#Up Against the Wall Motherfuckers

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

"ALWAYS HAS BEEN."

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on American anarchist agitation collective and/or revolutionary protest group, BLACK MASK, marching on Wall Street in the winter of early 1967 to protest the fiscal terrorist institutions of the American status quo in NYC, New York, USA. 📸: Larry Fink.

“The next target is Wall Street,” an anarchist collective known as Black Mask wrote in its January newsletter, 1967. On February 10th, around twenty-five members of the group, wearing black balaclavas and carrying giant skulls, took to the streets of the financial district and handed out this statement:

"WALL STREET IS WAR STREET...

...The traders in stocks and bones shriek for New Frontiers—but the coffins return to the Bronx and Harlem. Bull markets of murder deal in a stock exchange of death. Profits rise to the ticker tape of your dead sons. Poison gas RAINS on Vietnam. You cannot plead “WE DID NOT KNOW.” Television brings the flaming villages into the safety of your home. You commit genocide in the name of freedom.

BUT YOU TOO ARE THE VICTIMS!""

-- THE NEW YORKER, "Occupying Wall Street in 1967," by Rollo Romig, published on October 5, 2011

Sources: www.agenteprovocador.es/publicaciones/los-primeros-encapuchados-de-nueva-york, X, the New Yorker, PM Press, various, etc...

[beebundt]

can i just say how important it is to keep messages & comments & gifted art to you that made you happy or were really meaningful. like not for a particularly egocentric reason but also yes at the same time, right. like i wish i had kept a lot from earlier in my time on here bc sometimes a certain person will come along and just drop the most sweet and personal compliment on a tuesday afternoon and it will completely dissolve you on the spot and leave you thinking about it several months or years to come. sometimes i will feel like the most shit of dogshit and then i remember and look at these old replies left on posts or fanart given to me. like these people aren't here anymore or maybe they are but they are to me yeah? theyve left a part of them and i carry it with me now and somewhere out there i hope they feel my appreciation for it however small. anyway my whole point is maybe we should all keep a little folder somewhere or a corkboard and just. put them in there! and let it inspire your future you. someone was happy you were here

[theinkeddragon]

I use my brain waves to blow up every edge camping blaster user ever

[silvermistyy]

are you fucking kidding me

I think I just saw god 🧎‍♀️

LORD HAVE MERCY ON A POOR SINNERS SOUL

he's so fine

[bbokicidal]

sneaky, sneaky boys. | [SKZ]

warning: fem!reader; 18+ (MDNI), public sex/penetration/fingering/etc., also spit kink w/ jeongin

perv!chan who cannot keep his hands off of you in public. we've seen it before that he's very touchy, almost always needs to have something to touch and feel on. so when you're near, he's always on you. always squeezing your sides when he laces an arm around you, kneading your hip, reaching down to grope at your ass when he hugs you for just a second. oh, and sliding his hands up your shirt when you sit in his lap and the two of you have a few minutes alone. he just loves getting to cop a feel at your chest when there's a risk of getting caught in the practice room, studio, car, etc.

perv!minho who loves fucking you in public restrooms. he gets rock hard at the thought of you having to hold in your whines because otherwise the two of you will get caught; but he also knows you can't do that, it's just impossible when hes fucking into you so hard from behind. so while he's got you pinned up against the stall door and his cock is buried so deep you swear he's kissing your cervix, he'll slap a hand over your mouth and whisper over your shoulder how you have to keep your pretty mouth shut unless you want to get in trouble.

perv!changbin who needs you to cockwarm him whenever you can. he's not ridiculously big so it's easy to slip into you while being slick about it, but he's thicker than a motherfucker - so you need to control your facial expressions when he stretches you out even if you'd fucked just a few hours earlier. he bites back a grin, teeth sinking hard into his lip as he relishes in the warmth of your pussy while you sit in his lap to watch the others practice choreography - and he swears, when they tease him for sitting for so long, that he's just taking a small break.

perv!hyunjin who gets off on fingering you in public - specifically under dining tables. he's come in his pants more times than he can count on both hands because of that exact scenario; every time the group goes out for a fancy dinner and you wear a sexy dress that shows off all of your curves - how is he supposed to keep his hands off of you?! so he slips his hand under the tablecloth, under your dress, and dips two fingers in to rub against your gummy walls. and he can't help the way he smiles over at you every time, your cheeks pink and his hand moving discreetly beneath the table where no one can see. (though, Jisung did catch on once. and then dipped under the table to watch with the excuse of picking up his dropped utensils.)

perv!jisung who is actually very good at being subtle when he's literally humping you from behind. you think he's being very obvious about the way he's grinding his hips against your ass and you're pretty sure at any moment he's going to whip his cock out with how eager he seems - but none of the other members seem to notice, or at least don't point it out if they do. jisung just plays it off as hugging you from behind; which isn't exactly a lie, but not the whole truth. you ended up asking minho about it once, knowing they were close since they live together, to see if the older man noticed at all only to be met with; "He WHAT?"

perv!felix who has a bad (but very sexy) habit of using his tongue on you when he probably shouldn't. he likes to hug onto you, as affectionate as he is with all of the others; though it's more than that. he's kissing you, kissing your neck, dragging his tongue over your skin, giving you surprisingly quick hickies because he's biting at your skin. he's a menace - but he's sly about it and despite his affection feeling teasing - he always finds a way to leave a few marks behind in a short period of time.

perv!seungmin who likes to spank you and blame it on either someone else or you yourself. he'll come from behind on his phone and just reach down to smack his hand down against your ass - and when you yelp he'll either point to jisung and blame it on him, who then squeals that it was not his doing and that he didn't hit you, or reach down as if you spanked him. he thinks it's funny, of course, but you've figured out his pattern. if it's once or twice a day, it's teasing. if it's more than that - he's in the mood, and probably doing it because he likes to hear you whine.

perv!jeongin who spits in your mouth when people aren't looking. he's come really close to being caught but he's gotten better at being slick with it; it's the same process every time. he's quiet beforehand, eyes drawn to you - and if you catch him staring, you know what's coming; if not, you're caught by surprise. he'll wait until no one's turn in your direction before he grabs your jaw and watches you open your mouth before he spits right onto your tongue and waits for you to swallow. more often than not, he pulls this move right before he performs - all the boys walk past until he's left at the end, grabbing your face and spitting in your mouth as his little good luck charm before he goes on stage. if he's feeling cocky, he'll pat your cheek as he brushes past and mutter under his breath, "good girl."

Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 1 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: After getting attacked at the train station, you get rescued by a mysterious stranger. But is that really better?

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, attempted rape, violence, murder, hints of blood and gore, trauma talk

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

He was a twisted motherfucker. And you knew it was your own fault you ended up in his claws. But how could you have possibly known? After all, at first he seemed like the good guy.

Looking back, it was entirely lost on you, how he managed to pull that off.

You remembered vividly how it felt when you sat on the cold bench in the waiting area of the underground train station, just like you did every evening of your life. Except for Sundays. Sundays were reserved for books and tv shows, to numb out your mind. Sundays were for you.

Your thoughts had been occupied with work and the feeling of your lower body slowly freezing off.

UTI, honey. You'll get UTI, if you sit on cold surfaces for too long. Your mothers voice took up a lot of space in your head, despite the fact that the last time you saw her was years ago. It still made you feel uneasy, but there was not much you could do. She was your mother, your inner voice, your compass. The part of your mind that still relied on her advice didn't know that she was long gone from your life and for a reason.

The first thing you noticed was a pair of cold hands reaching for you. Everything seemed to be cold that day. And God, you hated the cold.

His cold hands reached for you and before you even realized it, he had you pinned against the bench, trapped in-between him and the cold surface. You didn't have time to react at all. His one cold hand went up to cover your mouth, while his other cold hand cupped your breast through the fabric of your clothes.

Of course you struggled. It was a reflex. You tried to fight him off as soon as you realized what was going on. You struggled and squirmed, at some point you even tried to knee him in the crotch. But he straddled your waist, keeping you down with his weight and you knew where this was leading.

You hadn't even seen his face. His ugly ass blue hat with the dove on top was pulled down deep in his face and you couldn't make out his eyes. Not that it would have changed anything, but it made everything even worse for you.

But what was by far the worst thing, wasn't the cold. It wasn't even the fact that the station was empty except for the two of you. The worst thing was that no sound came out when you opened your mouth to scream. No sound at all.

Oh, how you had feared that. The dream came often, frequently even and it was a shitty feeling every time, wanting to scream but no sound came out. Your throat was tight, your tongue useless, your lips parted in a silent plea.

No.

This was the end, you were sure.

He'd violate you and if you were lucky, he'd leave you like that, on the cold bench, to fend for yourself. But that wasn't your biggest fear. Your biggest fear was what would happen if he didn't decide to leave you like that.

Maybe it'd be quick. A blade to your throat and within a few minutes everything would finally be over.

But what if not?

A knot built in your stomach as you saw your future right infront of you. Sold off to some twisted people, spending the rest of your life as a tool for someone else's pleasure, someones amusement, someones-

No, being violated wasn't your worst fear.

Being sold off was.

At some point people would believe you were dead and then they'd stop searching.

Tears streamed down your face and your body shook with suppressed sobs as he ripped at your shirt impatiently. Your lips parted in another desperate plea, but still, no sound.

You were done for. This was your end. You couldn't breathe.

Until, suddenly, you could again.

You let out a shuddery gasp when you felt his weight lift off of you. You were frozen solid after you backed away against the wall.

The man appeared out of nowhere, looking like someone from a novel or a movie.

His hair, which looked like it was normally slicked back neatly, hung into his face as he dragged the man off you, his expression twisted into something you couldn't read.

You took a deep breath. In. And out. In. And out.

You were safe. The police would come, the man would get arrested and he wouldn't ever touch you again. You would finally see his eyes and-

Oh God.

You winced outwardly when you heard the cracking sound and the man with the blue hat went limp in his arms. His unreadable expression turned into something resembling smugness.

You watched in horror as he tossed the lifeless body onto the train line. The train came on time. Of course it did. Punctuality was a good deed, especially here in South Korea.

What you witnessed then was probably the most gruesome scene of your life and you immediately knew you would never get that picture out of your head.

The sound of a gunshot forced you back to reality and you winced painfully. When you looked up, you saw him still pointing his gun at the security camera in the left corner of the area. On his face a subtle smile. The twisted smile of an avenging angel...or an obvious demon.

He pushed the gun back beneath his waistline and held out his hand to you.

The man who had almost destroyed your life was dead, scattered across the train station in blood and gore and the man who would undoubtedly destroy your life held out his hand to you.

You heard your mothers voice again, small and subtle.

Don't take his hand, honey. Something's most definitely wrong with him. I bet he's dangerous.

That was what made you take his hand in the end. However bad he was, he couldn't possibly be worse than her, could he?

A few minutes later, he made a point of passing about every car on the highway.

"Where do you live?" His voice was like silk. It was terrifying.

After what had happened, you felt like you had stopped breathing for a while and just now were you slowly getting back to it again.

No ins and outs. Straight up hyperventilating.

"I- I don't know." You gasped out truthfully.

He cocked a brow and briefly glanced at you from the drivers seat.

"You don't know?"

You frantically shook your head.

"I always take the same path. From the train station, take a turn left and- and-"

"Where are you from, sweet girl?" His voice sounded so calm, as sweet as honey. It was almost offensive, it was infuriating.

"Yorkshire." You whispered without missing a beat.

He hummed softly and briefly eyed you up and down. "England, hm? I should have recognized from your grace and beauty."

Was he fucking flirting with you? After he just...just murdered someone?

"What takes you to South Korea then? School? Uni?"

"Work." You murmured, not even recognizing your own voice. But at least by now it was back. Fucking betrayed by your own body, wonderful.

He raised his brows as he passed another car in a nerve-wrecking speed.

"Work? You look a little young to be that far from home, working here. Do you even speak the language?"

You subtly shook your head and he nodded.

"I work with...with computers." You mumbled absentmindedly. In your head, the scene from earlier kept repeating like a broken record. All that blood...

He hummed again. An odd sound. He radiated such a calm energy, it was truly confusing.

"You were awfully quiet earlier." He remarked.

You swallowed back the lump in your throat and looked out of the window.

"Ah. Sore spot. I get it."

At first you had thought he might be taking you to the police station. But then you realized; after he just butchered someone down without flinching? Probably not.

Still, you had hope. That was until you saw the city sign disappear in the rear view mirror. This wasn't good. Maybe for once you should have listened to your mothers voice.

"Where are you taking me?" You asked quietly.

He didn't respond, just kept his gaze firmly on the highway before you. You kept glancing at him for a while, before eventually you looked down at your hands. You hadn't even realized how much they were shaking. You wanted to ask many, many questions.

Who the hell are you?

Where are we going?

Why did you kill that man?

...Am I next?

But all you managed was a quiet, desperate exhale.

"Are you hungry?" He asked matter-of-factly.

You thought back to the massacre and immediately felt nauseous again, so you shook your head.

"Yes, you are. You need to keep your strength. Don't worry, sweet girl. We'll be home soon. I'll take good care of you."

The cold sweat that broke out on your body was nearly painful. You knew he wasn't normal, but you couldn't yet tell to which extent he was crazy.

Was he just a little twisted?

He was a killer after all. And now you were with him. In his car. Maybe, just maybe you could...

You glanced down at the doorhandle, when his calm voice made you jump.

"Don't even think about it, sweet girl. That won't work. I'm driving so fast, the second your body hits the pavement, your head will explode like a balloon."

The was that tightness in your throat again. But this time something was different. He had his hands on the steering wheel, not on you. You could still breathe.

Suddenly you saw yourself again, sold off. And damn it, suddenly exploding didn't sound so bad anymore.

You furiously tugged on the door handle, but it didn't work. It was locked. You kept trying it desperately, a soft passing your lips. After a few moments you realized it was pointless.

Slowly you tilted your face back towards him, only to realize he was already watching you. He was still smiling that subtle, not at all genuine, smile, but this time something was different. It was like a cold fury had taken possession of his eyes.

Maybe he wasn't a demon. Maybe he was the devil.

"That one was free. Because we don't know each other all too well yet." He said slowly. "But next time, I won't be so forgiving."

You looked back at the street ahead of you. And suddenly you realized something. Maybe he was worse than your mother.

God, what a terrifying thought.

About half an hour later, there you were. Home.

A great apartment complex, somewhere God knows where.

Suddenly it hit you. He hadn't covered your eyes. Not in the car, not infront of the house, not in the elevator.

You weren't leaving this place, at least not alive.

He led you inside one of the apartments. To your surprise, everything looked pretty normal, except for the part that it looked fairly expensive.

The walls were painted in a warm apricot color and the floor was made of dark wood.

He led you deeper inside and you realized, it was indeed a normal flat. The couch was made of black leather and there was a giant bookshelf, next to a big tv. For some reason the sight of the bookshelf brought you an odd sense of comfort.

How bad could a person be, if he was well-read?

Your mind soon wandered off to Hannibal Lecter and you dismissed the thought.

"Sit."

You sat down on the couch as instructed. All the while you were careful to keep your shoes off the cream colored carpet so you wouldn't get it dirty. It was odd how your mind worked.

He followed your gaze, his expression unreadable again.

Then he crouched down before you, so you were eye level with him. His eyes were of a pretty brown and soulless to the core. You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. He sized you up for a while, until eventually he sighed. An exaggerated, mocking sound.

"How do you like it here?"

Your insides twisted.

"It's pretty." You said in a choked whisper.

He laughed, a hearty, yet sarcastic sound.

"Look at you. Just look at you. Being my good girl already." He said slowly.

He leaned in so close that his breath tickled your ear. You forced yourself to stay still.

"The door can be opened only by me. The same goes for all windows. All the walls are soundproof. There's no way you can get out, until I want you to. Do you understand?" For the first time, his voice was low and you could grasp the subtle threat. He didn't pretend to be cheerful for once.

Or was it truly pretense?

You forced yourself to nod.

And just like that, his twisted smirk was back.

