#NO ONE PSYCHOANALYZE THIS !!!!!!!!! PLEASE

[judasofsuburbia]

female characters tag!!

tagged by @tailsbeth-writes and @thighzp <33

Rules: Make a poll of your favorite female characters (no limits–as many or few as you want) and see which your followers like the most!

tagging with zero pressure and all love: @seths-rogens @fastcardotmp3 @figthefruitfaeth @kkpwnall @cheatghost

@gideoncharov @snowangeldotmp3 @fragilecapric0rnn @thinkof-england @onthewaytosomewhere

@piratefalls @priincebutt @yournowheregirl @diaz-fox <33

[steelthroat]

My friend told me i should actually try to write that musical i dreamed a few weeks ago...

So anyway it goes like this:

"Tonight i had a weird dream

So we had to do a musical/theater thingy but no one and i repeat NO ONE was able to organize for the rehearsals and stuff so we arrived to the day of the spectacle where i barely even knew the plot of the play and I was super irritated because i had been calling everyone (even the production) for days almost begging them to please organize something

But no

Literally we did anything but that. At some point i was helping a guy build a catapult, another time we were using tnt for something and another we were visiting a weird musum of illusions in an abandoned town.

The day before the play i was at my other house and my relatives were asking me about the play and i said "i will do my thing and improvise because the show must go on" And then there was a big bat that settled on my shoulder and i played a bit with him.

So day of the play

This apparently was a parody, I was supposed to be the bride of the (now) deceased Dracula (or some other famous vampire idk) and i was supposed to sing all of this in a bigass fancy cathedral Now.

Do not ask me how and why we were doing a parodistic play about vampires in a church. I cannot answer

But i have to say, the aesthetic was fucking cool and I had a long black dress that really sold the vampire widow part to the audience

But still tyere were no lyrics for me to sing and i just had the music to follow so i said "fuck it" and I invented them on the spot

Now.

I know how to sing, i have done so for years, wven been in a choir I know how to improvise, i have acted before I know how to come up with rhymes etc

But still this was too much even for me

But I do have to say the two songs i made up on the spot were actually great, if I remember the lyrics it would be awesome

The first one was a very dramatic love song about how i had become the vampire's bride and how much our love burned and how his death had hurt etc etc

Very dramatic, very "never enough" from the greatest-showman

The other one was me being a hater towards my deceased husband and the gist of it was "you bastard, you made me fall in love with you, turned me into your bridge, a vampire, you made me lose my humanity and everything I loved to be with you and you have the audacity to die for a stupid reason???? HOW DARE YOU?"

And then i made him resurrect out of spite through some kind of ritual and i berated him in front of everyone But we didn't divorce although Dracula was now my bitch

instead of I his

So yeah

I do remember being super happy after the first dramatic song and then whispering to my mum "hey just so you know, I'm making it up on the spot"

And then everyone complimented me for my performance but although i was happy for what i had done I was still prerty bitter because it could have been avoided if anyone but me (and the guy who played Dracula, he had very few lines but he had done his best) had actually cared about the play so i didn't feel liek stopping by to celebrate really

Now, since he was the only one who cared and dressed in character, I want to praise the dracula dude because he gave his damn best about his performance

When he first emerged from the bell tower, it was cool af In the flashbacks, he was very convincing, and when he was acting all apologetic and pathetic towards me, it was hilarious.

So kudos to him. Dude had like 5 lines in all the play and still put his whole heart into it.

Also a scene that still haunts me is when during the first dramatic song I was in scene with another character but I had the cool vampire dress [I was in character] and the person next to me was wearing a pastel colored hoodie and blue jeans.

And my thoughts while I was singing my heart out to this character, telling them my story were along the lines of "I am gonna fucking kill them" as they stared at me blankly not knowing how to answer to my lines."

[xikyuu]

“oc question #3: if they could have a real life conversation with you, how would it go?” curtesy of ‘_..darr1ingz.._’ on tiktok.

at some point, the conversation became one-sided and more of me psychoanalyzing them. it kinda resembles a letter format, but if you pay attention, there are gaps where it seems like dallas (he/him) responds. extra notes are at the top of my tags. have fun reading!

total words: 2,329. writing under cut:

i’d ask dallas what its like to see all these worlds. yes, i know i made you and the conversations you have but i desire connection i cannot have.

what is kismadoré actually like when everything is sewn together lovingly? did you feel loved, even if it was temporary? are the city streets worn down with love and care? does it show the world that city of life is, indeed, living? that there is water in it’s roots?

what’s your handwriting like? did you ever decide to go to college in a universe? if so, what was your major? did you get multiple degrees? what was your favorite class? least favorite? favorite teacher? do you have a favorite fun fact? please tell me.

where there times you were genuinely scared for your life? are you afraid of me? of the complete power and creation i hold over you? i’m so sorry i hurt you.

do you have a favorite stuffed animal?

what was your father’s name? do you hate me for what i did to him? do you hate me for what i did to your mother? do you hate me? i caused all this hurt for you. you could’ve survived if i gave you a happy life. i could’ve made you a loving father, but i don’t know what that looks like. i could’ve gave you your mother, but i’ve never seen my mother and father exist in the same place and not be at each other’s throats. do you forgive me? please don’t forgive me. i love you. i wish i could be you. do you hate me? i killed alibi. i killed skip. i killed you. they’re dead because of me. they had to start a rebellion because of me. your father is cruel and evil because of me. would you kill me if you had the chance? do you wish you could see them again? i’m so sorry.

you know this is real, right? you are real. you exist because i exist. i made you and i am still making you. you are something i will always come back to. you make me happy. you make my friends happy. they love you. yes, really. i wouldn’t lie to you about that.

did you know alibi is based off my friend? they created kit’s design. i made alibi into themself. did you know that one of the potential names for alibi was mochi? there was supposed to be another in the resistance crew. i scrapped them early on.

what’s it like to shoot a gun and know every shot has killed? i’m sorry. is the metal cold to the touch? does it burn your hands with memories? does your finger still sit perfectly on the trigger? even if you try to bury the subconscious knowledge of how to do anything with that wretched thing? it’s why you got your namesake, after all. i’m sorry. i don’t like guns, either. i wanted you to be safe.

you need to let go of the mask. stop pretending you are fine. people want to help. remember what we say about communication? it is key.

who was the person who killed you? i don’t know who they are, just that they were misguided and brainwashed into hating you. i’m so sorry. you could’ve had another friend before you died.

what’s your favorite plant? did you ever hide in the willow trees like they were curtains? what is the easiest tree to climb? does that one tree still have bark torn off from how often you guys tried to climb it? do you remember the tree that bore fruit and attracted the many flutters of butterflies? and how they rested gently on your hands and chest? how you held out your arm and several would perch on your arm like it was an extension of the tree? and didn’t that one butterfly land on your nose? did you have fun?

theres so much pressure on you. i’m sorry.

juno and asmo are okay. they survived. you know this, right? i’m sorry you didn’t get to see them heal. they miss you.

do you still wish on acorns? do you still play the violin? do you still dance in the rain with a big smile on your face? do you still dance around the tall bonfire to songs of kismá? and what of the picnics in flower fields?

i’m sorry you had to hide guns in a basket of flowers. i’m sorry you had to be paranoid and hypervigilant. i’m sorry i ruined your breathing with the orange gas.

do you still share folk stories to the multiverse about kismadoré?

whats your favorite color? is it green like me? how is it that we are so similar but so different? i made you in my own image, but the mirror reflecting me is distorted.

whats your favorite form to stay in? do you have any favorite jewelry pieces? what is your favorite dessert?

you can see the indents from when i made you—like clay. does that mean i messed up or does it show the care that i put into you? molding you until you grew into something i cannot be?

do you have a favorite memory? do you have more? what was it like to sit in the desert at a campfire, surrounded by people you love? did you have the heart to say that you might not survive this run to freedom? what was your reaction to the walls falling? i’m sorry your home is so corrupt.

what new dishes came about in kismadoré that i’ll never be able to try? what cultures meshed to make one giant city? had anyone ever tried mixing soul food and japanese together?

what songs play at the funeral rites? what colors do you wear to mourn?

do you still know cardinal directions like the back of your hand? it’s because of the compass, right? does kismadoré have an official animal? official dish? is it recognized on maps? if it isn’t, i’ll write it into canon. how many people live in kismadoré? i know the initial population was small. oh wow. that’s a lot.

whats some of the funniest reactions people have had to your powers?

are your fingers burnt from the fires? do you lose sensation in them sometimes? does the cold make your bones hurt? i know it does for me. how bad are the scars in person? i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry.

do you have a favorite book? what genre do you like? i have so many recommendations. do you have any for me?

do you draw? paint? can i see? it’s totally okay if you don’t want to show me. how’s your poetry coming along? any favorite symbols you love to throw in? yeah, floriography is great.

were you aware when asmo blessed you as you bled out in her lap? she recited the poem. ‘may the stars be there to guide you.’ that one.

i’m sorry. i took you away right after you finally got your freedom. do you think that’s cruel of me? you got it eventually, just not in the way you expected.

what is time like if time is not linear?

you know you are allowed to be loud, right? it is your right. it is in your nature. kismá calls to ask you why you aren’t screaming and yelling and singing and crying and clapping and stomping and dancing and whistling and humming and laughing and breathing and living and why are you not shaking the stars with excitement and joy because you are loved, my dear, did you know that? did you know that your heart beats in your chest, even if it is out of tune? the blood in your veins makes music you cannot even comprehend. the wind makes a sound that we can copy and sing along with. the water is clean for you to wade into. kick it around and laugh. your clothes get wet, but that is nature. the wind will hug you as it passes. its cold but it means well. the flowers dance even in the midst of a hurricane and so will we. we will dance even when crying. that is the beauty of it. sá boé dáli, sá baoyă dáli.

do you still think of them? the nostalgia is lethal. but does lethality even matter to someone who cannot die? do you indulge yourself with poison just to wonder what could have been? when did you forget their faces? when did you forget their voices? do you know this is self-destructive? of course you don’t care.

does your home still affect you? are you kintsugi pretending to be a person? do you know where each you used to be? where on your porcelain vessel lays the tiles of the child soldier? the fake confidence and paranoia of the resistance leader? the people-pleaser? the scared child? and did you get your eyes from the gods who remade you? the gods who held your cracked form gently and helped heal you? at what point are you not a person anymore? how cracked is the still, cold heart that rests in your chest cavity? it contains every person you once were and will be. you can take the man out of the walls, but the walls came crumbling down and embedded themselves into your then fragile, human skin. you can try to pick out the concrete but it’s stuck, it’s there. just like the shrapnel from the bullets that fused themselves to your corpse. you can run, but you can’t hide. you can never avoid the past. do you even want to?

you forget you aren’t human. not anymore. even so, you cling onto humanity like a child crying for their parents. you feel emotions as deeply as the next. you stand next to a human in a vessel that is dead and wonder why you feel as if you don’t belong. your empathy is damaging. your mannerisms mimic something you aren’t. hold onto this. pray for more. do not loose it.

how do you manage your anger? where do you feel it? that’s interesting. can you feel it twist itself between the valves and chambers of your heart? do the thorns of malice pierce your lungs? do you wish it would stop burning in your chest? do you ever have a sick satisfaction with you shoot off insults? do you feel regret when you snap at a loved one? when does it spread to your throat and take it’s wretched hands and choke you? when does it embrace your shoulders in justice? do you give people what they deserve? and what happens if they don’t deserve it? whenever will your lungs be damaged from the live coals that simmer? do you ever cough up the smoke? and when do you grab that gun and deliver retribution? is anger a welcome feeling for you? do you hate the thought of hatred itself? that would be funny. or is it that you fear who you become when you are this monster born of emotions, ash spewing from cracked lips with magma burning in your eyes?

and how do you feel about violence? is it an unremovable part of you? is it in your brain and does tends to stick no matter how hard it clings to your amygdala? what would you be without it? do you still remember how to kill a man? the best place to hit with the bat covered in rusty nails? does the blood still drip from your fingers and onto the floor? do you still feel that automatic reaction to pull out the gun whenever anything bad happens? do you forget how to care about the blood dripping from your fingers? did you still crave it? do you crave for the thing that raised you? do you ever smile when you shoot? have you become desensitized? you hate it. you hate it so much. you love it. the rush of adrenaline. you hate that you crave it. you pull your lips back into a sick and bloody smile when the tyrant is dead. you were numb the first time it happened. why are you so conflicted?

was death cold? what form did it take, if any at all? did it embrace you or was it so sudden that you thought your neck broke? did it unsettle you or did you feel comfortable? or did you feel nothing at all? after all, most are nothing in death. who was the first to meet you? to come and take your hand and lead you to the Garden? and how many times did you refuse that you were safe in Their care? how many times did you die after that until you finally cracked and sobbed and went down that road of healing? did you expect to see your old family in death?

what’s it like holding stardust in your palms? to be able to peek in at universes? to be able to walk among worlds like you are a part of it yourself? what’s it like being everything and nothing at once? can you hold the multiverse’s mysteries in your many arms? do your wings ever get in the way? what’s seeing like with that many eyes? to be so human and so otherly that you are stuck in an eternal venn-diagram, comparing your every move with that of your mortal past and your immortal future? but the past is the future and the future is the past, right? how silly of me to forget.

what will you do from here? now you’ve met me? am i everything you thought of? am i so different from your expectations? am i pressing too hard? wouldn’t you already know this? you’re made to know everything.

i’m sorry for everything, by the way. i think you knew that— yeah. come visit me again. ‘May The Stars guide you.’

[kirbytripledeluxe]

God do I wish we weren't scared to exist as a system without judgement. Hi .

[900revolvingwheels]

wish i was more of a fan of Physical Contact with Friends. dont get me wrong i don't mind the occasional hug etc but prolonged platonic close contact ? i'll kill myself. people are out and about cuddling on beds with their friendsies and enjoying it ?? how!!!! how does that not make you sooo uncomfortable!! really weird cause its just with friends that i dont like it. not cause i dont like my friends i love my friends but like girl save space for jesus. feel bad cause occasionally someone will like ask for a hug and then i'm just like "no. sorry." and they go "oh." and its kinda mean but also i don't want a hug. would rather hug a stranger than a friend ermm maybe that says something about me idk. is that evil and fucked up to admit. i like hugging my family members.

[campbyler]

the people (aka literally just me) are dying to know what the mbti types of girldummy are (if you guys know your types that is).

beyond hyped for chapter two, btw! stay well :)

wonderful question thank you for asking, and we do in fact know! i (suni) am an infp, thea is an isfp, and andi is an e/istj (the test is a little indecisive for her). 🥳🥳🥳

tbh the three of us are honestly more of enneagram girlies than mbti girlies so i’ll also go ahead and say that me n thea are both 2w1s and andi is a 1w2 which is an extremely entertaining dynamic when we are having fun and joking around but is therefore vaguely unproductive when we are trying to be Organized and Held Accountable For Writing lol. shoutout to andi whose enneagram one-ness is constantly fighting for its life trying to keep the two of us in check. love u 🩷

[martianbugsbunny]

I talk to myself when I'm trying to actually get things done and I've started saying "get it together Martian" out loud so now I live in fear that one day I will say it in front of someone and instead of just looking at me like I'm the dumbest person they've ever seen they're going to actually ask me why I said it

[chemicalarospec]

My experience with Hannibal so far:

Jeff the killer: kills people. Mutilates and eats them too.

Me: Yeah that's alright with me (skipping the eye gore tho)

Jeff the evil liar: evilly lies to someone about the cause of their psychosis

Me: I Am Not Okay With This

[planetsandstarsandstuff]

Astrology Notes/Observations:

(please do not copy or repost on other platforms)

Every time a Saturn-Venus native tries to reduce signs of aging, an angel loses its wings 💔 but seriously, old age suits these people SO well - if you have this placement please keep all your greys and fine lines!! I beg! (i may be slightly biased because i think aging looks great on everyone, but these individuals wear it particularly well).

Mars-Moon/Cancer Mars/Mars influencing the 4th house = angry criers

I find those with Neptune influence on the ascendant can seem to resemble almost anyone they stand next to; they may often be told they remind others of different people. (Neptune = illusions, fluidity, ambiguity, Ascendant = physical appearance).

