, like a sniffle.

The closet doors are shut but between them is a chunk of Steve's blanket, a tiny corner sticking out at the bottom.

Eddie tiptoes over and listens.

Yup. Another sniffle.

He parts the doors gently.

Steve throws the blanket over his head before Eddie can see him, only getting a quick peek at his knees before they disappear.

“Uhh, wha’cha doin’ in the closet, Stevie?”

He thought he'd said it soft enough to not scare him but when he immediately bursts into loudy, snotty tears underneath his blanket, Eddie can only assume he's fucked up anyway.

He crouches down. “Hey, I'm sorry, don't freak out, it's just me. C'mon, man, talk to me, what's going on? You're scaring me.”

“I'm fine,” Steve croaks.

“Yeah…clearly.”

The lump that is Steve groans and then falls over, landing on a pile of old shoes, which he doesn't seem to notice or care.

“I don't want to talk about it.”

Okay. Now that Eddie knows Steve is upset about something, he thinks back to what they were doing before they paused the movie. Which was nothing.

“You said you'd seen The Thing before.”

Steve sniffs. “I have. At Mike's fifteenth birthday.”

“Okay. So why are you freaking out about it now?”

“Why the fuck- Uhh. Yeah. The movie. Scared me real bad.”

Eddie frowns at The Lump. So it's not the movie. Something happened when Eddie got up. Think, think, think!

“The life debt thing?”

Steve doesn't respond. He does curl into a smaller ball, which seems like an answer in itself. What it means, he has no idea. Why would that leave Steve a sobbing mess? It's not like he can undo Steve saving his life! Of course he owes Steve everything!

“Please talk to me,” he begs softly. “I'm not good at this. I'm not Robin.”

He gets a scoff. “Robin is also not good at this.”

True. Just because she's a girl doesn't mean she comes equipped to handle emotional outbursts. She's more of a ‘pat, pat, there, there' kinda gal.

“Would you tell her what was wrong?”

“Yes,” Steve admits after a short pause.

“Would you like me to go get her?”

“No,” he says, barely above a whisper. “But you don't have to stay in here with me. You can finish the movie if you want. I'll be okay.”

“Steve,” he pats what he hopes is Steve's shoulder, “I might not be good at this emotional vulnerability shit but even I know you don't leave your friends crying on the floor of their closet.”

Since he's touching Steve, he can feel the short, hitching breaths he's taking, trying so hard not to be heard.

“I'm fine. I'll be fine,” Steve tries to convince him, “I just need a bit to get over myself. Like a week or…six.”

“Over what?”

He sniffles some more. “Nothing.”

“I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong, dude.” To prove his point he shuffles fully into the closet and pulls the doors shut behind him. “There. Our closet breakdown.”

Steve groans, tries giving Eddie a little kick but his feet are trapped inside the comforter, so it feels more like a nudge.

“I'll be over here by this pile of old basketball jerseys when you feel like talking. Number twenty-one? Is that lucky?”

“This is so stupid,” Steve mumbles.

“Hey, you're in charge of this rodeo, just tell me what's wrong and we can mosey on out of here.”

“You sound like Wayne when you say shit like that.”

“Well, he did half raise me. Tell me what's wrong.”

“No.”

“So you don't trust me?” He says just to be an asshole, to get some kind of reaction. “We're not that good of friends I guess.”

That gets him a reaction alright, just not the one he wants. Instead of getting pissed, Steve somehow curls even tighter, near silent sobs emanating from The Lump.

All of this had had a sort of surreal, humorous quality before, finding Steve having a nervous breakdown on the floor like a toddler told to go to bed, but it's getting less cute now.

Eddie gets up and lays the opposite way, head down near Steve's. He wants to bundle Steve up and rock him like a baby, but it doesn't seem like Steve wants that. “If I'm really hurting you…if this is my fault and you want me to go, I'll go, but I don't want to. I want to fix this. What do you want me to do?”

He's quiet. Not actively crying at least. After a long stretch, he mumbles, “Is that what you've been doing this whole time? Trying to fix things? Doing what you think I want because you think you owe me?”

Okay, now they're getting somewhere.

“I do owe you, Stevie, but that's not why… That's not why.”

“Then why?”

He swallows. “Because you deserve more than you get.” There. That's fine. That's platonic and still vulnerable and absolutely true.

“And that's it?”

What the fuck does he say to that? ‘No, actually, I want to treat you like the god damned royalty that you are, not in the fake high school sense, but in the way that knights willingly followed Kings onto the battlefield?’

“What do you mean?” He asks instead, like the coward he is.

“I mean… You close all the curtains in the house when you notice I've got a migraine. You learned to play my favorite songs even though you think they're mediocre. You corral the kids when they get out of hand and start being mean to me. You invite me to family dinner at Wayne and Gail’s. We live together and make breakfast together and spend all of our time together and I guess that's just because we're friends. That's what friends do. We're just friends.” He's worked himself into a fit again.

Eddie can do nothing but stare at the blanket lump and try not to panic. Either Steve has been onto him for months and has finally had enough or…

“Stevie? Why are you crying in the closet?”

“Don't make me say it.”

He chokes on his own sob, months of being good, keeping it tucked away and out of sight, welling up in his chest and in his eyes.

He finds the end of the blanket and pulls until he can crawl underneath too, finding Steve with his head turned away, like he's still trying to hide. Eddie slides both hands onto the sides of his face and turns him away from the floor. He blinks at Eddie, looking every bit like a tragic Prince in a fairytale. Or a baby cow.

“Please,” he begs, voice breaking, “tell me why you're sad.”

Steve studies Eddie, eye roaming over the tear tracks Eddie can't stop, over his trembling lip, the blush that must be painting his cheeks. He's going out on a real limb here, betting it all, but Steve doesn't leave him hanging for long.

“I thought you were sweet on me.”

Eddie coughs out a relieved a laugh. “I am, baby. I'm so sweet on you.”

Steve's face could outshine the fourth of July. “Yeah?”

“Are you kidding? You think I'd crawl back into the closet for just anyone?”

“Oh my god,” he groans, head falling to land on Eddie's shoulder.

“Hey,” he nudges softly, “whaddya say we come out of the closet together?”

“Why do I like you so much?”

“Aww, you sweet on me, Stevie?”

Instead of answering, he throws back the blanket, bringing fresh air, and then Steve basically knocks Eddie into the door, spilling them out onto the floor of his room. He crawls on top of Eddie, pinning him down with all of his jock glory.

"I am so sweet on you."

And then he kisses Eddie. Kisses him like he's been thinking about it just as long as Eddie has, which is a real bitch of a realization. Months they could've been doing this.

He's got two handfuls of jean covered ass when Steve pulls back far enough to whisper, “We have to make up something else to tell Robin. She can't know it happened like this, I'll never live it down.”

"Let me touch your dick and I'll tell her whatever you want. You fought off a bear in the backyard and I was overcome with desire."

"Deal."

#steddie #a real closet case #lol #ficlet #my writing

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avelera · 26 days ago

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So apparently, Fortiche shared concept art where Jayce's Hexcorization in the cave would extend all the way to his face:

And this is really interesting to me from a narrative perspective, here's why:

Much of S2 Jayce's arc is incredibly... punitive. Like, he is really being punished step by step for everything he did wrong in S1. From Renni terrorizing and almost killing him for the death of her son, to Viktor leaving him "for another woman" (the Hexcore as represented by Sky) much like Jayce left him for politics as represented by Mel, there's really a sense of the narrative not only tearing Jayce down to his bare essentials (something that's very common for TV writing to do, by the way, it's very common that you want to see characters reduced down to who they are for their "long night of the soul" moment before they learn the lessons of what they really stand for before going into the climax armed with those lessons), but Jayce's time in the cave really goes even further than that and not only does S2 take away his political career, his Hextech ambitions, his state as someone able-bodied, much of his strength, and certain other gifts, it looks like in this draft they considered taking away his beauty too.

I think it would have been interesting either way if they had, but I want to dive into the narrative structure of action and punishment in Arcane, why Hexcorizing Jayce's face might have been a step too far and not really addressed a lesson he needed to learn, and my thoughts on punitive character arcs in general in Arcane (or lack thereof), specifically with regards to Jayce and Caitlyn.

I've mentioned elsewhere that I always found it interesting that much of the hate directed towards Jayce by the fans was for his perceived incompetence in difficult moments, rather than at how naturally gifted he seems to be at everything.

When I first watched S1 on my own, I thought Jayce was a bit unbearable because everything comes so easily to him (after Viktor becomes his partner and Hextech takes off as a result, that is). He is naturally beautiful, he's built like a god but doesn't appear to do any sort of exercise routine to maintain this other than working in the forge, he becomes the Man of Progress and rockstar of Piltover pretty much without trying, girls are literally sighing dreamily as he goes by.

He's also naturally a genius, from what we see, revolutionizing multiple industries with one invention. Even his rescue as a child is a literal miracle and it spurs him to create an invention that makes him a rockstar. When he enters politics, he immediately dominates, to the point where he's able to get a unanimous vote to overthrow the founder of the city within weeks of going there. Even in battle he's naturally gifted and naturally lucky during the raid of the Shimmer factory (up until the death of Renni's son), even though he has no prior skills as far as we know. He also wins the love of arguably the most beautiful woman in the series, again, seemingly without trying.

Then, S2 doesn't just take all of this away from him, it seems to go a step further into actually punishing Jayce for how easy and miraculous his life was in S1.

I'm of two minds about the Hexcorization reaching his face, but I have a hypothesis. I think it would have looked fucking rad but, I kinda get why they didn't do it:

Because Jayce's good looks are not something he can control, unlike the other things the narrative punishes him for.

Insofar as he can control his looks, he gives up on the clean-cut, immaculate "Golden Boy" image. Even in the idealized astral plane, he keeps most of the marks of his time in the pit like his hair and beard. I think it's because Jayce likes who he became down there. The clean-cut version of him was always the mask of him trying to please others, Jayce's appearance after he emerges from the cave is him shedding the opinions of others (contrast this with how Viktor idealizes himself in the astral plane, removing all marks of his illness. This isn't a criticism, just an interesting point of contrast).

So basically, my theory is Fortiche may have pulled back on Hexcorizing Jayce's face on the one hand to soften the visuals a bit, but secondly because it keeps the focus on punishing Jayce for things he chose to do, rather than things he doesn't really have control over.

But make no mistake, the narrative comes down hard on Jayce in S2, for every little thing the fans could and often did hate him for in S1. He pays for all of them, arguably in excess of what he maybe deserved, since as he says he didn't ask for any of this. But he did go along with it, and there's where the hammer of consequence (quite literally) comes down on him, tears away all his privileges, drags him down to literally the level of Viktor when he first left the undercity and says, "You have to do it all again but now focused on what really matters, and it's going to be ten times harder than it ever was."