"Very well." He swiftly stood up. "What would you like for dinner?"

You slowly tilted up your head to read his expression. Read his intention. Read his character or the lack of it. But there was nothing. Nothing for you understandable, nothing that made any kind of sense.

"I'm not hungry." You whispered.

He pretended to pout, but eventually held out his hand to you again. A bittersweet deja-vu. As much as you wanted to refrain from taking it this time, you were far more afraid of what would happen if you refused him.

You hesitantly took his hand and he pulled you up to your feet.

"Maybe a nice, hot shower then?" He purred.

Of course. This time, it wouldn't be a faceless man with a blue hat to violate you, it would be him. The devil himself. You could already feel it, smell it and taste it. In the shower, on the bed, the kitchen counter, the floor and against the wall, until he grew tired of you.

That was why you were there. That had to be.

Before you could react, he had led you back to a spacious bathroom. Everything looked ridiculously clean and expensive. The freestanding tub was sparkling and the fluffy towels begging to dry you off.

He'd bend you over the tub. Maybe push your head under water. You knew he would. Just a minute more.

Instead, he gently ushered you inside.

"I'll get you something clean to sleep in." He said matter-of-factly. "I'll leave it infront of the door. Take as much time as you need."

With that, he disappeared and closed the door behind him. Your eyes widened almost comically. You then rushed forward to lock the door, which worked with ease. Next, the window. You tugged on the handle, desperate to open it. Not that it would have made any sense, you were too high above the street. But the thought of opening the window still filled you with hope. Like maybe, at least there would be one way out.

When nothing worked, you tried to break the glass. But you quickly noticed it was no normal glass. He hadn't lied. The windows provided no way out.

You slumped down below the sink and cried for a while. To no great surprise of yours, your tears ran dry quickly and you just sat in silence for a while.

You were trapped.

And you had no idea what you were here for.

After what felt like half an hour, you got up with shaky legs and decided to check if the door was truly locked. It was. You unlocked it and perked your head out, only to realize he had left you a bathrobe outside, as well as slippers and a nightdress. It was pretty basic, made of cotton. But it wasn't revealing or anything. The thought was oddly comforting. You picked up the clothes and disappeared back into the room, where you locked the door and sighed.

Your eyes settled on the tub and you thought, why the hell not?

You made quick process of it. You got rid of your sweat-soaked clothes and stepped into the tub. The water filled up the tub rather quickly. At least the warmth of it provided some kind of comfort. You poured some scented lavender oil in and sunk deeper down.

You didn't dare close your eyes though. You were still sure he would come and take what he wanted. Mayhe he just wanted you to be clean first? He would come. He surely would.

But he didn't. Minutes passed, another half an hour. And he didn't come. You rinsed off and stepped out of the tub. The giant, fluffy towels felt heavenly against your skin. It was almost like you were in a hotel. Except for the murder and abduction part.

You slipped into the nightdress and the slippers and towel dried your long hair. Then you folded the towel neatly and placed it on the radiator. After a few long, deep breaths you carefully stepped outside. The cold air brought you back to reality as you followed back the same path he had led you earlier. You were surprised to find the living room empty, but you heard rustling sounds from the kitchen.

And then your gaze settled on the door.

It were less than five steps. You could make it. You could. If you were quick and took off the slippers, you could stealthily...

"Sweet girl?" That fake sweetness again, with the hint of underlying warning to it. You swallowed thickly and looked up. He stood in the doorway and looked at you with something resembling a warm smile.

"How was your bath?"

You stood frozen. Five small steps. If you thudded against the door loud enough, maybe someone might hear. Alert the police. Rescue-

"I asked you a question."

"Good." You whispered. And involuntarily added: "Thank you."

Good girl, purred your mothers voice.

But all he did was smile.

"Come, I made dinner. Just a few bites."

Your mind drifted back to Hannibal Lecter and you nearly spat. A careful glance into the kitchen and...

Pancakes. You gasped in relief.

He tilted his head to the side, smiling softly.

"You don't like pancakes?"

"I do." You whispered involuntarily.

They might be poisoned, but the fact that you hadn't eaten anything since lunch at work got the better of you. He slowly guided you into the kitchen and sat you down on one of the chairs, before he sat down opposite you.

He caught you staring down at the food suspiciously, which made him chuckle.

"They're not poisoned."

When you still didn't move, he rolled his eyes and took a bite off your fork. He chewed and swallowed with a smug expression.

"See?"

You reluctantly moved. They weren't bad. Pretty good even. You chewed carefully and never took your eyes off him. He did the same. And he still looked so unbelievably calm.

After you finished eating and downed a glass of water, you stared at him...expectantly.

His smirk widened.

"A curious little bird, aren't you?"

He narrowed his eyes somewhat and reached out to touch your cheek. "You cried."

To your surprise, when you flinched, he pulled his hand back and hummed softly.

"No need to cry, sweet girl. I'll take care of you. All you have to do is agree."

You already regretted asking. "Agree to what?"

He leaned back and bared his teeth in a predatory smile.

"Being mine."

Your brows furrowed in confusion and straight up stress. The calming effects of the bath were slowly fading away.

"What?"

"Mine, sweet girl. My girl."

"Your girl?" You asked somewhat incredulously, which was something he didn't seem to appreciate.

He reached out and cupped your face in his hand, his grip firm, but not painful. Yet. Your heart immediately skipped several beats.

"Oh, you will agree, sweet girl. The question is, will you agree willingly? Or do I have to make you?" He narrowed his eyes even further.

"Who are you, sweet girl?"

You stared up at him with wide, fearful eyes. Something told you that there was no right answer to that question.

And then, in a rare fit of courage, you said your name.

He took a long, deep breath and slowly dropped his hand from your chin.

"That's very tragic, sweet girl."

With a disapproving tsk he shook his head.

"Unfortunately, that was the wrong answer."

[darkbluekies]

Stupid people

Yandere!mafia!oc x reader

Summary: a number sends Silas a picture of darling that sends him into rage

Warnings: murder, mentions of NSFW, Silas lashes out towards darling, guilt, slight indication of a character asking if it was consensual (it was — the deed, not the pictures), pictures taken without permission, punching and kicking between legs

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: to clarify, the photos are taken AFTER the deed, not during!

There's only two people Silas likes enough to let them be in his office for more than asking a question — you and SIC.

“Stupid people are my favorite kind of people”, SIC says from the couch, eyes glued onto his phone. “Some idiot here tried to jump from a roof.”

“If only our enemies did that so that i didn't have to go kill them”, Silas smirks.

“Since when were we that lucky?”

A notification on his own phone caught his attention. Silas picks it up and unlocks it, seeing that the notification is from an unsaved number. He clenches his jaw. Photos. It takes a second for him to realize what — who — is in these two photos. He can recognise that back among millions. He sees that back every night, always holding it close to his chest.

“Motherfucker!” he shouts and rises from his chair in a swift.

“What?” SIC asks quickly, looking up from his screen.

Silas slams his phone down on the floor. It shatters and explodes in every direction. SIC jumps up from the couch.

“Woah, what’s going on?” he asks quickly. 

Silas can't reply. His heart is hammering in his throat. If he tries to speak, it'll jump out. His entire body is shaking. He's been mad before, but nothing compares to what he feels when you are involved.

“Silas?” SIC asks. “Sit down.”

He presses Silas down in the chair again.

“What happened?” he asks. “Give me a real fucking answer this time.”

“Some disgusting little bitch sent me photos of Y/N”,  he spits out, growing angrier by every word. “Naked, in a bed. I think you can figure out the rest yourself.”

SIC blinks. “Shit. Who?”

Silas gestures manically towards the broken phone. “I didn't write the number down before I fucking smashed it!”

“Alright. I'll take out the sim card and put it in my phone. I can find out.”

“Don't look at the photos, got that? I'm not joking. I will beat you up if I find out that you've looked at the photos.”

“Don't worry, boss, I won't.”

Silas sighs in frustration. He storms out of his office, up the stairs and throws up the door to your shared bedroom. You're nowhere to be found.

“Y/N!” he shouts angrily.

You come out of the bathroom, looking bewildered. A fear grows on your face when you realize how mad he is.

“What's wrong?” you ask quickly.

“Who the fuck have taken pics of you while having sex?!” he shouts. “Who is the low creature that has pictures of you?!”

Your eyes widen.

“What?” you ask. “Silas-”

He moves closer and you can't describe his demeanor in any other way than threatening. You stumble backwards, finally reaching the wall. Even when he's mad, he'd never do things to make you scared of him, never show you the side he shows his men and enemies. But this time, he doesn't seem to care about holding back. You get to see what everyone else sees.

“Whoever the little fucker is, I will shove that camera of his so far up his ass it'll puncture a lung, do you understand that?” Silas spits, face mere centimeters from your face. 

“Silas, I-”, you stutter.

Silas grabs the perfume standing on the shelf beside you and sends it flying across The room, breaking against the wall. You watch on in complete horror. Not even in the basement is he this violent, not around you.

Behind him, you see SIC run into the room, stopping in the doorway. He watches on with wide eyes.

“Who is it?” he spits before raising his voice. “Give me the name of the worthless little creature! I'll kill him!”

“Silas, I don't know!” you shout loudly in order to be heard over his own shouting. Tears blurry your vision as silence fills the room. “I d-don't know, I swear! I have no knowledge of a-any pictures taken of me. Please don’t be mad at me, I don’t know anything, I s-swear …”

You have wrapped your arms around yourself. You look so incredibly small. And helpless. He feels as if someone has punched him right in the stomach. He can't bring himself to shout at you. The fire in his eyes seems to blow out, leaving his eyes as dark as they should. He breathes heavily, feeling empty and painfully aware of everything around him — every little sound, movement. He finally realizes what's going on.

“Fuck”, he breathes out in a whisper and pulls you into his arms, into a tight embrace. “I'm so sorry.”

You sob into his shoulder, voice getting muffled in his white shirt. Silas hugs you as if his life depends on it.

“Baby, I didn't mean to shout at you”, he whispers. “I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at that disgusting filth. Not you, do you understand?”

He pulls you back and covers your face in apologetic kisses, caressing your cheeks and wiping your tears.

“Are you okay?” he asks, grabbing your face and forcing you to look him in the eyes.

You nod slightly and sniffle. Still shaking, but not mortified. 

“What pictures?” you ask with an unsteady voice.

Silas looks at SIC.

“Did you get the number?” he asks.

“No, I didn't have time to move over the sim card before I heard the glass shattering.”

Silas clears his throat. His ears turn red.

“Go retrieve the number and then come back”, he says.

SIC nods and walks out. Silas turns to you. He cups your cheeks and kisses your lips carefully.

“Sorry”, he says again.

“It’s … okay”, you mumble.

It doesn't seem to register for him. He has a guilty look in his black eyes.

“Silas … what pictures?” you ask again, dreading the answer yet needing to know.

“There’s nothing to worry about, I shouldn’t have told you. I will take care of it, okay?”

“You got so upset about it … something must be wrong. Have someone taken pics of me while I’ve … had sex?”

Silas can’t tell you. He knows how distraught you’ll be. 

“No, not while you had … after you were done … I don’t know”, he says. “I could have misunderstood the pictures. I broke my phone right after seeing them.” He notices how you give him an unsure gaze as he mentions his phone. “I get worked up quickly.”

You sniffle. Silas wipes your tears again and hugs you even tighter, resting his cheek on the top of your head. He feels like a complete fool, how could he slip up like that? He would never shout at you, never make you feel threatened. For fuck sake, you’re supposed to seek shelter and comfort in him!

“Are you sure that you’re okay?” Silas asks. 

“Mhm”, you mumble. “Just shaking.”

“I can tell.” His embrace tightens. “Let’s sit down, alright?”

He moves you to the bed and sits down with you beside him. 

“What have you done today?” he asks and wraps his arm around your shoulders. 

“I’ve been watching some shows”, you reply. 

“Which one?”

“Some cartoon … I don’t remember the name.”

“Do you think I’d like it?”

You give him a small smile and shake your head. “No, it’s too cheesy for you.”

Silas smiles. “What type of fucking stereotype is that? Show me and I’ll decide for myself.”

You reach for the tablet and show him a few minutes of the cartoon. He leans onto you, wrapping himself around you like a boa constrictor. 

The door opens and SIC returns with his phone in his hand. 

“Got it”, he says and walks over to the bed. “Y/N, take a look and-”

Silas slaps his hand away. 

“Are you fucking out of your mind?” he scolds him. “You’re not showing them those!”

SIC holds his phone out of Silas’s reach. 

“I am”, SIC replies.

Silas stands up. The animalistic, lredatory light is back in his eyes. You don’t doubt that he would punch him. 

“I am going to show these pictures to Y/N to confirm that they remember the sex happening”, SIC explains sharply. “Because if they don’t, we might have a worse crime on our hands.”

Silas doesn’t reply. He seems to think, and seems to consider whether he should punch the man or not. He nods in defeat. SIC gives you the phone and you take a mortified look at the two pictures. 

“Do you recognise where you are in these two pictures?” SIC asks. “Do you know when this was? Do you have memories of it?”

You look at the pictures, fearing that you’re not going to recognise the location or remember what happened … or who you were with.

“I know when and where this is”, you say. “It was five years ago. I remember it.”

“You're sure you remember it?” SIC asks.

“Yes … but I didn't know that he took pics …” 

“Okay, the fucker is dead”, Silas decides.

“What was his name?” SIC asks.

“‘Eric’ something”, you say. “I met him at a party. He was nice, or so i thought, and-”

Silas runs a hand through his black hair and sighs.

“I guess that he wasn't that nice”, you mumble.

“Pricks like that are never nice. They're just polite enough to lure people to get what they want. Who knows how many innocent people's photos he has on his hard drive?”

“Silas, can you do me a favor?”

“What?”

“If you manage to find him-”

“Not if; when.”

“When you manage to find him, give him an extra punch from me, will you?”

Silas smiles. “I'll give him tenfolds.”

Finding him is easier than the poor fellow had anticipated. Silas pities him. He's either too stupid to know who he is or has a death wish. He can't decide which one is worse.

“God, you're even uglier than i imagined”, Silas scoffs as he sees the man for the first time.

He's held up by two of his men, body pounded with punches beyond recognizable, but they've left his face untouched. That's for Silas to ruin.

“You're even uglier than your mess of a body”, he says, grabbing the man's face, tuning it carelessly. “We haven't even touched this yet. What did you gain from this? Not a lot, I see. I mean, you're here, in my basement, about to be killed. Can't say that I understand your intentions.”

“Did you like the pictures?” Eric asks, voice drowning in painful moans.

“‘Did i like the pictures?’” Silas repeats, appalled by the man's lack of remorse. “I don't need your pitiful pictures. I get the full act from whatever angle I want.”

It shouldn't make him cocky, but bragging about it always fills him with pride.

“Give me his phone”, he orders.

One of his men digs up the phone from Eric's pocket. He forces him to unlock it.

“Do you take these types of pictures often?” Silas asks, eyes narrowing as he scrolls past hundreds of women sleeping in beds. “What even are these?”

“I take a picture of the woman after our session, after she's fallen asleep”, Eric replies, “as a trophy.”

“As a-”, he cuts himself off. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Silas hits him with all his might. Eric's head shoots backwards, his neck acting like a jojo to get it back. Blood runs down from his nose.

“Delete all the pictures”, he tells SIC and gives him the phone. “From the phone, any cloud, any other hard-drive. These pictures will never be seen by anyone ever again.”

“Yes, boss”, SIC replies and takes the phone.

He disappears up the stairs. Silas turns to Eric.

“How did you get my number?” he asks. “And, when you got it, didn't you check to see who it belonged to? You're pretty stupid.”

“I just know that the number belonged to Y/N’s new boyfriend”, Eric replies.

“Husband.”

It shouldn't fill him with such pride at a moment like this, yet it does. 

“You're going to die now anyway, so it doesn't matter if I tell you my name”, Silas says. 

One of his men gives him a knife with a long shiny blade.