Mercury in the 5th house synastry: We may be more likely to use pet names/terms of endearment here, even if it's not usually our thing - it feels natural to express affection (5H) in conversation (Mercury). The nicknames we have for each other may also be unique or creative in some way.

Those with Venus in the 1st have an eye for beauty and can really excel in fields related to artistry, appearance, or refinement of some kind (e.g., makeup artistry, styling, design, illustration, etc.) These people instinctively know what looks good.

3H Mars synastry 🤝 arguing like siblings

Having Capricorn over the 5th house can sometimes indicate having a preference for music/films/books that are quite dated; these people tend to have a highly developed and mature taste in art/media.

Having Neptune influencing the 3rd or 11th house can indicate feeling invisible or forgotten among peers - these people might feel they blend into the background in social settings.

Mars transits tend to instill a sense of urgency in whichever house is being affected. For example:

Mars transiting our 6H - feeling pushed to get our life in order, driven to create structure + take action surrounding work/responsibilities.

Mars transiting our 9H - feeling pushed to expand our horizons (possibly through long-distance travel, higher education, etc.) feeling anxious/unsettled staying where we are in life, wanting to explore.

Mars transiting our 10H - feeling pushed to determine our 'purpose'/vocation or take action in pursuing our ambitions, feeling driven toward success.

8th housers often take pride in their ability to psychoanalyze people; they are not, however, always good at it - these people can be real armchair psychologists (sorry).

Saturn transiting the 5th house: Things that may have otherwise been fleeting interests can become long-lasting fixations during this time (i.e., romances, hobbies, modes of self expression). Saturn is infusing this normally carefree house with a sense of gravity and endurance.

Having Uranus in the 4th house can sometimes point to living far away from family or being habitually away from the home/family.

I've found Mercury-Venus aspects in synastry (particularly the harsh aspects) can show up as the Mercury person constantly pointing out Venus' flaws or insecurities, sometimes without even realizing. Mercury can also be critical of Venus' social skills and may try to correct qualities of theirs they perceive as unlikable. Venus is put off by the Mercury person's endless nitpicking and might pull back from connecting as a result.

We might find we cry more easily when the Moon is transiting a water sign (Cancer/Scorpio/Pisces) or when transiting Moon is forming an aspect to our natal Moon. This can also be true for transiting Moon touching our IC/4th house.

I've noticed Mars-Mercury natives tend to enjoy banter more than most.

Neptune influencing Mercury/3H in the natal chart can sometimes indicate being good at impressions or being able to easily alter one's voice/speech - this can be a great placement for actors (especially voice actors).

I find those with 7th house placements are often more codependent/relationship-oriented than those with Libra placements alone.

I know it's been said before, but Scorpio risings really do resemble vampires (Nicole Kidman, Diana Ross, Kate Bush, Prince, Lana Del Ray, Frank Ocean, Lily Rose Depp, Fiona Apple..i mean come on!!)

I recently came across a video of Sheryl Lee Ralph discussing the freedom within her marriage, saying "[My husband] has his own life, I have my own life. He has his own real career, I have my own real career. He has his light to stand in, I have my light to stand in. [...] He's doing his thing, I get to do my thing. We also live in separate places; when I go to see him, love to see him. When it's time to leave, 'bye-bye, see ya soon.' I'm telling you, life is good; perfect!" I looked up her chart and of course she's a Sagittarius Venus LMAO - she really is in her ideal relationship. (Jupiter-Venus natives may relate to this as well.)

That's all, thanks for reading!

[shaunasrabbit]

Playin' Games | QZ!Joel x F!Reader

Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: You steal Joel's cut from a run. He comes to claim what's his.

Tags: No use of y/n, implied age gap (pretty nondescript but I imagined the reader is in her 20s, Joel is in his mid-50s), reader is afab, some physical descriptions (reader has hair that can be pulled, has a bush because #bushnation, and is curvy if you squint), sort of mean!Joel, reader is a little bratty, blood (brief and barely described), pussy eating, pussy pronouns, Joel is uncut because I said so, pussy slapping, use of good girl and other pet names, choking, face fucking, light dacryphilia, impact play with object, edging, hair pulling, squirting, unprotected piv, creampie. If I missed any tags, please let me know!

Word count: ~6.5K

Read on AO3

A/N: This is my first time writing fiction ever (nonfic writer here), so I'm very excited and nervous to post. My apologies for any grammatical/spelling errors—I lightly proofread this myself. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated! The entire fic was born out of wishing Joel Miller was hitting me with something. If you like this fic, please reblog and like. I hope you enjoy! Divider by @/saradika-graphics

You knew what you were doing when you pocketed Joel’s cut.

It was a job that he orchestrated, smuggling some pills out of the QZ, but you did all of the heavy lifting. You put your ass on the line. Really, if you think about it, you deserved it more than him, but that’s not why you kept it. 

It’s no secret that Joel has a temper. You have seen him murder people—innocent people—for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t find it sexy. Maybe that means there’s something wrong with you, but you figure that you’re living through the fucking apocalypse so you give yourself a pass for failing to psychoanalyze yourself. Trying not to die is the priority. And getting fucked by gruff Joel Miller apparently. When he bursts through your front door, and you know he will, he’ll get his payment. One way or another.

You’re waiting for him in bed, clad in only his undershirt. He gave it to you on a run after yours was shredded by barbed wire. Although you’d never admit it, you find yourself wearing it to bed sometimes, touching yourself to the thought of him. It’s infrequent—the fucking. A treat after a particularly stressful week, sometimes after a night of heavy drinking. He gives you the look, the one that says he’s about to ruin you, and you know. The small group that the two of you work with have no idea, though. You and Joel keep your mouths shut, talking only business. But fuck, you crave it. You crave the way his cock stretches you out, his intuitive hands, the feeling of his sticky cum on your tits. Sometimes you find yourself daydreaming about it while trailing behind him on jobs, staring at his broad shoulders and the gray peppered throughout his curls. Joel Miller makes you feel like a goddamn school girl with a crush.

Right when you think you’re growing too impatient, hands almost sliding between your legs to give yourself some relief, you hear it. A blunt knock on the door followed by the jiggling of the door knob. Your thighs squeeze in anticipation, feeling giddy like a teenager. When you hear his keys jangling, you stand up, scanning the room for the best place to hide. Unfortunately, your shabby apartment came without a closet door and you don’t really own many items to hide behind. Under the bed will have to do, even if it is predictable. He’ll find you in seconds, but it’ll rile him up a bit.

The door swings open and you hear him call your name. Sliding under the bed, you lie on your stomach—a rabbit waiting for the fox to sniff it out. Despite knowing you aren’t in any real danger—well, probably—you feel your hands start to shake, your breath becomes uneven, and wetness pools between your thighs. You silently curse him for the effect he has on you. Fucking embarrassing, you think to yourself.

“You better get your ass out here,” he barks from the living room, boots thudding against the distressed hardwood as he slowly makes his way towards the archway into your bedroom. You clamp your hand over your mouth to dampen the sound of your heavy breathing. 

He walks into your room and passes your bed, heading for the bathroom. A deafening scrape from the shower curtain rings echoes through the apartment, making your heart race. The anticipation feels like torture. Both you and your pussy, now clenching around nothing, know that Joel’s coming for you any second—there’s nowhere else you could be hiding. 

A gasp is pulled from your throat as Joel’s calloused, large hands grip onto your ankles and yank you out from underneath the bed. You don’t even have time to think as he flips you onto your back and places his worn boot on your chest to hold you down. “Fuck,” you curse under your breath.

“Where is it?” he asks, his voice low and flat. A twinge of annoyance hits you as your pussy is left unacknowledged; either he’s actually focused on getting his ration cards or is intentionally ignoring you to fuck with you. Heat creeps across your face, searing your cheeks.

You blink at him, eyes wide in a half attempt to feign innocence. Slowly, you spread your legs to draw attention to your slick folds. “Where is what, Joel? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Joel’s eyes rake down your body as he takes in the sight of your bare cunt. His eyelids are heavy and though it seems impossible, his deep brown eyes become darker. There’s a hint of lust—maybe rage—behind them. The line is blurry, and all you can think about is his broad shoulders as he towers above you. 

“I’m not playin’ these fuckin’ games with you, sweetheart,” he spits out, clenching his jaw and his fist in unison. Got him. “The ration cards. My cut. Hand ‘em over.” 

“Oh, that.” You bite your lip to hold back a smirk. “Gone. Sorry. You can take mine from the next run.”

Within seconds, your chest is relieved from the pressure of his boot, but his hand tangles in your hair, gripping it tightly and pulling you up to your feet. 

“Not how that works,” he says, tightening his iron grip on your hair before pushing you onto your bedspread. He climbs on top of you, pinning one of your wrists to the bed while the other reunites with your throat. If he wasn’t squeezing your neck so damn hard, you would probably be able to moan when his knee makes contact with your leaking core. Instinctively, you rut your hips against him for even a hint of friction. 

“Didn’t think you were dumb enough to think I’d take this pussy as payment.” Joel lets go of your wrist and lands a sharp smack against your cunt. “No matter how fuckin’ sweet she is.”

Grabbing your mound, he rubs circles over your hair there before slapping your pussy again. You try to yelp, but his grip is so tight that it comes out strangled and pathetic. Joel scoffs and his jaw goes slack. 

“Ya see this?” He holds up his hand, slowly moving his fingers apart so you can see strands of your slick between each of his digits. “Barely touched you—god, you’re desperate. A desperate fuckin’ whore.” 

He lets go of the python-like grip he had on your throat and jams two of his wet fingers into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag. Tears well in your eyes quicker than you’d like to admit. 

“I may be a dumb, desperate whore,” you say, managing to choke out the words through your gasps, “but you’re the one that’s already hard.” 

Joel moves swiftly to stand and you sit up on your elbows, legs parted and pussy still exposed to him. Your eyes drop to his belt buckle to watch his hands move expertly to undo it. Saliva pools in your mouth as you think about how hard his cock is going to be. Joel’s bigger than anyone else you’ve been with, and you fear that there will come a time where you don’t get to feel the stretch of him anymore. No one else could compare.

“I know what’ll shut you the fuck up.” He pushes his pants down to his mid-thigh. As his cock springs free, he demands, “On your back. Head off the edge.”

Fuck, he’s going to make it hurt and considering how pissed he looks, he’s going to make it really hurt. But you do as he says because you want it regardless. You want anything Joel has to give, but you’d never admit that to him and even without confessing, he knows. 

With your head hanging off the bed, you look up at him and see his heavy balls above you, bouncing as he strokes his already hard cock and exposes the swollen head. You stick your tongue out and he rewards you with a hard slap. Closing your eyes with bliss, you taste his salty pre-cum. A sense of victory swells in your chest—your plan was fucking working.

“This isn’t payment, darlin’. This is punishment,” he grumbles before forcefully shoving his uncut cock into your open mouth. He says it’s not payment, but it sure as hell doesn’t feel like punishment to you as your wet, wanting mouth coaxes a groan out of him. The intrusion makes you gag and tears prick at your eyes. You can tell he hasn’t showered today, taking in the scent of his musky sweat. So unmistakably Joel—you swear you’d wear it as perfume if you could. 

It takes a moment for your throat to adjust to his size, but once you do, you stop gagging as much as he finds a rhythm. And damn, he is relentless, fucking your mouth fast and careless. 

“That’s it,” he groans, “I like you better when you got my cock in your mouth.” 

Joel grunts above you, expletives and your name interrupting every now and then. Your hands are fisting the sheets, trying to give yourself some stability as he rocks his hips. Tears roll down your temples and into your hairline, your eyes closing tightly as you try to blink them away. 

He looks down at you, eyelids heavy. “So goddamn pretty when you cry, baby.”

You’re rewarded with a particularly hard thrust that causes spit to sputter out of the sides of your mouth, dripping onto your cheeks. You instinctively try to pull your head back to catch your breath, but Joel’s hands grip the sides of your head to hold you in place. 

A cruel chuckle mocks you from above as Joel looks down at you, rubbing your cheeks, hot and burning with want. Joel slows his hips and nearly pulls out all the way before slowly easing himself back in. “Fuck,” he exhales, looking down at his cock disappearing between your swollen lips. “You’re such a fuckin’ mess, but you’re takin’ my cock so well.”

You hum at the praise, the vibration adding an extra twinge of pleasure for Joel. His movements become erratic and you can feel his dick twitch in your mouth as he gets close to his release. That’s your favorite thing about fucking Joel—watching a man who never loses his composure, never seems vulnerable, finally falter when he comes. But when he suddenly leaves your wet mouth with a groan, you’re left gasping for air. You push yourself upright, feeling a little dizzy from all the blood rushing to your head while upside down. “Joel,” you whine, exasperated and utterly frustrated.

“‘Joel’ what? Do ya need something, baby?” he teases as he strips fully naked. 

Rolling your eyes, you push yourself up against the headboard and spread your legs, lightly teasing your clit with your index finger. Even the slightest touch makes your legs tremble and you rest your head back, letting a delicate whimper slip from your lips. 

“Uh-uh,” Joel tuts, sliding between your legs and slapping your hand away, “use your words. Had no problem runnin’ that pretty mouth earlier.” 

Joel has always had a way of turning you on without even touching you, but this was a whole new level. His taunting goes straight to your cunt and you can feel your arousal dripping out of you. As badly as you want his hot, wet tongue on your clit, you aren’t going to give in that easily. 

“Didn’t think you were dumb enough to need me to spell it out for you,” you quip, voice low and sultry. 

Joel’s jaw tenses and his eyes narrow. You can tell he’s trying to decide what to do with you. Maybe he’ll shove his cock down your throat again to shut you up, maybe he’ll deprive you altogether and leave, or maybe he’ll give you what you want. When he’s in a bad mood, Joel likes to deny, deny, deny. But he does end up giving in. He always gives in. 

Grabbing you by your leg, Joel pulls you onto his lap so that you’re straddling him. Your slick cunt finally makes contact with his hard length and you bite back a small moan at the pressure. There’s no point in trying to mask your neediness, Joel already knows, but you hold yourself back from grinding against his cock. 

“Playin’ a real dangerous game, baby, ya know that?” Joel growls in your ear, giving your neck a light nip. You shudder at the sensation and take a deep breath, still fighting the urge to move your hips. His hands find your ass, squeezing and digging his fingernails into the soft flesh. 

Draping your arms over Joel’s shoulders, you tilt your head to give him better access to your neck. “Maybe,” you smile as his teeth pinch the sensitive skin on your pulse point, “but I think you like this game.” 

Joel lets out a breathy laugh against your neck, sending shivers down your spine and your breath catches in your throat. His fingers trail lightly up your ass before settling on your hips. The gentle touch is soured as he clutches you, a deep burn licking your sides. He moves you ever so slightly, making your clit brush against his swollen head. Your breath wavers and you pull back to look at him. Brown eyes illuminated by the setting sun, accentuating all of the flecks of gold and amber in his irises. You swear that you could stare into his eyes all day. Joel’s lips part like he’s hungry for you and you lean in to kiss him, but his hand intercepts you, grabbing your jaw tightly.

“No. Rule number one is,” he scolds, shaking your head slightly before letting it go of you, “no kissing.” 

Part of you can’t help but feel disappointed even though you expect this from Joel. The two of you only ever kiss when there’s too much whiskey involved and the heat of the moment blinds him from his normal detachment. 

You open your mouth to say something snarky, but Joel cuts you off. “Rule number two”—he grips the collar of the shirt hanging loosely off of you—“is no hiding these tits from me.” 

Effortlessly, Joel rips your favorite shirt—his shirt—right down the middle. Within seconds, he brings his mouth to your already pebbled nipple, swirling it around his warm mouth. You bite back a moan and remind yourself that he just destroyed your favorite item of clothing. Instead, you furrow your brows and clench your jaw. You’re sure that you look ridiculous as you put on the angriest face you can muster while pleasure shoots through your core.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Joel?” you hiss while trying to push him off of you, palms pressing hard into his shoulders, but he doesn’t budge. 

He pulls back for a moment and looks at you, replacing his mouth with his fingers and gives your nipple a light pinch. You pull your cheek between your teeth to stop a moan from tumbling out of you. 

“What the fuck is wrong with me? Like you’re not wearin’ nothing but my shirt.” Joel bites the swell of your breast and soothes it with a gentle suck after, finally eliciting a moan from you. “You wear it when you touch yourself?” 