This, in my opinion, is why Jayce is so popular coming out of S2. It is a hell of an arc, it's a hell of a redemption! You gave the man everything any man could want, then you took it all away, and then as his crowning moment of showing he has truly learned these lessons and made up for his mistakes, he makes possibly the most loving gesture possible, puts his weapons down, and reaches out to the person he loves most and literally sacrifices himself on the altar of his mistakes to make things right and show Viktor he is loved, and to protect Viktor from the horrifically lonely fate of his future self. It doesn't get any more noble, loving, or self-sacrificing than that.

Because more than we like to see a character punished we like to see them learn from their mistakes and come back better. Jayce's S2 nobility is earned, perhaps even to excess, no one can question whether he suffered enough to make up for what he did in S1 but even the most uncharitable read of him in S1, his biggest hater, would have to agree his time spent starving to death in agony, alone in that cave for months, has got to be just about the worst punishment a human can face and live.

Which is one reason I must add that I find it a little puzzling that Arcane's creators didn't predict the hate that Caitlyn would get in S2.

Keep in mind, because this is very important, the Arcane creators did not make S2 in response to fan reactions to S1. S2 was already in production and the script was locked in and done before anyone outside their organizations saw S1. So nothing that happens in S2 is as a result of fan response.

But, the creators did understand that Jayce was going to need to suffer narrative punishment for what he did in S1 in order to be redeemed, whether they predicted how hated he would be after S1, they did predict that redemption would be necessary. And boy-howdy, did they give him a hell of a redemption arc!

But Caitlyn's S2 actions are almost in lock-step similar to Jayce's S1 actions, being manipulated (by a Medarda!) into accepting power, but maybe not having a choice in the matter, but still maybe expanding that power on their own because it is useful in its own right. Caitlyn also makes terrible mistakes. A child doesn't die but people in the undercity do get hurt during her rage-fuled raids, even if most of them are mob bosses and their goons. The narrative asks, does that make it right? Caitlyn like Jayce hurts the person closest to her who is from the undercity and uses bigoted language against the people of the undercity to Vi's face in much the same way that Jayce did to Viktor on the bridge, though in Jayce's defense, he apologized immediately after.

So, seeing how hated Jayce was coming out of S1, to the point where there's still barely any merchandise of him, I'm shaking my head rather ruefully that there was so much merch made for Caitlyn this time around. And I get it! Caitlyn and Vi were very popular after S1, they are intentionally THE main romance of the show and it was a very popular romance coming out of the innocence of their meet cute in S1.

But it's a romance that dearly needed a longer third act if you wanted Caitlyn to be as embraced after her mistakes as Jayce was after making up for his all through S2. You need to give her as long or at least as in-depth of a redemption act with as much suffering and acknowledgment of her mistakes if you want Vi and Caitlyn at the end to get celebrated the way Jayce making it up to Viktor is, because as much as I understand the choice to focus on pacing instead of exposition, and I do think Caitlyn's apology and realization of her mistakes are there on the page more than people complain, I do also agree that it is a bit "blink and you'll miss it" even if it's there. Jayce got a whole episode of being thrown into the Torment Nexus for his mistakes, real or imagined, if you didn't like him or his choices, you definitely got the sadistic glee of watching life kick the stuffing out of him for what he did in S1.

But besides her fight with Ambessa, which was a result of a confluence of many events in the story, not just Caitlyn's mistakes, Caitlyn doesn't really suffer much for the mistakes she made to those she loves. Her losing an eye to Ambessa didn't happen because she said bigoted things to Vi or became a short-term puppet dictator of Piltover. It was a result of Ambessa's actions and maneuvering more than it was a result of Caitlyn's personal mistakes to her loved ones.

In contrast, Jayce's time in the pit gave him the chance to reflect on and suffer for the the mistakes he made that led to the Anomaly that led to him being down in this pit, and what he would do to make it up to his loved ones like Viktor when he returned. Caitlyn never got a moment like that and from what I'm seeing of the vitriol directed towards her, so similar to what Jayce got after S1, it seems like she really needed it if we were going to like her to the same extent again, in a way uncomplicated by lingering questions about whether she ever truly learned the lessons her character needed to learn to grow as a person.

And it's just funny to me that a narrative that was so aware that this whole huge punishment arc was needed to rehabilitate Jayce wasn't aware that we'd need one for Caitlyn too, at least if they're going to move all that merch they made for her (please give us Jayce merch, Riot, I'm begging).

#arcane #arcane meta #jayce talis #caitlyn kiramman #caitvi #jayvik

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pullupinarari · 4 months ago

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At the right time [LH]

author's note: this is the beginning of the dad!Lewis AU that I've been thinking about writing for so long 🤧 thank you so much to the anon that requested this! I changed some bits, hope you don't mind! Enjoy it, mwah

• masterlist

wc: 4090 - english is not my first language! feedback is always appreciated

“Shitty day at work, want to go have dinner out? I need to unwind a bit” - your phone screen lights up with a text from your husband, making you gasp as your attention is focused on a completely different thing.

The test in your hands is making your heart pound, your body is shaking while tears are slowly sliding through your cheeks. Two lines. Two, bright red lines that had just changed your entire future in a matter of minutes. A smile shows up on your face - the kind that you can’t control. You and Lewis have been talking about having babies for some time now, and you know that becoming a dad is Lewis’ biggest dream. You know it’s a spot in his life that he has yet to fulfill, having conquered everything in his career - and your family still has that chapter missing in the book.

And now, everything makes sense. The way your stomach has been acting weird, especially in the mornings, how you have been craving more food than you usually do. It’s like the puzzle fits now, the answer for your weird behaviors being right in front of you.

Lewis makes you feel safe, loved, protected - he’s responsible for making you believe in love again, after feeling discouraged for so long, before meeting him. He’s dedicated, gentle, loving, understanding. He could give you the entire world, but he chose to give you his heart, in its entirety - and that’s even bigger than the world. Whenever he looks at you, you feel seen, truly seen. He sees you for what you truly are, he sees your constellations, the ones that live inside of you. He sees your happiness, your fears, your anxieties, and he manages to reach them all with his warmth, his touch, the sparkle in his eyes talking to your emotions.

You know Lewis will be the best father that this baby could ever dream of. And that’s what makes this moment feel so right and so special: you finally found the right person, the one that will be there for your baby no matter what, the one who is going to act like a real father.

Your smile grows wider at the thought of breaking the news to your husband, so you quickly text him, agreeing on having dinner out - thinking of it as the perfect excuse to go out and celebrate once you tell him the news.

Looking at yourself in the mirror while you’re getting ready, you notice a different sparkle in your eyes already. You choose a simple, nice dress that you know that Lewis loves to see you in, but your mind can’t stop imagining how your belly will grow in the next couple of months.

Lewis appears behind you, startling you - he almost caught you with your hand on your stomach, but you managed to cover your movement, making it seem like you were just adjusting your dress.

“You look gorgeous, darling” - his voice feels warm against your neck, where he lands a kiss while he hugs you from behind, framing your body effortlessly.

You absently drown in his touch, gluing your bodies together even more. You turn your face to him, capturing his lips in a loving kiss. “Hard day at work, huh?” - you question, noticing the frown on his face - he clearly doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Everything just got better now that I have you in my arms. It’s a power that you have” - he gives you a gentle smile, realizing how badly he was in need to feel your touch as well. Your hand caresses his beard and cheek, and you notice how he melts on your skin, his eyes closing for a second while he breathes heavily, trying to let go of the tension surrounding his body.

“We can stay home and order something, if you’d like. You seem tired, love” - you point out, your soft words contrasting with the heavy cloud hovering on his head.

He just shakes his head slightly, taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. “No, baby. Let’s go and have some fun” - he tries his best to assure you that he is fine, trying to get his mind off all the problems happening at work, for a couple of hours.

And so you do, you decide to go to your favorite Italian restaurant. You look at the menu, and you already know what your favorite dishes are. Lewis can already guess what you’re going to order - spaghetti al nero, your ultimate favorite from this place, the dish that you never grow tired of.

“I am going to have this dish… a risotto with mushrooms? Please” - you ask the waiter, and Lewis can’t help but look up, with furrowed eyebrows and a confused look on his face.

“I’ll have the penne arrabiatta, please” - he orders, thanking the waiter as he distances himself from your table. “Baby, are you okay? Why did you order that? You hate mushrooms” - Lewis asks you, the question mark in his face looking evident now.

Your face turns into a compromised look, your brain realizing that you, indeed, hate mushrooms, but you can’t help the cravings pooling in your stomach. Your mouth is salivating at the thought of having the dish in front of you, making you feel like you can’t wait much longer to eat.

“I want to try it! I am giving other foods a chance, see if I can improve my taste buds” - you say, noticing how Lewis looks at you with a raised brow now, not understanding a word of what you’re saying, but he still lets you have it your way.

Your food finally arrives, and you can’t help but inspect your dish. It’s like the mushrooms stand out in the middle of the risotto, shadowing the rest of the food on the plate. Meanwhile, you take a look at your husband’s plate - looking way more delicious than yours.

“Humm, looks so tasty” - Lewis says ironically while he studies your reaction, how your face is closed in a slightly disgusted expression, how your body froze once your eyes landed on the dish in front of you. He giggles to himself, already knowing that you won’t be able to eat all your food.

You give him a look, tasting your dish. The risotto tastes good, but you can’t control your facial expressions when you get to taste a mushroom. It lingers in your mouth while you try to avoid it, not wanting to chew on it - but you do. Your face wrinkles at the taste, you definitely don’t enjoy it, but your stomach wants it, and your body is fighting an internal battle with the mixture of emotions that you’re feeling now.

Lewis watches you attentively, widening his eyes while he waits for you to finally eat the damn mushroom that’s been sitting in your mouth for too long now. You need to make an extra effort to swallow it, and the man in front of you is now feeling sorry for you.

“Baby, my love, light of my life - can you explain to me why the hell you’re doing this to yourself?” - he says with an amused expression, he can’t deny that the show that the facial expressions you are giving him is very entertaining.

You sigh, not wanting to break the news to him in a restaurant full of people. This is your special moment, it belongs to just the two of you, so you hold the words inside of you.

“I just wanted to give it a try. I wanted to have some risotto and I thought it would be a good idea to act like an adult and actually eat the mushrooms” - a frown paints your face now, as you try and push yourself to eat another one, even while feeling like you could throw up anytime now.

“Okay, this is enough” - Lewis says as he takes the plate away from you. “Let’s just order you some food that you actually enjoy, okay?” - he suggests, his hand searching for yours across the table, caressing your knuckles as he reads the disappointed expression on your face now.

You sigh again, shrugging your shoulders, like you don’t know what to do. “But I will have to wait, and I’m so hungry” - you say quietly, feeling slightly embarrassed by your choices now.

Lewis nods his head, agreeing with you. His hands move his own plate to the center of the table, smiling at you while he pushes his chair a little more so he can reach the dish in its new place. You send him a puzzled look in response, but he just signals you to move yourself a little closer to the food as well.

“Come on love, let’s have dinner. I don’t want you to starve and I know you like what I ordered, so please, take a bite. I promise you it’s delicious” - the adorable expression on his face, alongside his soft words, the way his eyes shine as he found a solution to help you, could almost make you cry now. You truly are so lucky to have him.