“Boss”, SIC says from the top of the stairs. “Y/N’s here.”

Silas hurries to give the knife back and gestures for him to hide it. 

“I’ll come upstairs”, he says. 

Before he has time to move, you've bursted past SIC. He tries to grab at you, but you're already half down the stairs.

“You absolute worthless piece of shit”, you spit.

Silas raises his eyebrows. 

Oh?

You run right over to Eric and slap him. Silas stands stunned. It takes him a few moments to gather himself and stop looking like a fool. He turns to the stairs where SIC stands, holding his hand over his face, laughing silently. He folds and has to hold onto the wall.

“How could you take such pictures?” you ask him. “What gave you the right?”

Silas grabs your shoulder to pull you away from him, but you shake him off.

“It's not like I took pics while we had sex”, Eric says, voice sounding even more painful.

Silas smirks. He can already tell that'll happen by the way your eyes widen. And he won't stop it. Won't even try to. You hit the man again and kick him between the legs. He tries to curl up, but is being held up by Silas’s men. 

“Okay, okay”, Silas says and grabs your shoulders, pulling you backwards. “Enough of that. SIC, take Y/N to the bedroom and make sure they stay there.”

SIC grabs you out of his arms. Silas grabs the knife once more. 

“What should we start with?” he asks, spinning the knife. “Your hands? Arms? Legs? Decide, coward.”

SIC forces you upstairs before he has the time to cut off any body parts.

“Let me go!” you mutter. 

“Just stay quiet until we get up to the bedroom”, SIC says. “Nice shot you got, by the way. I know it caught Silas by surprise. That’s hard to do, you know.”

“He deserves more.”

“And Silas will give him that, don’t you worry. That is not your job. You got two punches and one kick in, that’s enough.”

WHen you try to run back downstairs, he picks you up over his shoulder and continues upstairs. 

“Don’t give me more trouble”, he sighs. 

SIC walks into the bedroom and places you down on the floor before barricading the door with his body to make sure you’re not making a run for it. 

“The pictures are gone”, SIC says. “All of them — of you and of other people.”

“How many were there?”

“Hundreds. All taken when they had fallen asleep afterwards. He kept them like trophies.”

The door opens before he’s done with his sentence. Silas walks in, finally looking pleased. 

“Dona already?” SIC asks. 

“I got impatient”, he mutters and closes the door. “Little thing, are you okay?”

You nod. Silas hugs you, kissing the top of your head. He still feels awful about shouting at you. He squeezes you even tighter. 

“Thank you”, you say quietly. “You helped not only me but also a lot of other people. That’s a good thing.”

His heart clenches. He has apologized a million times and you have forgiven him … but he can’t seem to forgive himself. It all happened so quickly, yet it lingers in him. 

“Of course”, he says. “Scumbags need to be taken care of the right way. I kind of pitied the man. He must have been extremely stupid to let me know about him. Good that he was stupid though.”

Thinking about him makes him furious once more, but he reminds himself that it’s over. He has gotten his punishment … and Silas has saved people. Innocent people should never be punished for crimes they didn’t commit.

No one will ever see any those pictures again. No one will have to deal with that man ever again. 

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

THIS LITTLE PIGGY BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF SOME HIPPIES IN THE SUPER-SEVENTIES.

PIC INFO: Spotlight on a 23 x 35" vintage Porky Pig/anti-law.enforcement-themed blacklight poster design, c. 1972, published by Canterbury Posters.

Source: www.thesedaysla.com/products/porky-the-pig-blacklight-poster.

[milfsdoll]

Everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.

Officer!Agnes x reader

Summary: After almost burning your house down because of your boyfriend you end up at the police office, being interrogated by your ex girlfriend.

Warnings: +18, smut, dom/sub dynamics, dom!Agatha, bratty sub!reader, handcuffs, chocking, hair pulling, degrading kink, praise kink, strap on, slight spanking kink, daddy kink, fluff.

Word count: 4k

A/N: this is my first fic so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing! Also english is not my first language <3

Masterlist

——— • ☾ • ————— • ☾ • ————— • ☾ • ———

You honestly didn’t know how it happened, one minute you were screaming at your cheater of a boyfriend and his fucking side chick and the next thing you remember was running out of the house, trying to get away from the flames.

You sighed in relief, finally at home after a long and stressful day at work, your boss was being a bitch again and making you do extra hours just because she feels like it. God how you hated her, you just wanted to go home, have a nice dinner and watch some bad movie with your boyfriend. 

As you reached your door, searching for your keys inside of your needlessly big purse you heard a sound coming from inside of the house, making you stop immediately, what was that? Again, another noise, was it… a moan? Pressing your ear to the door you heard it once again… and again… those were definitely moans “what the fuck?” Was he watching porn or something? I mean you couldn’t blame him if he did, you were barely home, but then you heard it, someone moaning his name. 

Your heart stopped for a moment, he could not… could he? 

With shaky hands and ringing ears you carefully opened the door, the sight of candles all around the hall and into the living room making you shake your head, no, no no no no no, three years, three years of relationship, this couldn’t be happening, right? He wouldn’t throw it all away, not like that, right? Your mind was playing with you, it had to be that.

Slowly, you made your way to said living room, the moans and grunts getting louder, and your heart pace getting quicker, and then you saw it, you were’t crazy, it was really happening “You motherfucker” your hoarse voice causing the room fall silent, your now, ex boyfriend, throwing the blonde girl off his lap, watching as she immediately put her clothes on and ran through the door, you didn’t care a bit about her.

You only focused how he made his way to you, the noises of him trying to talk to you into a pit of lies sounded blurry.

“Honey, it’s not what it looks like I swear” mhm… what a cliche lie,

“It’s her fault! She seduced me” great try, another one, 

“I’m so sorry, my love” huh, that was a good one… no,

“It’s not my fault you’re never home to get me off, I had to find someone else!” oh there was it, that son of a bitch.

Everything went red, you weren’t conscious of what you were doing, throwing everything your hands reached at him, screaming how much of a stupid fucker he was, not even trying to hide it, doing it in your own fucking home! And you didn’t realize one of the many things you threw at him was one of the big candles he set, hitting against the curtains.

It happened too fast, there was fire everywhere, and you stood there, frozen in the middle of the living room, staring at the burnt out wall, realizing what a stupid thing you did, I mean you didn’t even love him, you never did, but you trusted him, and you felt fucking betrayed. 

It wasn’t until a big flame got into your view you got out of your shock and ran out of the house, a police car already waiting for you.

And now here you were, sat in the interrogation room, leg shaking with anxiety and your heel kicking the floor repeatedly, staring at the door as if someone would appear faster. You’ve been waiting like 20 minutes already, and you knew there was only one person in the police office at this hour so you didn’t understand why she was making you suffer like this.

It’s something she have always loved to do.

As those thoughts ran through your head the door opened, revealing the brunette woman, she leaned against the door after closing it, studying you for a moment, she tried to grasp everything around her head, trying to understand the reason behind all of this “I’m very curious… what made you burn your house down and nearly killing you and your boyfriend?”

You scoffed and the last word “not my boyfriend, not after tonight” your words sounded furious and… painful, you squirmed in the chair, feeling quite uncomfortable “I didn’t mean to ok? You know I’m not that crazy” 

Agnes and you had a… situationship in the past, you both wanted more, wanted a serious relationship but her work and schedule were a problem, you barely saw her once a week or two causing you to argue a lot, so you both decided to part ways and stay friends, it was the best for both of you.

Or that’s what you wanted to believe anyway.

The older woman hummed, detaching herself from the door and sitting on the chair in front of you “I know” of course she knew, she knew you weren’t capable of hurting a flower “that’s why I’m asking you” 

You looked up at her from your fidgeting hands “I caught that fucker cheating, alright? I-I got furious and started throwing things at him and maybe… accidentally, I threw him a lit candle” replaying the scene in your head you let out a giggle, seeing his stupid face was worth it after all “but honestly Agnes? I don’t regret a thing”

Well… maybe you were a little crazy.

She fought back a smirk, she couldn’t blame you, he deserved it, she always knew that bastard wasn’t good for you, and if she had found out about it before she would have done the same thing, or worse, no one but she can mess with her girl “well, I’m sorry” she wasn’t, at all “but I’m afraid you have to spend the night in the tank”

What? No

No way you were gonna spend a second in that hell hole.

And just like that, an idea crossed your mind, it was risky but you knew very well it would work, for both of you.

“But… Aggie” you whined, looking at her with doe eyes, yes… you were playing that card “you know I’m a good girl” she flinched in surprise, feeling your foot caress her leg under the table. 

Those eyes, those fucking eyes.

You were playing a dangerous game, but oh… two can play this game and she hates to lose.

Without saying a word she got up, slowly making her way around the table, you watched her intently, like a prey watching her hunter’s next move, and then suddenly you let out a gasp, she threw your chair back with a kick, caging you between her arms, resting them on each side of the chair.

“Are you? Because I only remember you being a fucking brat” she was so close, so close you could smell her woody perfume, her breath against your face, fuck how you’ve missed her, every smell, every touch, every word of hers.

No one could ever compare to Agnes.

“And I remember you loving it… you loved to fuck the brattiness out of me, you loved to shut me up shoving your dick in my mouth” your hand carefully ran up her leg, watching her breath hitch you never took your eyes off hers, and just as you reached her crotch you felt something hard, making you bite you lip “you haven’t changed a bit Agnes, always packing around with that purple d-” 

She didn’t let you finish, grabbing you by the throat, shoving you up and against the wall, earning a huffed grunt from you and grabbing her wrist for support.

There she was, the rough Agnes you always loved, how she lost control of herself because of you, it made you weak on the knees, your mind already fogging into submission, but you had to fight it back, you wanted to test her limits, to totally break her, and let her break you from the inside in return.

On her end she knew she should tease you further, see how far you were capable of going but she was so weak for you, all this time apart from you, trying to find you in other girls but there wasn’t anyone like you, she only wanted you, she needed you, like she knew you needed her.

“You’re playing a dangerous game you know you’ll lose to here, pet”

God, you loved when she called you that, her pet, her plaything, her doll to play around anytime and anywhere she wanted. 

No.

Focus.

Break her.

“Is that the best you can do Aggie? Aww, maybe I was wrong, maybe you’ve lost your spark” 

Yes, yes, yes, that was the look you were searching for, that rough, primal look that sent you into a subspace without hesitation, you were ready to take whatever she wanted to give you.

Agnes pushed her leg between yours, pressing against your center, watching as your face squirmed in pleasure, she always found it fascinating how she could pull these kind of reactions out of you with such little actions “you really think you’re in control here, hm?”

You both knew the answer, you both knew there was no way you could take control.

“A-Agnes, is this really the place to do this?” Your voice came out hushed and shaky, your mind fighting to get a hold of itself.

The older woman chuckled darkly at your state “oh please, don’t tell me you’re chickening out now doll” and she knew you were right, the interrogation room was no place for this but she knew too neither of you were gonna be capable of waiting another second. 

She would deal with the consequences later.

Her hand on your throat loosened, letting you breathe for a bit, they travelled down your figure, stopping on your waist, her eyes burning into yours, you saw her expression change for a moment “you have no idea how much I missed you”

Shit, this wasn’t in your plan.

You gulped, trying to loose the nervous knot in your throat “I missed you too, every fucking day” your voice came out in a whisper, as if you were telling her your deepest secret, and maybe it was. 

Agnes pulled you close, her hands tightening around your waist as if you were going to disappear from her grasp, she had to make sure this was real and not just a dream.

Your lips ghosted against hers, your hands caressing her face, eyes still locked on each other, both of you trying to search for any sign of regret “are you sure you want this?” that made you nod eagerly “I need words baby”

“Yes, yes Aggie, I want you… I need you”

And then her lips were on yours, it was slow and sweet at first, both of you trying to savour the moment after all these years apart, but just as a moan escaped your lips Agnes lost it, her tongue asking for entrance licking your lip, you immediately let her, submitting to her, letting her take control of the kiss. 

You were always so good to her, always her good girl.

She walked backwards until her legs hit the table turning you both around “up” she simply said patting your hip softly, causing your puffy lips break into a smile, and of course you obeyed her, hopping on the table before grabbing her by the collar and smashing your lips against hers again.

Your impatient hands deciding to rip her flannel shirt after various failing attempts unbuttoning it, the action making the older woman to laugh against your lips “you’re buying me a new one” 

You huffed “you have plenty of those, officer” she smirked at the new title.

“Cute, but I like the old title better” her hands making their way into your pencil skirt, stroking your inner thighs, realizing how much she missed your soft and warm skin, how she missed having those thighs around her head, clenching and unclenching with every one of her touch.

“Okay… daddy” 

And just with that her whole mind went feral, grabbing the slit of your skirt she ripped it in two, making you gasp and looking at her in disbelief “well, now we’re even” before you could spit back at her she cupped your cunt, your head falling back with a moan “fuck, did I make you this wet, pet?” She bit her lip, rubbing the wet spot on your thong with her fingers. 

“You know you always do, even only the thought of you does” That stroked her ego, thinking how you got this messy only thinking of her, after all this time, it made her even more eager to ruin you.

You watched her as she got on her knees, your breath hitching as she travelled your thighs with kisses, pushing your legs apart so she could tease you further but never where you really wanted her. 

You knew what she wanted, teasing you like that, playing with the stripes of your thong with her fingers, but you just whined, grabbing her head attempting to push her to your center but she just sat back, looking at you with a raised eyebrow “come on… it’s not that hard to ask me nicely if you want it that bad, doll”

Groaning desperately, your mind trying to fight back the words you just stared at her with heavy breath, her eyes watching your every desperate move, knowing very well the fight that was going on in that pretty head of yours.

And she knew exactly how to get it out of you.

“Do it for me, pet, come on beg for daddy” she then continued with her kisses, now starting from your ankle, watching as you gripped the ends of the table tightly “be a good girl and beg for me to fuck you, sweet thing”

Your jaw hanged low, your eyebrows furrowing in total desperation.

Come on, you just have to say the word.

Be a good girl.

Her good girl.

“Please” 

It came out shaky, her kisses stopping to look at you “please, please fuck me Aggie”

Yes, much better. 

She had you just where she wanted you “there you are, my good girl”

Then you both rushed to discard your thong and the ripped skirt before she locked your legs around her shoulders, finally burring her head in your center, giving your clit a long lick that had both of you moaning, your hand flying to her hair, pushing her further into you, wanting to feel her even closer.

And she gladly did, wanting to get drunk of your taste, her skilled mouth nipping and sucking on your clit, loving every sound she pulled from you, holding your hips down as they desperately rolled towards her face. 

Your back arched into nothing as you felt her two fingers tease your entrance “fuck, daddy please” your submission making the older woman chuckle only of the vibrations to go right to your core, causing you to let out a strangled moan.

And deciding to put your suffering to an end Agnes slowly pushed her large digits inside you, feeling your legs tense around her head, her pace painfully slow, to focused on your face and reactions, your head almost snapping back as she curled her fingers inside of you, making you struggle to breathe at the amount of pleasure she was giving you.

She could never get enough of you, your intoxicating taste and addicting sounds, she could spend the rest of her life between your legs, driving you absolutely mad with just her mouth and fingers, feeling your warm hole, how you clenched and unclenched around her fingers trying to last a little more only to have her like this.

Quickening her pace, her got up, pulling you into a deep kiss as her thumb continued the abuse on your clit, swallowing your whines and moans and letting you taste yourself, her free hand making it’s way inside of your top, finding your nipple and pinching it between her finger, she always loved how you went braless everywhere, making it easier for her to access.

And when she felt your core clench harder, knowing you were already close to your orgasm, all her movements stopped “w-what are you doing?” you whined out, tears threatening to spill from your eyes from the overstimulation.

“Shh, it’s ok” she kissed your temple “open your mouth”

Without hesitating for a second you obeyed, her fingers slipping in, making you instantly close your mouth and suck, watching as her lips parted and pupils darkening in pleasure, your tongue playing with her fingers, cleaning them before she got them out, your mouth letting out a ‘pop’ sound. 