Your cheeks feel hot as embarrassment bubbles in your stomach alongside desperation. Every time Joel mocks you, you feel yourself falling deeper into that safe space that you crave. The space where you don’t have to think about the broken world around you, the space where only Joel and his touch matter. 

Unable to think of anything snarky to say back, you let out a pathetic whimper that Joel takes as a victory. He flips you onto your back and settles between your legs, nearly growling when he sees your arousal leaking from your slit. Gripping your hips, he stops you from trying to wiggle towards him.

“Look at that, baby,” he groans before kissing the coarse hair on your mound, “I can’t believe how fuckin’ wet she is for me. Such a needy little thing.”

All you can manage is a small whine as you tangle your hands in his soft curls, practically pushing his face into your pussy. Joel’s hot breath fans over your cunt and you press your head into the pillow, spreading your legs more for him—begging him to give you something.

Joel accepts the non-verbal invitation and licks an agonizingly slow stripe from your hole to your clit. Sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth, he lets go with an obscene pop. You moan at the loss of contact, squeezing your eyes shut and letting go of his hair so you can fist the bed sheets instead. Joel’s not patient, but neither are you, and you’re starting to feel a level of want that’s almost painful. 

Two of Joel’s fingers form a V to spread your folds, further exposing your clit so that he can get a better look at you. You glance down and the sight of him causes you to clench, reminding you how empty your pussy is. Pupils blown, hair tousled, and if you didn’t know that the glisten around his lips was your arousal, you’d swear he was drooling. He may have you melting under his touch, but you were wrecking him, too.

“Are you going to be a good girl f’me?” he asks, lightly brushing his index finger over your swollen bud. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. “I don’t know, Joel,” you say, almost sing-songy, as you tilt your hips closer to him. “Are you going to give me a reason to be?”

A hard smack to your cunt forces your eyes open and you try to retreat, scooting towards the headboard, but it’s useless. Joel has you held firmly in place with one hand. 

“Such a fuckin’ brat,” he growls.

You don’t get to answer before Joel’s jamming two fingers inside of you, giving you no time to adjust to the width before he’s fucking into you. You suck in sharply at the slight burn before a strangled moan claws its way out of your throat. His pace is unforgiving, but you can’t get enough. You find yourself bucking your hips into his hand, propping yourself up on your elbows for a better view of his fingers moving in and out, covered in your juices. 

Joel’s eyes are dark and fixated on your cunt and how it gushes around his fingers. The sound of your squelching pussy and wanton moans filling the room, sounding like a symphony. If you had the ability to think about anything besides the sweet tension building in your lower stomach and the rugged man between your legs, you’d be concerned about the neighbors hearing. 

“Good girls get to come,” Joel says, glancing up at your flushed face. Your lips are parted as you’re basically panting, trying to catch your breath, but Joel never gives you the chance to, continuing to fuck you mercilessly. “Is that ‘nough of a reason for you, sweetheart?”

“Mm, maybe—fuck!”

When Joel’s tongue meets your clit, you cry out and try to grab at his free hand to ground yourself. For a moment, he laces your fingers together, his large hand swallowing yours, but he quickly moves your hand up to your breast. Your grab at your own flesh, gently tugging at your nipple as Joel’s fingers and tongue work in tandem. The way Joel’s tongue swirls against your clit in precise circles feels like magic, like this is all he was built for. Your legs start to twitch as you approach your release and electricity courses through your body while Joel’s fingers curl just right to hit that spongy spot inside of you. You clench around him, obscene moans and gasps just pouring out of you. Joel hums against you, clearly pleased with himself. He takes your bud into his mouth, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. And fuck—that nearly does you in. But just as quickly as you got there, he takes it all away—keeping you at the edge but not allowing you to fall over. 

Pulling his mouth away and retracting his now soaked fingers, he drags his index finger up and down your seam. Your hips shift and you groan, disgruntled and, frankly, annoyed. When the two of you make eye contact, despite your exasperation, you can’t help the way the corners of your mouth turn slightly upward, admiring how his lips and scruff are glistening with your arousal, his disheveled hair, the sheen of sweat on his forehead that’s dampening his curls. 

“What’s that little smirk about?” Joel asks with a raised brow. He moves up towards you, peppering your breasts with a few delicate kisses before settling next to you. As Joel’s arm snakes around your shoulder and he pulls you into his warm chest, your breath hitches at the sudden, unexpected gentleness of it all. 

These moments when Joel’s soft with you are rare, making them all the more satisfying. Something tugs at your heart, though. You wonder what Joel was like before the outbreak, before the world turned even the softest to stone. Maybe Joel was the type to make love, not the type to fuck. Maybe he brought his dates flowers and opened the car door for them. Once, you heard whispers that Joel had a daughter who died. The thought of him making her school lunches makes your chest tighten. With your ear pressed to his chest and his heart beating steadily underneath you, you realize that you’d do anything to see Joel Miller being domestic, being soft, being sweet. God, what the fuck is wrong with me? you think, squeezing your eyes shut to push the thought away. You tell yourself being this turned on can make the mind think crazy things. 

“You gonna answer me?” Joel’s voice is low, quieter now. 

Nipping at his jaw and soothing it with a kiss, you whisper, “Need you—need your cock inside me, Joel.”

“Darlin’,” he chuckles, his lips brushing your temple, “I don’t really give a shit what ya need. You’re gonna take what I give ya.”

With a small whine, you nod and nuzzle your face into his neck. You asked for this, you know that, but you feel like you're going to explode and there’s no way he doesn’t feel the same. His cock twitching ever so slightly against the soft shelf of his tummy gives him away. 

Joel’s free hand slides down to your breast, giving your nipple a hard tug, before coming in contact with your clit. He begins to rub excruciatingly light circles on your sensitive nub. A wanton sound, somewhere between a whine and a moan, climbs its way out of your throat as you press your face into his neck. You start to hate him for a moment, but then you remember how perfectly he stretches you out and if you’re just a little more patient, maybe you’ll feel it soon. At least that’s what you tell yourself.

“I know, I know,” he coos. “Wanna come for me, huh?”

All you can do is whine and nod in response, bucking your hips toward his thick finger, begging for more pressure on your clit. The way his voice has softened shoots right to your core. Something akin to butterflies in your stomach overwhelms you as heat spreads throughout your chest. You feel so hot, so needy, and so agitated that he isn’t just giving you what you want. 

Joel lets out a breathy laugh and finally rubs your clit in earnest. It feels like heaven and hell at the same time, both overstimulating and not stimulating enough. You close your eyes so tight that you see stars as you feel the pressure steadily build inside of you. Joel whispers filthy things in your ear, but you can hardly focus on anything except the practiced circles on your clit.

Involuntarily, your legs twitch and begin to close as you approach your peak. Joel pins your leg to the bed with his own and slaps your clit, a playful warning. “C’mon now, be a good girl. Keep ‘em spread for me,” he says, voice husky and low as it vibrates the shell of your ear. 

The praise nearly makes you come and Joel knows it, but he slows his pace, letting your impending orgasm dissipate. You exhale slowly, trying to mask your frustration. But then he does it again and again, bringing you right there before taking it all away. After your orgasm is snatched away from you for the fourth time, you’re a shaking mess, hair sticking to your forehead and face hot with lust and anger which, right now, feel like the same thing to you.

“Y’look s’pretty  like this, y’know that?” he asks, his syrupy drawl thickened by want. 

“Mm—feels s-so,” you moan, “fucking good, Joel.”

After the first few times fucking him, you figured out that Joel likes praise as much as you do, even if he isn’t forthright about it. It isn’t a lie, it feels so fucking good, but you also hope that telling him so will give you the release you crave. As his fingers speed up, applying the right amount of pressure, you think your strategy may have worked. Your moans become louder as your hips jerk up. You’re right there. But he stops altogether, dragging his fingers up to rest on the curve of your stomach, leaving a trail of your arousal. 

The smug look on his face pisses you off. You want to hit him. You want to scream, maybe cry. You want to fucking orgasm.

“What the fuck, Joel?” you snap, breaking away from his hold. 

“Oh, baby, real awful, ain’t it? Not getting what you want?”

“Fuck you,” you hiss, trying to pull yourself up off the bed despite your legs feeling like gelatin. 

A calloused hand catches your wrist and drags you back onto the bed. Joel positions you so that you’re straddling him. If you weren’t so worn out from being edged for what felt like hours, you probably would try to resist, but it’d be useless. You’re forcing yourself to hover above him, legs twitching as you try to muster the strength to stay like that, just so he doesn’t get the satisfaction of your wet, hot cunt on his throbbing cock. 

Joel notices that you’re enraptured by him below you, your eyes focusing intently on the expanse of his chest and the gray hair littered across, covering scars here and there. While you’re thoroughly distracted—lecherous yet embittered—Joel forces you down on his cock. The unexpected intrusion makes you wince and a jumbled fuckjoelohmygod spills from you, sandwiched between high pitched whines and moans. 

“Fuck me, sugar,” he commands with a grunt, slapping your ass as he bottoms out inside of you. The head of his cock kisses your cervix, stirring a delicious pressure inside of you, and the initial burn of the stretch melts into pleasure. 

You can’t think of anything except the feeling of Joel splitting you open. The way the gray patch of hair at the base of the cock meets your own hair and your swollen clit, the weight of his hands on the soft, plush flesh of your hips, the bead of sweat rolling down his aquiline nose. You snap out of your trance as he squeezes your supple thighs and raises an eyebrow, awaiting your movement.

“I-I…” you stutter, pinching your eyes closed. You anchor yourself to him by pressing your palms flat against his chest, his heartbeat steady yet accelerated under your touch. Seated fully on his cock, you begin to languidly grind on him, softly moaning as the base of his cock grazes your puffy clit. You’re slow in your movements, but precise, only prioritizing Joel’s cock nudging the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl and the pressure on your clit. 

“Is that the best ya can do?” Joel groans, discontented with your lack of compliance. His feet dig into the bed for leverage as he lifts his hips to fuck up into you, fast and sloppy. 

It’s an obscene sight—your tits bouncing as he fucks you, his thumb playing with your clit, hands grasping at the headboard for some grounding. But the sounds, god. The sounds in the room were downright sinful. High-pitched, borderline squeaky, gasps and mewls from you with grunts and groans from Joel. Skin on skin. The bedframe precariously creaking. Nearly out of your goddamn mind from Joel’s cock ruthlessly pistoning in and out of your weeping cunt, you have no idea how loud you really are, but even if you did, it wouldn’t matter. The louder you get, the harder Joel fucks you. 

“Mm, fuck, can feel her squeezin’ me, sweetheart,” Joel grumbles between heavy breaths, “but ya can’t come until I say so, got it?” 

You nod dumbly with your mouth agape, doing your best to fight the fire in your clit that was rapidly burning. Tears threaten to spill from your waterline as Joel’s thumb works faster to circle your clit and you hear him chuckle beneath you. That fucking asshole. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you. 

“Joel, stop,” you choke out, “or I-I-I’ll…I’m going to—”

“No, be a good girl f’me.”

That’s all it takes. Those two words—good girl—send waves of pure ecstasy over you while you come on his cock. As your walls spasm and clench around him, you dig your nails into his shoulders. Maybe you’ll leave your mark on him, adding to the collection of scars across his body. Joel fucks you through it, each thrust more erratic and delectable than the last. 

As you come down from the high of your orgasm, each of your senses trickle back in. You can now hear Joel saying something that you can’t quite make out below you, you can taste the iron on your tongue from where you bit down on your lip while you came, you can feel the wetness on your thighs. Wait—why was it so wet?  Glancing down, it hits you. You must’ve squirted because you and Joel are drenched in your release. Heat creeps up your neck and rests on your cheeks, your face burning with embarrassment. 

“Hey,” Joel’s gravelly voice cuts through your haze. A light tap to your ass draws your eyes down to his. “Up.”

Lips parted, you nod slowly, pulling yourself off of his cock and collapsing next to him. Joel shifts onto his side to face you, heavy and hard cock landing on your wet thigh. Your eyes meet his for only a few seconds before you look away, unable to read his expression. You sigh and say, “That’s…never happened before…”

Joel hums in response as he sits up and positions himself between your shaky thighs, spreading them apart and grabbing the base of his cock. Your breath hitches and your eyes widen, mesmerized by the angry red tip in front of you. How is it even possible to still need him after such an intense orgasm? Joel makes you like this. Insatiable. You think you hate him for it or  at least you might right now, while you lie in front of him, absolutely wrecked.

“Soaked my goddamn lap,” he grumbles.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Don’t go blamin’ me,” he gruffs, lining himself up to your leaking entrance. “Blame this needy fuckin’ pussy. Can’t help creamin’ all over my cock, huh?”

In one swift motion, Joel snaps his hips into you, his groin flush against yours. You nearly yelp, your pussy beyond sensitive from your orgasm. He begins fucking you relentlessly and you wrap your legs around his waist to suck him in as deep as possible. You swear, you can feel him in your stomach every time he bottoms out. Joel leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours, your sweat mingling with his. It’s torturous, having him this close to you, but knowing that you can’t kiss him. You wouldn’t risk it, not when you’ve already pushed your luck with him. All you want is Joel. Inside of you, on top of you, touching you. 

“Y’need to learn your lesson, girl,” he mumbles, lips dangerously close to yours. Joel’s hand snakes between the two of you and rests heavy on your throat.

“Please,” you choke out, unsure of what you’re even asking for. Pliant and soft beneath him, you’d take anything. 

Joel props himself up on an elbow, his large hand never leaving your neck, as he looks around the room. Something shifts as his gaze lands on the back scratcher next to your bed. His eyes, dark and heavy lidded. Letting go of your throat, he grabs the back scratcher and turns it over in his hands like he’s contemplating whether or not it’s a suitable punishment. You know damn well that he’s already made up his mind—he’s just fucking with you. 

“Hm,” his eyes flick up to meet yours, “ya think this will get it through that pretty little head? That ya gotta listen to me?” 

Biting your bottom lip, you give a small shrug. “Maybe,” you say, practically a whisper. Sweat starts gathering in the pit of your knee as you anticipate the burn.

Joel pushes your legs together and shoves your knees into your chest, making your pussy choke his cock and you can’t help but moan at the change in position. With the back of your thighs exposed to him, Joel has the perfect view of where his cock meets your pussy and he’s practically salivating. When his thumb brushes your swollen lips, you hum in pleasure and close your eyes, letting your head loll back onto the pillow. Lost in a daze, Joel seizes the opportunity to catch you off guard. Cold wood meets your skin with a loud smack and you cry out at the sudden pain. 

“Fuck!” you exclaim, eyes opening and brows furrowing as you look up at him.

“Poor thing. Shoulda listened to me if ya didn’t want me to hurt ya.” Soothing the skin that was already beginning to raise with his thumb, Joel tuts and shakes his head. “But I think ya like this, don’t ya?”

You whine in response, nodding your head in quick succession. It’s true; in a world with so much unmitigated pain, it was nice to have a strike come from Joel. Joel, who despite all of his rough edges, wouldn’t ever hurt you too badly.

“S’what I thought,” he says, raising the back scratcher and hitting the back of your thighs again, but this time with more force. 

As the sting fizzles out, Joel begins fucking you, setting a punishing pace. The pleasure and pain are an irresistible cocktail and you start to clench around him, feral moans and his name mindlessly pouring out of you. 

Joel groans at the sight in front of him. You, all fucked out, just writhing in front of him. Pulling your legs closer to your chest, you invite him to hit you again. And fuck, he does. Over and over again, only stopping when he sees that he’s broken skin, crimson bubbling from the small split in your flesh. At this point, the pain has clouded your mind and everything felt hazy. You’re finally in that space that only Joel can bring you to. 

“Oh, baby,” Joel coos between grunts, “did s’fuckin’ well takin’ your punishment.” 

You smile stupidly at the praise, letting your legs drop, blood smearing on your bedspread. When you open your eyes, you see Joel looking down at you, almost affectionately. You’d seen him vulnerable before, yes, but this feels different, like you’ve managed to access a different part of him. You’re not sure what part of him, but it was definitely something new. He leans down, burying his face in your neck as he continues to fuck you, hard and deep. Holding him to you like you’ll fall off of the earth if you let go, you moan his name in his ear as he kisses that sweet, velvety spot in your pussy with his cock. 

