#YOU'D STILL ROCK EM NOW

[taurasiluvr]

cait’s good luck head???? #needthat

YES #NEEDTHAT ASAP 🫠

before tonight's game, you had found herself knelt down in front of your very hot, very tall girlfriend. caitlin's hand was gripping your head tightly as you worked your mouth over her, taking her nice and slow like she liked it.

her eyes were glued to your face, taking in your beauty. "god, you’re so good at this," caitlin groaned, her voice rough with pleasure. "always know how to make me feel good, sweetheart."

you hummed around her, the vibration making her hips jerk forward. Her grip on your head tightened, fingers threading through your hair as she guided your movements.

"just like that, baby," she panted. "keep going."

you looked up at her, meeting her gaze with your own heated one. The intensity in her eyes made your stomach flutter, the connection between you palpable. you picked up the pace, your finger slowly dipping inside of her in time with your mouth, determined to give her exactly what she needed.

caitlin's breath hitched, her head falling back as she let out a low, throaty moan. "oh fuck, 'm so close," she gasped, her hips rocking against you. "gonna make me come so hard, baby."

you moaned in response, the sound spurring her on as she moved faster, her body tense with impending release. you redoubled your efforts, wanting nothing more than to see her fall apart because of you.

with a cry, caitlin's body stiffened, her release crashing over her in waves. "o-oh, fuck, yes!" she shouted, her fingers tightening in your hair as she held you in place.

you continued to work her through her orgasm, only pulling back when her grip loosened and her breathing began to steady. you looked up at her, a satisfied smile on your lips. "good luck charm delivered," you teased, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

caitlin let out a breathless laugh, pulling you up to your feet and into a deep kiss. "you're amazing," she murmured against your lips. "how am I supposed to focus on the game now?"

"you’ll manage," you replied with a smirk, feeling a sense of pride at how thoroughly you'd unraveled her. "just remember this when you’re out there."

"oh trust me, i will," caitlin said, her eyes still glazed with post-orgasmic bliss. "always know how to give me that extra boost, princess."

you kissed her once more, lingering for a moment before stepping back. "go get 'em, champ," you said, giving her a playful swat on the butt.

caitlin grinned, her confidence visibly restored. "i will. and when i get back, i’m going to return the favor."

your face flushed as you blew her a kiss, knowing that she will deliver, win or lose.

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

[cap-winter-barnes]

HEY QUEEN! i had this idea for a fic… angsty, could also be fluffy and maybe smutty? 👀 anyway, like in the original twisters, reader goes to try and get tyler to sign divorce papers and ends up chasing him around with tornadoes. then maybe she almost dies in one with him, like the pool scene, or she gets hurt? either way, they fall in love again, etc etc. !!!

Sign Your Life Away (Tyler Owens x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of sex, Tyler Owens (need I say more?)

It had been a while since you'd last visited your home state of Oklahoma, and it wasn't without trying, your life has just been a whirlwind of drama for the last few months. Your job had been even more demanding than usual with all of the unforeseen tornadoes smattering the map, one after another.

You are expecting this visit to be short and sweet, in and out, back to your apartment in Los Angeles. The divorce papers you have been carrying with you for quite some time, tightly fisted in your hand as you approach the growing mass of tornado chasers. Despite hoping that your soon to be ex-husband would be here upon your arrival, you soon realise that his little media circus is still awaiting the appearance of the world famous "Tornado Wrangler".

With a racing heart, you perch yourself onto the bonnet of your rented truck, boots balancing on the bumper guard. It may have been months since you last wore your wedding band but you still feel the ghost of the metal that once adorned your left hand whenever you think of Tyler Owens. Tears long dried out for the man, you take a deep breath as you prepare to see him for the first time in a long time, and hopefully for the last, you're ready for a new, fresh start in LA.

The rev of an engine brings you out of your thoughts, the blaring sound of a rock country track blaring through the air familiar to your ears. This was yours and Tyler's song. Keeping your position on your truck you watch as the Tyler's Ram speeds into the lot. You let the media crowd have their fun, surging and cheering for the arrival of their 'star'. Music still playing loudly you can't help but smile as you watch the one and only Tyler Owens soaking in the spotlight. Yet what surprises you is the false smile on his face, there's a dullness in his eyes that you can see from just watching from afar.

As you take in the sight of him, he notices you. He freezes as he makes eye contact, the smile completely disappearing from his face. A quick whisper to Boone and his crew has the crowd disperse with the promise of T-Shirts, signed merch and food to encourage them. Tyler makes a beeline for you, his confidence stride has you nervous.

"It's been a while, Baby Girl." He tips the brim of his Stetson towards you, a sad yet welcoming smile crossing his face.

"I'm not your Baby Girl anymore, Owens." You jump down from the hood, quick to press the worn papers into his chest. "Sign 'em." Before you can pull away, he has his hand around yours, holding you close to his body.

"You know neither of us want that, right?" Swallowing back a retort you meet his eyes, drowning in his hazel pools. "C'mon, Y/N." The pleading in his voice and face have your heart questioning everything.

"Tyler, it'll never work."

He breaks the eye-contact first and you swear you see the glisten of tears in his eyes. "It was good while it lasted, Owens. But we both want very different things."

"Ju-"

"Sign the papers, please. I'm staying in El Reno, come by the motel tomorrow and drop them off."

Without another word you turn your back on the man you used to love, truck door now between you both, you take one more look at Tyler as you see his heart breaking in front of you all over again.

"Okay. If this is what you want."

*The Next Evening*

You're not shocked that Tyler is late to drop off the divorce papers but why do you not feel disappointed that he never showed? Just as you are about to leave to set off back for home, there's a loud knocking at the door. With a sigh you open the door to be suddenly met with Tyler standing dishevelled and soaking with rain in front of you.

"We need to leave, now!"

The panic in his voice is enough to put your trust in him.

"Ty?"

"We need to move, now! I'm serious, let's go." He holds his hand out to you and without a second thought you place yours in his. As you make your way out of the motel room, you notice the chaos erupting around you.

"What the fuck? Tyler, where did this come from?"

With a rambled and short explanation you know just from his tone and demeanour that you're really in trouble if you don't get moving. The tornado is unmissable as it covers the horizon, debris flying across the sky, tearing apart everything in its path.

"We need to find somewhere low."

Immediately your mind goes to the empty swimming pool across the lot, you pull on Tyler's hand, guiding him in the right direction. Over all the destruction you make out the sound of a woman screaming and a young child crying. "Ty!" With one swift nod he runs across the lot to help, carrying the little girl carefully in his arms, never letting the mother out of sight.

The wind speed ratchets up quicker than you expect, this isn't your first experience with a tornado but this is the closest you've ever been to one outside the protection of the Ram. You loved storm chasing with Tyler, long before you were married and during those blissful few years that you were still in that honeymoon stage. A scream leaves your chest as you watch a truck somersault mere inches from crushing him to death. And you know if that moment that those divorce papers were a mistake. You were still madly, irrevocably in love with Tyler Owens, you'd just been in denial for all this time.

As he keeps your shielded from most of the force of mother nature, his arms wrapped around you, keeping you safe, you pray that you both make it through this to work things out.

Seconds feel like hours before the tornado passes. You can't help but shiver violently with fear, exhaustion and the effects of the rain seeping into your skin. Yet as you take in the destruction around you, your mind is on only one thing - Tyler Owens. Without taking a second thought you grab him by the collars of his shirt and pull him towards you. As you press your lips to his own, you can't help regret leaving him behind all those months ago, what an idiot you had been. But you know here and now is where you belong, in his arms.

Part 2 Coming Soon

[fuckitupfelix]

thinkin about kyotani with a bf who is like .. the COMPLETE opposite of him.. :3 like think of the nicest friendliest boy you can imagine .. that’s kyotanis bf. AND he secretly admires how kind his bf is and it’s AGHHGHG 😣

EEEDHFHHHSHHHHH KYOTANI..... thank you anon ,,,,,idk what to title this tho..

boyfriend??

kyotani kentaro x male reader

word count: 0.5k

nobody expected the embodiment of an angel to date . . . mad dog??

FEM ALIGNED DNI

now let's just imagine kyotani. pissy "doesn't give a fuck bout anyone" kyotani. he's crude and brash and intimidating. you'd think he'd date someone equally terrifying, right? wrong. just imagine kyotani's teammate's surprise when you pop into the gym during their practice. they're all a bit confused, as far as they knew, you weren't super close with anyone on the team?

"(name)-chan? what're you doing here?" oikawa asks, approaching you while you patiently wait by the gym doors.

"sorry to interupt, oikawa-kun, but kyo-kun forgot his shoes at my house!" you say, holding a pair of volleyball shoes up.

you. (name.) the (name) that bakes cookies for classmates' birthdays? the same (name) that volunteers at the animal shelter in his spare time? the same (name) that'll offer to tutor kids after school? yeah.

everyone pauses. kyo-kun?

"eh? who—" but oikawa gets cut off when kyotani walks over.

"you could've texted me," he grumbles, taking the shoes surprisingly gently from your hands.

"i did! you didn't reply. . ." you sigh. shit. his phone was off, tucked away in his locker. . . "oh. sorry." he pauses for a second, before leaning over to give you a kiss on the cheek. "thanks for bringing em."

you just smile, giving him a thumbs up. "anytime, kyo!"

. . . what?

"MAD DOG-KUN! YOU'RE DATING (NAME)-CHAN??" oikawa screeches. you both nod.

"why didn't you tell any of us, kyotani?" yahaba scoffed lightly, raising an eyebrow. "didn't ask."

"but still—!!" "oikawa, shut up and leave it. we have to practice," iwaizumi groans, cutting him off again.

"ah right! sorry for interrupting!" you apologise, bowing. you then turn to kyotani. "i'll walk home with you after practice! bye, love you!"

once practice was over, there you were, leaning against the side of the building, waiting for kyotani to come out. he stepped out, and you immediately run over to him, grinning.

"how was practice?" you ask, rocking on the balls of your feet.

"was good. oikawa wouldn't shut up about you. it was fucking annoying." kyotani grumbles. he glances down at your hands and reaches over to take one in his, lacing your fingers together.

"come on, kyo, i'm sure it wasn't that bad," you chuckle, giving his hand a squeeze. "lets go."

the two of you walk down the street, and you're making most of the conversation. talking about how your day went, how you got an extra drink from the vending machine at lunch, little things like that, only getting a grunt or a 'yeah?' in response.

there's a lull in the conversation, and that's when your boyfriend decides to ask, "you're still going to the dog shelter on thursday?"

you nod. "why?"

"i'm coming with you." he replies.

"really!?" you exclaim, stopping in your tracks. there's a huge grin on your face. he wasn't expecting you to be so happy about it. . .

"shut up." "i can't wait!"

i love kyotani so much thank you for the req anon!!! AAAAAGHHHHHHHSSHGJHJ

dividers by @/plutism !!

[earthnashes]

Melon didn't stand a chance.

One moment he's staring the end of their journey over the horizon, and the next he's sent plummeting into the awaiting maw of the trench he stood over by a hearty smack of a claw.

He yelps as he tumbles, twisting in the air for a heartstopping moment before his back meets a crag. Mario's cries are muted by rushing wind as he slips again, falling falling falling--

A heavy thud echoes as he collides--bounces-- off another rock face. His ears rings with the rattling in his skull---

A sharp thwack of his head hitting a jutting ledge, and suddenly Melon doesn't hear-- or feel-- much of anything the rest of the way down.

A metal tang coats his tongue red, and the sting of the air bites against his bruises.

 No weight on his back anymore-- 

Everything hurts. 

--the boy...Mario. Where's Mario? D-did he fall too--

Can't move.

--he needs to get up. His human cub, he could be hurt o-or--- get up--

Stay down.

--get up get up GET UP-- 

Melon stays down, can't muster the strength to listen to the mantra in his head. Instead, all he hears is the desperate wails of Mario, and it's enough to force his eyes open just a sliver. He blearily looks up.

At the edge of the cliff he tumbled from stands the silhouettes he can only barely make out; three huge, three smaller, all laughing and pointing and grinning toothily at the heap of him. The leader- and he must be, with how he leers cockily over the ledge-- sneers down at him.