She then suddenly pushed you off the table and turned you around, pressing your front against the cold surface, manhandling you in the position she wanted “you better keep your hands there” she said locking your hands on your back.

“I will, daddy” you bit your lip from giggling shaking your ass against the hard bulge in her pants, knowing the effect that action had on the woman. 

There was silence for a moment, you could feel her eyes on you, and then- 

slap!

You gasped in surprise, your body jumping forward “keep that up and it won’t be the only one” you felt her deep voice right in your ear, her hand caressing you red and itchy bottom cheek.

You couldn’t deny and say you didn’t like it, on the contrary, it felt fucking good, but right now you just wanted her to fuck you raw, so just nodded keeping in mind to bring that side of her another time. 

The sound of a belt unbuckling reached your ears, your heartbeat fastening in excitement and your legs rubbing against each other for some friction yes please, please, please, your hands twitched, needing to grab onto something, or to feel her under your touch “keep. them. there.” 

It was easy, right?

Wrong.

You swallowed a whine in anticipation, feeling her hand running down your back, stopping on your waist, and just as you felt her rub against your entrance your hands flew to grab the table for support “oh… my poor pet…” she roughly grabbed your wrists, and after a second you felt something cold around them, and then a click “you asked for it” 

Did she just put her handcuffs on you? Fuck, you shouldn’t find it as hot as you found it.

She took advantage of that distraction to push herself inside of you, watching your whole body squirm in pain and pleasure while a loud moan escaped your lips, stilling for a moment, letting you adjust to her size, and it only took her seeing your hips start to push back into her to slide out almost entirely before roughly pushing into you again, the table cracking at the action “fuck!” 

She kept her rough but slow pace, the sounds of your moans and whines getting louder, oh how she missed having you like this, all fucked out because of her, your little brain only filled with her and the pleasure she was giving you. 

You felt her hand interlock into your hair, and in a sudden move your back was flushed against her front, both of you seeing your reflexion in the mirror on the wall “look at you… already so ruined and I just started fucking you” you clenched around the strap, wishing she could feel how your body reacted to her words, but she could see it, she saw how your breath stopped for a second, how your eyes closed with a cute little frown on your eyebrows.

Her free hand made it’s way around your throat, squeezing it just the right amount to make your mind fog, your moans fighting to get out as her pace quickened, but it wasn’t enough, you needed more “p-please” you managed to let out, looking at her through the reflexion.

Just like she could read your mind she removed her hand from your hair and painfully slow travelled down your body, rubbing and pinching your nipple, scratching your lower stomach, before finally making you roll your eyes back, pressing your clit between her fingers, while her dick hit that right spot it had you seeing stars. 

The obscene sounds of your skin against hers and your strangled breath turning the older woman on more than she would admit, her praises in your ear as she abused your clit faster “Good girl… you’re doing so good for daddy”

Your legs already shaking, the knot on your lower stomach getting harder to hold “d-daddy please, please let me cum” your almost pornographic moans getting more desperate by the second “fuck- please I’m so close!”

“Cum for me” it only took those words from her to reach your orgasm, your lips parting in an ‘o’ shape, summing all over her strap.

She slowed her pace, helping you through your orgasm, only stopping when your limb body fell on the cold table, making you shudder.

She let you catch your breath for a second, stroking your back up and down before she stood you up again, turning you around to see your fucked out face.

You opened your eyes to look at her smirking face, causing you to chuckle “hi” you whispered, closing the gap between your lips, both of you humming “are you gonna uncuff me now, officer?” 

“Not yet” she pecked your lips lovingly again before looking at you, with those demanding eyes “on your knees” 

You stared at her for a second, your breath hitching once again in anticipation, and slowly you got on your knees before her, watching her with doe eyes “you know what to do, clean your mess doll” and that you did, your tongue darting out to lick her shaft from the base, never taking your eyes off hers, slowly taking the large, purple dick into your mouth.

Her hand rested on your cheek, her thumb softly wiping away a tear that fell from your eye, her shaft hitting the back of your throat “breathe beautiful, through your nose” she hummed as she held your face down, enjoying having you like this again, your mouth full of her, struggling to breathe and those beautiful tears on your face. 

So fucking obedient for her.

When you started to cough around her she finally pulled out, helping you get up, and sitting you on the table while uncuffing you, her lips kissing all over your face as you recovered, your hands fisting on her navy blue tank top as soon as they were free “you did so good for me, sweetheart” she whispered against your lips, making you smile. 

“Thank you Aggie” 

You rested your forehead against hers, both of you savoring the sweet moment, her hands tightly around your waist in a possessive and protective way.

These were the moments you missed the most, her sweet self taking care of you, making sure you were ok like she didn’t just fuck your brains out a minute ago.

It was almost comical.

“So… officer, am I still spending the night in the tank?” She laughed at that, kissing your forehead softly, you were insufferable.

“Thinking about it… it will be the best if you spend the night at my place” you bit your lip suppressing a smile, you were too excited to wake up in the morning next to the older brunette woman “what do you think?”

“I’d love to” you whispered before pulling her into a loving kiss.

She helped dressing up again, giving you a pair of sweats she had in her office, and when you were gonna leave her office she grabbed you hand, pulling you flush against her.

She stared at you trying to get the words out, you could see the fight she was having in her mind projected in those blue eyes, so you planted a soft kiss on her nose, your hands caressing her cheeks trying to calm her thoughts, and then she said it.

“Be mine”

Your eyes locked, her eyebrows furrowing in worry as you took a second to reply, but when your lips broke into a smile she knew the answer.

“I have always been yours Agnes”

[clockwayswrites]

Oh Birb Part 11

Masterpost

Next Thursday. Alright, Danny could do next Thursday. He still didn’t know how he had gotten invited to Cassandra Wayne’s dance recital, but sure enough there was a link to a ticket and the event information in his email the next morning.

He was just checking in on work real quickly before he left for the Far Frozen. Or maybe he was putting off the trip for as long as he could. Danny knew that he had to go see Frostbite, but he was afraid of what answers the yeti might have. Or, worse, the answers that Frostbite didn’t have.

Danny didn’t know what would really be worse.

‘You are on vacation, Mr. Fenton.’ Popped up in Danny’s Slack and he rolled his eyes. Of course Lucius was keeping an eye on him.

‘Just checking on things before I leave.’ Danny replied. ‘I’ll be off for the next five days, promise.’

‘That better be true.’

He would have much choice, his current phone wouldn’t work in the zone.

Danny refreshed his inbox one last time before he turned his tablet off and tucked away in the basket next to the couch. Fridge emptied of anything that would spoil, trash taken out, far too many plants watered… Danny was out of excuses.

“Going ghost,” he grumbled with a sigh. He didn’t really need to say that part out loud anymore, not after all these years, but sometimes it just made it easier. A sense of bitter, binding cold washed over him. It was like breathing ice. The shards stabbed at his lungs, choked his air, killed him— and then it was gone. It was all gone. His breath, his heart beat, the pull of gravity, the ache in his bones… his life.

Danny breathed out a breath he didn’t have and let himself drift up a few inches into the air. At least he didn’t hurt. For now. Returning to his body after this trip was going to be miserable. That was a later him problem, right then Danny just enjoyed being weightless. He breathed in and out, letting his body relax from the top of his head to his toes and all the way out to the tips of his wings.

Wait. His what now?

Danny’s fit hit the ground hard. He scrambled his way over to the long mirror titled against the wall by the door. And froze.

Wings.

Those were… those were wings.

Massive black wings with spots of white on the outside and more white on the inside. There was a slightly iridescent sheen to them as he twisted and turned to try and get a look at them.

They were. He had… okay. He had wings as Phantom now. Wings that were definitely like he had seen in the videos when he was that bird thing. Danny ran his fingers over his face, wincing as his finger tips caught a little. His taloned fingertips. That’s great he was turning into a bird.

Cheep cheep, motherfucker, Danny thought hysterically.

He had been expecting a midlife crisis as he approached forty, but turning into a bird wasn’t how he thought it would go!

He needed to get to the Far Frozen. He needed answers. He needed Frostbite to have answers. Focusing on the concept of the Far Frozen, Danny dragged a clawed finger through the air, tearing a hole in reality.

The portal glowed a noxious green.

Danny took a breath and flew through it.

---

AN: I polled the HH discord if Phantom should have wings or not and it was unanimously 'yes' so! Poor Danny, having such a panic!

Can you believe we're up to 4 chapters now for this silliness?

Stay delightful, darlings.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Liberties [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: After ruining the biggest night of your career, Loki ruins you, too. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Dickish Avenger!Loki. Language. Workplace romance. Rough(ish) smut. (w/c 3.1k)

Folds of your expensive black dress swished as you stormed down the corridor of the forty-sixth floor. Everyone was still at the event. Or, The Shitstorm as it would now be known. Shame. Shouting at someone would really help right now.

You tore out the earpiece and slammed it on the nearest desk, shoving a pile of papers off the side for good measure. Laufeyson.

You’d spent months concocting the perfect debut for that greasy-haired, peacocking, gangly-limbed motherfucker. Did he say ‘thank you’? Did he smile and mind his P’s and Q’s and pose with the New York glitterati like he was supposed to for one night?

Nails sank into the soft flesh of your palm. Course he fucking didn’t.

After he’d gone off script during his speech, stating he could fix the woeful state of Earth’s political spectrum in thirty-seven minutes, it had all gone downhill. Insulting politicians, flirting egregiously with their wives…with their husbands.

The cool glass met your forehead as your rested against the door with your name on it. Director, it said. It didn’t feel like it. Fucking Laufeyson. He was unmanageable—just like his hair. He didn’t even comb it—bastard. You’d specifically requested it.

There was a bottle of whisky hidden in the bookcase behind a doorstop project management manual. You glanced down the empty corridor a final time and slipped inside the dark office, making straight for the bookcase. Pulling out the book concealing your beautiful, impending numbness, you frowned. The bottle was—

"I’m afraid I took the liberty," someone said.

You screamed, lobbing the book in the direction of the voice. It hit the flat, black back of your office chair with a pathetic thump.

The chair swivelled: glacial, infuriating. But you already knew. It was that voice; the one that made it impossible not to imagine him making snide remarks while he fucked you from behind with a fist knotted at your scalp. And besides, you could see the wavy, rumpled crown of his greasy fucking hair over the rim of the chair.

"How did you…What the hell are you doing in here? This is restricted—"

"Restricted?" Laufeyson barked out a weak laugh of reprimand. "Please."

He raised a hand, gaze fixed on the ornate glass of amber liquid cupped in his palm. It had been a present from Stark for your promotion, and the sting of your nails on your palm burned new. "This is really rather good, considering."

"Considering what?" "That it was produced on this planet." His eyes slid to yours, upper lip twitching as he said, "Another thing to add to its sparse list of accomplishments."

You pulled another book from the shelf and threw it at his face. It missed.

Loki didn’t flinch. He just sat there wearing his favourite smirk; one foot resting on his knee and his shadowed eyes glinting with curious observation. He’d removed the suit jacket—the one specifically tailored for this event—in his requested colour, a lush emerald green with gold trim.

Dickhead. You’d run yourself ragged for his petty demands. And then he’d fucked it all up anyway.

Realising your eyes were lingering on the suspenders stretched against the wall chest muscle, you tore them up to his face and forced coldness into your voice. "I literally left the event to get away from you, before I punched you in the face; you realise that?"

"I do."

You threw up your hands and turned towards the window, arms folded; watching the flash of traffic on the street below like luminous ants. Spotlights flashed across the night sky, crossing and weaving against each other in celebration of the biggest night of the year. "Stark will fire me for what you did."

Loki’s laugh was accompanied by a splutter of liquid. You shot a glare over your shoulder, catching him press the back of a hand against his mouth and shaking with mirth.

"I think not. Stark cares only for publicity—and…" He extended a hand with a self-congratulatory flourish before resting an elbow on the armrest, brushing a finger to his lips. "He knows what I’m like," he added with a coy brush of a smile.

Heat exploded beneath your skin.

Before you could think it through you were towering over Loki, a hand spread against his sternum. You pushed against muscle, letting the chair tilt ominously backwards. Loki’s eyes widened fractionally, dark eyebrows peaking in genuine surprise. "If you've ruined my career I will hunt you down and I will—"

"Hunt me down?" Loki purred. His eyes dropped to your hand pressed to his chest and rose slowly to your face. "I’m right here, as you can plainly see. No hunting necessary." His rumble caught on the T. "Being accosted, no less."

You released him with a grunt.

"Couldn’t you just behave? This was your big night…your official launch in the team, your new start. Why couldn’t you just be good for once?"

"Good?" Loki’s voice hardened. A green, glowing rectangle unfurled in the empty air beside his shoulder, and a shot from the ad campaign you’d organised several weeks ago filled the space.

Emblazoned in Stark Industries font across the image of Loki looking like a sexual apocalypse in a skin tight leather combat suit were the flickering words, ‘God of Mischief.’ And then, Loki said, "It’s in the name, darling. The one you selected—a new start was never part of the agreement, nor was it suggested. I believe the phrase was, ‘refreshed branding'…Was it not?"

He shifted, and somehow the muscles in his legs were outlined in the soft glow of a thousand skyscraper windows. "Same package, different wrapping, as it were."

Your brows rose, trying to keep the brittle defeat from your eyes. "Your behaviour tonight was unacceptable. You can’t go around comparing global foreign policy to Thanos’s bowel movements."

Loki waved a hand, sliding the glass over the desk with a scoff.

"My behaviour is always unacceptable; it’s part of the allure. The populous long for something raw, something unexpected. Something unmarred by inane pleasantries and fakery." His eyes slid upwards, nailing you like gas lamps in darkness. "Take you, for instance."

It was your turn to scoff. "I don’t see what I have to do with this."

Loki leant back in the chair, eyelids drooping. His tongue nipped over his lips in a flash of pink. "You very much want to have me; I can see it. I can smell it."

Your jaw loosened, mortification prickling over your skin as he added, "Carnally," as if it required explanation.

"You’re out of your fucking mind. I can’t stand you."

Loki’s lips curled, and you hated how much you wanted to suck the smirk off his goddam mouth. "Correct on both counts, I’m sure. It doesn’t change the inescapable reality that you want to know what I taste like."

Your tongue shaped words, and then you choked on them as Loki unfurled from the chair: all long limbs, slutty curls and slimfit tailoring. Oh Christ.

Your bare shoulder-blades met the window as he meandered across the floor without a care in the world; bladed cheekbones casting shadows across his skin; assassins emerging from the dark.

"You want to know what I fuck like," he said, words stirring like treacle. "Whether I’m generous, whether I’m as good as they say, whether I’m as brutish and punishing as part of you hopes I would be."

He stood in front of you, hands clasped behind his back, and leant forwards until his breath was hot on your forehead and the expensive cologne wafting from the open buttons of his shirt drifted up your nostrils. A short puff of mirth exhaled against your skin before he added, piercing, "But most of all, you want to know what I sound like when I cum."

He was awful: conceited, rude, imperious. But, fuck, he was right.

Your sweaty palms slid against the glass as he straightened and waited for a response. He sighed, and you found yourself staring at the strain of the buttons down the front of his shirt as he did.

"As I thought," said Loki, bored. "Paralysed by your desires—wasting away in a pit of indecision and regret as so many of your ilk." He shrugged, arms wide. "So be it."

Your hand shot out, yanking the nearest suspender and pulling his mouth to yours. Loki’s hand flew to the surface behind your head, and the wall of glass trembled.

His warrior body pressed firm against your chest, crushing you in the scent of desire and the primal heat radiating from his skin while your hands fisted in his hair and the god groaned into your throat.

He pulled back, frowning as your hand grasped at the erection pressing against his trousers. "Let me be clear," he growled. ‘I am no one’s pet. I will not be tamed. Is that understood?"

"Oh, will you shut up?" You tore at the buttons of his shirt, regretting the lack of nuance, before adding, "but, like, keep talking though."