Hips stuttering, you can tell he’s close. His grunts grow louder and beautifully harmonize with the squelch of your pussy. “Joel,” you whimper, “want you to fill me up. Please.”

“Like when ya use your manners, sweetheart,” he says, nipping at your throat. “Gonna fill ya up real good. Claim this fuckin’ cunt.” 

With that, he’s spilling ropes of come inside of your spent cunt, filling you to the brim. Your pussy has a vice grip on him, squeezing and milking every last drop from his cock. When he finally stills inside of you, you’re both panting messes. Joel goes limp against you, putting all of his weight on you as you both try to catch your breath. 

You could lie like this forever, you think. There’s something comforting about his body suffocating yours, cock softening inside of you. Something safe about it. Something that makes your body vibrate. You push the warm thoughts away, knowing that in a few minutes, Joel will be slamming your door shut to go back to his apartment across the QZ. 

Joel pulls out of you carelessly without a word and begins to get dressed, shoving his come-slick cock in his boxers. You reach over to your nightstand, opening the draw and pulling his ration cards out. As you do this, you feel his come leak out of you, trickling down to your puckered hole and pooling on your definitely soiled bed sheets. 

Tossing the ration cards his way, you lean back against the headboard. Joel’s eyes flick from his cut to you, quietly shoving the cards in his back pocket. 

“Y’could’ve just asked,” he says flatly. 

“More fun this way.”

Joel exhales through his nose and the slightest smirk tugs at his lips. Padding over to you, he leans down and presses his lips to your forehead, brushing your hair out of your face. You leave a kiss on the palm of his warm hand before getting out of bed and walking over to the bathroom to clean up. Joel’s eyes are burning into you as he watches his come drip down your legs from behind.

When you emerge from the bathroom, Joel’s gone, but the white t-shirt he was wearing under his flannel is folded at the end of the bed.

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #32

It all began when Dr. Jasmine Fenton—Jazz, to the brave and traumatized—walked into the Avengers Compound in five-inch block heels, a blood-red blazer, and a clipboard with everyone’s most damning psychological profiles printed in 12-point Times New Roman. She had been hired because, quote, “the last six therapists either quit, cried, or developed their own hero complexes.” SHIELD had gone through the best and brightest the world had to offer. They even tried a Wakandan empathy AI once. It cried. The AI cried.

So when Jazz Fenton walked in, armed with a dual PhD in clinical psychology and trauma therapy, the last thing they expected was that she’d personally know what hero trauma looked like. But she did. Her baby brother was a half-ghost interdimensional guardian who once got hit by a nuke and walked it off. Her parents were mad scientists who tried to dissect him. And her godfather was an immortal corporate vampire with a crown kink and a habit of kidnapping. She had seen things. She understood. And more importantly, she didn’t care. She wasn’t here to coddle them.

“Dr. Fenton,” Steve Rogers greeted politely that first morning.

“Please, call me Jazz,” she said with a smile that made even Natasha lower her coffee. “Or Doctor Fenton if you’re about to lie to me.”

Tony Stark made the mistake of raising an eyebrow. “Oh? What are you gonna do, psychoanalyze me into submission?”

She flipped to his file. “‘Severe abandonment issues, destructive self-worth tendencies, martyr complex buried under layers of narcissistic deflection, sleeps three hours a night, probably cries in the shower—’”

“I don’t cry in the shower!”

“That is because you don’t shower, Mr. Stark.”

That shut him up.

From that day onward, fear fell over the Avengers Compound like a thick, fragrant fog of anxiety. Jazz was everywhere. One moment she was on the roof with Clint discussing his grief over Budapest, the next she was in the lab with Bruce making him cry, and the moment after that she had Loki in handcuffs—not because he was arrested, but because he asked for them.

“I just think maybe I’m too attached to the idea of being hated,” Loki muttered, slouched on the therapy couch.

“You are,” Jazz replied, checking her notes. “You’re addicted to conflict because you’ve built your identity on being an outsider. Every time you’re offered genuine affection, you self-sabotage. You’re not a villain, you’re just a lonely youngest child.”

“I—” Loki blinked. “That is horrifically accurate. And incredibly offensive.”

“Cry harder, Sparklehorn.”

Thor, meanwhile, loved her. Adored her. Followed her around like an emotional support golden retriever with lightning powers. He kept trying to give her things—golden goblets, fur cloaks, an entire goat—until one day she casually picked up Mjolnir while fixing a crooked painting and everyone screamed.

“How the fuck—” Sam Wilson shouted.

“Why can she do that?” Peter Parker asked from the ceiling.

“Therapists shouldn’t be worthy!” Tony wailed. “It’s not natural!”

Jazz shrugged and handed the hammer back to Thor. “I was forged in the fires of Midwestern neglect and ghost radiation. You think Odin can break me? Try surviving your brother getting publicly disemboweled by a government robot while your parents take notes.”

She had no chill. None. She was the only person who called Wanda out on her grief projection, made Bucky talk about his repressed ballet skills, and forced Steve to draw a family tree so she could scream “YOUR ENTIRE FRIEND GROUP IS CODEPENDENT.”

“Group therapy!” she declared one Tuesday.

“No,” said literally everyone.

“Too bad. Show up or I will personally guilt you in front of the media using your own trauma receipts.”

And they did. They came. They came because they were afraid.

Tony sat with arms crossed. “This is stupid.”

“Tell that to your inner child.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Exactly.”

Clint sighed. “This is worse than Budapest.”

“Everything is worse than Budapest,” Natasha replied.

Wanda blinked slowly. “I think I just astrally projected my own anxiety. It’s hovering above me like a raincloud.”

Jazz didn’t even blink. “Let it hover. Let it watch you cry. Maybe it’ll finally grow up.”

Civil War? Canceled.

No one dared fight each other under Jazz’s watch. When tensions began rising between Tony and Steve over the Sokovia Accords, she locked them in a soundproof room with juice boxes and didn’t let them out until they hugged it out like the emotionally repressed golden retrievers they were.

“I will tranquilize you both,” she warned through the door. “I have the darts and the upper body strength. Don’t tempt me.”

They made up within the hour.

At one point, Nick Fury tried to get involved. He barged into one of Jazz’s sessions like he still ran SHIELD.

“What the hell kind of therapy involves throwing knives at a target while crying?” he demanded.

Jazz, unfazed, handed him a stress knife. “Want to try?”

He did. And then immediately rebooked weekly appointments.

By week four, the compound was transformed. Hulk was journaling. Peter was actually doing his homework. Wanda was learning healthy coping mechanisms that didn’t involve mind-controlling entire suburbs. Clint and Natasha were having pillow talks about emotional vulnerability. Even Loki was crocheting.

“Do you know what I’ve done?” he whispered as he stitched a duck.

“I’ve read your file,” Jazz said. “And your Tumblr tag. You’re not special.”

“I am special—”

“You’re traumatized, sweetie.”

Meanwhile, Tony—still deeply suspicious—began following her around trying to find proof she was a Hydra sleeper agent. What he found instead was her absolutely unhinged family.

“You’re related to who?” he asked over coffee one morning.

Jazz sighed. “My little brother is Danny Phantom, ghost-powered superhero and part-time physics major. My godfather is Vlad Masters, ex-billionaire and full-time supervillain with a complex. My parents are Jack and Maddie Fenton.”

Tony blinked. “The guys who duct-taped a rocket to a lawnmower and called it science?”

“The very same.”

“No wonder you’re like this.”

Jazz nodded. “Exactly. I was forged in chaos and trauma. Now I’m here to fix you.”

“I don’t want to be fixed.”

“Too bad. I’ve already started rebuilding your psyche.”

“What does that mean—”

“Check your inner monologue. Notice how it’s stopped calling you a worthless meat puppet?”

Tony screamed.

Even Doctor Strange, who allegedly had the answers to the universe, found himself in a corner drinking tea and rethinking the way he suppressed his emotions with sarcasm and facial hair.

“You’re not mystical, Stephen,” Jazz told him. “You’re just emotionally constipated.”

“I literally astral project.”

“Cool. Now try emotional projection. Maybe apologize to Wong.”

“…Wong is asleep.”

“Wake him up.”

By month two, even the press noticed. The Avengers were glowing. Smiling. Making eye contact during press conferences instead of brooding like middle school theater kids.

“What changed?” a reporter asked.

Tony grabbed the mic. “Her name is Jazz Fenton and she scares the hell out of us.”

Steve nodded solemnly. “She made me cry six times in one session. I told her about my dad.”

“She made me draw my feelings,” Clint added.

“I finally cried about Pietro,” Wanda whispered. “In public. It felt amazing. I think I vomited emotions.”

“Dr. Fenton helped me write a song about my grief,” Thor said proudly. “It’s a power ballad. With goats.”

And then came the incident.

The one time the Avengers tried to disobey her. Sam and Bucky had been arguing again. Loudly. And somewhere in the chaos, someone dared say, “It’s not like Jazz can stop us.”

Wrong.

So, so wrong.

Jazz calmly walked into the sparring room, confiscated Bucky’s knife mid-twirl, took Sam’s wings with one hand, and sat both men down with the force of divine intervention.

“You two,” she said in a voice that made the walls tremble, “are not enemies. You are trauma-bonded enemies-to-friends-to-exes-to-besties. You are a trope. You are a fanfiction tag. You are not about to regress into kindergarten slap fights because one of you forgot the others’ favorite breakfast order.”

“…He forgot my birthday,” Sam muttered.

“Because he has memory trauma! You have it too! You both need to go on a spa day and cry it out in a hot tub like normal people.”

And they did.

They actually did.

The day Jazz left for a conference—just one day—the entire compound fell into shambles. Loki started monologuing again, Peter accidentally built a sentient AI who wrote poetry about death, Wanda started glowing red again, and Tony tried to weaponize emotional damage via sarcastic limericks.

The moment she came back, they all lined up like chastised children.

“What did I say about emotionally projecting without supervision?” she asked.

“Don’t do it,” they chorused.

“And?”

Peter sniffled. “We missed you.”

“Damn right you did.”

Jazz smiled, terrifying and fond, and flipped her clipboard. “Now. Who wants to talk about their mother?”

And the Avengers, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, sat down.

Because nothing—not Chitauri, not Ultron, not even Thanos—was scarier than the therapist who could lift Mjolnir and your deepest childhood wound in the same breath.

Dr. Jasmine Fenton was the real hero. And everyone knew it.

[aeribbon]

unconditional | jeong jaehyun

summary; when the latest guest on your ''little'' show happens to be your boyfriend

featuring; jaehyun x podcaster!reader

fc; yesly dimate

warnings; english isn't my first language + not proofread yet

an; i love being a jaehyun stan ughhh !! taking requests if you guys ever have an idea :) + likes and reblog are appreciated ;)

navigation masterlist request

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, harrisdickinson and 1.2 M others !

yourusername i heard that chicken shop date is back ?

view all comments

username OMG FINALLY

username we didn't have any episodes for 4 months and it felt like two years pls never disappear like that again

username im locked in for real

username who's going to be the guest

▮ yourusername my new babygirl

▮ username helloooo ??

username we're going to witness yn's rizzness back in action omg

username I'm so sat for this

username does this mean we're getting a new episode on ''that's (not) deep''

▮ yourusername we might we might

▮ username YES GAWWWD YES GAWWDD

▮ username double sat !!!!

chickenshopdate and yourusername

liked by harrisdickinson, _jeongjaehyun and 2.1 M others !

yourusername he’s now my baby girl !! new chicken shop date episode out !! hope you’ll enjoy this one 💋💋

view all comments

username OMG THIS IS MY MULTIVERSE

username the glass of milk moment was SO FUNNY

username i’m so jealous

username you were both so down for each other

▮ username the way they kept giggling at each other

username the chemistry between you two will be studied for years in university

username he litteraly made her break character im crying

username AHAHA YES

quenblackwell ok now my turn queen pls

▮ yourusername mhhh are you asking me out ? 😏

username jaehyun in the likes ????

▮ username WE NEED HIM ON AN EPISODE NOW

▮ username it’s more than a need

username lovely

yourusername

liked by quenblackwell, _jeongjaehyun and 2.1M others !

yourusername date night and oh ! new that’s (not) deep episode out with my gf

view all comments

username NOW THIS IS MY CROSSOVER

username at the same damn time !!!!

username they’re both gorgeous

username ik this duo is unhinged

username exactly what i needed

username I LOVE WHEN WOMEN CRITICISE MEN 😈

▮ username we hate MEN ‼️‼️

_jeongjaehyun aquarius men for the win

▮ yourusername yeah i like them !!

▮ username why is no one reacting omg

quenblackwell we need to do this again

▮ yourusername i want to be on feeding influencers PLEASE

▮ quenblackwell YES YES YES

username truth was spoken in this podcast

username LOVE THEM

username maximized joint slay

EXTRACTS FROM THAT’S (NOT) DEEP FEAT. QUEN BLACKWELL

season 2, episode 6: why do mean fear astrology but trust vibes ?

yn: welcome back to That’s (Not) Deep, the only podcast where we psychoanalyze our exes, ourselves, and sometimes the moon.

today, i am joined by the girl, THEE internet menace turned philosophical genius: Quen Blackwell

quen: ouhhh clock it i like that "philosophical genius"

[02:30; they hate the stars but love the vibes]

yn: okay so real question: why do men act like astrology is fake but be like, “idk you just don’t give me good energy”?

quen: no bc they’ll say astrology isn’t real and then be like “i had a weird dream about my ex so i’m not going out today.” like baby… you’re using the spiritual wi-fi and denying the router.

yn: not the spiritual wi-fi

[10:45; star sign or red flag ?]

yn: “ghosted you and then liked your IG story three minutes later.”

quen: SCORPIO. final answer.

yn: correct.

“told you he ‘doesn’t believe in labels’ but called you his wife in public.”

quen: GEMINI.

yn: …that’s a Libra actually

quen: same thing if we’re being honest !

[27:34: voice note game]

(you play unhinged anonymous voice notes from listeners who blamed astrology for their mistakes)

voice note: “so i cheated but it was during eclipse season and i’m a sagittarius soooo…”

quen: she’s innocent. let her go.

[38:00; closing]

yn: so what did we learn today ?

quen: men are just emotionally constipated air signs.

you: and that’s not deep… or is it?

_jeongjaehyun

liked by prada, yourusername and 3,2M others !

_jeongjaehyun prada ss25

view all comments

username what a stunner

username yummy yum

username the pics were so good that he had to post them twice

▮ username he said he archived it without knowing

▮ username that millennial doesn't know to unarchive posts abahha

username he convened the slaycond ecumenical council of the catholic church in slaynt peter's basilicunt to mothernize the litpurrgical traditions of the hunty myaas resulting in the herstoric legislaytion of vaticunt II

username finest guy on earth

johnnyjsuh looking good 🔥

▮ _jeongjaehyun as usual

▮ onyourmark that is because you let your texas sideburns in seoul

▮ _jeongjaehyun thank you flat head

yourusername

liked by prada, quenblackwell and 2,1M others !

yourusername prada fashion week ss25

view all comments

username so so so so so fine

username oh to serve like y/n

christinanadin ray of sunshine

▮ yourusername says you

username prettiest girl

alexconsani next time you're on the runway with him

▮ yourusername trust me i'm better off the runway

username the afterparty fit in the last slide BOOMSHAKALA

twitter

yourusername

liked by _jeongjaehyun, bellahadid and 1,9M others !

yourusername coming up with captions is getting harder and harder 🎠

view all comments

bellahadid italy looks so good on you

▮ yourusername awww babe love you

username the vibes are really romantic

username she has the cutest selfies ever

yourbestfriend would have loved to ride that carousel with you

▮ yourusername too bad someone stole your place

▮ yourbestfriend can't believe he already has

▮ username he ? 👀

username good lord i'm on my knees for her

_jeongjaehyun

liked by taexoxo_nct, yourusername and 2,6M others !

_jeongjaehyun 🎠🍂

view all comments

username my man my man my man my man

username the boyfriend aesthetic is well welcomed

username hey (louder than everyone)

taexoxo_nct cozy 🔥

▮ _jeongjaehyun indeed

username that place is looking familiar

▮ username istg this is the same on your name's latest dump

author can't be bothered to write more comments sorry

_jeongjaehyun

liked by yourusername, do0_nct and 2,7M others !