"Thank ye for the delivery, lad! We've been lookin' all over for this little bastard," he says, and without a care he swings a hollering Mario over the ledge by the scruff. The boy twists precariously in his grip --one slip from falling-- and reaches out for Melon with terrified tears in his eyes. He wails some semblance of his name, and Melon feels his gut twist.

no

"Come now, lad, I see that long face from here; ye nothin' to worry about! Brat may've been a pain in the arse to get, but it'll be worth it in the end. Pirate's Honor: we'll take real good care of 'em," The leader gloats, ugly grin stretching wider as he flicks the boy's nose with a sharp claw. "Just like we have his snivellin' flake of a brother. They'll fetch a fine cut yet."

No no no give him back

"I reckon ye wanna say g'bye at least, aye? I could grant that much, bein' a frog of honor and wot-not." The captain holds Mario high above his head, like an angler would his prized catch, and grins down at Melon from his spot above.

"Go on then. Tell 'em 'afore I change me mind."

Something twisted and ugly clogs Melon's throat with bile and copper. He bares his teeth and tries tries tries to bark, to roar, anything to demand his human cub back to him.

GIVE HIM BACK, his mind screetches. But all that crawls out of his mouth is a rattling, broken whimper. It drags his strength with it by the scruff, spilling in a tiny puddle of spittle and grime and blood as his vision begins to waver. His eyes glaze over and fall closed against his will.

And within the canopy of booming laughs and grating cackles, the last thing Melon hear is Mario's cries.

--------------------------------------------

AND HERE IT IS.

Part 10 of Melon's Adventure, FINALLY COMPLETE, and with it Arc 1 of this story has come to a close!

I'm glad I managed to finish this arc even with it being forced into a hiatus alongside my burnout months back; I had an absolute blast revisiting my childhood and telling the story in a way I've always imagined it as a kid.

Now, given that it's been a while since the last part, I've taken the liberty to compile all of Melon's Adventure into the #melon's adventure tag for ease of access if you'd like to read it back from the beginning!

Despite this marking the end of Arc 1, I'm hoping to make this the start of me delving back into my Super Mario AU, albeit in a slightly different way. There's still plenty of stories there I'd love to share with ya'll. :>

In fact, in related news: I'm actually planning on opening an online store, and my first planned launch will be themed on Melon's Adventure! More information to come on that relatively soon as more work is done.

At any rate, I hope ya'll enjoyed this story! More to come soon! owo

[hannieehaee]

Sua escrita é realmente fabulosa e estou realmente perdida nisso desde que algo como namorada latina foi mencionado em sua masterlist.

Posso perguntar algo como se a leitora fosse uma garota de ascendência latina (ou totalmente latina, depende de você) e bem, a reação dos integrantes ao se conhecerem pela primeira vez com ela e descobrirem que são realmente sensacionais na cama?

Sorry if my English is bad, it's not my first language (I'm a Brazilian girl

their latina s/o being amazing in bed

content: smut, mentions of first time having sex together, afab reader, mentions of penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 787

a/n: thank uu!! and thank u for requesting<3 i hope u like what i wrote<33

masterlist

seungcheol -

not too surprised. the moment he saw you, he just knew you were gonna rock his world. to be fair, he did hope he'd be able to make you feel just as good as you did him, but he cant imagine any possible way in which you could feel as good as he did last night. he's still replaying it in his head, aware that this will be a recurring memory any time he's alone at night and away from you.

jeonghan -

for once in his life, he has no idea how to react. he has no quick-witted response for you nor does he know how to regain that suave personality he usually has. he's just a mess of heavy breaths and stutters as you take care of him. he finds it impossible to regain his standing when its so easy for you to turn him into a mess.

joshua -

somehow cocky about how good you make him feel. convinced that you're just so into him that you cant help make him lose all his composure in bed. does his best to match your energy and have you seeing stars just like you do him.

jun -

you'll literally have him in tears by the end of the night. would whine at you as to why you didn't warn him you were a monster in bed. did you want him to make a fool of himself? well, it worked! bc he's now putty in your hands, body reacting to every single one of your expert touches.

soonyoung -

thanks you constantly (and pathetically) for choosing him as the guy whose world you'd be altering with that magical pussy (his words). will become immediately obsessed with you and the way you make him feel, unable to have any sense of dignity when it comes to begging you for another night.

wonwoo -

used to being the one who takes care of their partner during sex, and although he can still do that with you, he is unsure of how to handle himself when you're making him feel this good. never would he have imagined you'd be able to read him so easily and have him eating from the palm of your hand.

jihoon -

red in the face and letting out hiccuped gasps at every touch. itd take him five minutes to realize he was in over his head sleeping with someone so good an experienced at pleasure. dies and goes to heaven and is reborn again multiple times throughout the night, now with an image of you stuck to his head.

seokmin -

falls victim to your seductive aura immediately, becoming a shell of himself as he gives in to the pleasure you offer him. will literally get on his knees and beg for pussy after just one time in bed with you.

mingyu -

you're gorgeous, so for some reason that led him to believe you'd be amazing in bed. however, he was unprepared for how drastically you'd alter his brain chemistry through the way you made him feel. everything about you had his eyes crossing and his brows furrowing in pleasure. he was sure he'd never feel as good as this moment.

minghao -

one of the only times in his life that his composure broke so badly. he had been entirely unprepared to find out you were somehow a siren that could get him weak at the knees with just one touch. becomes absolutely entranced by you throughout the process.

seungkwan -

blushy, sweaty, hands clammy. he's just a complete mess. he will literally not survive a night with you, too entranced by how easily you take his pleasure and play with it. how is it possible for you to be so good at this? why did you not give him any warning?

vernon -

mind completely blank the moment you begin working him. whether you used your hands, mouth, lips, cunt, tits, etc. he'd was putty in your hands. can't even manage to let out any sounds of pleasure bc of how caught off guard he is by how insanely good you make him feel. not one to beg much, but will absolutely beg you for another taste of that pussy once you're done.

chan -

he was already weak and needy for you before even getting to sleep with you, but ends up becoming even more of a pathetic mess the moment you touch him. no matter what it is you do in bed, he's shocked at how easily you're able to get him begging for more. needs you to never stop touching him, becoming obsessed with you after just one night together.

[moonlightndaydreams]

confessions | han jisung | fem reader | with fwb Hyunjin

Pairing: softdom!hanjisung x fem!reader x fwb!hyunjin

Synopsis: you are visiting your bf Han who has a secret to share and you end up in a sweet threesome with Hyunjin.

Word Count: I think about 4k, not sure.

CW BELOW //MDNI

CW: unprotected p in v sex, sex in front of others, cum eating, m x m stuff, tit fuck, threesome, hand job, han soft doms.

“Baby, I don’t want to spend our precious time watching a movie, when we could be enjoying each other.” you purred.

You didn’t know how or when it happened, but you'd stopped watching the movie and you were straddling Han’s lap.

He growled and grabbed your ass, his hand sliding up under your skater skirt skimming the edge of your underwear. “Well you know I can’t get enough of you right?” he nuzzled into your neck. It felt so good to be physically close.

You started to grind yourself over his hardening cock and kissed him greedily.

“Han baby, I need you inside me.” you groaned. It felt like it was all you ever said since you arrived back in town. Han smirked and shuffled you back a little so he could free his cock from his sweatpants. With your tongue poking out in excitement you positioned your entrance over him as he tugged your underwear to the side as you sunk down over him.

Han hissed through his teeth and grinned like a fool as he pushed himself deep inside you. “This is naughty.” you whispered. “What if someone comes in?” you rolled my hips so that your clitoris rubbed over his hard muscles.

“They wouldn’t be able to tell we’re actually fucking though.” he said as he rocked his hips up into you. “Our clothes are covering us. They’ll never know.” And he tugged at the hem of your skirt to make sure it was providing the coverage you needed.

“But still… are you willing to risk one of your band mates catching us?”

“Do you want to stop?” Han raised and eyebrow.

You shook your head. “No.” you didn’t want to stop. You couldn’t stop. Everything felt so perfect when you were connected.

“Who cares if someone sees us?” His hand drifted up to cup your clothed breast and he rolled his hips in particularly delicious way making you moan. “Let ‘em see how beautiful you are when you’re being fucked.”

Han’s eyes glazed over with desire as you slowly rode him. It felt a little naughty knowing that if someone were to come in the room you could just be making out. No one would really know that Han was buried inside of you.

“Gees guys, you have a fucking room, you know!” Your eyes snapped up to see Chan who had his hands thrown up in the air and desperately looking anywhere but directly at you. “We’re just kissing!” Han whined defensively. “Whatever! I’m going out and when I get back I don’t want you naked all over the living room. Or… get bodily fluids on the couch!” and with grimace Chan was out the door.

Han started giggling, making you laugh too. “Now where were we?” he grinned. He wrapped his arms around your waist and started to rock you slowly again on his cock.

All you wanted to do was beg him to fuck you hard, to lift you up off his length and brutally slam you down. You wanted him to make you scream. And because this wasn’t the time or place for loud, hard sex, it made this moment feel more intense. Resisting and holding back was what made it feel so good. With every slow thrust, you savoured the drag of his cock against your walls. Every time the head of his dick pushed up against your cervix you felt yourself melting like hot lava around him. The friction of your clit against his hard body sent shivers through you. The firm but considerate placement of his hands on your hips made you feel loved.

You loved this man underneath you. Han fucking Jisung. Your Han fucking Jisung.

You closed your eyes and tossed your head back, losing yourself in the rhythm of Han’s hips. You could do this forever. Han slowed down to a stop and you opened my eyes. Hyunjin had wandered into the living room, seemingly oblivious to our presence. With headphones on he was staring at his phone as he absentmindedly made his way to the arm chair to the left of us and sat down.

Han and you looked at each other with expressions of disbelief. You were literally impaled on his cock while his friend sat less than three metres away from you.

“Just kiss me.” He whispered, and so you met his lips in a soft kiss. But you couldn’t stop grinning and snickering. It seemed that you both felt that despite this being an awkward situation, it was also kind of thrilling too. You continued to grind on him for a good two minutes before you peeled your smiling lips away and leaned your cheek against Han’s as you both turned to observe Hyunjin.

The dancer, sensing eyes were on him, glanced up at you both. His eyes almost bulged right out his head and he dropped his phone in surprise. Or shock. Or panic. He pulled his headphones off and flailed around trying to retrieve his phone off the floor.

“Oh my God! Are you two actually fucking?” he asked shrilly. You couldn’t tell whether he was appalled or thrilled, but more importantly, was it really that obvious what you were doing? You bit your lip and looked to Han for guidance. You locked eyes and came to some unspoken understanding on how you were going to handle this.

Han could be so fucking cheeky and devious in the bedroom when he wanted to be. And from your many video calls you could tell there was a bit of an exhibitionist in him. But there was a bit of an exhibitionist in you too. So you weren't surprised, or disappointed with how he answered his friend.

“Yes Hyunjin.” Han grinned “we are actually fucking.” Your mouth opened in a big O from excitement and you looked to Hyunjin to gauge his reaction. Hyunjin couldn’t actually see anything, so what harm could it do?

Hyunjin was speechless, and visibly conflicted. He didn’t know where to look, or what to do with his hands and he kept licking and sucking his lips nervously.

You leaned in close to Han’s ear. “Baby? Do you want to keep going? Or should we go to your room? Do you want him to stay and watch? Do you want to stop?”

“I want him to watch.” He breathed. “I… I mean… if you are oka-”

“Shh” you put a finger to his lips, and sat up tall resting your hands on his chest. You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth and then started to rock again on your most favourite cock in the entire world.

Hyunjin’s mouth hung open as he watched you ride his friend. He kept swallowing hard, and biting his lip. His face looked pained and conflicted. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes looked worried. Yet he couldn’t take his eyes off you and Han.

“Hyunjin,” Han panted. God he sounded good saying his name. “Look how perfect she looks when she’s riding me.”

“I…Uh…Um..” Hyunjin couldn’t speak.