The way your bodies are so close to the table now, how you share the pasta with love plastered all over your faces, could make anyone wish they were fortunate enough to have what you two have. It’s the way you look at each other, leaning on your elbows so your faces grow closer, adoration and devotion emanating from your bodies, creating a bubble of love around you two, like there’s no one else in the world, at this moment. You eat in silence, letting a few giggles and smiles escape your lips as your eyes speak for both of you now.

“I love you so much” - Lewis says as he holds your hand gently, his fingers caressing yours after you finish your dinner now.

“I love you even more. You even shared your dish with me” - you note with a small laugh, wishing you could stay in this moment forever.

“Oh, please. I would rather be the one not eating just for you to have the food, my love. I share my life with you, why the hell wouldn’t I share dinner with my beautiful wife?” - he grins, kissing your hand softly. He is feeling softer, his body is melting at the way you seem to warm his heart every time he is in need of it. He just wants to hold you, kiss you, cuddle you, his eyes can’t stop shining at the sight of you, at the realization that he is, indeed, the luckiest man on the planet for having you.

“I’ll just go to the bathroom before we leave, okay? I think we need some cuddle time on the sofa” - you let him know, while he nods his head at your suggestion - it’s like you could read his mind.

Lewis’ eyes follow your silhouette on your way to the bathroom, a smile resting on his face while he feels your loving aura still lingering in the air - it’s like you’re a poem, one that remains in his mind after he read it, feeling it running through his veins as he grew obsessed with it, like a loving set of words that he remembers every single day when he sees you.

All your good parts, all the flaws, the adventures you explore together, each moment forms a different chapter in the pages of your life. And he can’t stop thanking God, life, destiny, for putting him in your way, for allowing him to be part of your story, to write a couple of poems by your side. You are the book that he wants to read every single day, for the rest of his life, and he could never get tired of it.

After a second, Lewis notices another guy completely checking you out as you pass by him, and his eyebrows furrow when he notices the dude changing his position at the bar, like he’s ready to meet you once you step outside - and the calm bubble that once surrounded yours and his mind, bursts.

His instinct kicks in, immediately getting up from his seat at the table to pay for your dishes. He then positions his body near the bathroom exit, in a way that it would make it harder for the other guy to reach you once you show up.

He is just tired, exhausted really, and he can’t help but feel some jealousy creeping through his body at the way other dudes check you out. You truly are the most gorgeous woman he has ever laid his eyes on, and he understands that other guys notice your beauty. Any other day, it would boost his ego, knowing that you are his, he is the lucky one that gets to be married to you. But tonight, he just wants to go home, he wants to have you all to his eyes only - he can’t stop his possessive trait to show now.

You leave the bathroom, facing Lewis as soon as you step out, surprised by the way he is at the door - expecting to find him still at your table. “Someone is eager for that cuddle session, I see” - you giggle, wrapping your body around his arm, but frowning when you notice how stiff his body feels now and how silent he goes.

“What’s wrong, baby?” - you ask him, wondering what could’ve happened to make his mood backtrack so much in just a few minutes.

He sighs, holding the door for you to walk out the restaurant. “Let’s just go home, please. I am not in the mood for this” - he answers, as both of you enter the car now.

You look at him attentively while you notice the way his face fell so quickly, how he seems to be feeling discouraged and upset again.

“Lew… talk to me, baby. I’m here for you” - your hand finds his, nestling it on your lap as your fingers gently caress his knuckles. You turn your body to him, using your left hand to gently touch his cheek.

The way you touch his skin so lightly, so softly, makes his head lean on your hand instinctively, his body searching for more comfort, for your warmth.

“I got jealous because of this dude checking you out when you left the table. But I am so exhausted, I don’t even have the strength to deal with my own feelings right now, so I just wanted to leave as soon as possible. I don’t want to feed those stupid emotions, I already have my mind full of problems and concerns” - he admits, his eyes looking smaller in his face, due to the tiredness enduring in his body.

You nod your head, understanding his words. You make sure to keep comforting his body, loving the way he seems to relax when he feels your touch. “Baby, you know you don’t have to worry about any of that. I don’t care about any guys looking at me and you know it. I chose you, I married you, and I would choose you every single time. You’re the only one I want, silly” - you tell him with a giggle, your finger carefully bopping the tip of his nose, making him smile softly.

He knows about all that - of course he does. But it’s the way he hears it coming from you, it’s your words that are comforting him, the way you are always by his side when he is feeling down and doubtful, like his safety net - always ready to hold him and to make him feel safe in a heartbeat.

Now, it’s just you and him in the car - still parked in front of the restaurant, Lewis not having the will to drive just yet while he is venting about the way his mind feels so chaotic now. But you’re enjoying it: the silence, the way the moon reflects on the windows, letting some light in so you can see each other’s features. Your legs are now resting on his lap - a way he found to bring your body closer to his, wanting to feel you more, to draw patterns on your skin while your fingers still move on his features lovingly.

There it is: your safe place again, your bubble of love and protection, the calm surrounding you while all the chaos stays outside - like it can’t reach you and your husband when you are together. And you feel like you could burst right here, right now, knowing you still have such an important surprise to tell him. Your heart is beating out of your chest, you try to take subtle deep breaths, but you realize that there’s no point in waiting until you two get home - not when you feel so comfortable and at peace in this moment.

“And I also think that you shouldn’t focus on that, right now. We have something bigger to worry about from now on” - you tell him quietly, while you try to suppress the huge smile threatening to form on your face.

Lewis closes his eyes at your words, sighing. “You’re right. This season hasn’t been going well at all, and we still don’t know how things are going to go next year-” - he starts rambling, his mind immediately going back to all his problems at work, not even realizing that you’re trying to hint something now.

“No” - you say between giggles, catching his attention. “Love, I am pregnant” - you tell him while your hand caresses your stomach gently, some tears appearing in your eyes already.

Lewis stays silent for a second, his mouth agape at what he just heard. “Wh- What? Pregnant? Really, baby?” - his voice is quiet and low, he feels his vision getting blurry as well now as he turns his entire body to you, facing you completely and inspecting your body, his eyes gluing themselves to your belly immediately.

You just nod your head, letting the tears slide through your cheeks as Lewis reaches for you, hugging you tightly while he moves your body gently so you can sit on his lap now. It’s the way he holds you, breathing heavily as he lets his own tears fall free as well.

“You’re going to be a daddy, my love. The best dad ever” - you confirm, smiling wide at him, while the crying matches both of you.

“I am going to be a dad. Oh my God, I am going to be a dad! This is the best news ever” - the man hides his face on your neck as he keeps crying silently, his own hand caressing your stomach instinctively now. Your hand caresses his scalp, the effervescent feeling of happiness surrounding both of you now seems never ending.

“I love you so much, my love. I love you, I love you. Thank you, I don’t even know what to say. I’m so happy, baby. We are going to be parents!” - he captures your lips in a passionate kiss, one of his hands holding your cheek, but the other one never leaving your belly now.

You just giggle at his words, seeing how his eyes are shining so brightly now. Even if it’s dark inside the car right now, you can still see it - the feeling of realization, of pure love, happiness. The way his wide smile is making his eyes look small because he can’t stop the excitement that’s running through his veins now - forgetting about all the problems that were surrounding his mind just a few minutes ago.

“I found out this morning. The test says I’m 5 weeks pregnant, but I’m booking a doctor’s appointment to make sure” - you let him know while your fingers wipe the tears from your face, calming down now.

“5 weeks?!” - his eyes widen as he sniffles a bit. “That’s why you’ve been acting weird, right? Your stomach has been feeling off, that weird thing with mushrooms just now…” - Lewis starts connecting the dots.

You nod your head again, a laugh escaping your lips. “Yeah” - you don’t even want to think about the mushrooms again, feeling nauseous just by the thought of it.

“Jesus darling, that was so painful to watch” - he is the one erupting in laughter now, but a few seconds after, he is paying attention to your stomach.

“Hey, little bean. It’s daddy” - Lewis smiles to himself as he talks to your belly now, something that he couldn’t imagine that would be happening now. “You need to stop making mommy eat food that she doesn’t like, please. I can tell you that her silly faces are fun to watch, but please try to avoid it, alright? So she won’t get mad at both of us” - his giggles echo through the car, making you laugh as well.

“No, but for real, now. I am going to do everything in my power to take care of both of you, to protect you and to make sure you have everything that you need” - his eyes focus on yours for a moment, in a promise of love - of forever, a promise that he will never fail.

And you know it. And this is why you know that Lewis will be the best dad you could ever ask for your baby. Because he’s attentive, caring, dedicated - and he has been dreaming of becoming a dad for years now, waiting for the right person, the right time.

If you were going to ask him, he might think that this wasn’t the ideal time - considering all the chaos he’s been living through at work. But everything happens for a reason, and he has no doubts that this baby is coming into your lives at the right time, to light up his world, his days, to give him another reason to continue, even when he feels down. Another reason to rise.

And that night, when you lay next to each other, he hugs you close, and the way you smile at each other, shyly, lovingly, says everything to the both of you - he has never been more sure that he will forever be in love with you. His hands wrap around your belly gently when he spoons your figure, breathing in your hair - his favorite scent ever, immediately associating it with you, everywhere he is.

You are his home, and you have been for the past however many years. But now, you are also the home of your baby, and Lewis is so grateful that he chose you - to be his wife, and the mother of his babies. He is proud to make all his dreams come true by your side.

“Goodnight, my loves. I love both of you so much” - he whispers in your ear, leaving small kisses on your cheek, neck and shoulder while his hands caress your belly - even if it doesn’t look like a baby is inside there yet. But you and Lewis know there is, and that’s enough to make your hearts warm.

His arms are the place where you feel the safest. He is the one that calms your heartbeat, that quiets down all your fears and worries - just like how you do for him. He is the one that completes you, the pillar of your family.

Poetry is not on the streets, poetry is not in life. Poetry is in your eyes, in the way you see things, in the way you feel everything around you. And there couldn’t be a better poem than the sight of the love of your life wrapped around you, his hands touching your belly, dreaming about your baby already.

The most beautiful poem, carefully written and planned by all the gods standing in the roman coliseum, taking them centuries to finish their best work - him. And how grateful you are for being able to have him all to yourself, to call him your husband and now, father of your baby. Raising a family by his side truly is the most beautiful chapter that you could write together, and you have no doubts about it.

Now you just have to be patient, in need to calm your racing heart at the thought of wanting to know everything about your child already, of holding your baby in your arms. Now, everything seems a bit confusing, a thousand questions and fears popping in your brain. But you’re sure of one thing: love will never fail your baby - he is already so, so loved. And the journey is just about to start.