_jeongjaehyun gotcha

view all comments

username got who what ?

username this man will be the death of me if he keeps posting those boyfriend pics

username i took those pictures ahaha

username ik his mom and dad high five every time they see his face

username why was i born so late 💔

username 'jaehyun dinner is ready' as i lay on the table

username pictures give off way too much boyfriend material

▮ username probably bc his girl is behind the camera lol

username sometimes you just gotta say damn and scroll away

yourusername

liked by dualipa, _jeongjaehyun and 1,6M others !

yourusername love this place

view all comments

username pretty woman

username goegrous

▮ username exactly goegrous

madelineargy is that a man's hand on your face 😨

▮ quenblackwell GIRL YOU'VE BEEN MISSING SOME TEA

▮ yourusername about that

▮ madelineargy ok nvm you guys look so hot together

dualipa i miss you we should hang out

▮ yourusername ASAP pls

username jaehyun been camping in yourname's likes for so long now

▮ username i hope that means we're getting him on chicken shop date or that's (not) deep

▮ username i wish but i doubt we will ever seen a kpop idol on chicken shop date (especially a man)

_jeongjaehyun

liked by yourusername, nct_official and 1,9M others !

_jeongjaehyung are you ready ? out 08.26

view all comments

username i'm more than ready omg

author guys please go listen to his album no joke it is one of the best solo album ever released by an idol, album is full rnb !!

username ooohh album of the year is coming

username insane lyrics

username who are you talking about jaehyun 😓💔

username can't get you is a crazy song

▮ username have you read the lyrics of completely ??

username so handsome and for what

yuu_taa_1026 so ready 🔥

twitter

chickenshopdate and yourusername

liked by _jeongjaehyun, yourusername and 789k others !

chickenshopdate YN meets NCT's Jaehyun for a date !

view all comments

username WHAT DID I SAY OMG JAEHYUN ON CHICKEN SHOP DATE

▮ username that's crazy

yourusername stream his debut album it's soooo good !!!

▮ username what's your favorite song ?

▮ yourusername definitely can't get you

username never seen jaehyun so shy and nervous in a interview before ahaha

username ''we can try'' to her asking him if he ever tried being the little spoon - CRAZY BEHAVIOUR

▮ username I SQUEALED

username i heard wedding bells throughout the whole ep

username ''you're cute'' JAEHYUN LITERLLY FLIRTING FOR REAL

username the way he bit his lips after yn said she would faint if she ever see him perform irl (pls she has to know about love on the floor)

username my man was so flustered during the whole date ahah

username i kept reminding myself this was a fake date but their chemistry was through the roof

username once in a while i rewatch this episode to feel something

username we def watched them on a real date

▮ username fr not them trying to disguise the whole thing as part of promotions for his album

username they look so genuine i love them

username parents

yourbestfriend now KISS

username first time yn gave up so many times on the character my girl was down bad

username ''this is called flirting yn'' UGHHHH

username he clearly was out of his comfort zone but he moved into the FLIRTING/CHEMISTRY zone for a moment

username longest episode we ever got on the channel and yet it felt so short

username pls go on a date w/out cameras and start dating, get married, start a family and just live happily ever

username them singing dandelion damn

username him saying ''you know well'' and blushing so bad after yn asking who's the album about

username i fear they might be dating

username HE ASKED FOR HER NUMBER AFTER THEIR FIRST MEETING AT MILAN FASHION WEEK OMG

username we're all acting delulu in the comments as if she hasn't started soft launching a man on insta

▮ username ok but what if it is jaehyun

▮ username yeah go back to sleep

yourusername

liked by _jeongjaehyun, onyourmark and 893k others !

yourusername i need your heart and soul

view all comments

username HOLDING HANDS IN PUBLIC WE LOST HER FOR GOOD

username he probably took those pictures and it makes me feel sick FREE YN FROM MEN

username call me crazy but the legend is quoting 'easy' by jaehyun

▮ username to be this delulu

username she was for the girls ffs

username she's so pretty

username oh to have this pov everyday

▮ username imagine waking up next to her every mornings

yourbestfriend we were supposed to go together on this pottery date

▮ yourusername took to long to answer bouuuhh 🍅🍅🍅

username gorjus

username jaehyun probably behind the camera

▮ username i wish

▮ username he literally liked the post too

_jeongjaehyun

liked by nct_official, yourusername, tenlee_1001 and 3,2M others !

_jeongjaehyun UNCONDITIONAL OUT NOW ❤️‍🔥

view all comments

username i ran out of compliments for this man

▮ username so real of you, no words can describe him anymore

username ''she fine, she mine, got to praise the Lord'' - what a kidney touching song😭😭😭

username that was amazing

username the lyrics are gut wrenching who is that girl omg

▮ username ''for you i'd break the law'' GAWWW PLS FIND ME A MAN LIKE THAT

username yn in the likes pls may this song be about her

▮ username need them together actually

tenlee_1001 we get it she's yours

▮ username OH SHE IS REAL REAL REAL

yourusername

liked by _jeongjaehyun, yourbestfriend, taexoxo_nct and 982k others !

yourusername break the law babe

view all comments

username call me crazy but she's quoting unconditional by jaehyun and last slide is the same truck as in the mv

▮ username no you're clearly right

username mother

yourbestfriend you're glowing

▮ alexconsani she's stunning

▮ yourbestfriend are you also trying to steal her from me ?

▮ yourusername love y'all

bellahadid my sweet

▮ yourusername babe <33

username ok she's dating jaehyun 🙈

▮ username she better be

_jeongjaehyun

liked by yourusername, onyourmark and 4,2M others !

_jeongjaehyun the only one who deserves to be loved with no limit out loud

comments are limited

yourusername cat's out of the bag

▮ johnnyjsuh finally omg

▮ onyourmark don't know how y'all kept the secret for so long

yourbestfriend don't forget i was first in yn's heart

▮ _jeongjaehyun not anymore

yourusername

liked by _jeongjaehyun, quenblackwell and 3,7M others !

yourusername my forever only

view all comments

username all those love songs being about her oh my days

username need this kind of love to hit me in the face

username they're so cute omg

username i'm manifesting such a pretty couple like this one omg

bellahadid i love seeing hot people date each other

▮ yourusername ahah thank you queen

yourbestfriend i'm so single man

▮ yourusername it will come soon trust

▮ johnnyjsuh hi

▮ yourbestfriend hello 😊

▮ yourusername lmaooo @/_jeongjaehyun look at that

▮ _jeongjaehyun your game sucks johnny

username WHY AM I CRYING

username heart is broken but that guy is so fine need to listen to his music

▮ username pls dooo !! he is part of the group nct and the nct 127//dojajejung sub-units and his solo album is sooooooooooo good

▮ author PLEASE GO LISTEN TO JAEHYUN HE'S SUCH A GOOD SINGER

tried to write this instead of studying for my competitive exam to enter the uni of my dream who happens to be on this saturday

-> not proofread ofc

[nashusglasses]

3. snakes in the wild (m)

+ based off nsfw prompts: 18.  “I don’t care if it’s wrong.” + 57. “I won’t stop until you pass out.”

note: thirsty thursday was going strong until i took the plot too seriously oops. thirsty friday it is :P these prompts are from this list. send me two prompts and a lads man for next week if u wanna!

note 2: uh oh. saw college AU zayne and caleb by @akiisks and my brain immediately rewired itself. if i say fratboy Caleb three times in front of my mirror will he appear in front of me? also, caleb is nawt a virgin in this story. i know there was some discourse around this on twt so i'm warning you now! SUMMARY.

“Can you stop treating this like I’m your teacher? And don’t call me sir.” You narrow your eyes down at him. “Then would you prefer master?”

or, fratboy!Caleb and a lesson on riding

PAIRING. caleb/reader GENRE. college AU/friends with benefits AU WARNINGS. penetrative sex, squirting, the awkwardness and insecurities of learning sex in general WORD COUNT. 2.9k

“Please don’t look at my dick like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it’s the most disgusting thing you’ve ever seen.”

You try to school your face into something more placid, but it can’t be helped. Every time his boxers come off you’re reminded that he’s hiding a third arm under his pants. He flicks the spot where your eyebrows are furrowed. “I bet you’re into that,” you goad. 

“Into what?” Caleb adjusts where he sits at the top of his bed, teetering into what looks like the urge to hide. A habit borne from your intense staring, because it’s hard not to. You like making him nervous when you sit half-naked on his thighs. 

“You know. Condescension. You ever seen that video where the girl jumps on the guy’s dick?”

He gawks at you. “Wha–no!”

“And it’s like–there’s a hole for his dick to come out of a piece of wood so that she’s literally jumping on it.”

Caleb pinches the bridge of his nose. “You need to stop talking before I go flaccid.”

The threat hangs empty. You don’t think he could be any harder with the pre-come leaking down to his bellybutton. You almost want to praise him for letting you bear witness to such a lewd sight, but you know every compliment you give him will go straight into feeding his ego. 

“Prude,” you sneer instead. He looks like he’s about to insult you back, but you slide your shirt off as concession. He immediately goes for a fistful of your tit, and your throat swells with a grateful moan. “Mm. I’m ready for my lesson today, sir.” 

“You–can you stop treating this like I’m your teacher? And don’t call me sir.”

You narrow your eyes down at him. “Then would you prefer master?”

Caleb looks like he’s about to cry. He pinches your nipple in retaliation till you whine. “Stop trying to psychoanalyze me and come over here.”

He doesn’t wait for your initiative, grabbing you with both hands by your ass to get you level with the warmth of his cock. You blush at how much you enjoy the visual: coating the entirety of his length with the slick he’d coaxed through the most brutal fingerbang he’d ever subjected you to five minutes ago. (It’s a testament to how far you’ve come in this relationship, because you’d cried the first time he’d gotten one finger inside you. One. Damn his thick knuckles.) It’s tempting to forgo lube, but Caleb’s a stickler for good condom etiquette, and you don’t want to spend the rest of the evening with an ice pack stuck to your mound.

Which reminds you:

“Will we ever do a creampie lesson?”

You feel Caleb’s dick twitch. “I am this close to sewing your mouth shut,” he croaks. You feign ignorance, grinding down just to hear him hiss through clenched teeth. “Oh. You’re so wet.”

You think you like this version of Caleb the most. Mouthy, a little desperate – like you’re the one commanding the spotlight and he’s following your every move. For a second you convince yourself the roles are reversed. The innocence of discovering hot pleasure in the girl sitting pretty on his cock, pleading with too-wet eyes to let him make her feel good.

But you know you’ll never have the upperhand, and that’s what gets you shivering with every drag of your hips. “Do you like it?” You’re timid in the question.

Caleb forces a deeper curve, bucking up to your downstroke and your clit snags into heat in the most delicious way. “More than you realize,” he confesses. “You’re hot like this.”

Something in you sings. You know you’d never come from grinding alone, but Caleb makes you want to try. The sounds he makes are enough to get your blood rushing fast. 

“Haah–” You whine when you pick up speed to chase his pleasure, and he gives your ass a squeeze in thanks. “You r-really tried to tell me you’d go flaccid on me.”

He’s too breathless to respond to your jab. “Fuck. If you – ngh – keep going like this, I’m coming.”

In other words: lesson’s over. It’s tempting. Getting him fucked out first just to gloat about your god levels of stamina. But you came to his room today on a mission, and you refuse to let him tap out now.

You stop all movement and you almost groan from the loss. “Condom.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Caleb reaches over to his bedside stand, ripping open a pack. He juts his chin out to the bottle of lube. “Want more?”

“If you don’t want me bleeding out all over your sheets, then yes.”

You watch his ears turn red. Rolling a condom probably doesn’t rank that high on the list of sexiest moves, but damn if you aren’t mesmerized with the way Caleb fits it over his dick. “It’s not that big.”

“It’s not that big,” you mock. “This thing is a pole. God. Looking at it is making me sweat.”

“Why are you always so crass?” But he goes for the lube regardless, squeezing out the gel on his palm. He shivers when he fucks his tight fist. You almost sigh from the show, greedy for every sign of pleasure he’ll give you.

“I like watching you jerk off,” you say next.

Caleb sighs like he’s defeated. “Y-You’re such a pervert.” 

“You like it.”

“I do.” He takes his sticky hand, dragging wet heat on your aching core to get you prepped. You’re spreading your knees before you even think about it. Anticipating the feel of his fingers inside, but he only teases with a shallow thrust. He rubs your clit in apology when you whimper. “C’mere, pretty.”

He beckons with his other hand, lifting up to meet you for a quick kiss. “You nervous?” He asks. There’s no bite to his tone, just a softness that bleeds into genuine concern. 

“Maybe.” You clutch at his shoulders, anxiety melting into the numb feeling he’s massaging into you. “Ah… Just–don’t laugh if I get it wrong.”

Caleb rewards your honesty with another kiss. Swipes the hand playing with your clit on his bare thigh to clean the shine of lube off. “I don’t care if it’s wrong. Do what feels good to you.”

You don’t know what that’s supposed to entail, and that disconnect between your knowledge and his is what pisses you off the most. You almost wish porn could be a symbiotic thing, a literal watch and learn. Your thighs are already starting to burn. “Oh my god. What if I snap your dick in half?”

That gets a hard laugh out of him. “You said it yourself. It’s a pole. Poles don’t break that easily. And you’d know once I start screaming in pain.”

“Don’t say that.” It’s an awful thought – one you don’t dwell on because Caleb just laughs again, taking a hand you have on his shoulder to guide down to his dick like a silent invitation. You at least know this much: squeezing a fist around the head the way you know he likes, dragging a stroke down slowly. 

His chest shrinks with a shaky exhale. “You’re killing me.”

Caleb always does this, you think. Letting you set the pace at the expense of his patience.  Chivalry died and came back to life as the man shivering from you pumping his dick. 

You don’t care to announce it. You shift on your knees, position the tip of his dick where you’re leaking. Dig your nails into his shoulder blades as you watch yourself try to sink down. 

(Your cheeks grow hot, thinking back to the very first time Caleb tried to fit his dick inside you. You’d kept squeezing him out with every threat of a push, and he had to pin you down by your hips to stop you from squirming so much. “You can take me,” he’d whispered. “You’re my good girl, right?”)

You let that feeling wash over you now; a pull of reverence like somehow you’d sinned and he’d bring you salvation. You roll down till the stretch burns too much for you to comfortably pace yourself on. 

Caleb suddenly claws at your hips, and you look up to see his head tossed back, groaning deep.

It’s dangerous, how downright erotic he looks. You hide the thrill racing down your spine with a quip you know he can barely hear from how hard he’s breathing. “You good there big boy?” 

“Ne-ver better.” His voice cracks around the edges. “Yeah. Yeah. You good?”

“It’s–” you still struggle with the feeling, like your pussy is computing the pleasure of the angle just as slowly as your brain is– “okay.”

You think. It’s not bad. If anything, Caleb’s reaction is enough material for you to fantasize about for the next fifty years. He gathers his bearings quickly, though, twitchy with embarrassment, still gripping hard at your hips. (As if you’d ever laugh at such a show of vulnerability. You’re not that cruel.)

He says nothing. You rock into the gravity of his pelvis, hiss with every additional inch you bury into until you’re down to the hilt. “O-Oh,” you whimper. The ache blooms into something else now. Better. Heat that swells and swells into your ribs, and you realize you’ve never felt so full before.

Caleb hugs you close, kissing you in place of verbal praise. “Need my help now?”

You nod, stuck in the wrong-right headspace of feeling impaled, barely finding the will to hinge at your knees to ride him properly because you’re still so clueless. He does it for you with ease. Lifting your ass just to get that delicious upstroke, and when you come down his balls smack a lewd noise on your skin. 

“Caleb,” you hiccup. “That’s–oh fuck.”

He’s red down to his chest. “S’okay?” 

“Mhm–!”

It’s a bit easier to settle in the rhythm, finding a bounce in your own movement that makes Caleb’s hands deadweight. The only guidance is your shared pleasure, and you coax him down to his back with a push to his chest to test a better angle.

It works. Sort of. You choke with the heavy drag of your cunt squeezing him raw. “Oh, this–oh. This. Feels…” 

“Good?” He asks. You can’t decide. You try again, tensing at your knees when a downstroke pinches too tight on your walls. “Lean into me. Take what you need.”