“Hyunjin,” it was your turn to say something. “You can stay and watch if you like.” you pulled up high off Han’s cock and dropped back down somewhat forcefully, drawing a loud moan from Han. “But, you don’t have to either. We don’t mind…. We don’t want to make things weird.”

“C-can I… touch myself?” Hyunjin’s voice sounded tiny and unsure. With his eyes still focused on you, Han gave the dancer permission. “Of course.” He said not taking his eyes off yours.

In your peripheral vision you could see Hyunjin reach for his fly, unzipping it and releasing his rapidly growing dick. You tried to remain focused on Han, but at the same time you were curious to watch your watcher. Han picked up the pace, as his breaths became heavier. His mouth became ravenous and his hands slid under your skirt to hold onto your ass, sliding your skirt up revealing your entire thigh.

Hyunjin let out a whimper and quickly bit his luscious lip (again) to stop more from sounds from escaping. Hyunjin liked to involve his lips in his facial expressions.

With your hands cupped around Han’s face you leaned your head against his and closed your eyes, losing yourself to this moment. Every time you had sex, you would try to memorise the feeling of him, the way he completed you so perfectly. You'd try to memorise the smell of him and how it would make every single one of your cells dance. Oh and the taste of him! You were addicted to it. Since the day you got home you couldn’t keep your mouth off him.

There were so many things you wanted to explore with Han. It was evident we both had an exploratory side from those nights when you spanked him while he had a toy up his ass, or when he videoed himself fucking you.

You had an idea. “Han, baby…” you purred. Han opened his eyes “Yes baby?”

“I was thinking…maybe…you’d wanna try that tit-fuck we talked about?” Han’s eyes widened and his mouth opened in disbelief. You knew that look. It was a look of You are naughty. And I love it. And fuck yes lets do it.

With a devilish grin you slid off his cock and down to the floor in front of him. With all of your attention on Han, you slowly brought yoiur hands to the hem of your top and pulled it off over your head and threw it on the floor by Hyunjin’s feet. You felt both the men’s eyes on you as you reached behind your back and unclipped your bra, letting it slide off and reveal your breasts. A rush of adrenaline came over you at the realisation that you had just exposed yourself to your boyfriend’s friend. You searched Han’s face to see what he was thinking. If, for even a second, you thought he was uncomfortable you'd have stopped immediately. But he didn’t look like he was a man who wanted to stop.

His eyes were playful, and the overly keen look on his face made it hard for you to play a seductive role. But you tried nonetheless, sliding your hands up your stomach to brush over your breasts and gently squeezing your nipples. Han’s stupid ass grin quickly disappeared and he subconsciously licked his lips. What is it with their tongue’s and lips?

“Fuck!” It was Hyunjin that whispered under his breath as you watched him out of the corner of your eye. His hand gripped around his cock, ready for the show.

Han shuffled closer to edge of the couch offering himself to you. He had the prettiest cock you'd ever seen. You grasped it in your hand and teased the tip with your tongue. “I just gotta get you slicked up again.” you said and slid your mouth down over his length. you could taste yourself on him. He was yours.

“Fuck… your mouth… aahhhh!” Han’s eyes rolled back as you bobbed up and down on him for a few moments. After you'd done teasing him, you removed your mouth and positioned his swollen cock between your breasts, placing your hand across the front of them to hold it in place. “You’re so soft babe!” Han managed to say before you started to massage him with your breasts. You slowly built a steady rhythm of sliding up and down up his shaft whilst trying to put on your best pornographic facial expressions. It seemed to be driving Han crazy. You stole a glance at Hyunjin, he was pumping his cock now and his eyes were glazed over, his lips were slightly parted as he stared at your breasts wrapped around his band mates dick.

Han began to pant, and started buck his hips up to get more friction. “That’s it honey, fuck my tits.” you encouraged him. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as his hips moved faster. “I… I’m gonna… oh shiiiitttt!” Spurts of cum painted your breasts, chest and even reached your chin.

“Oh my fucking god” he cried and slumped back in the couch. You leaned back resting on your hands. You loved pleasuring Han.

“C-can… um… I … can I lick that off you?” Hyunjin said quietly.

Han and you looked at each other, then at Hyunjin and back to each other. Of all the things Hyunjin could have said, that was not what you expected to come out of his mouth.

“Ummm…” you started. Hyunjin looked desperate, like he’d fall apart in despair if he didn’t get what he needed in the moment.

“I’m okay with it.” Han whispered with certainty staring at the mess he’d made on you.

“Uh… okay. Hyunjin. It’s okay. You can… lick… yeah.” You weren't really sure what was happening, or why. But you wanted to give Hyunjin what he craved, which seemed to be Han’s cum on your tits. Hyunjin moved like a feline as he crawled his way over to you, and you immediately presented him your chest. You didn’t know what to expect. Would he be greedy and hurried? Or would he be slow and deliberate?

The dancer sat beside you and slowly brought his face close to your breast. You could feel his breath on you and it sent shivers through your body. He parted his luscious pouty lips and slid that obnoxious fucking tongue out of his mouth and leaned in to delicately lick the cum on the top of your beast.

Hyunjin paused after the first lick and closed his eyes as though savouring, no, remembering, the taste. He sighed and opened his eyes. Then he slowly started to lap up the cum. He looked like he was losing himself to to moment, and it seemed that the fact that the cum was on you wasn’t what was important. It could have been on the floor and he’d still be lapping it up.

You felt an urge to put your arm around the back of Hyunjin’s head and gently hold him against you. But you weren't sure if you should. You looked up to Han for guidance but he was fixated on Hyunjin. It was almost like he was looking at him endearingly, but with lust in his eyes.

You decided to go with your instinct to hold Hyunjin, and carefully wrapped your arm around to hold the back of his head. He gradually made his way up your neck. He was so close to you, he smelled like roses and chocolate, like Turkish delight. Hyunjin had cleaned all of Han’s cum off your breasts and neck, and all that was left was your jawline. He kept his eyes downcast as he brought his sweet lips close to your skin. You could feel his breath on you, as he ever so tenderly licked along your jaw to catch the remainder of cum. You closed your eyes. And then it was over.

Hyunjin abruptly pulled away. “Thank you… but I think I need to…go…um…” He seemed embarrassed about what had just happened. He couldn’t get out of the room fast enough, stumbling a little as he disappeared down the hall.

You and Han sat in silence as you processed what had just happened. “So…” you said as you fumbled for your bra and top. “I wasn’t expecting that, hey?” You looked up to find Han frowning, his expression comparable to a lost boy.

“Baby?” you pushed. Han snapped out of his thoughts and he looked back at you softly. “That was really, really hot, babe” he began.

“But?” You knew he was holding back. “Han, I hope I didn’t do something wrong?”

Han shook his head “Oh babe, no!!!! No. You were perfect as always.” He scratched his head “it’s just… I’ve got something I want to tell you. Can we talk in my room?”

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you.” Han said sitting cross legged on the bed. You sat in front of him, giving him your undivided attention.

“Babe you can tell me anything.” you reassured him, but inside you were panicking. What could be possibly need to tell you?

He took a deep breath and then let out a long sigh. “Ok… so before we met… there’s been times when I’d feel… lonely…” he paused trying to find the courage to continue. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt nervously and kept his gaze downcast as he eventually continued. “Well… sometimes Hyunjin… he’d” Han sighed again and started blinking back tears.

“Hey…” you took his hands in yours and stroked them reassuringly. “Sometimes he’d give me blow jobs.” Han bravely lifted his gaze to meet yours. “Are you angry?”.

You let out a sigh. You didn’t know you were holding your breath. “I’m not angry. I’m glad you had someone to comfort you.” You were surprised, but at the same time not surprised.

“There’s more.”

You swallowed. More?

“One time when you and me couldn’t have our video call…oh fuck, please don’t hate me…” Han started to look visibly panicked. His breathing started to become laboured and tears he’d been holding back sprung free from his eyes.

“Han… please. Please calm down. Just breathe, okay." What could he possibly need to say to be causing him so much distress? Although, you thought you knew what he was about to say.

“Hyunjin asked if I needed anything… any comfort. He knew I missed you and he thought that it could help. He told me to imagine it was you sucking me off. Even told me to play that video I took of you through my headphones. I felt so bad afterwards.” He cried.

Wow! You took a few moments to process what he just told you. How were you supposed to feel?

Han sobbed openly now, wailing and apologising. You watched the man in front of you. How could you be angry with him? Was it wrong to not be angry? Was there something wrong with you for not being angry? All you wanted was for Han to feel happy, accepted and loved. And if Hyunjin had helped, could help, then you couldn’t be angry.

“Say something Soph! Anything!” He wailed. Your poor Han. You threw your arms around him. You could process this properly later.

“Babe! Han. I’m not angry.” Han leaned back to look at you, searching your face for any trace that you were lying. His cheeks were puffy and wet, his eyes red.

“I mean it. I’m not angry. But… please don’t be scared to tell me things. I want to know all of it. Okay?” You kissed him softly. He nodded and allowed you to hold him.

“Is everything okay?” Hyunjin was in the doorway. In fresh clothes. “Fuck! Han? Are you okay, man?” he strode into the room and sat himself next to Han and wrapped an arm around him. Han just sat sniffling, looking down at the blue bedspread.

“Is this about before? I’m sorr… it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have… you know… out there?”

Han shook his head. “It’s not that…” he looked up at Hyunjin “I told her about… you know… how you help me.” Hyunjin’s eyes widened and he sucked in a breath. His eyes flickered to yours and he looked down, swallowing hard.

“Oh.” He finally managed to say.

The awkwardness was thick. No one knew where to go from here. But you had questions.

“So,” you said finally. “I just need to get everything straight in my head.” You exhaled to prepare yourself. “Do you have feelings for each other?” You asked looking from Han to Hyunjin. “Hyunjin, how do you feel about all this… situation… with me and Han? You don’t hate me for being with Han do you?” You didn’t want to come between them, but what if Hyunjin had romantic feelings for your boyfriend?

Hyunjin chuckled lightly. “I help all the guys out when they need it. It’s part of how I support them.” He smiled. A pure, happy, honest smile.

Your eyes widened. “Oh, okay.” you answered dumbfounded, letting that sink in too.

Hyunjin leaned in towards you and smiled. “Don’t worry, I don’t want to steal your boyfriend.” He looked back at Han. “But I enjoy satisfying him.”

Your mouth fell open, and something stirred inside of you. You were fucking turned on by Hyunjin’s words, and the images that came to mind surprised you.

Images of Hyunjin taking Han’s pretty cock in his mouth. Han tangling his fingers in Hyunjin’s hair while he slides his mouth down Han’s length. Hyunjin swallowing every last drop of Han’s cum. Han and Hyunjin kissing. Hyunjin spanking Han. Han and Hyunjin fucking.

You shook your head and squeezed you eyes tight. Why were you so turned on and not jealous?

You looked at the two young men in front of you, and considered whether to ask the next question you had on your mind. They both looked back at you expectantly, waiting to see how you felt about the bombshell they just dropped.

“Well… I have one more question.” Now you were staring at the bedspread, too afraid to look at them as you asked your question. “Did you both like what happened earlier in the living room.” You bit your lip and stole a glance at the men, before returning your gaze to the mattress. “Because I did.” You added. You felt like your heartbeat filled the room it was so loud, and you knew your cheeks were burning red. You hoped that Han wouldn’t be upset.

“I liked it too.” Whispered Han. He reached out and touched your leg, and you looked up at him hopefully.

“Well… I liked it too.” Added Hyunjin. “It was fun watching Han get laid.” And he playfully punched Han in the arm.

But Han didn’t even register. His eyes were firmly on yours. He wanted to say something. And it was clear from his expression that he was mustering the courage to ask.

“What is it baby?” you whispered.

“Would you be open to…maybe having Hyunjin here… just once?”

You raised an eyebrow and looked at Hyunjin out of the corner of your eye. Were you open to having Hyunjin with you? Just once? Actually, you couldn’t think of anything more perfect.

“Baby, you still haven’t come yet. Can I please take care of you?” Han begged as he shuffled down the bed.