Loki’s chuckle vibrated against your palms as the shirt slid over the curve of his biceps and then you were raking at his perfect skin, pulling his mouth to yours in a hateful mess of tongues and need and fire that ripped through your body.

Nimble fingers made quick work of his buckle, and Loki’s hands ran up the curve of your thighs, pushing the folds of your dress around your hips. "I've been longing to break you in..." he muttered, eyes shining in the light from New York’s glittering skyline.

You yanked his hair, and Loki hissed with pleasure. "I’m not a virgin; weirdo," you gasped, grasping his thick, perfect cock in a punishing fist.

His lips spread with a wolfish grin. "Ah, but you’ve never been fucked by me."

One of his hands slipped between your legs and trailed through the wetness it found. He moaned softly, massaging your clit like oil. Your head fell against the window as he slipped a long, elegant finger inside you. It was disgusting how much you wanted him, and you’d let yourself feel every, traitorous moment.

His digits curled, stoking the same, exquisite spot again, and again— "such a pretty, warm cunt," he whispered, filthy—as whines slid from your lips. "And to think, you’ve been denying yourself."

Loki tsk’d, his free hand playing at your exposed neck. He sucked a bruising kiss into your throat as hot cum welled around his fingers, holding you upright, balanced against the thigh shoved between your legs.

"Fuck me," you gasped, grappling at his shoulders. He said nothing. You met his eyes; slivers of blue visible on the rim of wide, black pools. "Like…fuck me, fuck me."

"I knew you’d want me rough," he said quietly, drawing his knuckles down your cheek. The hand fell to the neckline of your dress and before you could even inhale, a mighty rip sent your dress scattering across the floor.

Loki’s covetous eyes roamed your chest, your body; his chin dipped, his eyes glazed with lust. "Over there." He motioned with his head.

You followed the order and gripped the back of one of the two chairs positioned by the window. Leather slid under the sheen clinging to your palms. Loki’s touch cupped your hips, his hands grazing appreciatively over bare skin.

"I knew it would be tonight," he murmured, pressing his cock into the base of your spine. His breath was hot on your throat. "As soon as I saw the utter loathing in your eyes; I knew it would be the one."

He twisted your hair back, biting the curve of your shoulder with unbearable erotic restraint. You pressed your ass into his crotch, moaning his name under your breath as he traced a finger down your spine until he reached the cock leaking precum over your skin.

Positioning between your legs, he rubbed the column twice through your slick lips before sheathing himself on the third.

The two of you gasped in unison; the guttural growl of Loki’s voice making your knees tremble before he delivered the first, devastating thrust. The force of it sent the chair screeching over the floor.

"G-gods…you’re tight," he choked, withdrawing and circling the crown at the tip of your channel. "I knew you would be perfect…but…but…"

Another thrust and the chair hit the window, but you didn’t care. Loki filled every part of you; you’d never felt so exposed, so free, with every fluid buck of his hips which made stars burst behind your eyelids. He bottomed out with a grunt of your name, balls slapping against your clit, one hand flying to the glass above your head and making a messy streak as it fell.

"Not enough," he said, breathless. The god pulled you upright and kissed you with the force of a storm, gathering you in his arms. The next thing you felt was the cool desk on your ass, Loki spreading your thighs and the utter joy of him breaching the empty space inside you he’d ruined for all other men.

One hand roughly palmed at your breasts, the other cradling your skull as every trinket you’d every owned rattled on the desk. Somewhere, something cracked. He went harder, pounding deeper with each snap of his hips that slapped against your skin.

There was a clink, a melodic roll, and then a smash. The sharp scent of whisky filled the air. You began to look but Loki pulled your chin to face him.

"On me," he ordered, eyes narrowed. There was a faint flush in his cheeks. "On me. Always."

Your legs wound around Loki’s hips. One kiss slid into another, his bucks becoming frantic as climax burst inside you with a rattle of his name. He lowered you to the desk, sliding his glistening cock from your cunt and kissing down your abdomen.

As you craned up, slack-jawed, the god delivered a single, earth-trembling lick up the centre of your pussy; gathering himself on his tongue. He swallowed, pacing behind you and seating himself on your chair.

You sat up, observing him over your shoulder. His shirt was completely unbuttoned, thanks to you, pale skin shimmering pearl in the honeyed gloom. He looked up beneath his lashes—smouldering—slender fingers wrapped around the cock protruding from splayed fabric; pumping in fluid strokes.

He cocked an eyebrow, and it was as good as a beckon from one of those slender fingers.

Shifting from the desk, you sank to your knees, and Loki’s legs widened. The fabric of his trousers creased maddeningly over the meat of his thighs.

"Tell me you haven’t thought about this," he said, baiting. He could smell lies as keenly as sulphur. "That you haven’t wanted to choke on my cock."

It wasn’t a question.

You fixed your eyes on his as you settled a hand around the root and swallowed the tip.

Loki’s eyes rolled back, head falling to the back of the chair. Black waves dripped down his shoulders like spilled ink, every thrust of his hips into your mouth making new combinations of filthy curses rattle from his chest.

A hand settled on your head, following the motion as your mouth worked back and forth along the length of him: sucking, licking, grazing the sensitive tip with your teeth. Loki hissed, fingers tightening in your hair.

"Fucking Norns, you are a slut," he muttered appreciatively.

You doubled down, and soon Loki’s balls tightened. Something shifted as he stiffened, the hand in your hair flying to the armrest. His breaths were short, moans brief and ragged as he fought himself. "Finish me," he growled, tapered to a whine. One, calculated suck was all it took. Loki’s climax trembled down his body, spurting into your mouth like a tide of warm, smooth butter. Your tongue circled the tip, massaging him through the throes as his body shuddered a final time and a staggered sigh rocked the air.

A finger slipped beneath your chin, tilting up to meet his expectant smirk. "Well?" Loki asked, eyes glinting. "Was I everything you dreamt of?"

The lazy smile on your face evaporated. You brushed the hand aside, covering your breasts. Loki frowned.

"There’s no need for that, believe me." He guided your hands into his and pulled you to his lap. "Do you recall when I mentioned this realm’s sparse list of accomplishments?" You grunted reluctant confirmation. Loki sucked your earlobe between his teeth, releasing a contented sigh. "Your body is most definitely on that list." He paused, breath catching. "All of you, truth be told," he added quietly.

Before you had time to process what he'd said, you were standing.

Loki’s fingers fastened the buttons of his shirt with unnatural speed as you stared forlornly at the ripped dress on the floor. Fuck. There was a sweatsuit hanging in the small wardrobe stashed in the corner. That would have to do—you could slip out the side entrance, no need to…

"I’ll see you downstairs?" Loki asked, all business. He looked at you expectantly as the bespoke forest green suit jacket melted over his torso like paint. You’d forgotten how good he looked in it and resolved never to forget it ever again.

The god carded a hand through his hair, letting in fall in wild waves. The outline of his erection was still visible through the tight trousers. Did I really just fuck…Loki Laufeyson? A sick pride sprouted in your belly.

You crouched and picked up the tattered, black fabric. "I don’t think so, I mean—" Loki’s kiss cut you off. He sucked your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled away.

"I’ll see you downstairs," he repeated softly. "Someone has to make sure I’m behaving myself, after all."

You rolled your eyes, trying not to stare as he swaggered to the door and shot a grin through the glass panels as he passed.

He has a point, though. You couldn’t let him go unattended. What if he gets one of the senators’ wives alone? What if he sexes them up...like me?

The thought, however ridiculous it would have been an hour ago, was like a knife between your ribs.

You scurried to the wardrobe concealed in the corner and opened it, cursing the fact you didn’t keep a spare office dress like the slinky bitches on TV.

You stared, blinking several times.

Hanging in the wardrobe was an identical dress to the one lying shredded on the floor. Almost identical. You pulled it out, holding the hanger up. In the glow of the midnight skyline, green jewels glittered around the neckline, woven in intricate patterns that melted into the folds of skirt. A note was pinned to the bodice. I can be good, it said. Our secret.

Tags in comments 💖🥰 Come say hi!

[honeyedmiller]

Guns and Roses

joel miller x f!reader

synopsis: fantasizing about joel miller gets you a lot more than you bargain for.

rating: explicit. 18+, minors do not interact.

warnings: semi-grump x sunshine, joel is described to be taller than reader, feelings, smut (which includes reader being consensually choked out / breath play so if you’re not into that, heed the warning).

word count: 7.2k

a/n: listen, in my head joel miller is a 6’5” hunk of a kinky motherfucker. happy valentine’s day.

Joel Miller. 

Your breath catches in your throat when you see his name next to yours on this morning’s patrol partner list. 

You’ve never been partnered up with him and yet, you feel as if you know all about him. How grumpy he is. How he’s usually in charge when it comes to patrols. How he has low patience, and a no-bullshit type attitude. Some say he’s blatantly mean, and others are just straight-up afraid of him. 

You aren’t afraid of him per se, but he does make you nervous. He’s got a stare that makes heat simmer low in your belly and an angry brow that makes you want to kiss the tension away. You’ve caught him staring at you a few times and it’s always made your cheeks heat, shying away from his gaze and devastatingly handsome face. 

You’re brushing Shimmer’s coat before you saddle her up. Joel hasn’t arrived at the stables yet, so you spend a few minutes petting Shimmer and softly talking to her while you wait. 

It’s almost like you can feel him before you see him. A chill runs down your spine as you hear heavy boots on the ground, and you turn to see the tall, stoic man in the flesh. You don’t know whether or not to say something to him. How he responds can set the mood for the rest of your morning. 

Ever the optimist, though, you decide to take a crack at it.

“Morning, Joel.” You try to keep your tone light and casual, throwing in a small smile. 

He eyes you up and down for a second, but it isn’t in disgust—intrigue, rather. His gaze locks on yours before he steps into the stables, opening the latch door to Callus’s stall. 

“Mornin’,” he finally answers. His voice is gruff and raw, probably being the first words he’s spoken today. 

You want to say more, but you leave it at that. You may have heard about how he is from everyone else’s point of view, but you want to decipher him for yourself. You just don’t want to push his buttons, especially at six thirty in the morning. 

You huff and pet Shimmer one last time. “You ready, gorgeous girl?” You coo at her, giggling when she licks your hand. You mount yourself onto Shimmer’s back, grabbing the reins before clicking your tongue twice to get her to turn out of the stables. You glance back at Joel, catching him staring at you once again. 

“I’ll, uh, meet you at the gate,” you say. He just gives you a small nod, and you face forward once more before guiding Shimmer to the gates where a couple of others wait. You greet everyone a cheerful good morning before Joel’s beside you, and it’s not long before everyone is sent on their way. 

The sun has risen brilliantly and the chilly January air wraps around you as you trail behind Joel on his right side. Your eyes roam down his broad body, licking your lips as your gaze settles on the gun holster that’s clad to his thigh. 

Suddenly your mind envisions Joel above you, staring at you with such carnal desire that it makes your whole core positively ache. You imagine he’s the super dominant type—possessive, territorial, and greedy in the best way possible. You can see him easily picking you up, slamming you against a wall while he fucks you senseless. He’s probably also the type of man that eats pussy for his own pleasure, not allowing himself to get off until he’s made you cum at least twice. 

Well, fuck. 

A whine almost slips past your lips and you’re back to reality, and your eyes shoot up to Joel’s as you find him staring at you completely unamused. You know your cheeks are burning, and you nearly wince when he has to repeat himself because you were too busy daydreaming about how good he’d take care of you—

Jesus Christ, you need a cold shower. 

“Christ, Sunshine, are you even payin’ any mind to me?” He’s irritated and it makes you want to get swallowed up by a hole in the ground. 

“Sorry, uh, what did you say?” 

He sighs as if he’s completely inconvenienced, grumbling something under his breath and—wait, did he just call you ‘Sunshine’? 

“Said the log book ain’t too far from here. Let’s scope out the area to make sure it’s clear before we sign it n’ head back,” he says. You nod and follow his lead, surely trying not to piss him off any further. 

Joel ties Callus’s reins to a nearby tree, and you’re about to dismount Shimmer when Joel raises his hands up to you. You furrow your brows in confusion, wondering what the hell he’s doing before he rolls his eyes with a huff. 

“Ain’t got all damn day, Sunshine. C’mon.”

You loop your feet out of the stirrups, Joel’s hands catching your waist as you slide down Shimmer’s side. You land right in front of him, so close that you can feel his breath on you. So close that you can easily inhale his scent, and he’s all earthy, manly musk with a hint of coffee. He smells absolutely divine. 

You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to your lips and back up to your face. Your heart is pounding against your ribcage and you literally have to remind yourself to breathe. He’s just so fucking close and it’s so goddamn dizzying. 

You should say something. You’re about to, but you swear you see the corner of his mouth turn up into a smug smirk before he turns his body away from yours to walk toward the small shack that has the log book in it. You’re taking this time—the distance away from him—to catch your breath and keep a watchful eye on the area, making sure it’s in the clear. 

Joel reemerges a few minutes later, and the sun catches on his gun in his thigh holster. The handle gleams and your eyes are drawn to it once more. You’re staring at his thighs now, wondering how it would be if you rutted yourself over them. 

Your eyes snap up to Joel’s once again, and he’s looking at you with a quirked brow. 

“Signed the book. We all good here?” He gestures his hand to the vicinity, and you nod. 

“All good.” 

Shit. Your voice is breathless. You really can’t be any more obvious.

You mount yourself back onto Shimmer, waiting for Joel to lead ahead of you to start heading back home. 

“So,” Joel starts, and his voice startles you. He slows Callus down so Shimmer can catch up to him and you both ride side-by-side. “Where are you from?” He asks, and you have to hold back a snort. Small talk is not something you expected him to resort to. 

“QZ or pre-outbreak?” You counter back, looking at him as he faces ahead. You admire his side profile like this and he’s all strong jaw, beautifully chiseled nose, and plush lips. The leaves on the trees contrast beautifully against his golden skin, spewing glimpses of yellow and bright green. 

“Pre, I guess.” 

“California. You?” 

He raises an eyebrow at that. “Texas. So you’re a city girl?” 

This time you can’t help but huff a laugh and roll your eyes. 

“No, Texas, not all of California is glitz and glamour,” you’re full-on giggling now, and the corner of his mouth quirks up in what you assume to be his half-assed attempt at smiling. 

“What do you miss most about it?” 

You don’t even need to think about it. Without missing a beat, you look at him with a soft smile before murmuring, “The ocean.” 

He doesn’t say anything after that. You both head back into the gates of Jackson in peace, dismounting the horses and going about your days after reporting back to Maria. 

Over the next couple of weeks, you’re getting paired with Joel every time you’re on morning patrol. You keep fantasizing about him and having him in the dirtiest way possible, and the tension is growing rapidly. 

Joel’s jaw is taut when you bat your lashes up at him, and your cheery demeanor has his walls slowly crumbling down just for you. 

It’s too much, though. The tension is palpable, nearly making you suffocate in the want and desire you have for this man—someone you have absolutely no business pining after. 

You have to ask Tommy to take you off of patrol duty for a few days and have someone else fill in while you volunteer to take care of the horses in the stables or tend to the greenhouse. 

You don’t see Joel for nearly a week, and you come to the realization that it kind of drives you crazy. 

The next time you see him is at dinner in the mess hall. Joel stands in all his glory, sporting a green flannel that hugs his biceps perfectly and pants that hang on his hips like a glove. He’s also got that damn holster strapped around his thigh again, probably because he had just gotten back from patrol not too long ago. 

When his eyes meet yours from across the room, you know you’re doomed. 

And when he shoots you a barely there smile, but one you recognize nonetheless, you’re absolutely done for. 

You swallow harshly and go back to paying attention to the conversation happening with your table, trying to ignore the holes he’s burning into your head. A dark, desirable warmth stirs deep in you and you have to force yourself to pay attention to what’s going on around you. The whiskey you drank definitely isn’t helping you, either. 

You barely talk all dinner though, too nervous with the older Miller brother’s lingering gaze on you for most of the night. 