You keep up with a stilted rhythm, clenched fists over the beating of his heart. You try to match every pulse. Up, down, swiveling into the roiling feeling in your core, but it’s not enough.

He teases clammy hands up your navel to your breasts, squeezes in time with your next downstroke to steal your inhale. “Fuck–I’m–already out of breath,” you complain. 

“You barely started.” At least he has the decency to look sympathetic. “Does it still feel okay though?”

“It does. I think.” The burn lingers, though it comes second to the way Caleb arches into you with every mini-stroke you offer on tired knees. You’d be happy without coming, you decide, if only to see him fucked out like this.

He blinks. “Think you can keep going?”

It’s almost hurtful, his doubt. But even you can’t deny you’re starting to quiver with frustration, all the bravado of finding purpose in your ability to fuck going straight out the window the longer you hover. 

You watch him. Dilated eyes, lips chapped, shining forehead. Pulsing wet inside the deepest he can be. He won’t buck up for his pleasure, not unless you answer him truthfully. 

“I want to,” you say weakly. God do you want to. You get the sudden and overwhelming urge to keep him here forever. “Fuck. I wish you could just – tell me what to do.”

Caleb shakes with quiet laughter. “I just want you to feel good.”

“That’s the thing. You keep saying that. I don’t – it feels good and then it doesn’t and it’s so – like – do I look sexy? Do I – feel good to you? For you?”

You’ll probably laugh about this later. His cock is lodged inside you and you’re asking him if he thinks you look good like you’re showing him a cute outfit for a date. 

Caleb just pulls you down by the nape of your neck. Hovers his lips over yours when he whispers: “You’re right where I want you to be.”

Your core blossoms into a pure, needy ache when he jerks his hips up. Hard.

“Let’s end the lesson early then.” He kisses you, and you melt into the sweetness. “I’m proud. Try to keep up now, yeah?”

He’s done easing you into it. A part of you was done a while ago, you think.

“Lesson number two,” he grunts. “Just let me make you feel good.”

“Oh–Caleb–ngh–!” 

You yelp with the borderline carnal pace he sets, hands barely finding leverage on his sweating chest. All that stored energy from his patience releasing with every wet thrust he bucks through. Your thighs go numb.

One hand grips your ass, the other seizing the roots of your hair to keep your eyes on him. He grunts: “You like when I fuck you hard?”

You’d nod if his fist wasn’t so tight on your head. “Uh–uh huh,” you breathe, trying hard to angle your ass back in a way that feels nice. There’s no guarantee of an orgasm like this but the sound of such thorough fucking has your head already clouding into a faux-high. 

“I like it too baby. Love the way you feel on my cock.”

Your insides squeeze at the confession. There. You steel your knees, the tip of his dick finally hitting a spot you can grind into and you urge with wet eyes, “Keep talking.”

“Yeah? Fuck. You just squeezed me so hard. You’re so good for me, baby. So wet. So hot. You’re so perfect for me, you did such a good job. Let me take care of you now.”

Your clit pulses with every dirty word, and you’re near-desperate to blackout with your fingers rubbing heat into it. It’s not enough. You sob. “I wanna–ugh–”

“Hm? What does my pretty girl want?” 

You don’t know how he can look so calm when you’re being fucked fifty ways to hell. You shake your head till he lets up on his hold, and with the extra space for movement, you immediately shoot a hand down to where your cunt weeps. “Shit,” he says. “You wanna come?”

“Please–”

If you gloat about stamina, Caleb has drive. You feel him shift in his heels, digging into the mattress for the extra leverage he can drill up inside you’re dripping. “There you go,” he moans, watching your fingers slip on your clit and you whine with the attention. 

“Oh god,” you say through clenched teeth. Your brain relaxes into that floaty state indicative of a mind-numbing fuck, like it knows you’re well on your way to nirvana if you just give in already. Caleb’s good at that. Rendering your body so useless all you can do is take what he gives you.

“I won’t stop till you pass out,” he threatens, nails digging moons into your ass. You sob at the thought. “You want that? Fuck you so good all you can do is take it. Like. A. Good. Girl.”

There’s nothing for you to do. Your fingers numb to the motion of stroking your clit till you’re wailing, letting every word soothe your muscles into lax pleasure. “C-Close,” you squeal.

You feel Caleb’s abs tense under your belly, chin tilting up to swallow your groaning. He kisses you like he’s parched. And you don’t ask, but somehow he already knows you’re waiting for his command.

“Come on, baby. I’ll take you there. You’re so pretty when you sound like that,” he whispers, breath stilting into exhaustion. “Can you show me how you come for me?”

Your body answers for you. The heat curls out from your gut at such frightening speed you almost teeter off out of his arms, burying your forehead into his shoulder as you come hard, clit taut against your spasming fingers. 

You blank into white-hot pleasure, throat dry from your crying, and something–something is wet and sticky against your mound. You don’t know. You think Caleb’s coming too, stuttering with heavy strokes and he holds you so tightly you stop breathing for a second.

Your hearts race in tandem. You’re sweating in every awkward crease of your body, and you begin the feat of pulling off from his softening dick. “Ugh,” you groan, core fighting with a squeeze to keep him in, “stupid fucking fat dick, ow.”

You collapse onto your side. Caleb is just as dead to the world, arms akimbo. “So mean,” he breathes. “What it’d ever do to you.”

“Fuck me till I squirted, apparently.”

You clench, seeing his abs practically shine. He tries to laugh, but it comes out like a sad wheeze. “Good job. A plus plus.”

“Man.” You don’t know how you’re even talking. It’s taking every bit of your consciousness to converse right now. “You have to tell me who taught you how to talk like that.”

It takes a while for Caleb to say anything. The air settles with your breaths trying to catch a calmer tempo. 

“Well.” When you open your eyes to look at him, he’s staring blankly at the ceiling. “You know I don’t say stuff I don’t mean.”

He doesn’t explain any further. You don’t ask. 

(You never do.)

[peterparkersnose]

Alone with you.

pairing: Michael Gavey x f Felix's friend group!reader

word count: 5k

warnings: smut, fluff before smut, p in v, virginity loss, unsafe sex, mentions of pornography, lots of awkwardness, lowkey slut shaming, hookup themes, michael's hefty ego, 18+

a/n im actually posting? whaaaaat? today was a snow day, enjoy the snowy smut I wrote for my fav today ;)

summary Y/N watched Michael get rejected by Oliver in the bar and couldn't handle that sad look on his face.

masterlist

tik tok- @almondtarg4ryen

c.ai- @mj1218

read time: 18 mins 31 seconds

The mere look on this stranger’s face was enough to make Y/N’s gut roll. The sheer and utter disappointment of losing the company of… Oliver Quick? THE Oliver that had hung out with her group a few times, the Oliver that nobody wanted to sit with. She glared at Oliver as he sat down, his eyes were immediately fixated on none other than Felix. Y/N rolled her eyes as she looked at Oliver, but then her eyes flicked back up to the tall stranger. His face had faltered and his tiny wave was close to heartbreaking. Absolutely not.

Y/N stood, and Farleigh grabbed her arm. “Where are you going?” he asked, as he noticed your gaze on this mysterious stranger just moments ago. 

“Away.” She shrugged off Farleigh’s touch, Farleigh gave her a look of confusion as he noticed her sudden demeanor of change. Y/N grabbed her coat and purse, storming out of the bar. 

“The fuck is her problem?” Felix asked, noticing you leaving. Farleigh shrugged. “Fuckin’ tweaking over Gavey.”

Y/N ran out into the snow, it had definitely picked up since she and her friends had entered the bar nearly fifteen minutes ago. She saw the man walking, his shoulders slumped as his long lanky legs strode through the snow. “Hey!”

He didn’t turn around, as Michael would never expect a ‘hey’ to be for him. It wasn’t until she caught up to his side, that she caught his attention.

“Oy! Are you deaf?”

Michael stopped. He squinted in his fogged-up glasses, wiping them off just to make sure he had the sight in front of him correct. Y/N L/N? He quickly tried to compose himself, trying to make it obvious that he wasn’t just crying. As he wiped his glasses, he made a subtle wiping of tears that wasn’t as subtle as he would like it to be. He watched her face fall.

“Oh… no,” Y/N spoke softly, which was different from her tone just seconds ago when she tried to flag him down. “You don’t know me, but I’m Y/N.”

Of course Michael knew her. He psychoanalyzed almost everyone and everything in his surroundings, and she sat in the front of one of his boring gen-ed reading classes. He judged her on the first day he met her, as she sat next to Farleigh and they constantly snickered with each other during class. He had a distaste for the American, as Michael was convinced that his ego could have possibly been the only one bigger than his. Her sympathetic and sweet voice caught him off guard, Michael's face stiffened at first, but he soon realized that it was in his best interest to play dumb and not sound like a creep. 

“Oh, right. Y/N from Felix’s group. What do you want?” Michael said with a distaste for her presence. “For you to look at me.” Y/N replied as Michael’s eyes couldn’t meet hers on the snowy street. “And why should I do that?” he snapped at her a bit, she knew exactly how to deal with closed-off people like him. Something about this man intrigued her, she didn’t even know his name. 

“Because,” she smiled a bit, trying to guide herself into his line of sight. “Fuck ‘em.”

Michael was confused. What did she mean Fuck ‘em? Those were her friends, was this some sort of setup? A dare to go after the loser? “Excuse me?” he asked, his defenses keeping a stable tone. 

“Fuck. Them.” she said confidently. Her attitude intrigued her. “Aren't those your friends?”

Y/N shrugged. “Sort of. Definitely not Oliver though,” she cringed at the thought of the weird little man. “Please tell me you are not crying over Oliver fucking Quick, random man whose name I do not know. ” she rolled her eyes, her voice was sympathetic but yet sarcastic.

“No, I wasn’t. And my name’s Michael.”

“Yes you were, Michael.” she replied quickly. 

Michael sighed. He liked the way his name rolled off her tongue, it was definitely something he would be revisiting and replaying in his head during his nightly session alone this evening. He still didn’t like her. He didn’t have to like her to think she was hot, she was definitely wanking material. Even if she did seem like a stuck-up brat to him. 

“You know, if you’re just here to make me feel worse, could you just bug off and go back and tell your stupid little friends that you successfully made me feel worse and–”

She looked genuinely offended, it’s what made Michael’s sentence suddenly falter. “Is that really all you think I am? Some… some bimbo who just sticks around for a chance to make someone’s night more obviously worse than it already is?”

Michael was speechless. Did she truly have good intentions? He didn’t know what to say back, he was genuinely taken back by what she had said. “I don’t get it… why are you being nice to me?” Michael breathed out, his breath imitating smoke because it was so cold. “Because I hated that look on your face.” she replied bluntly. Michael then realized she wasn’t one to beat around the bush. Michael began to feel bad about his former thoughts about her, guilty for just seeing her as some idiot who would purposely hurt someone. But wasn’t she? To him, she seemed like a bitch. 

Michael stared at her with a puzzled expression, he couldn't imagine why anyone would feel sorry for him. Her sympathy is starting to make him uncomfortable. “Thanks?” he said with a questioning tone. “Oliver’s quite a weird bloke,” she said plainly. This made Michael chuckle. It was one of the things he originally liked about Oliver, is that he didn’t mind his weirdness and strange habits and quirks. If she didn’t like Oliver’s strange demeanor, his was much worse. Why was she sticking around? 

“He’s got some sort of weird man crush on Felix. Nobody can figure out if he wants to be him, fuck him, or both.” Y/N spoke like she knew exactly what she was talking about. Her confidence was uncanny. Michael was taken aback by her confidence and her statement. Was his friend, or former friend now, truly in love with Felix Catton? Wasn’t everybody? He certainly wasn’t, and from the tone of this girl, she didn’t appreciate at least his friend group very much. “Weird man crush? What do you mean? Are you trying to say that Oliver is... gay?” 

“He could be,” she shrugged, the snow began to let up. “No hate if he is. I just kind of assumed, I guess that’s not very correct but…” Y/N shrugged once again, trying not to sound too judgy or prejudiced. She truly wasn’t and didn’t want him getting the wrong impression of her. Michael makes a face expressing disbelief and surprise. “You're kidding me. Oliver...gay? Oliver can't even talk to other girls. Are you sure you're talking about the same Oliver?”

“That’s probably why he can’t talk to girls.” she pointed out. Michael was a genius, he should have put two and two together with his friend. Perhaps his intelligence didn’t correlate with his social skills. Y/N noticed this, knowing he was quite an awkward dude. With the liquid courage in her, she asked him one more question.

“May I?”

The snow fell around them as he furrowed his brows in confusion. “Uh… sure?” He didn’t expect her to grab his hand, suddenly running through the square and through campus. They both didn’t notice Felix’s whole group watching them through the window with the most confused faces ever and frankly, neither one of them cared to look back at that stupid pub. 

“Hey! Wait!” he yelled out, her little legs moved surprisingly fast for her height. She ran back towards campus, and within at least a minute or two Michael was huffing for air. “S-slow down!”

She stopped running but kept her hand in his. They were in the middle of the courtyard that was empty, the only disturbance in the fresh snow was their footprints. 

“Do you want to do something fun?” she asked, smiling as she looked up at him. Her smile, the dim lighting, how sweetly she spoke… Michael could nearly melt on the spot. He couldn’t help being amazed by your boldness. Felix's group is full of girls with the same vain and superficial personality, the opposite of you, but you seem pretty unique. “Fun? But what would we do? It's too late for the cinema, and it's probably going to keep snowing all night.” Michael wondered. “You just said it.” She replied, making Michael even more confused. He just said it?

“Do you mean play in the snow?” he asked her, looking down at her as the small periodic flakes moved about. 

Y/N needed a way to crack his awkward tone, get him comfortable with her, and save his night. It was hoped that she would make a new friend, but she wasn’t quite sure yet. She nodded, answering his question. He must think I’m nuts, she thought to herself. A sudden wave of embarrassment came over her, she was about to just apologize for the stupid suggestion when he spoke.

“O-okay.”

Her face lit up, she truly hadn’t played in the snow since she was a child. Even though she had just met him, she felt safe with him. He was creepy by all means, but something about him intrigued her, possibly attracted him to her. She took his hand and pulled him to the ground with him, she giggled as he looked unimpressed. “Really?” he said annoyed, but her smile was enough to excuse her childish behavior. She laid down and began to make a snow angel. Michael looked at her like she was some foreign specimen in a museum. What on earth is she doing? What if someone saw them?

“Come on Mikey!” she cheered, having the time of her life flailing her limbs in the snow. How she said Mikey nearly drove him crazy, her voice was one he could never forget even if they never saw each other again after today. Reluctantly, he laid down next to her in the snow and made a snow angel. Michael felt stupid for falling in the snow like a little kid, but the idea of making a snow angel with another person in the middle of the night was exciting to him. Your smile fills him with joy. He wasn’t as enthusiastic as her, but he gave in to her strange demand. Michael would never admit it, but he was secretly having the time of his life. 

Y/N stood after she finished her snow angel, Michael didn’t notice it at first until she pulled out her little camera and took a flash picture of her snow angel and him on the ground next to it. Michael stood up–why did she take a picture? “Delete that.”

“Make me,” she smirked, taking another sudden flash picture of his face as he sat up. “Do you usually take pictures of strangers or am I just lucky?” he asked, pursing his lips in annoyance and adding that sarcastic bit at the end. She didn’t notice his annoyance at all or just chose to ignore it. “You’re just lucky. And you’re not a stranger anymore.” Y/N snickered and began to walk off. Michael, of course, followed her. Her comment about no longer being a stranger to her made him smirk softly. The gall of this girl. Michael rolled his eyes and tried to snatch the camera away from her, but she was too quick to put it in her pocket. “Do you plan on taking a million pictures of me now? Because I'm starting to feel a little self-conscious.”

“Why? You’re a pretty man,” she spoke like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and he was an idiot for questioning it. That compliment took Michael completely off guard. He froze in his tracks and stared at you, his face immediately turning red and his mouth opened slightly. 

“What?” Y/N chuckled, expecting his reaction. Watching him squirm was just so much fun for her. “Wait... What did you say?” Michael questioned, his tone shaky due to his nerves and the cold. He thought now that he must have misheard her. 