After your discussion on having Hyunjin join you “just once”, Hyunjin talked a little more about the dynamic and role he played in the band. He seemed to be a giver of love and he felt nothing but happiness when he saw his brothers happy. And for him the best way to support them was through physical comfort.

Somehow, during your conversation, Hyunjin decided he wanted to watch Han and you “make out” while he laid close to your side. And fuck did he watch? He didn’t take those curious, seductive eyes off of the pair of you. His expression flicking from pained, to soft, to turned on, all in a matter of seconds. It was like he was taking it all in, everything Han and you were doing, so that he could somehow use the information for later use.

Next thing you knew you were all naked and Han was between your legs eating you out whilst Hyunjin remained laying next to you, just gazing at your face, absorbing all the micro-expressions you made as Han pleasured you.

Hyunjin?” You whispered. “Don’t you think Han has the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen?”

“He does. It is the prettiest in the whole world.” He whispered back, like you were sharing a secret that no one else should know. Han whined from between your legs.

“Ahhh fuck baby that feels…. God. Han. Please. I need you inside me. I need that pretty cock inside me!” You cried.

Han knelt up and lined himself up with your entrance, and you gasped when he sunk himself into you in one swift thrust. It always felt so right with him inside you. You threw your head back relishing the stretch when your bodies connected. Han was your absolute everything. All you wanted was to please him.

Hyunjin’s attention turned to Han fucking you and he edged his way down the bed to get a closer look.

“Fuck, Han.” he sighed looking down at his cock pushing in and out of you. “She takes you so well. You really know how to fuck her good, bro.” Hyunjin bit his delicious lips, eyes fixated on watching the cock that was disappearing into your pussy. He ran his fingers through his hair and glanced up at you to see your reaction to each thrust. “

She’s so perfect on my cock.” Han panted looking up and smiling at you. Your heart melted. You closed your eyes and lost yourself to the feeling of Han’s movements.

“Han, baby.” You panted.

“Mmmhhm” he purred. You opened your eyes again. “I want you to Dom me and Hyunjin.”

Han did his classic wide eyed look of surprise and Hyunjin’s expression was one of confusion like he’d misheard you.

“I don’t know if I know how to Dom?” He responded shyly.

Hyunjin smirked “Bro! You have two people here who want to please you and do anything you say… I have faith in you!” He declared. Han looked at you.

You nodded. “Yeah. Boss us around babe!” you said and batted your eyelids mischievously.

“Okay…” Han paused to think. “Hyunjin. I need you to kiss her.. use that fucking tongue of yours.” He panted.

Hyunjin licked his lip, his expression showed that he got exactly what he wanted. He laid alongside you again and cupped your face and connected his lips with yours.

He kissed you tentatively at first, testing the waters, learning the landscape of your lips. Slowly he parted them with a nudge of his tongue and then slipped it into your mouth. Hwang Hyunjin was made for kissing. It was like he could draw so much information from you just by kissing you. His tongue danced with yours tenderly. Your head sunk back into the pillow and Hyunjin followed, still attached to your lips. Han’s rhythm matched the intensity of Hyunjin’s kisses. Tender, slow, rhythmical.

“Now I need you to touch her tits… suck them. She loves that.” Han instructed. Hyunjin took his attention to your breasts, latching on to a nipple while slowly massaging and squeezing the other. You cried out at how good it felt. Han’s hands explored your hips, your thighs, your ass. You started to writhe on the bed. Having four hands all over you was overwhelming in the most blissful way.

The two men were being so delicate and slow, but you couldn’t wait for Han to give more instructions. You could sense Hyunjin was getting needy too. He was whimpering and squeezing his eyes closed, furrowing his brow as he tried to hold back the pace. Han knew how to make you squirm, and it seemed he knew what made Hyunjin needy.

You gripped one hand around Hyunjin’s neck, the other around Han’s ass so you could grind you hips up against him.

“You wanna come do you baby?” Han asked.

“Fuck… yes please.”

“Hyunjin, touch her clit for me.” Hyunjin reached down between your legs to find your clit. The intensity of the sudden pressure shot jolts of electricity through your body. You hadn’t realised how much tension you already had in your core, and were on the brink of an orgasm.

Your moans got louder, but you didn’t care. You needed the release.

“Do you need me to fuck you harder?” Han teased. He knew you'd been dying for a hard fuck for hours. “Okay baby, I need you to come on my cock for me while Hyunjin gives your clit attention okay… and Hyunjin don’t stop till I tell you.” Hyunjin nodded. “And Hyunjin,… kiss me.” He added. “And baby… grab Hyunjin’s cock”.

Holy shit. You almost came on the spot. Han looked and sounded so hot directing you and Hyunjin like that. And so confidently too. It was cute how sometimes he’d be so shy to bring up something sexual, and other times he was fucking bold.

Within moments you were all entwined and connected. Han was rolling his hips into you at a steady but forceful pace. Hyunjin held his fingers to Han’s mouth and Han sucked his fingers, then he brought them down to your clit, pressing circles against it. Han wrapped an arm around Hyunjin’s shoulder and brought him in close.

Their eyes locked and Han swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. Hyunjin closed the space and caught Han in a messy kiss. It was different to how Hyunjin kissed you. Hyunjin already knew Han’s lips and mouth so well.

For a moment you thought Han had forgotten about you, lost in the spell of Hyunjin. “Don’t stop touching her clit, okay” he whispered gently between kisses. “Take his cock babe.” He added. You licked your hand and grasped Hyunjin’s cock. He let out a shudder. His dick was already beginning to leak. You smeared the pre-cum around to help your hand slide up and down easier, and he moaned as you began to pump him.

Hyunjin gently tugged at Han directing him to come lay on top of you, as Hyunjin moved to lay back down by your side. Han kissed you as Hyunjin nibbled your ear, his hot wet breath felt delicious against your skin. Then he’d nibble Han’s ear. Somehow, Hyunjin still had his fingers on your clit, trapped between yours and Han’s body.

Your hand continued pumping Hyunjin’s cock, and his eyes rolled back in his head as he felt his high building. You tangled your hands in Han’s hair as he continued to bury his cock in your. You wrapped your legs around his waist to hold him as close as possible, making Hyunjin’s fingers push hard in to your clit. The kisses started to become frantic. The three of you kissing each other messily, like feral animals, lost in pleasure.

“Own her Han.” Hyunjin encouraged. That tipped your over the edge and felt like liquid as you melted and pulsed around Han’s cock, sending ripples through your body.

Han came next his face contorted and strained. painting your insides just the way you like and then slumped down on you. You could tell his orgasm was intense not just physically, but emotionally too. It’d been a big afternoon for him.

Hyunjin was close too and it only took another moment before he was pulsing ropes of cum on your hand and Han’s side. It took you a while to recover, and eventually Hyunjin got up to get aftercare supplies.

“Han, baby?” you purred. He nuzzled in close to your neck. “You were perfect.”

“Baby. You are perfect.” He whispered. It seemed to be what you always told each other after sex.

“Should we let Hyunjin stay for cuddles?” You asked squeezing Han tight.

“I’d like that. I want him to spoon you.” He giggled and he closed his eyes. Hyunjin stayed for a while, curled up by your side, an arm draped over you to caress Han’s shoulder.

Han fucking Jisung. You didn’t expect this was going to happen when you came home to see him. You smiled to yourself and drifted off to sleep between the two men.

A/N This is a rework of one my very first fics from about a year ago. So it might be familiar to some. If it's your first time reading it I hope you enjoyed x. Sorsha.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @itshannjisung @noellllslut @weareapackofstrays @kangnina @queen-in-the-shadows @wolfennracha @bethanysnow @hanjisunglover

[cillianhead]

Hi, I love love love everything you write! Your so talented could you please write something about Emmett. He & y/n have arrived on the island and Emmett can't wait to make love to her without being quiet. Thank you ❤️

You are amazing thank you <3

I love Emmett...

that film was what got me into Cillian. Literally remember going nuts over how hot he was.

Anyway... hope you enjoy!!

Scream For Me || Emmett x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected P in V, oral sex (m receiving), daddy kink, breeding kink, adult content.

18+ Minors DNI

The island was safe. You kept repeating in your head, and you couldn't help but flinch as everyone spoke out loud or did something a little too noisy. You just sat and waited for the horrid creatures to get them but they never came because they couldn't swim. Emmett easily talked aloud, it was strange, this was the first time you had really heard him talk so loud. Of course, you'd speak louder than a whisper but never this openly. His voice made you feel all woozy and shy in such a pathetic way.

"I reckon we're gonna head to bed now..." Emmett murmured to the group around the fire, he looked at you, seeing your nervousness. This was only your second night on the island, you still hadn't quite adjusted yet to a comfortable bed and clean clothes... and working showers. "It was lovely talking to you all, goodnight." Emmett patted a few guys on the back, waving politely before sauntering to you.

Emmett picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, you gasped at this, looking at the people giggling at you two. They had a small empty house for the two of you to live in, it was nice enough. Nicer than anything you'd find back out on the mainland.

"So quiet," Emmett hummed as he sat you down on the foot of your bed. A look of hunger was evident on his face. "You're such a good girl, Y/N." He knelt down in front of you, torso in between your legs as he peppered kisses along your neck and collarbone.

"Emmett..." You whispered.

"No need to whisper here, sweet girl," He grinned at you. "You can be as loud as you want."

You leaned in, kissing him desperately, the way he pawed at you made you feel weak. Hands slipping underneath your cotton sweater and pulling it over your head, breaking the kiss. "No bra?" Emmett smirked before teeth sank into the top of your left breast, sucking in and creating a plum-colored bruise. He was trying to elicit a reaction out of you, trying to get you to moan, trying to get you to be loud.

"God... Em..." You said through shaky breaths, a little louder this time. He kept marking you until your entire chest was littered with love bites with teeth marks indented around it like some sort of peculiar pattern of rosettes. "Markin' you as mine," He grunted before latching a mouth onto your erect nipple. "Everyone's gonna see ya love, gonna see how you belong to me, and you're my girl" Emmett pulled away from you, pulling off his clean white shirt, revealing his chest hair and the snail trail that tucked itself away under his trousers.

"Emmett... we haven't... had sex in so long..." You bit your lip, thinking about how you had been so stressed and so busy trying to survive that you never really had time to do anything. You thought about how last night you two had separate showers. You had a long hot shower, the first in a long time. Of course, you bathed in creeks but it wasn't the same. You had been given a fresh clean razor when you first arrived on the island as well. Emmett chose to neatly trim his beard but he still kept it long. He knew how you loved his beard.

"I know, need you so fucking bad, feel..." He grabbed your wrist and placed it over his clothed cock, letting you feel how rock-hard he was. You reached up and eagerly tugged down his pants, the ones that fit him so nicely, they were slightly high-waisted and they weren't caked in dirt or old blood. You wondered what Emmett was like before this all started, you wondered how you two would've gotten along, though you quickly remembered that he had a wife before all of this. "Gonna suck my cock? Must be a special occasion, go on, baby, suck me off."

You give a timid lick to the weeping head of his cock, sighing happily at the taste of his precum on the tip of your tongue. "Don't tease." He said firmly. Emmett held you by your hair which was pulled up into a makeshift ponytail. You looked up at him as you slowly wrapped your lips around the tip, sucking harshly and feeling pleased as you see his eyes flutter shut, sinking even further down on his shaft.

Emmett's hips bucked into your mouth involuntarily, you gagged and he moaned at the sight of you. Spit dribbling out of your mouth, lips stretched around his thick cock and eyes all watery for him. One of your fingers slipped underneath your shorts, slowly rubbing at your clit and moaning around his dick as he began fucking in and out of your mouth, letting tears slip down your face.

"I love your little mouth," He grunted deliriously, hands on either side of your head as he fucked it harshly, using you like a fleshlight. "I wanna cum down your throat... fuck... but I need to be inside you." He slowly pulled his wet cock from your dribbling mouth. You gasped in for air, massaging your aching jaw as he stroked himself slowly.