You clean up after you’ve eaten and give Maria a grateful smile and hug, thanking her for a wonderful dinner. She eyes you conspicuously, knowing that you love being a part of community events since tonight is movie night. She finds it odd when you tell her you’re turning in early tonight, but she lets it go without question. 

You walk out of the mess hall, shivering immediately as the cold air hits your body. You weren’t very well dressed for the cold weather, and while it was nice in the mess hall, you’re regretting not layering up this when it’s so cold outside. 

You hear heavy footsteps behind you, walking fast to try and catch up to you. Once again, you can already tell who it is before you even turn around. 

“Leavin’ so early, Sunshine?” His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine, but it can easily be passed off as being too cold. 

“Um, yeah, gonna turn in for the night.” You muster up a tight-lipped smile, not meeting his eyes before turning back around. 

Joel puts a hand on your shoulder and electricity zings through your entire body. “Reckon I can walk you home, since I’m already out here.” 

Fuck. 

“Sure,” you say, tensing under his touch. You can’t see it, but he furrows his brows at you and cautiously falls in step with you as you walk back home. 

“Jesus, Sunshine, you’re freezin’.” He takes off his thick coat and wraps it around your shoulders, and you’re nearly a fucking puddle on the floor. The coat smells like him and it takes everything in you to not bury your nose in the fabric and inhale. His scent is intoxicating. 

Everything about him is intoxicating. 

It’s not long before you both reach your doorstep after a few minutes of walking in silence. You fumble with the key to open your front door, nerves heightening once again. 

Jesus Christ, you need to get a hold of yourself. 

Once you get the door open, you stand there for a beat before looking up at him. He’s all alluring brown eyes and subtle sexy smirk that makes you gooey in the knees. 

You contemplate it for a moment, but before you can overthink your decision, you bite the bullet and ask against your better judgement. “Do you want to come in?” 

He hesitates, assessing you. He nods after a few seconds and follows you inside, and you feel your pulse start to race quicker. It’s irritating how much of an effect he has on you, and he doesn’t even know it. 

“Nice place you got,” he says, running a hand through his hair before taking a seat on your couch. He spreads his thighs wide, taking up so much fucking room, and all it makes you want to do is be all over him. 

There’s just no fucking way he doesn’t know what he’s doing to you. 

“Thank you.” You don’t really know what to say to him at this point. Conversation flowed so easily on patrol, but now you’re in this confined space with him and want nothing more than his lips on yours, consuming your entire being. 

“Can I, uh, get you anything?” 

Be more awkward, yeah? You chastise yourself for being unable to behave normally around him. 

“Just your company,” he says, patting the spot next to him on the couch. You swallow thickly and make your way over, plopping yourself down on the couch, leaving enough distance between the two of you. 

He chuckles lowly under his breath, but you still hear it against the stark quietness of your quaint home. 

“So how come I haven’t seen you on patrol lately?” His deep voice is like plunging into a warm, dark abyss. It’s full of the unknown but so comforting at the same time, and it makes your head swim. 

You shrug your shoulders, gaze moving to your hands that fidget in your lap. “Just wanted to focus on helping out elsewhere.”

“Bullshit. I think you’re lying.” He says it with such confidence, cocking his head to the side as he studies you. You didn’t think he’d call you out so easily.

Your brows shoot up. “I am not—!” 

Even you could hear the blatant defensiveness in your tone. You look at him with a fiery gaze, brows furrowed downward at his all-too-true accusations.  

“You are. Why haven’t you been on patrol?” His voice is huskier now, knowingly eyeing you like he can see right through you. 

“Dammit, Joel,” you huff, tipping your head back against the couch. “What do you want me to say?” 

“The truth.” 

The truth. As if it were that simple. 

Yeah Joel, truth is that me, little miss innocent Sunshine, has been fantasizing about you fucking my brains out every time I see you, you think. 

Joel moves closer and his face is mere inches away from yours, brown eyes intense as they watch you in such a way that sends a shiver down your spine. Your gaze shifts elsewhere because the tension is too much, and you’re left feeling like a shell of a woman under his scrutiny.

And that’s when you realize he already knows. You don’t need to tell him shit, because somehow, some way, he knows your dirty little secret and the ways you fantasize about him. 

“Trust me, Sunshine. Last thing you want is to get tangled up with a guy like me.”

Your eyes snap up to his.

”And that’s where you’re wrong, Joel. I want you.” 

“‘S a dangerous game you’re playin’, baby.” 

Baby. 

“I’m not playing games, Joel,” you say. There’s a finality in your voice that really let him know you weren’t fucking around. “You seriously wanna know why I asked Tommy to be taken off of patrol?” 

He gives you a slow, singular nod. The muscle in his jaw ticks as something fiery blazes behind his darkened eyes. 

“Every single time I’m around you, I feel like I can’t fucking breathe. Your presence is all-consuming, and every time I look at you, all I can picture is the ways I want you to have me. It’s not normal, Joel. That—that is why I asked to be taken off of patrol.” 

His expression doesn’t waver, but the muscle in his jaw ticks impossibly faster. He’s as still as a statue, and it’s so fucking quiet that you can hear a pin drop. 

There’s also another reason why you didn’t want to tell him: rejection. 

You can see him fighting a battle in his head, and this is already humiliating enough as it is. You don’t think you can handle the I don’t want you words that’ll eventually spill out of his mouth, so you stand up and take a deep breath, walking toward the door. You tug it open and his brows furrow as you stare at him expectantly. 

“I just—please, just leave.” 

His lips flatten into a straight line before he stands up and takes a few strides to get to where you’re at. He’s gazing down at you with an unfamiliar look in his eyes, and he opens his mouth to say something before he snaps it shut seconds later. His face hardens into that infamous grumpy stare, all harsh lines and tight jaw. 

He walks out without saying another word. 

You close your front door and slump against it, heaving out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Your eyes snap up to the ceiling, and regret begins to sink her nasty claws into your skin.

Fuck. 

-

A couple of weeks pass after that whole incident in your house with Joel. You’re awoken by a loud knock on your door, and you grumble the whole way down before opening it. Tommy stands in the frame with a pleading look, and you furrow your brows as you try to fully wake up. 

“Tommy…?”

“Hey sweetheart. I need a big favor,” he says. He shifts back and forth on the balls of his feet, looking like he wants to dash away at any given second. 

“What is it?” 

“Christy called out from her patrol shift today and you’re pretty much the only one who knows the routes well enough to cover.” 

You scrub your face with your hands, and peek an eye out from behind your fingers. 

“Only because it’s you, Tommy,” you huff a laugh, and he flashes you his bright smile. 

“You’re a lifesaver. Maria and I are really grateful.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” you say, but then you pause. “Who’s my partner for this shift?” 

Tommy’s eyes avert to the wood on your porch, and you immediately knew. You didn’t know how much Tommy knew about this thing, whatever the hell it was, between you and Joel. 

You’re not really sure it’s a thing anymore, though, considering you kicked him out after telling him how you really feel. You have no idea what’s going to happen on patrol today, and you really don’t want to find out, but Tommy and Maria took you in when you were at your lowest. 

You literally owe them your life. 

“Will you still cover?” His voice is soft. The corner of your lips twitch up into an almost smile, and you reach out to pat his arm. 

“For you and Maria.” 

And that’s how you found yourself in the stables at the crack of dawn, making sure the saddle on Shimmer was secure. 

Heavy footsteps enter the stables, and you already know who it is. You hear another pair of footsteps not too far behind, and you don’t turn around until you hear Tommy call your name. 

“Hey, I’m glad I caught you while you’re still here. Are you still good to come over to ours later and help Maria with the cupcakes?” 

You hoist yourself up onto Shimmer and give Tommy a smile. 

“‘Course.”

”You goin’ with anyone to do the dance?” Tommy asks, and Joel looks between you both. The Valentine’s dance is coming up tonight, and you told Maria you’d help with whatever she needed. You just didn’t plan on going. 

“Nah,” you wave him off playfully. “I don’t have anyone to go with.” 

“Oh c’mon, you oughta meet a handsome fella—or lady, I don’t discriminate—at the dance.” 

Your eyes flicker to Joel for a split second only to find him already staring at you, before you look back to Tommy. You roll your lips into your mouth before shrugging with a small smile. 

“Maybe.” 

“Well just think about it,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender. You give him a nod and your eyes drift to Joel one last time before moving Shimmer out of the stables and toward the gate. 

You greet everyone at the gate before Joel makes his way beside you, and you’re all sent on your way. You silently follow Joel, an unspoken rule between you both that he’s obviously in charge. He doesn’t attempt conversation, and you know better than to poke the bear, but the tension is still palpable. 

You make it to your assigned area before hopping off of Shimmer, shotgun tightly gripped in your hand. 

“I’ll go scope around back,” you say, treading off before he can even reply. 

You’re lost in thought as you look around, until you hear a branch break behind you. You swing around so fast that you almost hit Joel with your shotgun. 

“Jesus, Sunshine, it’s just me,” he says, frowning. 

“Don’t fucking sneak up on me like that, dammit! I could’ve shot you!” 

“But you didn’t. You’re cute when you’re mad.” Amusement wraps around his words and he smirks at you, and you roll your eyes.  

“So you don’t hate me, huh?” You ask, and you know it’s probably stupid to even take the conversation in that direction, but what else have you got to lose? 

He’s quiet for a moment, looking beyond the trees as he sighs.

“No, Sunshine, I don’t hate you.” 

You meet his gaze as you look up at him, his tall frame turning toward you as he walks closer, forcing you to step backwards until your back hits a wooden wall. He rests one hand beside your head and stares down at you. 

You know he can easily see the effect he has on you, with the way your breathing picks up and the furrow between your brow. You can’t even meet his gaze, because you know if you do, you’re absolutely done for. 

“Why’d you kick me out of your place the other day?” 

You take a moment to try and collect yourself as best as you possibly can, but you know it’s no use. 

“I didn’t want to get rejected. It’s already humiliating enough to admit that you drive me fucking crazy.” 

“How so?” He leans down, nosing at your jaw before placing a kiss below your ear. You gasp, closing your eyes to relish the feeling of his lips on you. 

You need them everywhere. 

“Just—you—fuck,” you sigh. You can’t even get a coherent thought out with his proximity and intoxicating scent and warmth wrapping around you, welcoming you into something much more desirable. 

His lips are at your ear. 

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he whispers, and you bite back a moan as he presses his lips against your neck. “Does this look like rejection to you?”

“Joel—”

“Fuck, darlin’—drive you crazy? You have absolutely no idea what you do to me. Not a fuckin’ clue.” 

“What do I do to you, Joel?” Your voice is meek as you stare up at him, trying to find your bearings. 

He stares at you for what seems like a century, before leaning down so close that his nose brushes against yours. He hesitates, and you figure it's because he doesn’t want to push you if you don’t want to do this. 

You’ve already made it abundantly clear, so you meet him the rest of the way and envelope your lips with his. 

The feeling is cosmic—better than anything you’d ever expected. It’s the kind of kiss that sends tingles down your spine and makes your toes curl in delight. 

You moan in desperation, tugging him closer to you by the sherpa lapel of his jacket, tangling your other free hand in his soft curls at the base of his skull. 

He groans into your mouth, wrapping his arms around you, and you get lost in the art of kissing each other. 

You don’t know how long you’re there pawing at each other like a couple of desperate, touch-deprived fools, but eventually you pull away because your lungs are fucking burning for air. 

You pant against his lips, tightening your hold on his lapel. 

“I wish you woulda let me say my piece instead of kicking me out,” Joel confesses. You lean your head back onto the building and sigh, looking up through the treeline. 

“I’m sorry, Joel. I was just scared.” 

“Ain’t a thing to be scared of, baby. As much as I’d love to continue this, I reckon it’s best we get goin’. They’re gonna wonder where we’re at.” 

Your eyes flutter closed as you nod, pushing yourself off the building. You scope the area with him one more time and to your luck, no activity to report. Joel signs the log book and you both head back to Jackson in a comfortable silence, a total one-eighty from earlier. 

You leave each other at the stables with not another word spoken, but a longing gaze that says everything you’re both feeling. 

You head to Tommy and Maria’s house to help Maria with the cupcakes as promised, and you head home that night with the older Miller brother on your mind yet again. 

By the time everyone is heading over to the dance, you’re all cozy in your oversized t-shirt and a book in your hand. You’ve just showered, and knowing you have off tomorrow from any and all work has you feeling extra relaxed. 

A knock on your front door startles you though, and you dog-ear the page you’re reading and set the book on your bedside, but you hear heavy boots walking up the steps already. You scramble and grab your pistol from your nightstand, standing on your knees on your mattress as you hear the footsteps getting closer to your bedroom door. 

“Sunshine?” Joel’s voice calls, and you sigh in relief as you switch the safety back on and toss your pistol onto your nightstand. 

He’s in your doorway, leaning against the frame as he takes the image of you in. The t-shirt you’re wearing only falls to the middle of your thighs, and you’re not wearing anything but panties underneath. 

The sight of him staring at you in such a hungry way has you gasping softly, and the feeling of arousal already sticks to your underwear. 

You take this opportunity to stare at him, too. Your eyes roam slowly down his frame, and yet again you’re fantasizing about all of the things you want to do with him. 

Your eyes halt halfway down his thigh—and you couldn’t help yourself. 

You kept staring at the holster, perfectly wrapped around his thick thigh. The leather was a parcel of fine craftsmanship, made to fit him like a glove. 

The gun in the holster was the cherry on top as it sat flush against his body, and you just couldn’t stop fucking staring. 

Joel was waiting for you to pounce—challenging you, mocking you. He quirks his eyebrow up at you as he crosses his arms over his chest, making his biceps pop. 

You swallow thickly as you force your gaze to meet his eyes, which have so clearly darkened. 

“Sweet girl,” Joel groans, “Keep starin’ at me and my thigh holster like that and I might just have to choke you out with it.” 

Oh, fuck. You clench around nothing at the thought. 

You nearly whimper as he crosses the room to get to your bed, towering over you once again. His large palm cups your cheek and you can’t help but look up at him like you’re mesmerized. 

Maybe you really are. 

He runs his thumb over your bottom lip before tugging it down, and that dangerous smirk is back on his lips. 

“Tell me,” he says. 

You’re so entranced by this man that it takes your brain a few seconds to catch up and process what he just said. 

“What?” 

“Tell me what you fantasize about.” 

Your eyes dart to the pink comforter on your bed. 

Joel tsks and shakes his head, hand moving to your jaw so you have to look up at him. 

“Tell me, baby. I want to give it to you.” 

He lets go of your jaw and sits down next to you on the bed, tugging you onto him so you’re straddling his thigh. 

You look down at his denim-clad leg, biting your lip before Joel ruts you forward. 

“Stare at my thighs so goddamn much you might as well ride it, hm?” He strokes the back of your head, and your eyebrows furrow at the delicious friction. 

You nod. “This was one of the things,” you say. 

“I know, baby. Use me. Wanna see you get off by pleasin’ yourself on me.” 

You sharply inhale. He moves his hands down to your thighs, pushing the t-shirt up to your hips before dipping one hand between your legs. He clicks his tongue against his teeth and hums as he rubs your aching pussy through the fabric of your underwear. 

“Fuckin’ soaked already, Sunshine. Can’t believe I really do this to you.” 

“Why’s it so hard to believe?” You ask, testing the waters by rutting your hips forward once. You softly moan at the feeling, and Joel moves his hands to settle on your hips. 

“‘Cus, I’m the mean grumpy ol’ bastard of the town and you’re the sweet, innocent happy woman that gets on well with everyone.” 

You laugh at that, moving your hands to his shoulders to give them a squeeze. You quirk a playful brow at him before rutting your hips once more. 

“Who said I was innocent?” 

You tilt your head, and his eyes get impossibly darker. Joel hums, considering you for a second. 

“I like it rough, baby, so you gotta tell me if anythin’ I do is too much.”

You clench around nothing once again, feeling your arousal seep down your thighs. The thought of him being rough with you sends you over the fucking moon. 