#dad!Lewis #dad!lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton oneshot #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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naileadevoras · 3 months ago

Text

another week , another gift ! today i'm sharing a list of secrets that i've compiled over the years of being in the rpc .

under the cut , there are 70+ secrets that i have individually grouped into different categories to make it easier for you to browse through the extensive list . although not all of them focus on dark & mature topics , keep in mind that a handful of these still have certain trigger warnings so please proceed with caution . hopefully you find this masterlist helpful .

a like and reblog would be greatly appreciated ! enjoy ♡

🔐 DECEPTION & LYING .

pretending to be vegan for attention.

assumed someone else's identity.

pretending to be in university when they've actually been kicked out.

lies about having certain allergies for attention.

fakes their instagram posts to appear more interesting.

has lied about the number of people they've slept with.

has changed their identity to run away from their past.

is faking their name / ethnicity / age / backstory etc.

is hiding a physical / mental illness.

is pretending to be color blind to seem more interesting.

has gone to random funerals for the free food & lies about their relationship with the deceased.

🔐 FAME & BEAUTY .

has had extensive plastic surgery but lies about it.

uses ghost writers for their songs.

has a secret love child with their co-star.

is dating their significant other for publicity.

is a social climber.

becomes friends with celebrities to rob their homes.

runs a blog with dirt on socialites & celebrities.

causes scandals to gain relevance.

🔐 FAMILY & FRIENDSHIP .

comes from a wealthy family but pretends to be broke.

has given their child up for adoption.

knows they aren’t the real biological father of their child but pretends they are.

knows that their parent is a murderer but hasn't told the police.

pretends to come from a wealthy family but their parents are actually drug addicts.

tells their friends they're an only child when they actually have siblings.

has been forced to participate in frowned upon things by their parents / friends.

caught one parent having an affair with the same sex but hasn't told the other parent yet.

gave up their newborn & their friend / parent / sibling is raising the baby as their own.

as a kid, saw their mother shoot their father but hasn't told anyone.

pretended to be pregnant but had a surrogate carry their child.

went into their friends house after they died & stole a bunch of their things.

🔐 LOVE & LOSS .

uses hook up apps for attention but never meets up with their matches.

has catfished someone they liked / didn't like.

is using their significant other as a "beard".

only dates people that are famous and wealthy.

they are still not over their ex.

uses an ouija board to communicate with the dead.

is currently cheating on their significant other.

is currently cheating on their significant other with their best friend.

has kept all major secrets from their significant other in fear that they would leave them.

has helped their significant other bury a body.

🔐 MURDER & CRIMES .

has cried to get out of a speeding ticket.

has bought a stolen cellphone & keeps getting calls from the owner.

is a kleptomaniac.

has seen a sibling / friend commit murder but is too scared to rat them out.

commits tax fraud.

has broken out of prison.

is a stalker / has a stalker.

has a side job where they do illegal businesses.

has a restraining order against someone.

has past criminal offenses e.g. public intoxication , underage drinking , dui , drug possession , scamming , vandalism , etc.

steals valuable items & sells them on the black market.

thinks they've committed a crime even when they didn't.

has had to clean their dead friends belongings & found out they were a serial killer.

steals from grocery stores all the time.

is withholding information about a police case.

they've gone to jail for a crime their friend / family member committed.

🔐 POWER & MONEY .

spends all their money on designer clothes but lives in a run down apartment.

dates & marries people for their money.

has gambled their entire life savings away.

used their power & money to hire a hitman for the person they hate.

has embezzled a few million dollars.

hires random people to be their friends.

their father is the leader of the largest criminal organization in their area.

🔐 SEX & DRUGS .

is a masochist.

used to be a porn star.

has depended on drugs for years.

has a drug / sex / alcohol addiction.

has participated in a "glory hole" multiple times.

has had parents try & hire a hooker for them when the parents found out they were asexual.

participated in the casting couch.

goes to aa / na meetings to make friends even though they're not addicted to drugs or alcohol.

has hooked up with more than 100 people in less than 24 hours.

hired a prostitute to lose their virginity to.

runs a very popular faceless nsfw blog.

pretends to have sex all the time but is actually a virgin.

#indie rp #rpt #rph #secrets masterlist #masterlist #rpc #rp help #mine

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dear-satan · 2 months ago

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Can you do more Resident Evil x reader plsss

I hope you like this <3 ( I'm so, so sorry I'm replying so late!! )

Tinder

ID!Leon Kennedy x Reader

★ word count: 11k

★ CW: smut, age gap (early 20s reader, Leon late 30s), oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, cum on the reader's thigh, cock warming or not, love marks

★ author's note: hello everyone, i'm alive! sorry for not posting anything for a very long time.. well, i was suffering from a terrible artblock? i think that's what it's called.. i'm very, very sorry for that! i'll try to post for you as often as possible, especially since i've been thinking about a few new characters.. but you'll see that in time! enjoy reading <3

Tinder - an ordinary dating app, designed to help people in interpersonal contacts. In fact it was. It has been known for a long time that people through the screen of a phone or laptop were much, much bolder than when talking face to face. Because what guy starts the conversation by sending a picture of his dick, shamelessly asks for a picture of tits or offers a blowjob at the back of his car? It was really, really disgusting.

But for some reason, tinder ended up on your home screen.

Creating an account was very simple. Just like choosing the right photos and creating a good description. However, the stairs began when you had to choose the age group of a potential partner.

You bit your lip. The 30+ option seemed really tempting but for some reason strangely immoral. You were a student and your previous relationships were with boys your age or a year or two older. To be honest, you were bored with it. You were bored being their second mother. You needed someone to take care of you. You and your needs. Who will provide care and call you his good, little girl.

Create an account.

The first few days really surprised you, really. You've never seen so many dicks in your life and learned new, rather strange terms for your pussy. But after a week, a profile appeared in your inbox that caught your attention.

His name was Leon and his profile was almost empty - a short description and two photos, of which only one showed his face and figure. He was handsome, really handsome - medium length, brown hair with a parting on the right. The bangs fell on one side of his face, covering his wild but deep look. Jaw, nicely outlined with a slight beard. His muscular stature made you shiver and his mind began to imagine what he looked like without clothes.

Be my pretty girl.

You wrote almost every day, nothing perverted. He asked how was your day at the university, how you were feeling, if you had dinner. He was nice, just like that. Sometimes he sent photos of him sitting in his apartment, with a glass of whiskey or in some expensive restaurant that you could never afford. You also sent photos - when you were sitting at lectures or drinking coffee during your lunch break. At some point, you moved from the application to SMS, it was much more convenient. A month passed until he finally offered a face-to-face meeting.

The cafe was quite a trite place but it didn't bother you. You dressed in the prettiest clothes you had in the closet, you did delicate makeup. You looked really pretty - a young girl going to her big man. It was so perverted.. But how exciting.

The cafe he chose was expensive from just looking at it. You pushed the door uncertainly and started looking around the premises in search of Leon. And you found him.

He sat at a small table at the other end of the room. The navy blue shirt perfectly covered his muscles at the sight of which saliva gathered in your mouth.

"Fuck, behave normal." you scolded in your mind, taking the first steps towards him. He was handsome, really handsome. "Hey" you greeted shyly, stopping next to the table "Um, Leon.. Right?”

His blue irises met yours and oh god.. They were the most beautiful eyes you've ever looked into.

"Hey" his smile was even more beautiful. "You look beautiful" pointed to the place opposite him that you obediently took.

"Thank you, you too.. I mean, you look beautiful too.. I mean, you look really hot." what? Your cheeks were burning with live fire. Since when do you talk such nonsense? "I... I'm sorry, d-don't want-"

"Hey hey, calm down." he laughed "It's okay, thank you." the tone of his voice acted strangely on you, as if soothing. "I ordered coffee, caramel cappuccino, right?"

“Yeah” you nodded. You didn't think he would remember.

At first, the conversation didn't really stick, mainly because of your shyness, but it passed. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours. You didn't even notice how it was slowly getting dark outside. Only when the waitress came to inform you about the approaching closing time did you realize how long you had been talking.

Leon offered to escort you. It was cold outside, so he threw his leather jacket on your shoulders. It smelled so good, fresh perfume combined with the scent of deodorant and a slight smell of tobacco. This mixture created a deadly smell that caused your brain to turn off at his words.

Naughty.

"It's here." you stopped in front of the old tenement house where you rented an apartment.

Leon looked first at the building and then at you and smiled sadly. "Then," he came up to you and gently put his face in his big hand, "Thank you for the nice time." he was close, very close and your heart jumped to your throat. "I hope we will do it again soon."

You looked at his lips and tingling appeared in the lower part of the abdomen. "Or maybe.. Will you go upstairs?” You suggested again looking into his eyes "I have good wine.." you bit your lip "Then I'll order a taxi so you don't come back alone."

For the hundredth time today, he gave you this stunning smile "Good wine?"

・・・・★・・・・★ ・・・・

His lips were everywhere. They left blood trails on your heated skin. Your hands wandered over his bare back, scratching it lightly as he sucked and bit your already hardened nipples. God, his mouth was even more perfect than you imagined. And the fun was just beginning.

Leon was in no hurry to go anywhere, kissing slowly your skin under your breasts, around your belly button. He only stopped when he reached the beginning of your panties, lifting his head and pawing at you with a questioning look. You only nodded quickly as a sign of agreement and let out a quiet moan when you felt his hot kiss on your still clothed clit.

“I haven't done anything yet, and you're already so wet…” he gasped, grabbing your lacy lingerie with the intention of getting rid of it quickly “So wet just for me.”

Your panties landed somewhere on the bedroom floor and Leon settled himself comfortably between your legs. He started kissing the inside of your thigh and his stubble scratched you pleasantly, however, when he moved his tongue along your pussy. A moan escaped your lips and your back arched as he began to slowly eat you out. He alternated between licking, sucking and even lightly biting your swollen bud, sending electric inpulses through your entire body. Your moans went from these quiet ones to loud, even pornographic ones. Damn, if Leon could do such things with his mouth, what could he do with his cock.

“You taste so good princess,” he moaned into your entrance, and immediately after that he inserted his tongue into you.

“F-fuck.” You gasped, tangling your fingers in his brown strands of hair. Your tongue was replaced by his fingers, pumping at a slow pace. He began sucking on your poor clitoris again and your ring finger and index finger slid out, bending in different directions from time to time. This dangerous mixture of sensations began to accumulate a knot in the pit of your body. Your thighs began to tremble slowly and your toes began to flex. “L-Leon. I'm coming.” You gasped tilting your head back.

He only smiled at your pussy, speeding up his movements a bit with his hand. Your lewd sounds made his cock ache and his boxers one hundred percent had a sizable precum stain.

“L-Leon!” the pleasure was getting closer and closer, and when it was about to come…. You felt the emptiness. The unpleasant cold teasing your wet pussy forced you to open your eyes and raise your head. “W-what. W-why.” your voice stumbled with every word you uttered. Leon smiled mischievously, straightening up. His pupils were huge, almost obscuring that beautiful blue color of his irises. He stared at you wordlessly, like an animal at its prey. “My little girl wanted to come?” curtly, his tone made you dizzy.

“Y-yes…”

“Yes what?” he grabbed the elastic band from his gray boxers.

“Please Leon… I-I want… I want you…” your head once again fell back onto the pillow beneath you. Watching him slowly undress was torture, something your eyes both craved and refused to desire. “I-I want you inside me".

“Good girl.” His boxers landed next to your panties and he towered over you. Even more heat was beating from him than from you. “Ready?”