"I want you to cum inside of me... please..." You whispered. He had never done that before, the last thing you two needed was for you to get pregnant during a time like this. But things were different now, you were on the island, and maybe you could raise a baby together finally. "Please... Emmett..." Your glossy eyes looked up at him, pleading silently with him.

Emmett's eyes glazed over, he looked like was high as you slipped your shorts and underwear off, revealing your freshly shaved cunt to him. His jaw fell open as he whimpered, "Fuck, look at that," Emmett let go of himself and approached you slowly, pushing you down and spreading your legs open to look down at this new look for you. "What a pretty little thing... can't believe you did this for me."

"All for you, daddy." You hummed quietly, no louder than you would when you'd fuck in the bunker. He grunted at the nickname as he fell down on top of you, holding himself up with one arm and the other helped guide his throbbing hard-on to your gushing pussy. "Are you gonna cum in me?" "So desperate for it, 'course I'm gonna fuckin' cum in ya," He remarked, pushing into you slowly. "How could I deny you of that? Especially 'cause you asked so nicely."

You arched your back, slapping a hand over your mouth to cover your moans like you always did for him as his cock was now fully sheathed within you. The stretch ached deliciously, pussy clenching around him, begging him to move.

"Fuck..." You whined, eyes rolling to the back of your head, nails digging into Emmett's strong shoulders. "Emmett..." You whispered. You were trying your best to stay quiet as he began grinding into you.

"Speak up for me," Emmett groaned, rolling his hips right into where you needed him. "Need to hear you scream for me, baby... I know you've got it in you."

You shook your head, whimpering as he fucked you like a pornstar, panting above you, mouth agape and eyes clearly displeased with your disobedient reaction. One of his nimble fingers slipped down your stomach and onto your pulsing clit, you were painfully aroused, every stroke of his dick brushing perfectly against your g-spot. Your mind goes completely blank, legs squeezing and shaking around him, nails leaving claw marks on Emmett's biceps. You couldn't help but start to scream, he was fucking you so passionately you couldn't hold it in.

"That's it," He breathily said. "That's my girl, tell me how good I'm fucking you." "So good!" You moaned, sounding like you were being railed within an inch of your life. His balls slapped against your ass and Emmett's hands now were gripping onto your hips, holding you tightly, manhandling you into the bed and using you to chase his own pleasure. You were a mess, an extremely loud mess, on the brink of tears at how good he fucked you. "God.... daddy! Oh... fuck... wanna have your babies!"

A sick grin spread across his blissed-out face, high on the feeling of your tight cunt all stretched out around him. "Then I'll give you my babies if that's what you want, gonna cream in you, gonna fill you with my cum every fuckin' night til..." He gasped out, stuttering on his words, you were squeezing him tighter than ever, his raspy tone of voice bringing you closer to cumming your brains out. "...Gonna fill you with my cum every night til... I see you walkin' round all pregnant and glowing with my kid in you."

You nodded your head desperately and cried like a slut, Emmett leaned down and intimately pressed his forehead against your own, thrusts sloppy as you felt the orgasm unleash itself upon you. The pleasure is hot and white and consuming, words incoherent as you scream out. His own seed fills you like an endless fountain, the vibrations of his own moaning in your neck send you further down that spiral of pleasure.

"Oh, daddy..." You're gasping out for air, your hands cupping your own tits as he still rutted into you, almost a bit pathetically, his cum spilling out of you as his seed just kept on coming. "So... so full..."

His eyes are squeezed shut, the veins in his forehead prominent as he slowly begins to come down. He didn't say a word as he collapsed on top of you, catching his breath, sweaty skin pressed against you. "My love... took me so well..."

"I think I was too loud..." You bit your lip, feeling incredibly flustered and embarrassed at how you knew the rest of the island probably heard your late night shenanigans.

"No such thing," Emmett pressed wet kisses along your jaw, trailing them until he reached your lips. "Prettiest thing I've ever heard." He whispered, speaking right into your mouth. "I'm gonna make you scream until your throat is raw, I'm addicted to your sounds."

You could feel him grow hard again and his hungry lips took yours in his again and the screaming began again, this time concealed within a kiss.

-

[chxrrydrxp]

𝒻ℴ𝓇𝒷𝒾𝒹𝒹ℯ𝓃 𝒻𝓇𝓊𝒾𝓉

(Jason x Dicks Ex! Reader)

blurb coming soon yall

word count: 1.3k

chapter 1

chapter 2

( reader is pissing me off like I know I made her but I'm really bouta rock her shit)

Jason shut the door behind him with a click. You sat back down on your couch, once again bringing your knees to your chest. “I'm fine Jason. You didn't have to come all the way here.”

He took a seat beside you, leaning comfortably on the soft cushions. You stared into your hands. A few minutes passed, and the silence between you began to make you fidgety. From the corner of your eye, you could see him mindlessly fumbling with your keys.

The silence burned a little longer until you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. “How long will it go on like this?” You questioned. Jason removed a keychain that had your initial and began prodding at it. “For as long as you let it,” he said with his eyes still on the letter.

You glanced over at him, trying to find something wrong with what he said. But you couldn't. He was right. He was so right and you hated it. “But I love him.” You felt him flinch for a second, but it must've been a shiver from the cold.

He finally turned to look at you, then slowly lifted a hand to wipe away a stray tear. He leaned further into the cushion and looked up at the ceiling. “Is love enough?” You sniffled and stood up from the couch. “I need some air, you wanna go for a walk?”

...

If there was one thing all Gothamites could agree on, it was that Gotham always looked better at night. At nights when you can't see the polluted air, and it's harder to see the trash flooding the sidewalks, or the occasional dead body that often gets mistaken for a hobo. Gotham had a beauty that few understood. Its beauty didn't come from the visible gap in the social hierarchy that kept the nightlife…relevant to say the least. Its beauty shines from the cracks. The little imperfections on the sidewalk allowed pretty flowers to bloom from within. The hidden alleys and caves are covered in spores and overgrown vines. Somehow you ended up stumbling past stubborn weeds in some wet alley that smelled of… never mind you didn't even wanna think about it. “Jason, what the hell is this?” You wiped your hands on your jacket.

“You'll see, just keep up. Oh, and watch your step or you might lose a leg. Potholes.” You blinked at him in disbelief. “What the fuck Jason? I said I wanted to go on a walk, not lose my leg.” He ignored you. “Found em.”

You made your way over to him, leaning over his shoulder. “What? mushrooms?” You glanced down at the far end of the stone alleyway. “All of this just to look at some mushrooms?”

“Not just any Mushrooms, they're luminous.” You turned his head over to look at you with your eyebrows furrowed. His oblivious expression instantly evaporated any frustration this trip brought you. “I can't with you…” You let out a soft laugh. “If this was your attempt to distract me from my recurring misery, it worked.” Jason grinned and kneeled to the family of mushrooms huddled in the moist corner. “Don't touch em’ they've got a sting that hurts like a bitch.” He pulled out a plastic bag and put on a leather glove. “What are you doing??” He broke the mushroom off from the stem. “Got a friend that's into this kinda stuff.”

“What..the..-" Your phone buzzed in your pocket. The name set in the contact made your heart drop. Jason must've sensed your hesitation, because he added, “Go ahead.” You answered the phone, backing up behind a wall for privacy. “Dick?” No answer. You heard shuffling in the background, along with laughter. A woman's laughter. You repeated his name to no avail. You realized you recognized the female voice to be Dick's coworker.

The one who just happens to be the topic of your argument with him. You hung up the phone and stared at the other side of the mossy stone walls. You heard shuffling, and Jason came to stand in front of you, bag in hand. “You good?” “He's with her right now.

Guess he accidentally butt-dialed me. Huh. Maybe he did it on purpose. Perhaps to knock some obvious sense into my head.” Jason signed, running his fingers through his hair. “Wanna go find out?” Your heart sank. “W-what?” You questioned as if this wasn't exactly what you were thinking. the second he asked, you'd already decided what your answer was. You needed this.

You know you did. Maybe if you witnessed the cheating first-hand it'd give you the answer you begged from him. "What if they're just working, I can't just assume-.” Jason now stood closer, gripping your arm sleeve. “What the hell is wrong with you?” “I don't know what you're-” He gripped your arm tighter, but not enough to hurt you.

“Don't gimme that. What, you're gonna just ignore this one as well? We could go there right now. You'll finally be able to see it with your own eyes, and you're not gonna go?”

He didn't notice the tears that began quickly streaming down your cheeks. You fought to keep your voice steady. “I know. I know damn it. I just…can't.” He stared into your eyes for a hard minute, then dropped your hand. “Fuck it. Don't go then.

But I'm not gonna sit here and watch you do this to yourself.”

You looked down at your feet, speechless. Jason sighed. “Come on, I'm taking you home.”

Silence. The entire walk back home was filled with silence, all the way up until you both reached your front door. Jason dug his hands in his pockets, avoiding your eyes as you searched for any sympathy. “Jason.” He looked up, maintaining his silence. Maybe for a second he'd hoped you'd invite him in. Instead, “Please don't say anything to Dick. Just leave it alone, alright? Please.” He hated the desperation in your quivering voice. It sounded like you were on the brink of shattering into nothing. He simply nodded, and turned away. “Be safe,” was all he said before walking away. You shut your door, dropping your things to the floor and sitting at the dining room table. You hesitantly opened your phone, and to your surprise, saw a text from Dick.

Dick: hey, you awake? i wanna talk.

Your heart hammered in your chest. You opened the message and saw that he was typing.

Dick: can you come over?

So that's exactly what you did. You picked up your things, and walked out the door, not noticing Jason in the distance, leaning against the rusted bars that fenced your apartment.

tag list: @12134z03 @xxsweetnlowxx @broadwayotakufairy @harleycao @johnnysilverhandeeznuts @calicocat45

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hello~!

So may I request a poly ghost face (from 1996) where they have an autistic trans!reader. Ik a lot (I'm projecting) the reader stims vocally by mimicking what they say, and they have a special interest (am like bugs, gore, sharks, dinosaurs, something around those lines yk? I feel like gore would fit) the reader rambles and rants Abt their special interest a lot! Just those kinds of things. I feel like you'd be able to capture this perfectly, thank you! Have a wonderful time zone :)

Poly Ghostface x autistic trans male reader

Headcanons

I always headcanon Stu as having something like ADHD, or just more hyperactive autism.

Been a while since I wrote about these two, huh? I’ve kinda missed em, ngl. Hope it’s alright I took some liberties with the hyperfixations :)

I can imagine that maybe you were friends with Stu when you were kids, because you were both “weird” in other people’s opinion. Stu because he was too hyperactive and could never sit still, and you because of your weird interests and how you were quite antisocial at times.

Time would pass, you guys would grow older. Stu would become someone popular, as his erratic and hyper personality becomes something others admire because he’s fun, whilst you stay being the weirdo with too much interest in medical texts, insects, and decomposition.

Neither of you meant to do it, but you would grow apart. Stu would get his new friends, specifically Billy, and you would stay by yourself burying yourself in your special interests. Its not strange to find you flipping through medical books or books about the horrors of war and medical malpractice. The more pictures the better.

When its not medical texts and war pictures with as much gorey detail as possible in the text and pictures, you can be found reading about death and the work of being a mortician, the way a body decays, and all that.

And when its neither of those things, you can be found looks at bugs, lifting rocks or moving trash to see what critters you can find. You have a sketchbook you like to draw in, three ones at that, one for each hyperfixation since you don’t wanna mix the information in them.

Its in the many niche medical books you learn about being transgender, and suddenly how uncomfortable you are in your own body makes sense. You don’t need any friends, or your families support to transition, that’s what you tell yourself at least.

You haven’t really had any real friends since you split form Stu when you were kids, and your creepy interests chase off anyone who might attempt to befriend you.

So, when you show up one day to school and openly tell people you are now a boy, no one really questions it, because why would they? You’re already weird, and compared to all your other quirks, being a boy is probably the most normal thing about you.

Through all these years you haven’t experienced as much bullying as you probably would have anywhere else, all thanks to Billy and Stu.

Stu because he still sees you as his friend in some way, and Billy because he’s fascinated by you. One day after you had come out, he walked behind you and saw you drawing detailed diagrams of top surgery in grotesque detail, and Billy has been hooked since.