“I said you’re a pretty man.” she replied, like he was stupid for not understanding her attraction to him. In reality, her confidence was just to hide the feelings of feeling a bit rejected. 

Michael stared at her in disbelief, he couldn’t believe the words she just said. Her sudden compliment makes him feel even more self-conscious, his cheeks red and his heart beating much faster. He can barely believe his ears. “You cannot be serious. I am not pretty. It's obvious that I'm not, I don't know why you're trying to make fun of me.”

“Make fun of you?” she asked seriously. “Never.”

Michael noticed her shiver, he still couldn’t get over that someone from Felix Catton’s friend group had called him pretty. This whole evening was a fever dream to him. “Never?” he asked.

“Never,” she confirmed. The two began to walk together around the cold campus in silence for a bit, until Michael spoke up. He was getting cold as well as she was. “So, what's next on our list of silly things to do?” he asked, feeling a bit of an ego boost from her words. “I’m getting cold. We could either stay here and build a snowman… or go back to my dorm?”

His eyes nearly popped out of his head.

“Y-your dorm? Is it close?” he asked. She nodded. “Mhm.” The way she hummed her lips as she spoke made Michael’s stomach flutter. Michael can't help but stare at her when she suddenly says that, the heat rises to his cheeks again, it feels so weird that he is on a snowy night alone with the girl from Felix's group and she asks you to go to her room. “Are... Are you serious? You really want to... To go to your room?” he asked, waiting for her to tell him that she was joking. But she never did. “I am fucking freezing my tits off. Please?” she whined. The mere mention of her tits made him gulp and somehow sweat in this cold weather. He was taken aback by her unexpected choice of words and replied politely. “Okay, yeah. I guess it is a little cold.” he chuckled, stating the obvious as it was well into the negatives. Y/N took Michael’s hand once again, like it was almost second nature, and showed him across campus this time. Michael was thankful she didn’t run this time, he still felt out of breath from that sudden jog earlier. Michael smiles at how impulsive she is, as he lets her take his hand and pull him across campus, the cold biting their faces and their breath rising as they walk through the streets. Although it seems a little weird to Michael to go with her to her room, he can't help but feel happy to have found Y/N on a night as terrible as this one has been up until now.

They reached her dorm. She unlocked it and opened the door, escaping the coldness. She went and flicked on a lamp as Michael entered the single-roomed dorm. Michael stares at her dorm once she switches on the lamp. The place looks cozy and elegant and Michael can't help but wonder what a pretty girl like you lives alone, away from her friends. Michael starts to ask a question, to be a little flirty with you, thinking you may be embarrassed. “So... Do you always bring guys home on such snowy nights? I think that you're supposed to wait for at least three days... You're not really making it easy for me here.” She took his coat. “Huh?” Michael can't help but be amused at the idea that you took his coat from his hands without asking, but he lets you take it and replies in a playful tone. “I was referring to our romantic moment here, you know, there's supposed to be a three-day rule before bringing a guy home. Otherwise, I'll think you're desperate.”

Y/N made a bit of a face at his egotistical words, Michael was borderline calling her a whore. She decided to mess with him a bit. “Who said this was a romantic moment?” Michael felt his heart skip a beat. He softly bit his bottom lip in embarrassment, leaning against the chair of her desk. “I–I… uhm…”

Y/N laughed, approaching him and draping his arms around his shoulders. “I’m fucking with you,” she said teasingly, looking up into his gaze. Michael felt himself immediately relax as he swallowed, letting out a deep breath followed by an awkward chuckle. Michael felt a sudden wave of heat spread to his body when she wrapped her arms around his neck. When she was so close like this, he could feel her body heat radiating off of her and felt the cold receding little by little. “You’re calling me desperate…?” she playfully accused him, cocking her head a bit. “Would you say you're desperate then?” he replied, trying to shake off his shock at her previous answer that rendered him awkward. Y/N chuckled. “Hun. Me? Desperate?” There was a pause. “Are you desperate?”

Her smirk was enough to melt him. Michael can't help but feel amused at her attitude. He leaned his face closer to hers as he replied, while his sudden hand on her waist drew her closer to him. “Desperate? Why would I be desperate? I'm the one here with the pretty girl in my arms.”

She hummed a bit, looking into his eyes with a soft smirk. “You think I’m pretty?” she asked, it felt like a joke to Michael when she asked that. She was one of the prettiest girls on campus in his opinion. Her face was so geometrically perfect in a mathematical sense that it made Michael wonder what her parents had to have looked like. She didn’t look like one who would mess around with plastic surgery, even at such a young age. Michael smirked as he leaned his face even closer to hers, with one hand now caressing her cheek and looking her right in the eyes directly. She can hardly breathe with your lips barely inches away from his.

“I think you’re fucking gorgeous,” he spoke seriously, his words bouncing off his lips and onto hers. Michael's smirk deepens as he leans even closer, just a few inches from her smooth lips, and his voice lowers. “May I?” he asked, reiterating her question from earlier in the evening when she asked for his hand to pull him away from the pub. She answered by kissing him, her lips touching his. She could tell he was a bit inexperienced, but he kept up with the pace nicely. It was almost like he was eager to learn. Michael instantly froze when she kissed him so softly, so perfectly. He suddenly felt that his heart was beating like crazy. He closed his eyes and kissed her, pulling her even closer, feeling both her body warmth and the kiss against his lips. She could see a little excitement in his eyes when he finally broke the kiss. 

“Have you ever done this before?” Y/N asked sweetly, not trying to embarrass him. She just wanted an honest answer, not to tease him. “Never. Not really. I never had such a pretty girl come into my life and kiss me like you did. Are you asking me if I'm experienced or not?”

Michael felt like he had won when he saw her true blush rise to her cheeks, they were no longer red from the cold. “I don’t mean to be rude but… are you?” she asked hesitantly, making sure to ask with utmost care and to sound as sincere as she could. Michael is surprised by her bluntness, but this is exactly why he likes her, her personality is completely opposite to Oliver's vapid friends. He's so impressed by her that he decides to be direct, he doesn't want to hide anything from you now. “Well, if you must know, I... I don't have a lot of experience with women. To be perfectly honest with you, no one has ever cared enough to kiss me until now.”

Y/N pouted her lip a bit in a sweet way, brushing a piece of hair behind his ear. “Awwe, Mikey.” 

Michael is so moved by the way she called him ‘Mikey’ and touched his hair. That made him completely lose his composure. He feels a surge of emotion as you look at him intently, and even without realizing it, his face gets very close to yours. His hands move on their own, caressing the beautiful face in front of him, and he can't help but whisper softly. “What you said…” Michael took a deep breath, feeling a bit embarrassed to admit this. “You're the first–first girl t-to care about me like that and to kiss me like that.”

Y/N smiled. She felt special to be his first kiss, even if she kind of expected him to be inexperienced. It was then that she decided he was it. She didn’t need her rich, egotistical friends. All she needed was her bratty boy who stood right in front of her. “I find that hard to believe since you’re such a pretty boy.” she smirked, again enjoying watching him squirm. Michael smiled softly and answered in a teasing tone. “Do you want this as much as I do?”

He felt himself using the joking spin on his tone to make it easy for her to back out, he hadn’t realized she was head over heels for him already. He wouldn’t for a very long time, in fact. The sheer thought that a girl as pretty as her would even look his way seemed like divine intervention. 

“Of course I do.” she smiled, kissing him again. This time though, he led her over to her bed, not breaking the kiss as she sat down on her bed. “You kinda know what you’re doing.” she tried to give him some props, to make him a bit more comfortable. Michael chuckled softly and his face blushed a little as she said that, he replied in a playful tone, but he couldn't hide the nervous tone in his voice. “Heh, it's just instinct. I think it would be hard not to know a little bit about this considering your beauty. It's hard to not keep my hands off you.” 

Again, he made her blush and he was in bliss. 

“Instinct or the internet?” she smirked, pushing him down on her bed. His eyes grew wide as she did, he felt his heart nearly burst out of his chest. Michael blushed again when she began to tease him into oblivion. The softness of the covers makes him feel extremely cozy and the warmth of her body feels like heaven. He looks at you and answers your teasing tone. “Okay, maybe I'm a little bit of a pervert and maybe I watched a few adult videos before... But it's also instinct.”

She chuckled at his formality, saying ‘adult videos’ instead of porn. She smirked as she replied, having now sat on his thighs. “That’s adorable.” Y/N began to pull at his shirt. Michael's face is completely red at this point, she can see how he is lost in his emotions and her touch feels so good that he is completely distracted. Y/N can see how he leans his body forward as you pull his shirt off with both hands, enjoying the warmth of his skin being touched. He closes his eyes and whispers softly. “I-If this is what it feels like to be with a gorgeous girl like you, then I wish it happened to me much earlier.”

The praise this boy was giving her was already making her wet. She didn’t know if he was doing it intentionally or not, but she loved being worshiped by him. She had never felt this from any other man, Michael was the first to truly feel like he was honored to be under her will. Y/N quickly threw off her shirt, leaving her in her favorite bra. Michael couldn’t believe he was going to see boobs in real life for the first time. He could not believe his situation right now, as she was the prettiest girl in Felix's group, he never imagined that you would pull him to your room in the middle of a snowy night, and much less that you would strip him right there on your bed. He had now seemingly lost his pants, leaving him in his boxers. When your hands move to pull his boxers off, Michael's breath catches in his throat and all he can do is look at you and admire that beautiful body of yours which is so close now.

“Wait,” he spoke quietly. “Let me just look.”

His hand moved to her waist, taking in her body like a goddess. Y/N turned red. 

“No, please don’t be embarrassed,” Michael spoke caringly, he felt terrible for making her turn red. “Y-you’re just the most perfect creature I’ve ever seen in my whole life.”

Y/N could have melted from his words. And in his praise she smiled, letting her bra fall from her chest and threw it on the floor. Michael’s hands moved to the bottom of her breast, not touching it yet. His thumb rested under it, wrapping the rest of his hand around the side of her chest and to her back. He softly moved his thumb back and forth on her chest, avoiding her breast. “Can I?” he asked respectfully. Y/N nodded, smiling at his innocence and how much he even respected her to ask if he could touch her. 

His hand touched her breast and he let out a little whimper. His glasses were completely fogged. “My god,” he said in awe, brushing his thumb against her nipple. She didn’t expect him to be this enthralled by her. For his good behavior, she leaned her bare chest on his, using it as a balance as she slid off her jeans, leaving her in only her panties. She felt Michael gulp. “Are you okay?”

Michael nodded fervently. “Yes, yes perfect.” he stuttered a bit, pushing his glasses up on his face. She kissed him, her hands moving to his tiny waist as she used her tongue for the first time to kiss him, he moaned into her lips. She pulled away and chuckled. “You’re fucking adorable,” she said, pulling his boxers down now. 

She sighed as she felt his cock move against her underwear, Michael nearly shot up in bed. She chuckled. “Is everything okay?”

His glasses now crooked, he could barely speak. She grinded a bit on his hard cock, eliciting a noise from him Michael didn’t even know he could make. He nodded.

“P-please…” he whimpered. Y/N didn’t know if she wanted to be straightforward or tease him a bit. He looked so needy, so desperate as one of his hands moved to her waist. “I’m begging you–”

She moved her panties to the side, letting the head of his cock move through her wet folds. He nearly busted a nut right then and there. He moaned like no other, almost like he was in pain. But it was quite the opposite. “Do you want it?” she asked him, appeasing herself and teasing him slightly. She sighed, rolling her head back as the tip of his cock swiped past her clit. 

“Yes! Yes! God, yes, more than anything, please.” he begged, trying his hardest not to move her hips and just push himself into her. She finally gave in to his demands, letting herself sink down onto his cock. He pushed his head back, barely breathing as she moved slowly on top of him, his breath caught as she began to ride him. “S-so good…”

She felt his cock push against her g-spot almost immediately, which was strange as she didn’t get a good look at it before. He was surprisingly large. She moaned as it made contact, pressing her hand down on his chest. “Ohhh, baby.” she spoke softly, leaning her head back. Michael’s gaze snapped back up to her, watching her ride his cock. He felt himself growing close already, as she had already been riding him for nearly a minute. He was in ultimate bliss, watching her bounce on his cock. 

“I can’t–!” Michael mumbled. He suddenly realized that he was going in raw, and he was about to cum.

“It’s okay, Mikey. It’s safe.” she could barely speak, as she would explain later that she was on birth control. As she called him ‘Mikey’ again, it was the final push. He grunted as he came, pulling her down on top of him as he did. She didn’t expect this aggressiveness, but understood his need for her. He buried his head in her shoulder as he moaned, pumping his cock into her slowly for a last few times, she felt him kiss her neck. “S’good,” she spoke, pretending to cum with him. Even though it was pleasurable for her, she didn’t cum as quickly as him. She didn’t want to ruin his ego, so she gave him the illusion of faking it. But she wasn’t worried. This wasn’t the last time this would ever happen, he had plenty of other times to make her cum. 

He slowly soaked in her, holding her body against his trembling one. Michael was in shock, not being able to believe what just happened. He had no clue his night would end up like this, and he wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Who knew Oliver Quick abandoning him at a pub was the best thing that ever happened to him? 

She slowly rolled off of him, squishing against the wall in their very limited space on the dormitory’s bed. Y/N chortled when she saw Michael’s face, his glasses were even more crooked and he looked like he had just seen god. “You alright?”

“More than alright, actually.” he spoke out, breathing heavily. She moved a blanket over the two, as the cold was seeping in from her window. She nuzzled up against his shoulder, whispering in his ear. “I’m glad I got this time alone with you.”

As she said that, Michael knew he had completely fallen for this girl and he would never let her go. How she cared for him, how she spoke, and just the whole events of that evening had made him want to start saving money for a ring.

[lacroixqueen]

i look in people's windows (18+, noncon) stalker deadpool x office worker reader

Summary: deadpool starts stalking reader after seeing her in a coffee shop. breaks into her apartment and does typical depraved wade shit

Pairing: stalker!deadpool x office worker reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: stalking, trespassing, noncon, dubcon

He didn’t realize he was so fascinated with you initially. At first glance, you looked like any other plain Jane office worker in the city: rushing to the front of the cafe to grab a tray of half-cold coffees before bolting out the door. 

Why is she in such a hurry, he mused to himself, watching you scurry down the block, the corner of your white blouse poking out of your gray pencil skirt. Acting like she’s saving the world or about to perform brain surgery or something. Another Marvel Jesus wannabe. What makes her think she’s so important anyway?

He went back to sipping his bitter espresso, returning to his original state of solitude, until he couldn’t shake you out of his head. Fuck it. Something urged him to get out of his seat, leave the coffee store, and follow you out.

He trailed behind you by about a block or so. He took note of your black tights, and how your skirt ended at the mid-level of your thighs. And that stupid click-clack sound of your heels against the cobblestone. So self-righteous.

He eventually followed you into a skyscraper building. He watched you weave through the crowd, past the front desk, and into a back elevator. Wade quickened his pace to be able to catch you just in the nick of time. 

He darted into the elevator right before the doors were about to close. 

“Floor?” you asked politely, looking up at him with those god awful innocent eyes that made him want to bend you over the nearest desk and fuck you senseless. 

“I’m so glad you asked!” he piped, ever so chipper. “I’ll be.. Uh. Floor. 85.”

“Oh, this building only has 60 floors!” you said. “Which department are you going to? Oooh, love the costume by the way. Maybe you’re headed to the photo studio? That’s going to be on 54. You take a left, then a right, and.. it should be straight there!”

And so polite too. God, could she be anymore insufferable, Deadpool thought to himself, tilting his head to the side as if to psychoanalyze your disposition. 

“Does.. that sound right?” you asked, a bit nervous now that the stranger dressed in all black and red sharing the enclosed space with you was no longer speaking. 

“Yes,” he replied, a little bit too quickly for comfort.

You pushed the corresponding button without another word, and then retreated back to your corner of the elevator. A few seconds of silence passed when your phone suddenly started beeping out of control. 

“Hello?” you asked nervously. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I’m coming right away. Yes? Uh huh. Mhm. Okay. Got it. Thank you. Bye.” You ended the call with a subtle click and slipped the phone back into your pocket. 

So she’s eager to please. A perfectionist. Interesting, he thought, jotting down a mental note. 