“Will do, cowboy.” 

The corner of his mouth tilts into an almost smile, and he leans in to kiss you with the same hunger from earlier. It’s easy to follow his lead, as your hands find his curls once more and you start to rut your hips. 

Your feet barely touch the ground like this, but ever the gentleman Joel is, he helps you by moving your hips back and forth with his hands at your hips. You’re panting his name and his face is buried in the crook of your neck, kissing and nipping the skin there. 

“That’s it, there you go,” he coos. “Wish you can see how pretty you look gettin’ off on me. Fuckin’ stunner you are.” 

You inhale sharply and squeeze your eyes shut, tossing your head back between your shoulders. Joel dips his head down and captures a clothed nipple into his mouth, and you let out a loud whine. 

It’s almost too much, with the delicious pressure on your aching clit, hands roaming over your hot skin and the expertise of his mouth. 

You feel the white-hot sensation shoot through you, and you bow your back as your orgasm blindsides you and forcefully crashes through you. 

“Joel!” You gasp his name as he brings his hand down between your legs, cupping your sex and rubbing you through the thin fabric before he tosses you onto the bed. 

You’re staring at your ceiling trying to catch your breath, but Joel doesn’t give you two seconds to think before he’s on top of you. His lips clash with yours, all teeth and tongue and desperation, before he’s tugging off your underwear and shirt to fling them across your bedroom behind him. 

You sit up on your elbows as you stare at him, watching him as he slowly unbuttons his flannel, tossing it on the floor with your clothes. 

His tanned skin glows in the sunset through your windows, and the shadows carve out the muscles in his biceps perfectly. He looks ethereal like this, towering over you with a hungry, insatiable stare. 

He unstraps his thigh holster from himself, sliding the gun across the floor and tossing the holster onto the bed next to you. 

He hovers over you once again, smirking down at you as he looks at the pretty, glistening mess between your legs. 

He wraps his arms around your thighs and he drags you toward the edge of the bed, flipping you over before harshly smacking your ass. 

You suck in a breath at the sting and he’s hungrily watching the way you clench around nothing. 

“Oh you like that, huh pretty girl?” He asks, tone nothing short of dark and teasing. 

You don’t even hesitate.

 “Fuck, yes, Joel.”

His calloused hands massage your ass, giving it another smack before you hear shuffling behind you. You turn your head to see that he’s kneeling behind you, and he looks right into your eyes as he spits on your pussy. You moan at the sight, and he grabs your thighs before burying his face in your cunt. 

“Oh fuck,” you cry, relishing in the feeling of his tongue working your slick, aching core so expertly. 

Each flick of his tongue has purpose, so fluidly blending together that it feels like a fucking composer conducting an orchestra. 

Your body is a violin, a piano, a flute. 

A symphony waiting to reach crescendo.

 His tongue glides and prods and his mouth eats you like you’re the last meal he’ll ever have, and you’re grabbing onto your pretty pink comforter for dear life as you gasp and moan his name louder and louder with each pass, each flick. 

Your eyes roll into the back of your skull as his tongue sinks into your warmth, fucking you for a brief few seconds before traveling upward toward your asshole. 

He stays there, licking and kissing your tight little hole, going to a place nobody ever has before. 

You reach back and thread your fingers through his hair, forcing his face into your flesh as he greedily licks you up. He moves his tongue back down to your pussy, drinking your arousal like you’re the finest nectar on Earth. 

Hell, to him, maybe you are. 

That devastating bliss curls around you and your insides once more, and when Joel wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, you’re absolutely done for. 

You scream his name like a prayer on Sunday, tears forming in your waterline as this orgasm rips through you more forcefully than the last. You’re quivering by the time he stands up straight again. 

“I could eat that sweet little pussy for the rest of my God-given life,” he says, and you look back at him with a weak half smile. 

You’re already so fucked out, but you know he isn’t done with you yet. Your eyes move down to the bulge in his jeans, and the outline of him makes your mouth water. 

“Let me suck your dick,” you say, and Joel chuckles before leaning down to give you a wet, you-flavored kiss. 

“Another time, baby. Wanna fuck you first.” 

It’s like your body answers to his call each and every time, so willing and ready for him. 

“Wanna see stars, Joel.” 

“And stars you’ll see, sweet girl.” 

He leans down to kiss your hair before ridding himself of his jeans and boxers, erection springing free. 

He groans at the newfound freedom, and you can see his pre-cum beaded at his tip. 

You can’t help yourself—you reach over and swipe your thumb over it, popping your finger into your mouth with a satisfied hum as the salty flavor of him dances on your tongue. 

“Why do I have a feelin’ you enjoy giving head?” 

You quirk a brow at him. “You wanna find out?” 

He laughs. It’s a sweet, rare sound. It’s one you want to capture in a jar to keep and cherish forever. 

“Later, baby. I wanna make you feel good tonight.” 

You’re about to say you already have—twice, in fact, but he’s moving behind you before you can get the words out. He rubs your ass one more time before spreading you open. 

You can tell he admires the view with the appreciative hum that evades his throat. 

“You sure you wanna do this? You can still back out, y’know.” 

You look back at him, batting your lashes twice. He gets the message. 

His mouth quirks up and he swipes his head through your folds, catching onto your clit. You whine at the feeling, and Joel smacks your ass once more for good measure. 

He settles himself at your entrance and pushes into you slowly, letting you take him inch by inch until he’s reached the hilt. 

His hips are flush against your ass, and he’s so fucking large and heavy inside you that it lights your body aflame with pure pleasure. 

“Joel,” you cry, and Joel strokes your back while he allows you time to get used to the sting, the delicious stretch. 

The feeling is indescribable, being so full like this, let alone with the man you’ve been fantasizing about for weeks now. 

“Feel so fuckin’ good, honey. She’s takin’ this cock so well,” he praises. 

You moan at his words, finally squeezing the words out of your throat. “Move, please.” 

So he does. 

He starts off slow at first, testing the waters, before completely pistoning into you. He knocks the breath out of you, and it’s almost too much, but you fucking love it. 

You haven’t felt this type of bliss in your life, well, ever, and Joel is giving it to you on the first go of him fucking you. 

He slows his hips down before he grabs the thigh holder and dangles it in your vision, and you look back at him with what had to be the most pathetic pleaful look. 

“You still want this?” He asks, and you nod. 

“Words, baby. Need to hear you say it.” 

“God, fuck! Yes! Yesyesyesyesyes,” you cry. “Please, Joel. Need you to—fuck—need you to choke me out. Need it rougher. Need you,” 

“Fuck, baby, you’re a goddamn dream,” he grits. “Tap my thigh twice n’ hard if you need me to stop.” 

“Okay,” you murmur. 

He wraps the leather strap around your throat, buckling it securely before giving it a soft tug. 

“This feel okay?” 

You nod, and he gives you a warning look. 

Words. 

“Yes, Joel. ‘S perfect.” 

He pulls at the strap, and it squeezes the sides of your throat as he resumes fucking you. 

He’s pounding into you relentlessly and a deep, guttural groan leaves his chest and the sound scrapes low in your belly. It makes your pussy flutter around his cock, squeezing him so tight that his hips stutter. 

“Fuckin’ squeezin’ me, baby. She loves this cock, don’t she?” 

You whine and nod, clawing at the comforter as he pulls the strap tighter. Your breathing becomes more shallow and your vision starts to go black around the edges. 

You’re starting to see the stars Joel promised you. 

Joel hears that your little noises he loves oh-so-much have ceased, so he lets up on the strap. You gulp in a big breath of air, looking back at him to give him a wicked smile. 

He almost cums at the sight. 

“Reckon you like it rough, too.” 

You hum in agreement, reaching between your legs to cup his balls. He nearly chokes on a moan at the feeling of you beginning to massage him, and he slaps your ass before pounding into you once again. 

He pulls on the strap again, but this time he leans down so his lips are at your ear. 

“Takin’ this cock like you were made for it, honey.” 

He kisses your neck and moves his lips down between your shoulder blades, nipping at your skin before slinking a hand between your thighs, finding your clit in one perfect move. 

You want to scream and cry his name, but it’s nearly impossible with the restriction on your throat. Your vision blurs black at the edges again and before you know it, your third orgasm of the night is tearing you apart from the inside out. A silent scream evades you. 

You’ve reached the crescendo. 

You’re convulsing around him, and you think he’s saying something like there you go, good girl, but the blood is pounding so hard in your ears that you can barely even register his voice. You barely even feel him take off the holster from around your neck, too. 

Everything blurs together in bliss and dazzling stars and by the time you come to, Joel is grunting words you can finally hear. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Where do you want me?” 

You do your best to push yourself away from him and clamber onto your knees, right in front of him. 

You give him a satiated smile, all hooded eyes and a fucked out appearance that has him losing it. 

He tosses his head back as he pumps himself a few more times before his cum paints itself across your chest and lower half of your face. 

You’re truly a sight to behold—the look on Joel’s face when his gaze meets yours again says it all. 

He leans down and cups your face, kissing your forehead. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says. 

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, sitting down on your bed again before Joel is back with a wet washcloth in his hand. He coaxes you to lay back against your pillows as he wipes you down gently. 

The stark contrast of the softness he’s exuding now versus when he fucked your brains out is quite an amusing thing, but appreciated nonetheless. 

He tosses the washcloth in your hamper after he’s finished, slipping his boxers back on before climbing into bed with you. 

He tilts your chin up so you meet his gaze, and his thumb traces over the side of your face. 

“You okay?” He asks, voice gentle and full of worry. 

“More than okay,” you reassure him. Your limbs feel like goo and you can barely keep your eyes open, but you’re floating on cloud nine. 

You curl into him and he kisses your forehead once again, wrapping an arm around you to keep you close. 

“Listen, Sunshine. I ain’t really a flowers type ‘a guy,” he starts, and you look up at him again.

Your heart sinks a little and you’re sure Joel can see your face deflate, so he quickly follows up on his previous words. 

“But baby, for you, I’d pick out any one you wanted.” 

And you know that’s his way of saying he’s all in. You let his words marinate for a minute before kissing his chest, right above the steady beat of his heart. 

“Even the white roses from Maria’s garden?” You tease him, knowing those flowers are her prized possession. 

He laughs again, and without a beat, leans his face down to yours with such an incandescently happy smile that his usual frown seems something so foreign to you. 

“Even those.” 

a/n (pt 2): huge thanks to @ozarkthedog for encouraging me and letting me ramble about this fic.

also, i can’t help but make joel a sappy motherfucker too. he’s a sappy kinky motherfucker.

sorry for any mistakes. this wasn’t revised that well.

hope y’all enjoyed tho.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[accidentcache]

self indulgent horny brainrot. i'm coping w period cramps and i need him terribly. minors dni or you will be blocked

dabi is unfairly quiet. silent. sneaky.

unfair that when he is home, he's the loudest motherfucker in existence. doors close so heavily, boots echo in the hallway… he's loud. he makes it known when he's home.

however, in the quiet of the night, somehow he was able to slip in undetected. he wasn't planning on sneaking in, hell there really was no reason for him to sneak in completely silent like he did.

but the scene playing out on top of your shared bed was enough for him to stay quiet.

here he was, thinking he'd come home from recon mission with the league, be able to curl up next to you and maybe watch a movie for the night. he was feeling lazy. order take-out and just veg for the night. apparently, you had other plans.

for some reason, keeping the bedroom door open. lying on top of the sheets, bare to world that in contained to the four walls of the room except for a ratty old t-shirt of his, and a toy between your thighs. if it weren't for the bedroom door being open, he'd assumed you couldn't wait for him to get back tonight and decided to get yourself off on your own.

no, apparently you wanted to give him a show.

and hell, he'll admit it was a show. the lewd way you'd grab at your tits underneath the fabric of his shirt, how your back would arch off of the bed-- the soft and breathless pants leaving those sweet lips of yours. he's almost upset that your eyes weren't open to catch how he paused in the doorway at the sight of you.

and now, he's too enraptured by the scene that he can't even bring attention to himself. he's crossed the threshold of the room, one hand in his pocket and the other covering his mouth ever so slightly. as if to muffle his breathing-- which definitely gets heavier when he hears his name drip off your tongue.

he has to bite down on his knuckle as he watches you. you know your body-- but dabi has some sort of sick satisfaction in the knowledge that he knows it even better than you do. he watches you as you move the toy around your swollen, puffy folds-- the toy glistens and drips from your arousal-- but you're clearly not hitting the right spots.

spots he knows he can reach. spots that he's memorized the location of. it's probably been so long that you've been on your own getting yourself off that you've probably forgotten those spots.

he can tell you're getting frustrated. little huffs and whines leave your lips every so often-- it causes a fire to start low in his gut. he's moving before he can even think, sliding inbetween your spread legs and dipping his head between your thighs almost immediately.

you jump almost six feet in the air at the contact, your hand almost dropping the toy and pushing at the warmth that suddenly appears between your legs. his lips barely graze along your folds as he speaks, "no, no-- keep going."

"when did you get home?" you question him, your voice breathless from the almost thirty minutes of struggling to get yourself off. "you didn't even make any noise--"

"i said keep going."

heat pools in your gut. a different kind of heat-- the kind only he can create. your imagination could only do so much, and hearing the real thing is always better.

your fingers shake as they curl around the toy again, sliding it along the opening of your cunt and dabi watches with hungry eyes. his hands are warm on your thighs, spreading you even further, leaving you so much more open than you were previously. you can feel his ragged breathing against your folds, hot and heavy.

he watches you tease yourself, slowly inserting and pleasuring-- but he can tell you're not as eager as you were before. almost like you were shy-- embarrassed or something. he barely hides the click of his tongue before his fingers wrap around yours and he begins to guide your movements.

you swallow hard, feeling that familiar burn in your tummy and the coil beginning to tighten. your head falls back against the sheets with a whimper of his name and dabi watches it all with lidded eyes.

"c'mon, pretty," he murmurs, low and rough. "like this, yeah?" he nudges the toy to a certain spot and your spine creates a delicious arch that he used to seeing. you try to pull your hand away from the toy, but he doesn't let you. his fingers tighten around yours so you can feel how you practically drip all over the toy and down both of your hands.

he practically coos as your thighs tremble-- a telltale sign that your orgasm is building. "that's my girl," he mumbles, his eyes locked onto your cunt as he watches the toy disappear into you with each stroke and movement. his free hand moves to your hip, blunt fingernails digging into the skin.

your hips roll and grind into the toy, finally able to let go of it so you can slide your fingers into the dark locks. your fingers curl around the strands and you tug, a gasp leaves your lips as the toy is quickly replaced by two slender fingers that curve immediately to the spot that has you seeing stars.

his tongue is warm and wet on your clit, circling in deliberate motions as his fingers pump in and out. you thighs are practically shaking around his head, your cries of his name are drowning out the lewd and wet noises that he's pulling from your cunt.

just when you're about to free fall over the edge, dabi's mouth connects with your clit, flicking his tongue over the sensitive nub and sucking hard.

you cum so hard you're pretty sure you're crying. panting and trembling, your hands are limp in his hair as you melt into the mattress, barely registering when dabi climbs up the bed to hover of you, his lips slick and smug. he waits for the haze to dissipate from your eyes before he props himself up above you, a hand next to your head and the other on your waist, his thumb stroking your trembling skin soothingly. "feel better?"

"i'm putting a bell on you."

dabi snorts, but he doesn't reply. instead, his head dips down and attaches to the skin of your throat, smirking when you gasp. yeah, like that will ever happen.

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

[vapekingg]

“You know I like my girls a little bit older.” — Your Love by The Outfield

February 14th, 1986

Eddie knows exactly how you want to spend your first Valentine’s Day together — in the back of his van with the windows steamed up.

A takeout pizza sits half-eaten and torn apart in the box near a makeshift pallet that you’ve gotten somewhat used to over the past few months. A single floodlight that shines into the front windshield is the only light, and it’s just enough. Just enough to cast Eddie in this dim orange-gold glow that shimmers off of the sweat dripping down his stomach.