At some point you and Billy would end up talking, one way or another. Maybe it was at the video store around Halloween one night, maybe the year Sidney’s mom died, and Billy would ask your opinion on the horror movie selection.

Youd grimace and say they sucked since the gore was so unrealistic, which Billy, the freak, would definitely ask into why you thought so. This would lead to you infodumping to him for a long time, going through multiple movies and explaining how its unrealistic and what would have made it better.

As infodumping goes, you don’t even realize how long you’ve been standing there talking to one of the hottest guy at your school about fictional gore, until Randy has to tell you guys that the store is closing soon.

You end up getting real embarrassed about wasting his time like that, which Billy is quick to tell you that nothing was wasted because he loved talking about it with you and hearing what you had to say. He would love to talk again some time.

You don’t really believe him, until he searches you out the next day in your shared free period when you are sitting outside drawing bugs and beetles, dragging Stu with him of all people. You haven’t actually interacted with Stu in a while, so you cringe and get jitters when he hugs you and gets into your personal space.

Its Billy who has to remind him of personal space, and before you know it, they’ve asked in about your special interests, and then they just sit back as you infodump and show them the pictures and drawings you have in all three of your sketchbooks, making the two Woodsboro killers fall for you harder and harder.

Time would pass and you three would start spending a lot of time together, Billy and Stu always hanging around you to listen to what you have to say, never growing tired no matter how much you infodump.

Stu would be the first to confess his feelings, as he feels fast and he feels strong, so one day when you two are laying on his bed and you’re talking about the difference between two beetles who look almost the exact same, whilst also talking about lungs and how they’re built, Stu just leans over and kisses you.

You would be so confused, until Stu tells you that he really likes you, he would even spill the beans that Billy feels the same way too. As if summoned, Billy would show up and Stu would be all like “right Billy? You like him too, right?” and Billy would facepalm cuz he planned on confessing in a much better way.

But hed agree and say he fell pretty damn hard for you, but neither rushes you in your decision as they know it’s a big step. I can imagine Stu also rambling about how hes always liked you since you were kids, even before you transitioned, and how he actually started liking you even more afterwards because you looked so much more comfortable with yourself and who you were.

At some point you would come to the conclusion that you felt the same way, and boom, now you got two boyfriends who like you for who you are, and would stab a bitch if they tried to disrespect you in any way, shape, or form.

When the ghostface killings happen, you wouldn’t be at the party since they are super overstimulating, but you would go to the hospital to check on Billy and Stu since they are the only “survivors”.

I thought it would be funny if you developed a special interest in the ghostface killers and started a fourth sketchbook filled with your notes and theories, but you would keep it hidden form Billy and Stu because you fear it would trigger their trauma, since you don’t know they are the killers.

The fourth sketchbook would also have rants you can’t put anywhere else, like how certain people have hatecrimed you because of your gender, or because you are “weird”, and how some dark sick part of your brain wants the ghostface killers to kill them.

At some point your boyfriends would find the sketchbook and go through it together, whistling as they see the detailed analysis made for each kill, and how you are so close to figuring it out. But when they read all the stuff you’ve written you never told them, it angers them that people have been hurting you without them knowing.

You wouldn’t have told them since you didn’t want to worry them, and it wasn’t their fight in your opinion. Billy and Stu decide that they have to pull out the masks once more, seems they have a couple of horrible people to get rid of for mistreating you.

Imagine your surprise when one night you walk into your room stimming with both your hands and repeating stuff that Billy and Stu said earlier that day, only to find not one, but two people wearing ghostface gear in your room.

It takes you a little too long to even spot them as you were scribbling in your death sketchbook, having gotten a sudden spark of inspiration on the way home from your apprenticeship as the local funeral home.

You almost get to scream before they pounce, never actually hurting you but clamping a hand over your mouth, their gloves wet with what you can smell is blood. After they make you promise to stay quiet, they unmask and reveal who they are.

You buffer like an old computer for a little too long, before smacking the shit out of both of them, wacking them in the chest for not telling you. Your opinion on death and murder are probably really twisted, and the people they’ve killed have either hurt you or you had no relationship with them.

It does light up every light in your hyperfixations though, and you might demand them to explain what killing someone is like, or what a freshly killed body looks like for your sketchbooks.

Billy would grin and try to kiss you, because how can you be so perfect? But you’d wave him off with a grimace and demand Stu explain once again what it was like stabbing someone so you can get it all down in your book.

I don’t know if youd join them as a third Ghostface, but they might take you along every now and then, letting you roam the place after they’ve done their thing if the chance is there. I could imagine them taking pictures of things for you too.

I’m imagining them both dressed up as ghostface, except no mask, both kissing at your cheeks and neck and being all lovey dovey and almost purring, whilst you are sketching down the different pictures and notes about them.

They love you so much, its insane. You’re gonna have them hanging on you for the rest of your life, sorry man, I don’t make the rules. Even if you move to another city and start studying to be a professor or like, investigator for the FBI, they would go with you. It would even help them in their Ghostface work as you are an expert in them not getting caught.

[humiliatemeplesse]

You went to one of the gay bars in the city to meet the guy you had been chatting with online. You already thought he was good looking, smart, and he was definitely dominant. And you knew from your exchanges that he was definitely a little kinky too. So you were excited to finally meet him, and of course nervous. When he actually showed up you were a little surprised. You hear so many stories of guys meeting online and one never shows when the two of you set something up. After a little talking and a few beers, the conversation started to turn sexual. Being a little buzzed, at one point you told him that you had a fetish for guy's sweaty smelly socked feet. He didn't laugh or act like you you were a freak, he just looked you straight in the eye with a little intensity and took about swig of his beer. Then, all of a sudden he sat down on one of the few chairs near the two of you. He slipped off his boot exposing his big, white athletic socked foot. "Get down and kiss it" he said. You started to get a hard on but you also got nervous, you were right out in front of everyone. "I said get down and kiss it" he said and from the look on his face and his tone of voice you knew he was serious. But you still just stood there, afraid to do it in front of all the guys in the bar. "Look, if you don't get down now and kiss my sweaty dirty smelly socked foot, I'm outta here. Do you know how many guys would beg me to do this to them? I can leave here and get on Grindr and find ten in ten minutes, so make up your mind fast boy." You didn't want to lose this guy, especially because he was into satisfying your fetish, so you got down on your knees in front of the whole bar and kissed his socked foot. It smelled pretty strong having been sweating in his leather boots and like he hadn't changed them for a couple of days. "Keep going boy, one fucking kiss isn't going to cut it, keep going, show me how bad you want it." So you started kissing them intensely. You forgot about everyone looking at you. You were rock hard. "Sniff 'em." You started sniffing hard and deep. He started rubbing them all over your face. You heard some guys thinking you were disgusting, that you were a freak. You heard others just laughing at you. Part of you was embarrassed but the other part of you was so satisfied, felt exactly where you belonged. You just kept kissing and sniffing his sweaty socked feet as he watched and drank his beer. It went on like this for probably half an hour. Then he took his foot away and put his boot back on. "Good boy. Next time, don't hesitate one fucking second when I tell you to do something or I'll be gone so fast it'll make your head spin." You heard yourself say "Yes Sir " He got up and said "I'll contact you when I'm available, we'll do this again. Maybe at a restaurant I'm thinking. Who knows. It depends how I'm feeling at the moment. Now after I leave you stay here for one hour. One hour. I want you to have to stand here alone with all these guys looking at you for what you are, a little faggot sock sniffer, so desperate to sniff a man's sweaty socked feet that you'll humiliate yourself in public." And then he walked out. You waited the hour he told you to and you got a lot of dirty and weird looks and a few guys even called you a freak and fucked up and told you to leave the bar. When you got home you laid on your bed and relived the entire scene in your mind as you jerked off and came in just a few minutes. The next day you were looking at your phone every fifteen minutes at work, desperately waiting for him to contact you again. You realized you were his bitch now. He knew your passion, your deep need, and all he had to do was stick his sweaty socked feet in your face and you'd do anything for him. And you knew he knew it too.

[heli0s-writes]

Sweet

A/n: You know how sometimes when you’re having a breakdown and nothing is helping but then something completely unrelated and stupid just does it for no reason. This is that. With pot brownies and kissing. Bucky is recovering and reader is an moron with a heart of gold. Angst, hurt/comfort, humor. Reader/Bucky. 3k words Warnings: Marijuana use; conversations about trauma, particularly food-related; language.

-

The path leading away from the cabin is littered with wet patches of morning. Rime colors of miserable winter in sludge grey are starting to be overtaken by sprouts of green, yellow, and brisk dew, springtime optimism come to life.

Pepper’s got the front of her house looking like a farmer’s market flower stand. Pots of tulips and daffodils explode up the steps and tri-color ribbons connecting porch-light to porch-light. The magnolia tree is soon to bud, and she’s hung hummingbird feeders and birdhouses all around.

When the cars start rolling in for the quarter-yearly potluck, you hang out near the garden, rocking back and forth on your feet. You'd shown up early but didn’t know what to do around a toddler, so outside it was.

The familiar Range Rover halts to a stop, Sam’s door opening as he makes his way out, holding ceramic handles of an enormous crockpot.

You call, “Bring your famous chili?”

“Damn right, I did,” he beams, “you bring your appetite?”

You waggle your eyebrows before looking to the SUV he hopped out of, Steve lingering by the back door with a brown paper box tucked beneath his arm, knocking on the heavily tinted windows with a long-suffering sigh. “C’mon, Buck. Up and at ‘em.”

A loud, decisive knock thumps back at him and Steve rolls his big, pitiful, puppy dog eyes in your direction. Beneath the blue of his left orbital is what looks suspiciously like the fading ochre stain of either an almost healed bruise or a newly forming one, which only makes Steve’s silent call for aid more pathetic and urgent.

Damn, okay. Since you’re kind of on thin ice already, this could go one of two ways.

Sliding up, you crack your knuckles.

“Barnes,” you call, “I got something illegal for you. Wanna see?”

“Dead body.” He responds from behind the still shut door, and you’re not sure if that’s a question. Steve glares at you accusatory, as if you’d actually bring a dead body to a potluck, good grief.

“Uh, no.”

“Knife.”

Steve shoots you another look—which is just ridiculous at this point, the both of them.

“Knives aren’t illegal.”

“Depends.”

Steve shifts the box of what looks to be cherry turnovers and mouths phrase day, which means that Barnes decided to stop talking in complete sentences sometime between when he woke up and probably when Steve over-crowded him and is now reducing all communication to two or three words as both a method of punishment for Steve and self-preservation for Barnes.

“It’ll make you feel better,” you urge, “Loads better.”

“Sex.” He rolls down the window just enough for you to get a glimpse of his eyes, narrowed and steely. “Drugs?”

You mouth bingo, outrightly ignoring the fact that it feels like Bucky Barnes nearly solicited you for sex, and Steve puts his hand over his own face, about to quip until he realizes that he’s probably said too much already—which is what got him in this predicament to begin with—and simply drags himself toward the house.

Barnes watches him go wordlessly before he opens the door and steps out, looking down at you, lightly shivering in the cold, and says, still one-worded, “Okay.”

-

He pops three brownies into his mouth and chews, opening just enough to get out a muffled, “too sweet” before returning to grinding down like he’s cracking pecan shells in there.

“I know you have like,” you make panicked motions with your fingers, snapping the red Tupperware lid back down frantically, “hella metabolism, but pump the brakes or you’re going to flip.”

“Flip,” he concludes, determined. He squirrels about two more in before you can do anything about it.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! I was going to let you take those home later—oh my god, I’m going to get into so much trouble.”

The two of you are stopped at one of those cutesy stone birdbaths around the perimeter, leaning on the lip as Barnes licks remaining chocolate off his fingers, looking as pleased as punch. As much as he can look, anyway, you think, since you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him smile at anything other than the time Steve stubbed his toe bad enough on Tony’s kitchen island that he doubled over. 

“Did you say sex earlier?” You suddenly remember the flash of silver from the darkness of the SUV. “Wait, actually, I wanna go back even before that—did you really think I’d have a dead body?”