You didn't even have time to answer. You sucked air into your lungs as the head of his cock began to caress your entrance, only to immediately slide into you up to his balls in one swift motion. The feeling was unearthly, and you swear, if he hadn't blocked your mouth with his own, the whole tenement would surely have heard you. “S-so tight.” groaned Leon leaning his forehead against yours “Are you sure.. Y-you fucked before me?” a quiet, silly laugh echoed in your ears.

“Stop talking and fuck me.” you didn't have to repeat yourself. His movements were slow at first. He loved the way your moans drifted out of your open mouth directly into his. How you raised your eyelids every now and then just to look at him for a second. Fuck, he fell for it.

As time passed, the slow pace began to get in the way. His body movements sped up wildly and your pornographic moans and gasps filled the room. So did the sound of your sweaty bodies slapping against each other. “S-so good, fuck.” He hid his head in the hollow of your neck. He felt his own knot of pleasure slowly begin to break.

“I'm coming.” You whispered in his ear, clenching your thighs making him thrust into you even harder and faster. Your mind whirled and your eyes rolled upward under your closed eyelids. You stopped hearing everything that was going on around you, making you completely miss Leon's question about contraception. You were literally a brainless mush that slowly lost itself in the approaching orgasm. “I- I'm coming!” not a second passed. Pleasure took control of your body and the loud cries of Leon's name filled the room. Your trembling thighs slaughtered him even harder and you curled up, sinking your teeth into his shoulder, sobbing quietly.

Leon himself didn't last long. That divine, warm feeling filled his mind and at the last second he slid out of you so that lines of hot cum flew onto your wet thigh. He himself sagged completely, crushing you with his weight. “T-that's my girl.” he purred as your trembling fingers began to massage his scalp. “M-my girl.”

With your other hand, you brushed away the hair stuck to your forehead, finally opening your eyes before which darkness appeared. Your head pulsed with pleasure and a quiet screech echoed in your ears. You felt so good, so damn good. “You know what?” you began, trying to normalize your breathing.

“Hm?”

“It seems, we forgot about the wine.”

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naughtyneganjdm · 10 months ago

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Man for Hire

Summary: Eager to lose your virginity, you hire Negan who is a male escort to help you with your problem.

Characters: Negan & the reader (OC, second person)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55642924

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Smut, Little To No Plot, Daddy Kink, Unprotected P in V, Oral, No Use of Y/N, etc.

Notes: This is the first thing I've been able to write in a long time because school and work have been taking up most of time. This is really just a filthy one shot. I almost considered making this a short story for a while, but then decided to go with a one shot because...why not? (gif credit: @jdmorganz)

What the fuck were you doing here? That was really the question. The silence was eating away at you. Your heart was hammering inside of your chest and you were nervous. You’d never done something like this before. And you were starting to second guess your decision in making such a bold move.

Looking to the time, you felt the lump in your throat growing and your nerves heightened once you saw how close to the time you were waiting for actually was. This was so outside of your comfort zone. Spending money on something like this just didn’t seem logical in the end. Here you were sitting in the middle of an expensive suite at a very nice hotel in the middle of the city. The sights were beautiful and you were enjoying yourself, but the reason you were here is what had you so nervous.

Truth was? You were meeting someone. Well, kind of. You were paying someone to meet you here. Which was complicated in itself. If people were to find out that you were doing this, it would be hard to explain. At the end of the day, it was something that your best friend had convinced you would be good for you. You were in your early twenties and you were still a virgin. It wasn’t something that you originally felt bad about, but it always made things complicated when you went to date someone. There was always that stigma there of being a virgin. And you were never really comfortable enough to tell someone you were dating that you were one. There was also no one you ever felt comfortable enough with to actually have them take it. Sure, you’d fooled around with a few people, but you never actually followed through with all of it. You were just always so busy working and going to school that you never felt the need for sex. Now that you were older, well, it felt awkward being the only virgin that you knew. It was an embarrassing thing, so the only person who really knew at the time was your best friend. Who convinced you it would be for the best if you hired a professional to help you out with your ‘problem’. That way there was no judgement, it would be done by someone who should know what they were doing and you could hand pick who you wanted it to be. You wouldn’t have to worry about the dating process, you could just have sex and that would be that.

It's just the closer you got to everything, the more pathetic you felt. Your friend had found a couple of sites for you that you looked at together. Then you found one that you felt comfortable with and connected with the woman in charge. The woman was very personable, but straight to business. She sent you a list of men that would be available for you. She had asked you for some details and you were honest with her as to why you were doing this. There was no reason not to be.

After taking some time to look through your choices, you came to a profile that you ended up being immediately enchanted with. Negan. There were a lot of younger, muscular men that they were trying to sell, but you had always been attracted to men older than you. But from the first photo you were immediately drawn to the chiseled jawline of the man sitting on a motorcycle. He was wearing a leather jacket that was opened to reveal a gray Henley that laid underneath. A pair of worn-down leather jeans and black sunglasses. From the confident smile to his salt and pepper colored beard you were hooked instantly. Every photo you saw only drew you further in. In other photos his incredible dimples and gorgeous hazel eyes made you more confident that this would be your choice. Even the tattoos that covered his body made him more attractive to you. This was a man that would have caught your attention immediately if you saw him on the street. To say you were attracted to him would be an understatement.

After looking through the rest of the profiles that you were sent, you returned back to the woman that was in charge with the name that you wanted. At first, she tried to convince you to go with someone else. Even though she admitted Negan was one of their most popular escorts, she tried to give you other suggestions of who she thought would be better for your certain situation. A lot of them were the younger ‘cuter’ boys, but cute wasn’t exactly what you wanted. Once she realized that she wouldn’t be able to convince you otherwise, she agreed and set up this meeting. Negan was more expensive and the prices varied by the amount of time you wanted. Two hours, four hours or the overnight rate. You really thought two hours would be plenty enough, but your friend convinced you to get the whole night. You didn’t know why. You were just going to have sex with this guy and be over with it. Having him there with you afterwards would only make things awkward. You couldn’t change your mind now though. You already paid.

A knock on the door to your hotel room pulled you from your thoughts. It jumpstarted your heart in your chest and you felt incredibly nervous now. Standing up from where you were seated, you adjusted the material of the tight fitting black dress that you were wearing. Making your way over to the door, you nervously outstretched your hand to turn the doorknob and felt the breath leave your lungs when you pulled it open. Leaning against the doorframe stood the man from the profile, his hazel eyes looking over you curiously. A charming smirk tugged at his lips while he gazed over you. What he was wearing actually surprised you. It was a bit different from the photos in his profile, but you didn’t hate it. He was well groomed, his body donned in a very expensive looking black suit that was only buttoned in the middle drawing your eyes to the white button down that was underneath. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone revealing the thick curls of hair over the center of his naked chest.

You were so distracted taking all of him in, that you missed when he said your name. Speaking louder, the tone of his deep, raspy voice sent chills down your spine. In his right hand, he had a single red rose and outstretched his hand to you when he finally got your eyes to lock with his.

“Can I come in?” he questioned, his nose wrinkling in amusement when he realized you must have been gawking at him. God, you must have looked like a fool just standing there in the doorway staring. Pushing the door open, you allowed him into the suite and accepted the rose when he stepped before you.

“Thank you. This is very sweet,” you commented on the gesture knowing that you were expecting a much different scenario than this one. Closing the door behind you, you noticed that he was standing rather close to you and it made a breath catch in your throat. Fuck. That’s when you noticed the smell of his cologne. It smelled amazing and only made him even more attractive. How was that even possible? Stepping forward, his hazel eyes stared down at you and it made you feel incredibly hot with how close he was.

Lowering down, the warmth of his breath lingered over your lips before he pressed a kiss over the side of your face. It drew your eyes to close, your lips parting when the kiss lingered and when they opened again, you could see him pulling back with a big smile over his face. The dimples were even sexier in person. Suddenly, you weren’t regretting your decision so much.

“You look gorgeous,” he started off, immediately complimenting you nodding toward the dress that you were wearing. “That dress looks really nice on you.”

“And look at you,” you waved your hand about pointing toward what he was wearing. “You look really sharp. I wasn’t expecting this whole getup with you showing up today.”

“Oh? This old thing,” Negan smirked, unhooking the button of the suit jacket before pushing his hands into his pockets and shrugging his shoulders. “Let’s just say the woman in charge thought it would be a nice touch considering everything.”

“Oh, so you know?” you paused realizing that of course he knew that you were a virgin. He would have to know since that’s why you were doing this whole thing to begin with. “You probably think I’m a loser.”

“Why would I think that?” his eyebrows furrowed, a muscle in his jaw flexing when he tipped his head to the side. “Every person’s situation is different. Who the fuck am I to judge? That’s not my job to judge.”

“And what is your job exactly?” you spoke quietly and he snickered. God that was stupid. “I mean, I know you’re an escort. I just, should I call you Negan? I don’t even know if that is your real name. It’s probably not, right?”

“No, that’s my real name,” he admitted with a bob of his head, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip in a confident sweep. “I probably should use a fake name considering the job, but I like being authentically me. And to answer your question, my job is different for everyone. It’s my job to find out what someone needs so I can give it to them.”

“Smooth,” you outstretched your hand to his which he accepted and followed you over to the couch. First, he helped you sit before taking a seat next to you. A chill flooded through your veins. You understood why Negan was one of their most popular escorts. He was in here a few minutes and you were already ready to jump him. Setting the rose down on the coffee table before you, you turned toward him and felt bold in the moment. “I don’t know what we’re supposed to do here Negan. I’ve never done something like this before. Obviously.”

“What do you want to do? You have me for the whole night,” he reminded you, outstretching his hand to push a piece of hair out of your face. Sweeping his thumb in over your jawline had you leaning into the warmth of him with your eyes fluttering to a close. “Did you want to go out for a night out on the town? Do you just want to hang out? Or…we can just jump right into things.”

“You mean sex?” you blurt out probably too fast which had him smirking and bobbing his head.

“That is what I mean, yes,” Negan’s deep voice rumbled with him sliding in closer to you. His arm hooked around the back of you with the warmth of his breath hovering over your bare shoulder. Suddenly the smell of his cologne filtered through your lungs. Desire overtook you and you had to keep yourself from throwing yourself at him right then and there. A minty scent also fell from his lips from a gum that he undoubtedly had been chewing on before he had showed up. “It’s all up to you what you want. What your fantasy is.”

As he spoke, Negan’s head lowered closer to the crook of your neck. Nuzzling his nose in against your flesh had you sucking in a sharp breath of air which was followed by him depositing a faint kiss over your neck.

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but do you think we can talk first?” you wondered standing up from the couch which seemed to surprise Negan a bit, but he nodded as you headed over toward the bottles of alcohol that were in the corner of the room. You should have just jumped him right then and there, but your nerves were getting the best of you. “Do you want some bourbon?”

“I’m more of a gin guy,” he responded, standing up from the couch when you looked through the bottles and pulled something out that you thought he would like. “Is everything okay?”