The elevator reached an upcoming floor with a crisp ‘ding’, followed by the doors gliding open.

“Have a great day!” you called over your shoulder as you stepped out, about to walk expeditiously to your cubicle, balancing the tray of coffees in your shaky grip. “Oh, and you should take one of these, they are still hot!”

You handed him one of the skinny vanilla lattes in the tray before the elevator doors closed between you. 

Wade took it without a thought. And he didn’t hesitate to follow you, of course. Ducking behind office plants and hallway walls just to see where you were going without drawing too much attention. He was quick enough to catch a glimpse of your full name on your cubicle placard. 

Bullseye, he thought mischievously to himself, before slinking away into the nearest stairwell. 

He somehow directed himself to the records department in the basement, carefully rifling through the employee directory to match your name with any corresponding information. 

“Y/N..” he muttered to himself, leafing through the enormous book in the back of the storage room. “Goddamnit. Where the hell are you.. Aha! Full government name, phone number, and mailing address. Who even needs those shady paywalled identity finder websites anyways.”

Later that evening, he made it a point to break into your apartment before you came home. He was methodical, ensuring to cover all his steps, so that no trace was left behind. The lock to your doorknob was easy enough to pick. It look several bent-out-of-shape paper clips of course, and a lot of perseverance, but he somehow cracked the code. 

He liked the way you decorated your space. Those cute little succulents in clay pots with smiley faces on them. Colorful candles and warm-toned tarps. Trinkets and crystals adorning cherry wooden shelves. Overgrown plants strewn across the floor. And books. Heaps of them. 

“Well I’ll be,” he huffed to himself, standing in the center of the living room, hands on his hips. “I never took you to be an interior designer. Chip and Joanna would have a run for their money if they ever got a load of this..”

He played with the string of beads you hung from the ceiling, until the wooden dresser you had pushed into the corner caught his attention. 

“Ohohohoho, now what do we have here..” he chuckled, prancing around your furniture to open up the first drawer. He was immediately greeted by your collection of underwear, folded neatly and sorted in a way he pictured an office worker would. He flickered his fingertips over the tops of them, as if he was a kid in a candy store picking out his favorite treat. 

“So organized and efficient!” he commented, rifling through the perfectly placed rows and columns with curiosity. “It’s like the love child of OCD and a very high grade personality disorder.. color me impressed.”

“Eenie, meenie, minie, you!” he exclaimed with glee, eyeing a pair of stretchy, black tights and lifting it out as if he was plucking a rose from a vine.  

Just like the ones she wore this morning, he mused.

His fingers glided across the fabric, gently rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. He stretched it out as much as he could, pulling it, teasing it, pretending as if it was on you. 

He decided to get comfortable on your couch, playing with your tights in between his gloved fingertips. 

“Well, out of all the things I’ve done to be put on a government watchlist, this one definitely takes the cake,” he murmured to himself as he lazily lifted up his mask, licking the stretched out nylon with his greedy tongue. He sucked on it desperately, as if he could somehow taste you on the fabric, his saliva dripping down the side of his chin. 

His fingers twirled around the black bows on the sides, pulling so hard one of them came undone. Without wasting another moment, he unbuckled his belt and slightly zipped down his fly, releasing his already hardened cock. Slipping the dainty cloth over it, he began to indulge himself in a way that he never predicted he would this morning. 

He tilted his head back into the soft cushion of the sofa, stroking himself with your elastic tights between his fingertips, imagining you were bouncing on top of him with them on. 

“Fuck, Y/N..” he breathed, gritting his teeth as he continued to pleasure himself. “Why did you have to wear something so slutty at 7 in the morning? I mean what kind of a sociopath does such a thing? You’d think people would have common courtesy these days, but I guess not.”

He groaned softly as he came into your tights, his cum infiltrating through the thin fabric, leaving them absolutely soaked. Breathing heavily, he got up to toss the tainted pantyhose into the trash. 

Finding a scrap piece of paper and pen, he decided to leave you a little note of gratitude on your kitchen table before he left your apartment, scribbling a messy sketch of his mask making a blushing face and a lop-sided heart: 

“Thanks for the coffee!”

[luv4arinn]

Bayverse!Mikey Headcanons, but once again, I try to psychoanalyze everything.

Pairing: Mikey x female reader

Warning: Mentions of ADHD, mentions of sexual assault/rape, slight emotional dependency, slight NSFW

Dating Mikey is a special case.

Canonically, he has ADHD. His mind is a constant whirlwind of ideas, movement, impulses, and words. But when it comes to you… God. He does everything in his power to focus. To center all his attention on every word you say, every gesture you make, every little expression that flickers across your face.

Because even though his brain is always racing, even though his energy seems endless, there’s one certainty that keeps him grounded: you.

And Mikey… Mikey is flirty.

It’s not that he tries to be—it’s just who he is. It’s in his blood, in the way he moves, in the way compliments slip from his lips so naturally, it’s like he doesn’t even think before saying them. He proved it in the first movie when he saw April and blurted out that thing about his shell being tight. So no, he’s not the type to keep quiet when he likes someone. Not at all.

Mikey will make sure you know.

And not in a subtle way.

He’ll tell you with over-the-top words, with lines that sound straight out of a bad rom-com but, coming from him, somehow feel genuine and even adorable. He’ll tell you with cheesy nicknames, with grins so wide they could light up the room, with eyes that sparkle like you’re the moon itself, illuminating his entire world.

And he’s expressive. God, he’s so expressive.

He has no filter. If he thinks you look amazing, he’ll say it. If he finds something you did adorable, he’ll mention it. If he’s hopelessly in love with you, he’ll make sure the entire world knows.

Mikey doesn’t love in silence.

He loves loudly, with excited shouts and sudden hugs, with happy jumps and improvised dances right in the middle of the lair. He loves with every fiber of his being—fearlessly, unapologetically.

And if that means that sometimes his love is too intense, that sometimes it’s a hurricane of words, laughter, and exaggerated gestures… well.

That’s only because he can’t help it. Because you’re his girl. And he’ll never let you forget it.

And if he ever hears that yes slip from your lips… brace yourself.

Love him the way he loves the world, please. This man has so much love to give. I truly believe he’s incredibly affectionate deep down. But he knows you, and he’s learning to control himself. Still, sometimes… sometimes, all that sweetness slips through the cracks.

Because he loves you the way he loves the world.

He loves you the way he loves music.

He loves you the way he loves skateboarding.

Too much sweetness? Eh. I hope you have a taste for sugar.

Mikey is an outpouring of love in its purest form.

He’s a man who feels too much, who lives too much, who loves too much. But when you enter his life, everything he thought he knew about love suddenly isn’t enough anymore.

And if he ever hears a yes from you—if you ever confirm that you love him just as much as he loves you…

Brace yourself.

Because this man falls apart. He melts like ice cream under the summer sun. His heart bursts into a thousand colors, like fireworks lighting up the New Year’s sky. He hugs you, lifts you off the ground, spins you around, laughs, yells, probably runs off to tell his brothers, then rushes back just to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

Please, love him the way he loves the world.

Because Mikey has so much love to give—more than his own body can contain. And yes, deep down, he’s overwhelmingly affectionate, though he tries to hold back. Not because he minds being that way, but because he knows you. Because he’s learning to manage his intensity, to not overwhelm you with everything he feels all at once.

But sometimes… oh, sometimes he just can’t help it.

Because he loves you the way he loves music—with passion, with energy, with every cell in his body vibrating in sync with his own rhythm.

He loves you the way he loves skateboarding—with the thrill of speed, with the adrenaline of knowing that every moment with you is a new trick to master, a new challenge that excites him.

Too much sweetness? Eh… you’d better have a sweet tooth. Because this man is a never-ending sugar factory.

And beyond all that, Mikey is an artist.

An underappreciated artist, yes, but an artist nonetheless.

There are probably walls in hidden corners of the sewers covered in his mark, in designs that tell his story. He may not say it out loud, but every stroke, every explosion of color, is a piece of his soul imprinted on concrete.

And if you share his love for body art? God.

If you love the idea of tattoos, or if it’s your first time and you decide you want him to be the one to do it… Mikey is going to lose his mind. He’ll squeal with excitement, hug you, and before you even realize it, he’ll already be showing you sketches, ideas, and designs he probably drew long before you ever even brought up the topic.

Because deep down, all Mikey wants is to leave his mark on the world.

And if you ever let him leave his mark on you…

Well.

That will only be another sign that his love is eternal.

Being with Mikey is like being on cloud nine.

Because he’s always on cloud nine.

He’s a dreamer, a free spirit, someone who would rather see life through rose-colored glasses than face the harshness of reality. His mind is always drifting between ideas, jokes, and melodies only he seems to hear.

But don’t let his carefree nature fool you.

Mikey isn’t stupid. Not even close.

In fact, he’s extremely smart. A genius in his own right. But unlike Donnie, who channels his intellect into science and technology, or Leo, who applies it to strategy, Mikey just… doesn’t see the need to prove it all the time.

Because being smart also means knowing when to relax.

Sometimes he seems easygoing, like nothing can truly affect him. But when it comes to you… when it comes to protecting you…

Everything changes.

Because Mikey is protective. Extremely protective.

He knows where he stands.

He knows he lives in a world where people like him shouldn’t exist. Where villains lurk in every shadowed corner of the city, where darkness hides dangers most people don’t even realize are there.

Because every time he goes out on patrol, he sees firsthand just how cruel the world can be.

And it’s not his fault that he’d rather stay in the clouds than face that reality.

But then, there’s you.

You are his anchor. His connection to the real world.

Because when things get bad, when the city feels darker than usual, when reality weighs too heavy on his shoulders…

You are the one who reminds him why he keeps fighting.

Why he keeps patrolling.

Because every time he faces danger, it’s not just out of duty. It’s not just because he’s a hero.

It’s because he wants to make this world—this city—a better place. For you.

And on the nights when he comes back to the lair after seeing the worst the city has to offer—the fights, the crimes, the people suffering—he stays up, restless.

And he asks Donnie.

“Why is there so much bad in the streets, bro?”

For once, his voice is serious. His gaze, shadowed.

Because, even if he doesn’t always show it, deep down, he’s still a kid who wants to believe the world can be good. That people can be better.

And until that happens…

He’ll keep fighting.

For the city.

For his family.

For you.

But on nights like this…

On nights like this, reality seeps through the cracks of his optimism.

And it drowns him.

Knock, knock, knock.

At first, his persistence doesn’t surprise you. Mikey always knocks on your window with energy, his impatience buzzing in every tap.

But this time, it’s different.

There’s something in the rhythm, in the desperation of his knuckles against the glass.

Something that sends a chill down your spine.

When you rush to open it, you barely have time to react before he pulls you into his arms.

And Mikey has always been physical, always been drawn to touch.

But this isn’t his usual enthusiastic hug.

This one is desperate.

He holds you tightly, as if afraid you might disappear between his arms. He’s trembling. His breathing is erratic, his chest rising and falling too fast, and when he rests his head against your chest, you realize just how hard his heart is pounding.

He’s trying to hear yours.

He’s trying to make sure you’re still alive.

And when he lifts his head, when his blue eyes finally meet yours, you see something in them you rarely ever see.

Fear.

Real fear.

Not the kind he fakes when watching a horror movie just so he can pull you close and laugh. Not the playful fear when Raph threatens to smack him upside the head.

No.

This is deeper.

“Mikey… what happened?” you ask, your own voice shaking slightly.

He doesn’t answer right away.

His lips part, but nothing comes out. He just swallows hard and closes his eyes, as if trying to erase what he saw. As if trying to convince himself it wasn’t real.

But it was.

And when he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, unusually serious.

“A patrol…” he starts, but his voice breaks. He runs a shaky hand over his face, inhaling unsteadily before trying again.

“We were on the rooftops. I… I was messing with Raph. You know, the usual.”

He tries to smile, but he can’t.

“And then I heard it.”

A lump forms in his throat.

“A scream.”

Your body tenses.

Mikey bites his lip.

“I jumped to the next building. I looked around. And then…”

He pauses.

Clenching his fists.

Clenching his jaw.

Because he doesn’t want to say it out loud. He doesn’t want to relive it.

But he has to let it out.

“She had your hair,” he whispers.

A shiver runs down your spine.

“And my mind…” he grimaces. “My mind played tricks on me. I saw…”

He doesn’t say it.

He doesn’t need to.

Because his eyes, his broken expression, tell you everything you need to know.

For a second, in the darkness of the night, in that filthy alleyway… Mikey saw you in her place.

And it felt like his world was ending.

His hands tighten around you, as if—now that he’s here, now that he can see you, touch you—he needs to convince himself that you’re safe.

That you’re real.

“Mikey…” you whisper, gently running your hand over his shell, trying to soothe him.

But he just buries his face into the curve of your neck.

Because he knows that, yes, you’re safe now.

But he also knows how cruel the world can be.

Mikey feels too much.

He’s a storm of emotions trapped inside a shell that’s too small to contain them all.

And right now, those emotions are spilling over.

Because the thought of losing you, the mere possibility that something could take you away from him, is consuming him.

He would feel… betrayed.

Because the world gave him something so beautiful, so bright, so perfect—you. And then what? Would it just rip you away without a second thought?

No.

He wouldn’t let it.

So he buries his head in your hair and takes a deep breath.

Your scent soothes him.

And terrifies him all at once.

Calm, because you’re still here. Because when he wraps his arms around you, you can feel how strong his hold is—like he’s trying to fuse you to him, like simply letting go could make you disappear.

And terrifying, because… what if one day, he couldn’t protect you?

His mouth finds the exposed skin of your neck, and he lets out a shaky sigh. Kisses—soft at first. Slow. As if each one were a silent plea. As if every brush of his lips against your skin was an unspoken promise that he would never let anything happen to you.

And then… everything feels hot.

Too hot.

Need consumes him all at once, like a fire burning through everything in its path. His hand grips your waist too tightly, like he needs to make sure you’re real.

And suddenly, there’s too much clothing.

You feel it too.

But Mikey has never been impatient.

Not with you.

He likes to take his time, to savor every moment, every reaction, every little gasp when his fingers explore your skin. He loves the anticipation, the way your breath quickens as his lips leave a trail of kisses down your abdomen.

Down to your hips.

Down to the soft skin of your inner thighs.

His fingers grip your flesh, holding you in place, and his warm breath brushes against the most sensitive part of your body.

He devours you with the same passion with which he loves the world.

With the same devotion he pours into music, into his art, into the adrenaline of skateboarding.

And tonight…

Tonight, it’s even more intense.

Because he needs to remind himself that you’re still here.

That you’re still in his hands.

Mikey is touch and sweetness.

His fingers trace your skin like he’s sketching in his notebook, like every caress is a precise brushstroke on his favorite masterpiece.

It’s him who slides the fabric of your shirt down your shoulders, who unclasps your bra with an ease that proves he’s done this far too many times.

But he doesn’t rush.

Because he wants to savor every second.

His mouth finds your collarbone first, leaving kisses that are barely there. A whisper of contact that keeps you on edge, that makes your breathing heavier before you even realize it.

And when his lips reach your shoulder blades, when his tongue barely grazes the curve of your back, a sigh escapes your lips.

Mikey pauses.

He takes a second to close his eyes and take it all in.

Your sound.

Your reaction.

The way your body shivers beneath his touch.

And when he opens his eyes again, his chest swells with pride.

He’s got you.

He’s got you right here, in his hands, melting like clay molded by his touch.

His arm curls around your waist as he lifts you effortlessly, guiding you toward the bed with the same ease with which he’d take your hand at any other time of the day.

He lays you down gently. With devotion.

And before leaning over you, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

Softly.

Tenderly.

Because Mikey isn’t just passion and desire.

He’s love.

He’s devotion.

And it’s him who finds your neck again, who bites your skin with the same intensity with which he savors every moment by your side.

He feels it when you arch your back, when you cling to him instinctively.

He feels it when you become completely his.

And then he moves lower.

His warm breath glides over your skin.

His lips carve a slow, maddening path downward.

And in the midst of it all—between the kisses and the breathless sighs—his voice slips into your ear.

Muttering the most ridiculously cheesy lines he can think of.

Because if there’s something he loves more than this moment, it’s making you laugh.

And when you snort in amusement, when your laughter bubbles from your chest like the sweetest melody, Mikey knows there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.

Than right here.

With you.