He shrugs.

“Cool,” you reply, “cool, cool, cool, cool. I think I should be more concerned, but you know what, I like it. Feels like a vote of confidence.”

A wide grin stretches across your face and you temporarily forget that Bucky fucking Barnes has eaten about half a pan of brownies with 25 grams of pot baked into them, that in about 15 minutes you’re both expected to sit down like normal people and have a nice dinner without anyone doing… whatever it is that he might do when he’s blazed to high heaven.

You shake the thought of Steve’s disappointment out of your head. Maybe it’d be best to keep acting natural, get him into some kind of headspace.

“So,” you whistle, “what’d you bring to the potluck?”

He gives you a sidelong stare and if there were Olympics for how someone can convey eat shit and die without moving anything but their eyes, he’d win every 8 years for the rest of his unnaturally long life.

“Well, I brought myself,” you curtsy, starting back down the trail again, figuring that you’ve got five minutes walking forward before it’d be time to turn back to the house, “and your present,” to which he gives you a short nod, “and an empty stomach. You excited for Sam’s chili?”

“Spicy.”

“Spicy?” you recoil, suddenly finding the prospect of a man who gave Captain America a black eye last week or possibly this morning—the monster who ate half of your most lethal bake—panting and sweating over a bowl of chili astoundingly inconceivable.

“Oh wait, you live with Rogers. What’s he feeding you at home? Steamed chicken?”

“Baked.”

You sigh, “God, you’re fucked. Nat brought something with Carolina Reaper infused honey glaze. Barnes... we’ll have to do a prayer circle for your ass.”

His face twists into a look of disgust before he starts to notice his lips, pressing them together, pulling them apart. After a few more motions like he’s discovering his body, bit by bit, he turns to you, and announces, “Feeling it.”

You laugh, jealous, because although you had a bite about 30 minutes before he even arrived, the brownie hasn’t hit you yet. “Good,” you say anyway, “that’s good, right?”

He only apathetically regards a sparrow flying past. You suppress a chortle when Barnes repeatedly licks his lips and rubs at the sleeves of his sweater.

“Have you ever been high before?” You correct, “In the fun, recreational, consensual way?”

Another listless shrug before he turns his head. You push yourself off a nearby log and make a show of stomping through haphazard piles of sticks and dead leaves, curling your fingers in a come along motion.

He follows, boots crunching, steps short and patternless, making a racket behind your back. He looks like a kid, fingers tucked up into his long sleeves, bouncy knees as he attempts to splash into every puddle as he possibly can before catching up. He’s almost got a grin when he looks at you, remembering where he is again, and there’s a light brush of color along the tops of his cheeks from the chill.

Around a small bend in the path, you duck under a branch, hop over a stone, and when you land back on both feet, the ground wobbles just enough to notice.

The air smells nice. Your eyelids feel heavy in a good way.

“Steve really piss you off this morning, didn’t he?”

Barnes lands a couple of feet away, his face dropping into an exhausted expression at the question, which you can’t fault him for because Steve’s a lot of things. Simple things, on the surface, but Barnes has known him longer than most anyone else and you imagine all of his noble qualities—his longstanding patience and willpower and belief in the goodness in everything and everyone—you imagine that shit gets old.

Hell, it gets at you on occasion, and you’re not even the brainwashed best friend who’s probably hearing a hundred voices in his head and is too tired to hear one more no matter how well-intentioned it might be.

Sometimes, being inundated by language just breaks it all back into foreign, incomprehensible script. And sometimes, being exceedingly plied with something you can’t make any sense of makes you turn inward, makes you bare your teeth in self-defense.

Which makes you realize you probably should ease up, too, talk less, but then he takes a long step with his ridiculous legs and is by your side, walking as if you two do this all the time.

“He’s a fixer.” Bucky’s brows are scrunched together, hands buried in his pockets. You nod quickly, not wanting him to go into any more detail than that because it’s not news that the entire population is still wary of Bucky Barnes’ re-emergence as a United States citizen when he was, up until very recently, a—uh, Russian one.

This, obviously, puts many things at odds with each other, including Steve, who is Mr. United States himself. The Avengers, too, who are mostly Team United States, considering the location and overwhelming population. But most of all, Bucky, who is still cobbling together bits and pieces of his life each day, is faced with the knowledge that everyone in the world knows more about him than he does.

You rub the back of your neck sympathetically because that shit would kill your heart so fast.

“You know what.” You shake the Tupperware at him, “Have the rest of these. You deserve it. And like, a million hugs.”

He barks a laugh, gladly gulps down the rest, and there’s a dapple of fudge on his chin looking so silly and sweet as he chews.

Ah, shoot. You avert your gaze, feeling very bad ideas break out up your arms and neck, and the shudder that is about to overtake you seems less about Barnes’ sweet face and more about Steve’s disappointed one. Like, he’s going to read your mind and know you’re having ideas about his best friend. And he’s going to do that thing where his eyebrows drop and his lips press together as he attempts to hold back a few choice words. Until later, probably, when he corners you somewhere and unleashes them anyway.

What were you thinking?, he’ll hiss. Are you capable of thinking rationally?

“What?” Barnes prods. “What is it?”

“Nothin’” you take a leap forward, herding the both of you back. The closer you are to the cabin the more you’ll remember that you’re at a family event, with friends, who should all stay in the friend territory.

But you blurt anyway, “You said sex earlier!” Because you’re a whole ass idiot.

He makes a small noise, says, “Yeah,” like that’s any help.

“Are you…” what the fuck, your head is spinning, “like, in… need of some?” Your face feels hot.

“Maybe. My body is…” he frowns, so weirdly open right now, and then he looks at you with half is face in a weary grin, the other half lost and confused. “Responding to stimuli in ways I haven’t— responded to in... Trying to fix it. Steve wants me to be fixed.”

He tilts his face to the sky, glaring at it. “Can’t get it out.”

You’re trying to force your rabbiting heart down to a manageable pace. You’ve never had any in-depth discussions with him about anything, much less his sex drive. The most interaction the two of you get is the occasional mission or get-together where you crack jokes and get shitfaced when the job’s done. You’ve been told you’re sort of a pain and haven’t given a fuck too much to change that.

You’re sort of in trouble right now, having been “irrational” during the last mission, running across the iced lake instead of taking the planned route and falling in. It ended up working out, since you got to the enemy helicopter before the enemies, but then there was the stabbing because you were sort of outnumbered and the pneumonia afterwards because you fell into the fucking lake…

There was a massive chewing out. Steve and his many, disappointed words.

Something about motor-mouths and low-object permanence but sure, good on the inside when it counts.

You hope this is one of those times where it counts.

“Listen,” you start. “Take as long as you need, there’s no rush on recovery and pushing yourself too hard is detrimental to your health. It’s not a straight line.”

“I hit him.”

Your wheeling brain is making a sharp left, trying to figure out where Barnes is driving toward. Oh. The black eye.

“Aw, Steve?” You wave your hand, swatting nothing. “He’s a big boy.”

“I’m hungry. Then I’m not.”

“I mean, that sounds normal—“

“No, a lot. Fast. Cyclical. Endless.”

It must be his metabolism adjusting. The realization of his relationship with food comes fast, almost visceral. Scarce when he was young, then rationed during the war before it was taken from him altogether. He was given the bare minimum with Hydra—protein slurry, tube-fed—then purged—stomach pumped—before being put on ice.

For decades.

Starvation must have truly felt endless.

And now with food being a surplus, with his body readjusting to it, yet his mind still struggling with habits—it must be so confusing. Another seemingly natural function to be confused about.

“Ah,” you manage, a lump in your throat like a blockade.

“I get nightmares.” He’s glaring at his hands, one flesh, one metal, opening and closing his fist like trying to get a grip on himself, and his voice is so small and pained. “These thoughts. All sorts. Can’t sleep.”

You extend your hands, shake off the dry sob that wants to erupt from your chest, and declare with flourish, “On the fourth day, God made Purple Kush, and it was good. So, we can—we can fix that.”

He takes another one of those long looks, through his lashes, lips quirked in quiet humor.

“You’re not really a fixer.”

He shakes the container of crumbs in your face.

You gasp, snatching it back in offense. “I can fix… some things! I replaced the utility light in the kitchen yesterday!“

Your cheeks are hot, face twitching like a broken screen because all you can think about is how handsome he is, out here like this, nose blushing, eyes lazy and crescent shaped, the heavy creases beneath them less pained and more relaxed.

And how he’s teasing you—- and he’s kind of a little shit.

“You fucker,” you say.

He grins—all big and silent, and for a second you count your blessings that he’s not going to say anything else shitty until he quips, “Not unless you’re offering.”

He’s staring at you intently, a curious expression winding its way up his face. His eyes are huge and blue and the most alert, glazed-over, pair of bloodshot, redder-than-the-devil’s-dick eyes you’ve ever seen on anyone stoned halfway to the moon.

His tongue darts out, sweeps a slow, careful line over the width of his bottom lip, practically asking, and you’re just the simple idiot who openly gawks at him.

“Ah,” you nod. “Yeah you’re definitely right. I’m—“ you gulp, “more of a fuck-up.”

Because what’s another fuck up to add onto the long-running list of fuck ups you’ve had recently, anyway? Kissing Barnes might count as a really serious one, sure, but at least it’s not pneumonia.

It’d make him feel better, probably, it’d make him feel something, at least. Steve would appreciate that, if Barnes came to the dinner table verbal, maybe even laughing. No one has to tell Steve that his best pal kissed your face off in the woods.

The idea of your face being kissed off is doing a number on you. The idea of Bucky Barnes, this gorgeous, miserable, godly, tragic contradiction, your at-arm’s-length teammate, your quickly-becoming friend, kissing your face off because he needs to feel something soft in the midst of the rest of the horrible, jagged things he already feels every second of his life—and he can get it from you.

You’re stupid and simple and how could anyone say no to that? So you take one last second to steel your heart, push forward, and lean in.

It’s, frankly, bizarre.

He kisses you gently, fantastically, inconsistently, wavering from assured one second to apprehensive the next, like he remembers how but can’t quite execute.

You meet him where you can, respond to the parting of his lips with your own, adjust to his tension with grace, and when he starts feeling like he’s getting the hang of it, like muscle memory has  finally settled into his body, you let him lead.

One hand finds the base of your skull, the other placing itself on your waist. His kisses grow greedy, like he remembers desire is a thing that occurs to him. He tilts his head down, kisses up like he wants to swallow every sigh between your lips, like he’s hungry for the sounds you make—and you’re making, embarrassingly, a lot of them. He’s good—dominant but kind, mouth wide, lips full, tongue cocoa-sweet and clever as it strokes yours again and again.

When he backs you up into a tree, you barely register it. His hand has moved to cushion your head, and he’s urging his entire body forward into yours, grip tight at your hipbone, moving his mouth to your jaw, then your neck, and you stutter a string of letters that refuse to make words.

Barnes is expertly sucking marks beneath your collar, right beneath the neckline, his breath hot and coming out in a near snarl and when he scrapes his teeth down, sinking them into the soft skin of your chest, you yelp loud enough to send a few birds scattering from the trees.

He jumps off like he’s burned you, eyes frantic, afraid.

“No—” you clear your throat, hands out, “Hold on.”

He’s blinking, head clearing, head trying to assess what he’s done, the situation, the pulled loose neckline, the wet shine of his spit up your throat.

“S-sorry—”

“No, don’t be sorry.” You give him his distance but take a small step forward. “That was hot. But,”

He blinks, confused, and this whole thing could easily go pear-shaped, your well-intentioned explanation might turn into unintelligible speech at any moment, but you have to try or else he’ll tailspin into catastrophe, and you suddenly feel so sorry for Steve, the poor fuck who’s doing this every day, clinging onto the hope that what he’s saying doesn’t set Bucky off, doesn’t push his boulder back downhill.

He's still stuttering sorry, starting to pace.

“Listen,” you say firmly, clipping your own panic, “that was wow, let me tell you. But if you don’t stop, I’m going to like— hotwire a car.”

Somehow this stops him in his tracks, “What?”