“You want me to be honest?” you spoke faintly while you poured both him and you a drink hoping that it would help settle your nerves. With a nod of his head, Negan smirked and stood by the window to look down at the city beneath you. The bright colors were reflecting on the walls and he seemed to be in awe of the lights. Stepping in beside him, you held out the drink you got for him which he accepted, with his fingers brushing up against yours. “I’m starting to regret doing this.”

“Am I not what you expected?” suddenly he seemed almost offended, clutching the glass tightly in his hands when he turned to look at you. “I told Michonne that I should have just warn what I usually do because…”

“No, you’re perfect,” you immediately interrupted him, placing your hand over the center of his chest to get him to focus on you. “God, you are fucking gorgeous. And that’s the thing. You are this beautiful man and I’m a virgin that you are going to have sex with. I’m probably going to be awful and…”

“Oh,” an amused chuckle fell from Negan’s lips when he took a sip of the drink, his free hand placing in over yours to give it a firm squeeze. Swallowing down the sip, he looked to you and shook his head. “You don’t have to worry about that. Please don’t. It’s not something to worry about. People who have sex all the time sometimes aren’t even that good. Plus, my job is to make everything perfect for you. Whether we have sex or not. Don’t let the expectations of sex distract you and make you nervous. I’m a very chill fucking guy. You’ll walk away with a good experience by the morning, I promise you that.”

“Cocky,” you smirked, throwing back your drink in hopes it would give you some liquid courage. “I like it.”

“I just know I’m good at my job,” Negan assured you with a wink, finishing off his drink and setting the glass down, taking yours as well. Urging you back to the couch, he sat you down and took your hands in his when he lowered beside you. “I get the feeling you’d like us to get more comfortable with one another, so we will just talk for a while if that’s what you want. Or we can go out.”

“We can talk,” you were impressed with the way he was attempting to calm you down with the rough pad of his thumbs sweeping over the back of your hands. “Michonne tells me that you are one of her top escorts.”

“I told you, I’m good at my job,” Negan winked, his dimples becoming more prominent when he smiled and it took your breath away.

“So you must be really good at sex?” you suggested and it made him smirk again. You probably sounded really stupid right now, but you were curious.

“That and I’m the best at making people feel good. Not everyone that wants to have an escort wants sex. They want to feel special. They want to feel like the center of the universe and I’m good at that. I excel at reading people,” he explained, curling his finger underneath your chin to get you to tip your head back to look at him. With his eyes hooked on yours, you felt exactly the way that he described. Like the center of the world. “Some people are just looking for companionship. And I’m able to give that to them.”

“Fuck,” you exhaled with how close he was to you. Personal space wasn’t something that existed with Negan, but he was right. He was good at his job. “You know, Michonne tried to persuade me to get someone else instead of you. I’m curious as to why.”

“Well, she’s not exactly my biggest fan. Her husband and I have never really been able to get along,” he expressed with a wicked smirk, shrugging his shoulders when he spoke. “When people look at me, they assume that I wouldn’t be a good choice to take someone’s virginity.”

“She wanted me to pick someone like Siddiq,” you explained and Negan scoffed at your response. It felt like he was getting closer to you if that was even possible. “Thing is, I don’t want boyishly cute men.”

“Of course you don’t and you made a good choice,” Negan hushed you, his eyes now focused on your lips which had you frozen in the moment. The rough pad of his thumb drew across your bottom lip and it had you leaning in closer to him. “You want a man to take care of you. Because older men know what’s best. They do it better. And I’ll take really good care of you.”

After the final word left his lips, Negan’s lips hovered in over yours drawing your eyelashes to flutter to a close. Claiming your lips in a faint kiss had you leaning in closer to him. Your body’s reaction to him was almost instinctive when you started kissing him back. The sensation of his fingertips sliding in over the small of your back was felt urging you in closer to him. Every caress of his lips ignited the fire inside of you more for him with the rough sensation of his short beard at your flesh.

Pulling away, Negan’s eyes were closed and he was smirking when his long eyelashes fluttered to an open, “You’re a special one. I can tell.”

“I’m sure you say that to all the people you see,” you commented with a half-smile, finding yourself wanting him to kiss you again with the way he was touching your face.

“We could work on your confidence though,” Negan hushed you, bringing you to him again so he could nip at your bottom lip. Giving it a gentle tug, he flicked the tip of his tongue out over the inside of your bottom lip making you purr. “You are a beautiful, charming, young woman. You could have given your virginity to anyone, and you picked me.”

Instead of responding, you leaned in to desperately bring your lips together again with Negan humming. When his lips parted, you brushed your tongue against his which had him sucking faintly at your tongue when you pulled back. The more you kissed, the more intense it seemed to get with his large palm sliding up over your side.

Hooking your fingers into his dark hair, you tugged firmly at it which had him growling out against your lips. With his tongue flicking out over yours, you found a sense of confidence in stroking your fingers over the center of his chest to tease at the thick curls of hair that covered it. Lifting your hands, you started to open the buttons in Negan’s shirt, eager to see more of him and he didn’t seem bothered by it at all. Instead, his lips just trailed off over your jawline, over the side of your neck and to your shoulder to push at the strap of your dress to get it down over your arm to kiss at the flesh that was there.

Tipping your head back, your eyes connected with his when you got the last button undone and pushed apart the material of his shirt. Palming up and over the center of his abdomen toward his chest, you were in awe of his slender form. His lips were parted, his breathing heavy while you learned the lines of his body. Tracing your fingertips over the detailed tattoo over his pectoral muscle, you didn’t know how you were going to get away with this whole thing considering you were already addicted to this man and you barely knew him. Pushing into his chest, you got him to slide back so you could crawl in over his lap. Looking up at you, you agreed that he was good at his job because he had the look of absolute want in his eyes with you over him.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” Negan slurred, lifting up to hungrily kiss at the side of your neck, reaching for the other strap of your dress to tug at it. With a grunt, Negan tugged at the material getting it pulled down your body to about your navel which revealed your breasts to him with a bounce. It had him tipping back to look you over with his adoration in his eyes. A wicked smirk tugged at his handsome features when he tipped his head down to start peppering kisses in over your collar bone. Hooking your fingers into his hair, you tipped your head back with his wet kisses covering the swell of your breast. Surrounding your nipple with the warmth of his mouth had your head tipping back with a moan. Sounds of his wet kisses surrounded you, his hands squeezing firmly at your hips. There was no questioning that Negan was very dominant in the way that Negan touched and kissed you, but you liked it.

With a swirl of his tongue over your nipple, he nipped at the sensitive flesh before trailing his kisses over to your other breast where he pampered it just the same. Yanking firmly on his hair, you had him staring up at you with his dilated pupils which took your breath away. Stealing a forceful kiss from his lips had him moaning. You two were just jumping right in, but it felt right in the way that it was happening. Negan’s fingers had dropped to squeeze at the back of your thighs to caress the flesh that was there. Sliding further up, he cupped your bottom under the material of your dress and gave it a firm squeeze.

“You don’t kiss like a virgin,” Negan growled, smacking firmly over your bottom eliciting a gasp followed by a moan from you. Staring over your body, his eyes focused in over your breasts and he sucked at his bottom lip.

“How do virgins kiss?” you wondered, dragging your fingers across his wet bottom lip. A snicker fell from his lips before he took one of your fingertips into his mouth. Nibbling faintly at the tip, he followed by flicking his tongue out against it making you purr.

“For the most part? They are shy? Timid,” he slurred, lifting up enough to hover his lips just in over yours. “Inside of you is a dirty girl just waiting to break free from the restraints you put on her.”

“Maybe you can help her break free,” you whispered, caressing over his chiseled jawline and it had him leaning in closer to you. A growl fell from deep within him when you teased the tip of your tongue over his lips and he reached to pull you in closer to him so he could claim your lips again in a hungry kiss. The taste of him was addictive. The more you had of him, the more you wanted him. Your blood was pumping through your veins with your heartbeat hammering inside of your chest. A flush went to your face and a warmth was flooding to your core.

Confidence overtook you and gradually you ground yourself down over Negan. Dropping his head back against the couch, his hands slid down over your hips while you took your time rubbing up against him enjoying the friction that it caused between the two of you. Beneath the material of his pants, the firmness of his masculinity was growing harder and you could feel it pressed against your bottom. It felt good and by the sounds he was making, he approved.

“Good girl. I think we’re breaking down the walls pretty fucking quickly here,” Negan insisted, the vibration of his words against your flesh causing you to moan. Dragging your palms down over the center of his chest toward his lower abdomen had a sharp exhale falling from his throat. His eyes were still locked on yours when you dragged your fingers across the belt in his pants. Lifting his hips, Negan attempted to help you when you started to pull the belt out of the loops. Tugging at the material had a rumble of an amused sound escaping him. Dragging his thumb across your bottom lip sent chills throughout your veins. “Y’know what you want now darlin’, don’t you?”

“Yes sir,” you replied with a smirk when you started working open the material of his pants. How this man looked at you took your breath away. Curling your fingers at the waistband of his pants, he lifted his hips up to help you get the material down his slender body. A surprised breath fell from your parted lips with the way his erection smacked up against his lower abdomen. Licking your lips, you stare lifted to his eyes. Arrogance flooded his features when a crack of a smile tugged at his lips. “And suddenly I see why Michonne suggested someone else for my first time.”

“Does that mean you don’t think you can take it?” he inquired, his right eyebrow arching in curiosity with you reaching down to trace your fingertips over the underside of the shaft. Just the mere touch had his cock twitching and he bit down on his bottom lip.

“I’ve never been one to back down from a big challenge,” you responded and with a bob of his head, Negan seemed proud of you. Teasing your fingertips from just under the head of his cock down toward the base had him licking his lips in a seductive sweep.

“Thatta girl,” Negan snickered with your fingers curling around his shaft, drawing his hips to bounce up toward your grasp. Sliding in further over his lap, you took your time caressing over his body appreciating the way his eyelids grew heavy with lust. Your thumb swept over the ridge of the tip of his cock and he growled out. “I promise you, you’re gonna love what he’s gonna do for you.”

“I’m not scared of him,” you assured him with a wink enjoying the amused sound that escape his lips before his deep, raspy moan followed. Kissing down over his jawline, you took your time pampering his body knowing that while this was technically meant to be about you, you wanted to cherish the perfect specimen of the man beneath you. Nipping faintly at the side of his neck had him hissing out while you pushed his shirt further apart to reveal his chest to you. Adjusting your positioning over him, you started to kiss down over his collarbone and over the center of his chest. Lifting your palms, you stroked your fingers through the dark curls of hair over his chest and swallowed down hard. “You are fucking gorgeous.”

“I was thinking the same thing about you,” he clicked his tongue at the top of his mouth, humming out again when you leaned forward to kiss over the center of his chest. Your kisses tampered off over his nipple appreciating the moan you got when you circled your tongue around the flesh. Whimpering out, it was almost hard to focus when Negan’s palm flattened out between your thighs to caress over the warmth of your body. It had your hips arching in closer to him when you sucked faintly at Negan’s skin. “You are so fucking wet already.”