He always gets worked over pretty quickly when you’re on top, and tonight you needed it. That control, that stress relief.

You’d told your boss at the record shop that Valentine’s Day would be a banger. It has been since you’d started there at sixteen. But what would you know? He’d scheduled you open to close, all by yourself, no question as to whether or not you might want to spend today with your boyfriend.

“Motherfucker,” Eddie’s moan wavers as his head lulls back against the inner wall of his van.

He’s all soft when it’s like this. All praise and devotion. Eddie’s palms swirl around the globes of your ass gently as you lift your hips up and down. He’s holding you close, your beasts against the warmth of his chest, your clit grinding against the coarse hair beneath his waist, his little grunts and cries and whimpers dying along the column of your throat. They inch up your neck and tickle your ear, urging you to keep going despite the burn in your thighs.

“It’s okay, baby. Just take what you need,” Eddie says between labored breaths when he notices the tremble in your hips.

But what you need is him deeper.

You adjust yourself above him, leaning back on your palms so that he slips further inside of you, the base of his cock widening to stretch you open.

There it is.

“Fuck!” You rasp, your hips jerking forward from sudden sensitivity.

Every rut drives you closer to the edge. Every stroke drags the veins of his thick cock against the walls of your dripping cunt. Sweat slicked palms trace up the curve of your thighs to keep you balanced while you ride, and each inch of your skin grazed is ignited like wildfire.

“That’s it, angel. Look at you,” he grits between clenched teeth. “Thought about this all fucking day…”

It must be killing him, holding back like this.

If it were up to him — and it usually is — you would be bent over the front seat right now. You wouldn’t know your own goddamn name, let alone care.

But you like how he looks when he lets you take control. His eyes half lidded and mouth slightly parted, sweat clinging to the hair framing his pretty face. It made the trembling thighs worth it.

“Did you?” You ask him, not caring so much if he responds but knowing that Eddie just likes to hear you when he’s like this.

“Ffffuck, yeah I did…” he moans, his grip tightening on your hips.

Another rut of your hips and his upward thrust meets yours.

"Eddie—" You cry out.

But he doesn't stop. With every stroke of your waist against his, Eddie is there to meet your ministrations. He's watching you. You can feel his eyes tracing over your flesh even with yours closed. The bounce of your breasts, the ripple of your pillowy stomach, Eddie takes in it all.

"That's right. Say my name, baby." The pink of his tongue lashes out to dart over his thumb before he drags the digit down your center.

The second he starts — the quick, gentle motion of his thumb soon growing frantic — it's the beginning of the end.

The swollen tip of his cock nudges its way to that spot deep inside of you that shuts your brain right off. Only he knows how to find it, and he's so fucking good at finding it. Once there, a salacious grin spreads across Eddie's face.

"Right fucking there, baby." He praises you, hands heavy on your hips, weighing you down so you can't move.

You're stuffed full of him, spread open around his thick length and dripping down the base. The receptors in your brain are firing at all cylinders and you've never felt this fucking euphoric before.

Until he grinds up into you.

Your orgasm hits you all at once, without warning. It washes over your entirety and has you begging him for both more and less simultaneously. And Eddie has never been one to give you less.

He feeds you his cock, thrusting up into your sopping cunt now, the van around you shaking in time with your depravity. It's all happening in passing, at the very back of your mind. All you can focus on is the constellations exploding in your vision as Eddie's pathetic little grunts morph into wanton moans of satisfaction.

A few spent moments later, you can feel your joint release leaking out of you. Eddie lays back on the floor of his van with his hands above his head, skin shimmering with the reflection of drying sweat off of yellow floodlights.

It truly is the perfect Valentine's Day. Now that you can think clearly, maybe your shift wasn't all that bad.

With his eyes still closed, Eddie reaches for the joint he'd left in his pants pocket for safekeeping. He lights it while on his back and takes two deep hits before passing it to you. The radio near the back door plays quietly in the background. You don't know what song is on. Boss had you playing Hounds of Love by Kate Bush all day on repeat.

But Eddie seems to know the tune.

He jerks up in his seat, hand wrapping quickly behind your back so that you aren't knocked off of him.

"Hey!" You shout, trying to keep the ruby red tip of the joint away from his beautiful hair.

"Shush," he slaps the volume dial on the radio, knocking it up more than enough notches. "This song is about us!"

Josie's on a vacation far away, come around and talk it over. So many things that I wanna say.

Eddie strums an air guitar behind your back and his eyes pop open wide as he sing-screams the next lyrics.

"YOU KNOW I LIKE MY GIRLS A LITTLE BIT OLDER!"

Your eyes roll back as you exhale the smoke from your lungs.

He'll never let those six months you were alive before him go.

[aurorawritestoescape]

HOLD MY HAND || Clint x f!reader

Summary: you have good news for Clint and it seems that you two are ready for another big step in your relationship.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, ANGST, unspecified age gap, gun violence, death, soft!Clint, Clint in love, f!oral, unprotected piv, creampie, multiple orgasms, pregnancy, mention of puking, swearing.

Word count: 1,4k

A/n: I’ve been obsessing over this story since this morning when I saw the ‘Freaky Tales’ trailer and I need it out of my head otherwise it’ll explode lol Kisses to my baby @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and helping me😘 Love y’all! Don’t hate me. Bye❤️ Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST

“No, please, too much.”

“C’mon, jus’ one more, baby.”

You try to push away Clint’s massive hands on your hips, pinning you to the bed, but to no avail. You smile weakly, watching him rub his scruffy cheek against your inner thigh, his eyes glinting with lust in the dim light of the bedroom.

“For me, sweetheart.” His voice is soft and your heart melts when he asks you like that, looking at you like that.

“I need to tell you something.” You barely hear yourself, your heart pounding hard in your ears.

“You’ll tell me when I’m done with you.”

And he winks at you.

“Motherfucker,” you mumble and he chuckles before diving back in.

Your head dips into the pillow when Clint’s lips latch onto your poor puffy clit, but knowing how overstimulated you are, he laps at it gently, then carefully sucks your bud into his wet hot mouth, and you moan so loudly, you’re sure your neighbors can hear. To hell with them! You’re in heaven.

A little sob escapes your mouth when you feel yourself on the brink of another climax— third or fourth that night, you lost count, delirious with pleasure, drunk on his caress, drunk on him.

“Please, Clint,” you whine, asking for more or less, you have no idea.

“Here, hold my hand, sweetheart.”

His sweaty palm slides up your naked belly to your sternum, and you grab it, wrap your fingers around it tightly, ground yourself to him, while he’s eating your pussy out with his whole jaw, his thick digits pumping into your drenched cunt — in and out, in and out. Your core tightens, your nails scratch his hard skin and you come hard, your walls clamping around his fingers. Clint growls into your pussy, feeling the grip of your ecstasy,

“Mmm, yeah, good girl.”

You’re shaking against the damp sheets, crying— fuck — you’re really crying.

When your body relaxes, Clint immediately climbs up the bed, lies next to you and pulls you into his embrace.

“Shit, ‘m sorry, baby.” He cups your wet cheek and carefully wipes your tears off with his thumb. ”Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You shake your head, sniffing.

“No-no, you didn’t. I’m fine.”

You reach up and kiss him, thanking him for the pleasure, silently confessing your love to your man.

He’s rock hard against your thigh, his hot tip smears wetness over your skin. Still making out, you pull him over yourself and he settles between your legs.

“You sure?” he asks, breaking the kiss, and you nod eagerly, tilting your hips up for him.

“Ok, sweetheart. Here we go.”

He feeds you his cock, slowly pushing it into your pussy, and then begins languidly fucking you, grunting into your mouth, your legs wrapped around his hips.

You feel him everywhere all at once and you love it. Love his tongue in your mouth, his chest hair caressing your nipples, his body caging you to the bed, his damp curls between your fingers, his cock kissing your soft spot. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. You break the kiss and take a deep breath.

“I love you,” you exhale, so quietly, you think he doesn’t hear you. You just can’t not say it right now.

“I love you too,” he echoes and you smile, nuzzling his jaw.

He makes you come on his cock and only then spills his cum inside you.

You make out while he’s softening inside your stuffed pussy, until you pull away and search for his warm eyes. A little smile curves your lips as you whisper,

”The thing I wanted to tell you. I’m pregnant.”

You knew Clint wanted your little family to grow as much as you did but you never expected him to fall so deeply in love with the bean growing inside you. He began cooing at your stomach as soon as he heard the good news, making you giggle with happiness.

He was next to you every step of the way - getting you to and from the doctor, caring about what you ate, holding your hair when you were puking out what you’d just eaten, patiently listening to your complaints about morning sickness, heartburn, raging hormones and anything that was making you irritable that day. You always found comfort on his lap and in his arms, big and strong, and when you inevitably would begin grinding your pussy against his thighs he’d give you as many orgasms as you pleased, carefully making you unravel on his fingers, his tongue, his cock. He was a perfect father-to-be.

For you, for the three of you, he retired, and when bad guys offered him one last job he always told them to go fuck themselves.

Clint helps you to get into his car and you plop into the seat with a huff.

“Told you everything’s fine,” he gruffs, getting behind the wheel.

“Yeah.”

You give him a little smile and look down at your huge belly. You rub it, deep in your thoughts after a doctor’s appointment.

“She’s gonna be here soon,” Clint cooes, putting his palm over your hand. His touch calms you down a bit but it still feels like you’re suffocating.

”Yes, very soon,” you nod, your eyes downcast. ”I can feel it.”

You try to steady your shaky voice but as usual Clint reads you like an open book.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asks and you stay frozen. You’re afraid you’ll cry if you meet his eyes. His eyes full of excitement and happiness. ‘Of course,’ you grumble inside your head, ‘he‘s not the one getting ready to push out a giant baby. You are.’

You shake your head and stare in front of yourself.

“Hey.” He pinches your chin and gently turns your head to him. “Tell me.”

He doesn’t command. He begs. This huge dangerous guy begs for you to talk.

“I’m scared,” you finally squeak and tears well up in your eyes.

He leans closer to you and pulls you into his embrace. You push your face into the crease of his neck and let it all out. She’s gonna be here soon but you’re not ready. How can anyone be ready for it?

You’re crying quietly in his arms, enveloped by the scent of his cologne and his leather jacket as he’s hugging your shoulders, his hand on your stomach. He’s silent.

When your sobs get quieter and less frequent only then Clint starts talking. The vibrations of his chest make you sink deeper into his embrace as you listen to him.

“I know you’re scared. I’m terrified too. But you’re strong and — yeah, I’m not a fucking prize. I’m older and — shit, there’s so much blood on my hands. I—I don’t know how I’m gonna hold our babygirl with these hands.”

You lift your head off his chest and look at him. His eyes are slightly red, glossy with the emotions he’s been holding inside, for your sake, and now they’re spilling out.

“I’m done with that shit, sweetheart, but — .”

He’s shaking his head, his lower lip trembles and you take his face into your hands, your wet eyes darting between his.

“No. Listen to me. My fears are never because of you. Never. I know you’re gonna be the best dad for our girl. I’m sure of it.”

You shake his head a little and you both smile. He takes your hand off his face and presses a kiss to your palm.

“I love you, Clint. Your past— it’s behind you. And I’m happy that your future is with me. And her.”

You bring his hand to your belly and you both feel the second heartbeat under your palms.

“I love you. Both of you,” Clint mutters and kisses you. His chapped lips move slowly, his tongue pushes between your lips and tangles with yours. The taste of him ignites your core and you gush, squirming in your seat.

“Need you,” you whine against his mouth and he chuckles, pulling away from you.

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart.”

He sits straight and puts his hands on the wheel.

Suddenly you see a man, standing by the car.

A muzzle of a gun pushes into the window. Clint reacts fast and grabs it.

Bang!

You feel pain. So much pain.

You hear Clint. He’s talking to you. He’s crying.

“Hold my hand, baby. Hold my hand.”

His voice gets quieter and quieter until it disappears altogether and your world goes black.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40 @meetmeatyourworst @callmebyyournick-name

[pinkslipxox]

Back to Sleep

Summary: Billie helps you out in the middle of the night 🤭

Warnings: smut

——————————————————————————

You couldn’t help yourself.

The ache between your legs didn’t help at while as you try to get your head out of the gutter. You know you should be asleep just like your wife is who lays besides you, her breathing soft and steady, lips parting ever so slightly at each breath she took, her arm lightly wrapped around your waist. As much as you know that she’d be more than happy to help you out, the thought of waking her up makes your heart ache. She’s just returned home from tour, and you know that all she wants to do now is rest.

You decide to take matter into your own hands.

Literally.

A soft sigh of relief escapes your lips as you rub your pulsating clit, your other hand slowly massaging the soft flesh of your breast, sending a warmth throughout your body. Your eyes flutter close as you slide a finger inside you, then two, getting lost in the feeling of them stroking your walls. Your other hand returns down to your core, once again giving your clit the attention it deserves, as your continue to pump your fingers in and out of your pussy. You bite your lip in order to not make a sound and risk waking Billie up. For a moment you’ve forgotten that she was sleeping besides you, since you usually do this when she’s away on tour. Who could blame you when you’re married to the Billie motherfucking Eilish?

“Y/N?” Billie’s soft voice makes you stop dead in your tracks.

You pretend that you are asleep but, of course, Billie knows damn well that you’re wide awake.

“Y/N Y/M/N O’Connell, what are you doing?” Her tone is stern yet you can hear a hint of amusement in it. In the soft glow of the moonlight, you can see her beautiful features and the way her piercing blue eyes are looking at you.

You stammer, “Y-you we’re asleep… I-I didn’t want to wake you, I—“

Billie cuts you off with a kiss, her tongue pushing through your mouth as she swallows your moans, igniting the fire once again. You slide your hand back to your core, and just as you’re about to touch yourself again, Billie forces your hand away and quickly replaces it with her own. She’s rubbing your clit in heavenly circular motions, just the way you like it, and you feel her smirk against your mouth.

“You can always wake me, baby. Especially when you’re fucking horny,” Billie murmurs huskily as she kisses your exposed skin that peaks from your black satin nightgown, and your head spins at her words.

Her fingers hook your panties, and in one swift motion, they are off. Billie’s lips find yours again and you bring yourself to straddle her. You whimper as you can’t help but grind over the clothed strap, your clit brushing over the material of your wife’s boxers, but Billie locks you in place.

“My poor, sweet wife,” Billie teases as she slips the night gown off you and tosses it. Her fingers find their way your hardened nipples and she begins to play with them, making you toss your head back in pleasure. “So worked up, desperate for me to fuck you. What happened to the little angel I married, Mrs. O’Connell?”

“Billie, please…” you whine, squirming in her grasp, your pussy throbbing with need.

“Oh, Mrs. O’Connell…” Billie tisks, her voice smooth and sultry. “Only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

With your help, she takes the strap out, and you practically drool at the sight of it. Billie holds your hips as you lower yourself on top of it, a heady moan escaping your lips as it stretches you, overwhelming you with pleasure. You feel so full, so complete, so whole. Instinctively you begin to move your hips, slowly, savoring every moment, until Billie bucks her hips up, making you yelp as the strap hits that spot.

“Come on, mama, get yourself there,” Billie encourages, her grip on your hips tightening as she thrusts upwards, her cock hitting your g-spot with every stroke.

Your moans and gasps echo throughout the room, your eyes closed, your fingers digging into your wife’s milky skin. Billie rubbing your clit and sucking on your breast only adds on to your pleasure, making you see stars. The pressure in your tummy intensifies but it is lovely. God, did you luck out with Billie.

“F-fuck! Billie! I-I’m gonna—“

“Cum,” Billie growls as she squeezes your ass and you do. The orgasm leaves you shaking like a leaf but you’ve never felt so satisfied. All thanks to Billie.

“Stay inside me,” you whimper as Billie pulls the duvet over you, and she chuckles as she kisses your forehead.

“Sweet dreams, baby girl,” Billie murmurs softly as sleep begins to take over you, her cock buried inside you.

Let’s just say you slept like a baby the rest of the night.