It surprised him when you pulled away from him and moved so that you were sitting beside him. Lowering your upper half, you pressed tiny kisses over his abdomen and toward the v line over his hips leaving his flesh with hot wet kisses. Purring out, you felt Negan’s fingers caressing over your shoulders and toward your neck with your kisses lowering down. Sinking his fingers into your hair had you mewling out. You liked how it felt like he was being possessive with you. Delicately wrapping your fingers around the thick base of Negan’s cock, you stroked over it a few times before pressing a faint kiss at the tip. It had him growling out and you loved the sound it drew from him. Dragging your tongue across the tip made you purr out when his fingers grasped tighter to your hair.

Flattening your tongue out over the tip collected the taste of him on your tongue. Focusing heavily on the teasing aspect of it all, you pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses over his lengthy erection causing his breathing to grow louder. By the time you finally took him between your parted lips, it drew the most intoxicating moan from him. With his girthy length, you were doing your best to pleasure him to the best of your ability, working to jerk him off at the same time while bobbing your head over his length. The strength of Negan’s hand at the back of your head also helped set a steady pace that you were comfortable with.

Once you seemed to have a handle on things, you felt Negan’s palm sliding down over your shoulders, over your back before extending out over your bottom to give it a firm squeeze. Another smack over your flesh had you moaning around his cock. It had him twitching beneath you. The wet sounded of your mouth filled the quiet hotel room. Pulling away with a wet sound, you stroked your hand over his body when you lifted your stare to see that he was watching you with awe.

“Lay back,” Negan instructed, getting up from the couch with his hard cock bobbing with the movement. Carefully pulling off his jacket, he set it on the back of the couch and eagerly slid out of his button-down shirt. Tossing it with the jacket, Negan took his time to shimmy out of his pants after managing to pull his boots off. Snapping his fingers, you obeyed his order when you carefully lowered yourself back against the couch. Your heart was hammering in your chest when Negan grabbed a tight hold of the material of your dress to get it down your body leaving you laying stretched out on the couch in just your black panties. Getting to his knees, he hooked his fingers loosely into your panties, urging you to lift your hips with the tug of them. “How did you know black was my favorite color?”

“Lucky I guess,” you whispered, a tingling sensation at your skin with the way that he was looking over you as he unhurriedly pulled the material from your body. Tossing the material aside, Negan brought your leg up depositing a gentle kiss over the inside of your ankle with his eyes locked on you. Gradually, his kisses raised further up your leg having you a breathless mess when he got to your knee.

“If you’re ever uncomfortable, just let me know,” he slurred, nipping faintly at your flesh before lowering down onto the couch getting himself comfortable between your thighs. Curling his arms around your thighs and under your hips, Negan pulled you in closer to him getting a gasp from you and it made him smile. “You have a very pretty pussy. It’s a shame you haven’t been letting someone pamper it like it deserves.”

Reaching up, the roughness of the pad of his thumbs traced a line over your sensitive folds and it had you dropping your head back, biting down on your bottom lip with a mewl. Down his fingers went over the lips, toward your entrance before circling back to go up and sweeping over your clitoris. It had you panting, his eyes watching you closely to see how you responded to things.

“Good girl,” Negan hummed, lifting his fingers up to suck faintly at the tips. “Daddy is gonna take real good care of you.”

Hearing him refer to himself as daddy sent a jolt straight to your core and you purred out, your hips arching up toward him with him releasing a sound of approval. Doing the same dance over your sensitive flesh, Negan started to pepper kisses over the inside of your thigh. Your breath was hitching in your throat and you wanted to tip your head back, but you couldn’t. You wanted to watch the beautiful man between your thighs that was there solely aiming to do nothing but please you.

Each kiss grew closer until the wet sounds of him kissing over your heated flesh was heard. Licking your lips, something that resembled a whine fell from them and he smiled against your flesh. Dragging out his tongue, he flattened it over the length of your folds dragging it from your entrance which had you tremoring upon contact up to your clitoris where his tongue circled before back again.

It was about learning your body and Negan was doing just that. Paying close attention to everything that made you react. With his lips surrounding your clitoris you found the cries that fell from you involuntary. Each sound you made seemed to fuel him only enhancing the sensation of what he was doing. And by the sounds he was making against your flesh? He seemed to be enjoying himself just as much, finding pleasure in the sounds he could draw from you.

Grunting out, he pushed into your thighs to lift your hips in closer to him. Dropping your fingers down, you hooked them into his dark hair when you felt his tongue circling your entrance before dipping inside of you with a strong sweep. Cooing out, you tugged firmly at his hair having him groan against your most sacred parts. A wet sound filled the air when Negan pulled back away from your body, licking at his wet lips.

Adjusting his body, he hooked his arm around one of your thighs while his free hand lifted to drag his fingers over your sensitive bundle of nerves. Sliding them down, Negan lifted his head when his middle finger circled over your entrance. Tipping your head back against the couch, you whimpered when he took his time pressing his long slender digit inside of you. A raspy moan fell from his throat when he felt the warmth of your body surround his finger and it made him smile.

“You okay?” he confirmed pressing a wet kiss at the inside of your thigh, leaving a tiny nip at your flesh when he pulled back. Nodding, you didn’t have much that you could say because you were so focused on the sensation. When he had the okay that you were comfortable enough, he started to drag his finger back before pressing forward into your body again. Biting down onto your bottom lip, you whimpered as Negan’s lips surrounded your clitoris sucking at the sensitive nub. Every part of you felt hot. He was taking his time with you, not trying to rush things and he was doing a hell of a job with it. Your body was already trembling and he knew what he was doing to you when he inserted another finger into you. One thing about Negan’s fingers? They were big and he knew just where to caress inside of you to have your writhing beneath him, your hips arching up toward the talented caress of his lips and tongue over your clit.

“Fuck,” you gasped, lifting your head to watch him while he pumped his fingers inside of you, hitting a certain spot that had your toes curling, your fingers clinging tighter to his hair and your cries growing louder. Loud, wet, slurping sounds were filling the air and an occasional moan from Negan would vibrate against your flesh. Your thighs tensed up, starting to twitch when you tried to hold back, but with what he was doing at feasting on your body had you moaning out his name. A pleased groan pressed against your flesh when the thrusting of his fingers grew stronger when he clearly got you to an orgasm. Your muscles tensed up, a rush flooding to your head leaving you absolutely breathless. “Oh my God.”

“And that’s just the start,” Negan snickered after pulling his mouth away from your body. When his fingers left you, a whimper followed. Seeing him using those same fingers to drag them across his bottom lip had your heart hammering harder inside of your chest. Sucking at his fingers, Negan groaned at the taste of you over them before reaching for you. Managing to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder had you gasping and clinging tightly to him. A firm smack was placed to your bottom and it made you moan. “Daddy’s got you darlin’. Don’t worry.”

Once Negan made it to the bedroom, he was careful in the way that he lowered you at the center of the bed. That’s when the room started to spin around you. Suddenly this was becoming all too real what was about to happen. Your eyes fell to Negan’s swollen cock and you felt your mouth go dry looking at it.

“I’ll be right back,” Negan held his finger up, going into the sitting area to grab something before returning with a condom and some lube. Getting onto his knees at the bottom of the bed had a breath catching in your throat when you pressed up onto your hands. Outstretching your hand, you palmed in over the center of his stomach, dragging your fingers down over his navel to tease through the dark curls of hair that were there that led to the base of his thick cock. Stroking his fingers over your shoulder, Negan hummed when you started kissing at the area right below his bellybutton. Grasping his shaft firmly, you took the tip back between your lips with your eyes staring up at him hoping to see his reaction while you pleasured him. The vein at the side of Negan’s neck was slightly bulging when he dropped his head back and moaned out. “Fuck.”

Allowing you to give him a blowjob for a few moments led to him curling his fingers into your hair to pull you back. A wet popping sound followed when your lips pulled from his cock and he stroked the saliva over his body.

Reaching for the condom, Negan urged you to wait. Still caressing over his hip, you wanted to make sure to still touch him when he went to open the condom.

“Do you use a condom with everyone?” you questioned noticing the smile that tugged at Negan’s lips when his thick eyebrows bounced up.

“Kind of the rules, so yeah,” Negan answered you, licking at his lips when you wrapped your fingers around his cock to stroke over it firmly. “Why? Do you want me to do it without a condom?”

“You’d do that?” you were almost intrigued when he smirked, his hips bouncing up toward your grasp.

“Well, you’re a virgin. I know I’m clean because I have to make sure of it,” Negan bobbed his head back and forth, sucking at his bottom lip when you dragged your tongue out over the length of his cock again. It had him moaning out, his long eyelashes fluttering to a close again. Truthfully? You didn’t care what he did. You just wanted him and you wanted him bad. “I can make an exception for you if you can keep a secret.”

“Keep a secret?” you mused, kissing at the underside of his cock having him humming out when his eyes came to a close. “Will your boss really get that upset with you for having unprotected sex with someone? You’d be willing to get in trouble for me?”

“Would Michonne get pissed at me? Probably. But you’re worth the risk,” Negan’s fingers curled around your throat, leading you back against the bed. A sharp exhale fell from your throat when he set the condom beside you on the bed and reached for the lube that he brought. Releasing your throat, he opened the bottle and poured a significant amount into his hand before stroking it over his cock slicking his girthy length with it.

“Is there much of a difference?” you whimpered when Negan very slowly crawled in over you, covering you with the weight of his body. The warmth of it radiating against your flesh.

“It’s more intimate,” Negan started peppering kisses over your lips, nipping at your bottom lip. “Some men like wearing condoms because it prolongs their orgasm, but I last long regardless.”

Lifting your head, you looked between the two of you to see that his cock was resting against your lower abdomen and it made you lick your lips. A sense of panic filled your veins in that moment, but Negan reached for your jaw to get you to rest your head back.

“Are you on the pill?” Negan confirmed and you nodded your head, feeling a rush of excitement with the smirk he gave you. Balancing himself on his left arm, Negan reached down between the two of you and you felt him dragging the swollen mushroom tip between your lips causing you to whimper. “It’s okay. Don’t get worried now. You’ve been such a good girl so far. Daddy is gonna take good care of you.”

Smacking sounds filled the air with Negan tapping his heavy cock against your sensitive clit getting you to arch up toward him. Hovering his lips in over yours, Negan adjusted himself before lining himself up with your entrance. Lowering over you, he reached for your wrists to pin them beside you on the bed. Squeezing firmly at them at first, Negan had you shaking beneath him when he slid his fingers to tangle his with yours. Pushing forward had the swollen tip entering you pushing past the ring of muscle that was there. It had Negan’s lips part, his jaw lowering and his eyelids growing heavy. Your cry followed with Negan dipping down just enough to press a faint kiss over your lips.

“Fuck,” Negan nipped at your lips when he pushed his hips forward just a bit more leaving you with a completely foreign sensation. It hurt at first, but you assumed that was normal since Negan from what you knew was bigger than most men were. “Look at me.”

Your eyes connected with his when he filled you with just the first few inches. His fingers squeezed tightly to yours, your whimper falling from your lips. Allowing you to get used to just that, Negan started to pamper you with kisses, pulling his hips back slightly allowing the tip to pull from you before pushing it back in. It was a unique feeling, but with every motion, you found your hips raising to meet his movements.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” Negan growled, the warmth of his breath hovering over your lips, but you didn’t want it to stop. No, you wanted more of this. Lifting your hips up higher toward him, you gave him a nod letting him know you wanted him to give you more and it made him smile. Rolling his hips, Negan filled you completely leaving you to let out a moan. God, you felt so fucking full with him inside of you. And you liked it. It was uncomfortable, but you felt like in that moment you belonged to him and every part of you was his. “Fuck, you are so goddamn tight.”

“Your cock is so big,” you whined against his lips, lifting your head up to meet him in a desperate kiss that he was eager to reward you with. You wanted him to move, but you knew that he was giving you time to get used to him. To feel him and be close to him. A loud, throaty moan escaped his lips with his eyes squeezing shut and you purred out. “Please…”

“Move your body with mine,” Negan instructed, his hips rolling back before pushing forward again. Doing what he said, your hips eagerly met every one of his thrusts and you winced when each movement started to get harder. “Do you wanna stop?”

“No,” you shook your head. You knew the pain would subside because with each movement the pleasure started to grow. The friction from his groin rubbing up against your clit felt incredible and you rocked into every movement he made. Plunge after addictive deep plunge had you moaning out, whimpering out his name and enjoying that he was just as much verbal as you. Burying his nose against the side of your neck, Negan kissed over your flesh and the smacking of your skin together felt incredible. “Do you like that tight little pussy?”

“Fuck me,” Negan pulled back with a wicked smirk, his left hand pulling from your hand to slide up over the side of your neck to grab a firm hold of your jaw. “I think you just might be my favorite.”

“As long as I’m yours,” you exclaimed, dropping your head back with the incredible sensation that Negan thrusting inside of you was giving you. Once he found a certain spot, his thrusts were planned and meticulous.

“You’re so fucking wet,” Negan hissed, dropping his head to watch his cock already coated in your slick while he thrust into you time and time again. The tip of his cock was rubbing up against your g-spot in varying different speeds and it hand your toes digging into the back of his thigh muscles. Your cries turned to breathless pants, with you trying to lift your head to watch what he was doing, but he shook his head. “How do you feel?”

“So good,” you answered with a whine knowing that at this point it was true. Whatever Negan was doing, he was doing it right leaving you with a tingling sensation flooding your body. Desperately reaching up, with your free hand you brought Negan to you to kiss him with his tongue brushing up against yours and his fingers squeezing tighter where he was still holding your hand. By the sounds you were making, Negan must have picked up on the fact you were about to come because his thrusts grew more determined. With a wail, you pulled your hips up and away from Negan, which was followed by a proud, amused sound. Your eyes slammed shut, your hips shaking with Negan’s free hand dropping to caress over your sensitive bundle of nerves, enhancing your orgasm with his caress. “Fuck! Fuck…”

“Look at you,” Negan snickered nuzzling his nose against the side of your neck with your coos of pleasure surrounding him. “Your first time and you’re already soaking daddy’s cock. Kissing up over the side of your neck, Negan let you take a moment to gather yourself before hovering over you again. “Put your arms around my shoulders. Hold on tight.”

Nodding, you did as he instructed and gasped when he pulled you up and got into a kneeling position on the bed. Getting you to straddle his hips, Negan reached between the two of you and helped you lower down over his cock while you braced your feet on the bed with Negan’s hands bracing against your ass. Dropping your head back, you cried out at the way he filled you.

“You like the way that feels?” Negan slurred against your lips, starting to use his strength to help you bounce yourself over his cock. Your right arm stayed hooked around his shoulders to keep you up, while you balanced yourself back on the bed with your other hand to help your movements. “Fuck, your tight virgin pussy feels so fucking good around my big cock.”

“Yes,” you gasped out, following the way that Negan was instructing you to move your hips over his cock allowing you to take all of him again and again. You probably sounded like a broken record with how many times you were saying it, but it felt so good at this point. Bracing your left hand now instead on Negan’s thigh, you angled your hips hoping to get as much of him as you could. The wet sounds along with the two of you breathing heavily together filled the hotel room. “Your cock feels so good inside of me. Oh my god.”

Every roll of your hips over his length grew harder with his moans matching yours, “That’s my girl. You’re doing so fucking good.”

Whimpering out his name as he kissed down over the side of your neck, you couldn’t help but cry out with his right hand squeezing over your bottom to bring you over him while his left hand caressed up and over the small of your back. Pressing his forehead to yours, Negan made sure to keep the both of you close. Once your moans started to become closer together, Negan worked harder to bounce you over his cock.

“Are you gonna come?” he whispered and you nodded quickly, dropping your head back in ecstasy with the way he continued to fill you. Pulling your hips up and away once you hit your next orgasm led you to a euphoric sensation flooding your body. “Fuck, you’re just loving this aren’t you?”

“So much,” you whined when Negan seemed to easily grasp a hold of your hips to flip you over onto your stomach. Lifting your hips up just enough, Negan lowered down behind you with his tongue lapping at your body. His rough grasp palmed at your bottom having you crying out at the sensation. Not only was Negan doing what you paid for, he was going above and beyond to bring you to as many orgasms as he could. Curling your fingers around the comforter, you dropped your head and enjoyed the slurping sounds that came from Negan.

“Lower down baby,” Negan bit at your bottom making you purr as you felt his hands helping you to lay flat against the bed. Crawling in over you, Negan hooked his arm around your waist to pull your hips up slightly before leading his body back into yours with a wet sound. It had you both moaning out in unison with him nipping at your jawline when his steady thrusts started back up again. “I’m so happy you saved this tight little pussy for me. It’s like you were made for me.”

“All for you,” you hummed, happily accepting his fingers hooking with yours with the sounds of his hips smacking up against your bottom filling the air. “It belongs to you.”

“Oh yeah?” Negan’s free hand curled around your jawline to put a firm pressure on it having you wincing out in pleasure. “Who does this tight little pussy belong to?”

“You,” you whined with his thrusts growing stronger from behind you. “It belongs to you.”

“My name,” Negan demanded, his lips claiming yours having you crying out against his lips.

“Negan. It belongs to Negan,” you gave him what he wanted to hear, nipping at his bottom lip when he released an amused rumble of a sound. “I’m all yours.”

Snickering against the side of your neck, Negan chuckled before quickening the pace of his cock thrusting inside of you. You couldn’t believe how quickly you became addicted to the sensation of him stretching you and filling you completely.

Your moans countered each other’s with the sound of the headboard smacking against the wall. You wondered if anyone would complain considering you knew that the two of you were not being quiet. At all. Cooing out, your hips tried to pull up and away from Negan’s feeling that same build up he had done before inside of you so many times, but his hips followed your movements doing his best to keep moving inside of you until you pulled away with a whine.

“Christ,” your body shook and Negan moaned against the side of your neck. Just his body weight over you felt good and you didn’t know how you weren’t going to want this constantly now that you’ve had it. “Negan.”

“Come here,” he instructed, nudging your hip and getting you onto your back again. Getting comfortable, Negan braced his weight and got you to hook your legs around his waist. Your bodies were pressed together with his fingers sweeping over your jawline and his hazel eyes locked on yours. “You are so fucking perfect.”

Gasping out as he entered you again, your fingers slid up the lengths of his back before sinking into his hair. Smiling had his dimples even more prominent than before when he took his time rolling his hips back before forward again. This time it was about closeness and the connection between the two of you. Gradually with each thrust, the strength grew harder and quicker. Desperate to have him near, you pulled his lips to yours demanding the attention you wanted. Winces started falling from Negan’s throat with his moans growing louder.

“I’m going to come,” he grunted against your lips, his thick eyebrows furrowing with his lips parting and his moans becoming even raspier. Arching your hips up toward his thrusts, you lifted your head just enough to meet his dominant and forceful kiss. Each thrust became rough, with your winces against his lips drawing him to growl out. Biting at your bottom lip, Negan’s moans grew closer together when you felt the throbbing of him inside of you followed by the first sign of the warmth of his release. The expression over his face as he continued the rolling of his hips over you only turned you on more when you pulled him closer to you kissing over the side of his neck. After a few final thrusts, Negan’s breathing grew loud and he nuzzled his nose against the side of your neck with you clinging tightly to him. Negan pumped you full of his cum, his cock still throbbing inside of you after he reached his orgasm. You were surprised how much you enjoyed the feeling of it. “Fuck.”

Stroking your fingers through his damp hair, you felt like the world was spinning around you. Your body ached in the most amazing of ways and you loved the sounds of Negan’s deep breaths against the side of your neck.

With a throaty groan, Negan pulled his hips back and away from you allowing his softening cock to pull from your body. Whining out, you hated the empty feeling it left you with, but you felt the warmth of his release spilling out of you and sliding down your thighs.

With a grunt, Negan got up from the bed and you felt your heart sinking. Throughout the whole thing, Negan made sure to make everything very intimate between the two of you, so when he stood up you almost assumed that he was already getting ready to leave. He had done what you had asked of him of course, so what more did he need to do?

Closing your eyes, your breathing started to calm down with your skin feeling like it was on fire. As the bed dipped, you found yourself surprised to feel the warmth of Negan beside you again. Opening your eyes, you felt him wiping at the mess he made over your thighs with a tissue and you reached up to stroke over his jawline.

“I thought you were leaving,” you declared while Negan finished cleaning you up. Tossing the tissue into the garbage, Negan crawled in over you again and traced over your features with his rough fingertips. The way he looked at you took your breath away and you stole another kiss from his lips.

“Nope,” he shook his head with a smirk, peppering playful kisses over your jawline then your shoulder and then to your breast. Nipping at your nipple had your back arching up toward him and he growled. His left hand caressed in over the side of your body and you hummed. “You did so good. How do you feel?”

“I feel good,” you answered with a hum as hand lifted and his thumb swept over your bottom lip. “I mean, I ache, but I feel really good.”

“Good,” he slurred with a happy smirk, pressing another kiss to your lips before rolling onto his back and pulling you with him. Resting your head over the center of his chest, you stroked your fingers over the damp hair that were over his lower abdomen. Pressing a kiss to your temple, Negan squeezed you in closer to him and it made you both smile. “Do you regret your decision?”

“Not one bit,” your answer was immediate, drawing what sounded like a snort from his lips and it made you lift your head from his chest to stare up at him. “The only thing I’m starting to regret is that this will be over soon.”

“Not that soon. You have me all night,” Negan reminded you with a wink, his raspy voice drawing you in to kiss him again. With an arrogant bob of his head, he gave you another one of his sexy smiles before squeezing over your bottom. “Which means I’m yours until morning.”

“Oh yeah,” your eyebrow arched in curiosity and he nodded his head.

“And lets not pretend that this is gonna be the last time,” Negan declared, his nose nuzzling in against yours when he claimed your lips in a kiss again. “We both know that after tonight, you belong to me. All of you belongs to me.”

----

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