“Well, I didn’t drive here. Because you know, I was going to like, get really shitfaced.”

“What?”

“Yeah, and like, take you to a hotel or something.”

He frowns, obviously completely lost. “Why?”

It’s your turn to be lost. Both of you open-mouthed and panting at each other like two dumb dogs chasing each others’ tail in an ouroboros of idiocy.

“Huh? What do you mean why? You just tongue-fucked me, do you think I’m immune to getting on my knees for that?”

Now you can see it happening—the incomprehensible speech like a marquee as it runs across Barnes’ brain. Tongue-fuck, immune to getting on my knees. He doesn’t understand any of that, and god bless any soul who can. What language are you even speaking right now other than hot-brained, hot-skinned, hot-hearted to him, who’s still struggling to defrost?

“Never mind,” you redact, “ignore that.” You put your hands on his shoulders to ground yourself, vaguely thinking that maybe you shouldn’t touch him but the firm slap of your palms seems to break him out of his new trance. “Can we kiss again, later?”

He blinks, staring at you, at your hands on him, at your lips all swollen up.

“Yes.”

You sigh, relieved and thankful that other than you, no one’s freaking out, that your plan to get Bucky Barnes high worked out after all, and that he has agreed to make out later because he’s really, really good at it.

“Wonderful. Let’s go back now? Are you ready?”

He mulls it over and shoves his hands into his jacket pockets. “Sure, but I’m not eating chili.”

“Well, you’re in luck, there’s plenty of chicken.”

He grimaces, cuts a sharp look up to you before a twinkle settles in his blue, blue eyes. “Okay,” he agrees, “guess we should do a prayer circle for my ass.”

You clap your hands together and recite Our Father.

-

“It was sex, wasn’t it?”

Sam’s got one hand over his belly, snickering. Everyone else looks your way, gullible, scandalized, and you can’t blame them since the two of you were gone an awfully long time and came back extremely disheveled.

Bucky had walked in dutifully behind you, wiped off his boots, sat down at the dinner table, and asked for seconds saying please and thank you and he even threw in a that was delicious just to watch Steve’s head explode.

And Bucky, who you’ve come to realize is genuinely a shit— still one-worded and knowing full well the repercussions of his one word— only shrugs and responds, “Yes.”

The room erupts into shouting as you throw a buttered roll at his head. He catches it easily and brings it up to his grinning mouth, shimmer of spit glossy and fantastic on his lips.

[trashcanfanfics]

Can you please write a oneshot about Alastor after he had a fight with reader, and he clearly was the one in the wrong. What does he do to make it up? Does he realize it himself or does someone like Rosie or someone from the hotel have to point it out to him. Does he feel guilty? Did he make reader cry? Sorry if this is too much or too sad.

What a way to rise from the dead

He doesn't know what happened, really. One second he was telling jokes and you were laughing, the next you were in a heated argument. Something about him trying to push a punchline that you thought was hurtful and him disagreeing heavily. The argument was brief and he just didn't close his damned mouth fast enough.

"Perhaps you should learn to just take a joke, my dear. Wouldn't want to become a flat tire, now, would we?" His ever present smile held more condescension than he'd ever directed towards you before. your fists shook at your sides and you glared at him with all the rage and heartbreak you felt.

"I need space." And with that, you'd turned on your heel and left the hotel entirely. Alastor shrugged it off and sat down at the concierge-slash-bar to enjoy a drink.

It had been hours since then and Alastor hadn't made any moves to try to find you or remedy the situation. He did notice that his drinks have all tasted sour. At some point he knew he was going to have to face you again. The feeling in his stomach was curious but he was sure it's because of the amount of giggle water in his system.

"God, has anyone seen that asshole?" A certain feminine spider came down the stairs. "I've got a thing in thirty minutes and they still have my fuckin' glue." Angel rounded the pillar and looked at Alastor, tipsy, and squinted.

"They haven't been here most the day." Husk was grumpily cleaning a glass. "Why don't you text 'em?" Angel flopped halfway on the bar and half on a stool, a little too close for Alastor's liking. He decided that he was too sloshed to care much. The spider sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I tried that!" All four of his arms raised up in exasperation. "They ain't answerin'! I sent three already! Ugh, I'm gonna have to go to the store!" Two sets of arms crossed to show his annoyance. Alastor paused at this. It wasn't like you not to answer after the second text. Were you injured? Had you gotten lost? Was someone else bothering you right now? Was someone...entertaining you? More than he did? He couldn't bare it and stood abruptly, only to stumble slightly. The Radio Demon regained his footing and rushed into the shadows, leaving behind the two sinners. He'd ignored Angel's snicker at his less than stable start and focused more on finding your energy. It was harder in this state but he was determined.

You were sitting in a secluded garden of blood red roses near the more peaceful part of Cannibal Colony. It had been a few hours since you left and you keep going over how Alastor insinuated you were boring for not wanting to be the butt of a joke. It hurt you and made you angry at him for trying to turn it back on you. You'd spent too much of your life hearing other people tell you that you're "too sensitive" or "need to take a joke". You won't tolerate it in death and especially not from your boyfriend.

A loud thump ripped you from your thoughts. You looked in the direction of the noise and see Alastor, halfway in a rosebush. He hardly took notice as his eyes met yours. His smile almost looked strained and his eyes glassy.

"Darling! There you are!" He stumbled out of the bush, pants ripped enough to almost see his leg. He rushed to your side and tripped, falling to his knees. You looked down at him as he grasped your legs and looked up at you, slightly dazed.

"Are...Are you drunk?" His smile lifted at your voice and he sighed dreamily up at you. "Oh my god." He tried to get up again but his foot caught a rock and he slipped back down. You stumbled a little as he grasped your legs tighter during this.

"Dar-darling, where have you been? It's been hours!" He looked back up at you. "I missed you! Can we get home?" You couldn't believe what you were seeing. Alastor, The Radio Demon, was drunk and on his knees in front of you. A small part of you felt powerful like this, but you quickly tucked it away. You sighed.

"Yeah, let's get you home." You reached down and helped him to his feet. He leaned on you as you both made your way out of the garden. "I can't believe you're out in public like this." He giggled, actually giggled, in response and sighed as he leaned more on you.

"Mwen sonje ou ba ou dabitid mwen." You were sure that was a language but it was slightly slurred from his lips. With no other ideas, you pat his back and continued on. He took a deep breath and then disappeared into the shadows. You stopped and looked around.

"Alastor? What the fuck?" You groaned in annoyance. "Alastor!" You trudged back towards the hotel in a huff. He was going to have so much apologizing to do tomorrow.

Alastor, however, had face planted right into his bed. He rolled over and looked around. His room in the hotel was spinning and he couldn't see his darling, dearest, sweetest love anywhere. Had he not brought them with him? Did they go away again? His smile wobbled and his vision grew blurry. Was he not what they wanted? Hasn't he always provided for them? Did they not like his cooking? Or his jokes? Oh. Oh that was why. The joke from earlier. Tears dripped down his face. Oh no.

You made your way into the hotel and up the first flight of steps before heading for the elevator. Angel's voice called to you from halfway down the hall.

"Where's my fuckin' glue!" The only response he got was a quick "on my dresser" before the elevator doors shut. You tapped your foot impatiently. If he wasn't here you were going to scream. Idly, you wondered if he was even drunk and just trying to get you to interact with him. He didn't like going too long without talking to you unless it was his choice, and even then it wouldn't be more than two hours max. You'd gone nearly five before he found you.

The end of the hallway on the fourth floor was usually dark due to the fixture breaking about a year back and no one fixing it. It was the way Alastor liked it. "Easier to get a good spook in and deter those who bother me", he'd say. It never really bothered you, oddly enough. Especially now, since you could hear the muffled sniffles of your lover. You knocked on the door.

"Alastor? Im coming in!" You only got halfway in the door before you were yanked into the room and the door slammed shut. Tight arms wrapped around you and held you close to a heaving chest.

"I thought you left again! I'm sorry! For my cooking! For not giving you enough! For my jokes!" He sobbed. You blinked. Just how drunk was he? You weren't sure this was the same Alastor that would rip someone's face off, roast it, feed it back to them, and then laugh as they cried.

"Well, one of those is correct." You brought you hands up and pushed him back before tugging him to the bed. "Let's just get you to go to sleep, okay, we can talk more in the morning." God, he was a mess. Tears made his eyes redder than they were, his face was splotchy and snot was dripping out of his nose.

"But!" You didn't let him finish as you pulled back the covers and pushed him into bed. "Darling! I'm sorry!" You rolled your eyes and positioned him on his side before tucking him in.

"Okay, tell me about it tomorrow." You gently fixed his hair and kissed his forehead. His eyes closed and he hummed low. It wasn't long before his breathing became even and he was snoring slightly.

The next morning you opened your eyes to see Alastor, fit as a fiddle, staring down at you with a tray of breakfast foods in his hands. You screamed in surprise and sighed heavily after recognizing your boyfriend. Sitting up, you yawn.

"Good morning, Darling! I made you breakfast!" He set the tray down over your legs and smiled wider. You looked up at his with an eyebrow raised.

"If you think that I'm just gonna forget what happened yesterday, you're wrong." Your sentence made him droop a little.

"I'm sorry, for the joke and whatever else I did yesterday." He clicks his fingers together slightly. "I...Don't remember much." You snorted at that.

"I guess you wouldn't, but i guess...I forgive you. Just don't make any jokes like that again." You looked at the tray, which had huge servings of your favorite breakfast foods. "Now, are you going to help me eat this or not?" He eagerly jumped into the bed and beside you, making you giggle.

[milliesfishes]

billy asking you to marry him please

⋆౨ৎbilly asks you to marry him⋆౨ৎ fem reader x billy the kid

The ring was gold. It had been stowed safely on his mother's finger on the journey by ship to Ireland. Billy had fuzzy memories of her leaning on the railing, salt spray in her eyes, stroking the band and murmuring a prayer for their safe arrival.

Now it was sitting in the palm of his hand, looped on a ribbon so he wouldn't lose it. Tossing and turning in the throes of a fever, his mother had pressed the circlet into his hand, wearily telling him to save it for a special girl.

He liked to think that up in heaven she'd pulled strings to send you his way. She would have loved you, with your easy smile, cheerful nature, and warm eyes. Billy could hardly believe you were real most days, let alone that he got to hold you. It was nothing short of a miracle. A miracle that got him believing in a higher power again.

For all he had suffered, he'd hoped there'd be a good thing at the end of the road to comfort him and tell him what a wonderful job he'd done, that all the misery was over. He found it in your arms, or when you were in his, pressed up against him in the later hours of the day, eyes closed, breathing soft as you slept. The fact that you could find safety in him, a man people fled from when they heard his name, was nearly unbelievable.

You'd taken one step into his life and brightened it beyond what he thought was possible. The world was more beautiful with the knowledge that you were in it. He'd thought people like you were a myth, like the folk tales his mother used to put him to bed with. But here you were, lively and breathing, putting your heart in his hands as though you trusted him not to break it.

It was only logical that he take this next step. As far as he was concerned, there would never be another one for him. Love had burst into him like a firework, colored his vision in an impossible way. Billy didn't know much, but he did know that a woman like you only came around once in a lifetime. And he wanted to grab on and hold you tight while he could.

With this in mind he was walking hand in hand with you, a little bounce in his step as the two of you trekked through tall grass into the nearby forest. You were curiously giddy, wide-eyed as you looked around. "Where're you taking me, Billy?"

"'s a surprise, sweetheart," he chuckled, noting your excitement. His girl was happy no matter the circumstances, and he hoped he'd be adding to it now. Squeezing your hand, he made sure you didn't trip over any rocks studding the dirt, or any sneakily placed tree roots.

Once he saw his landmark, he stopped turning to you. with a smile that made you tilt your head. "Close your eyes, honey."

You did, a little hesitantly. He was touched by the simple act of it. The way you trusted him warmed his heart more than anything else. In a clean motion, Billy swept you up into his arms, one hand bracing under your knees, the other at your waist. Giggling, you said, "Billy-"

"Keep 'em closed!" he insisted, spinning around once to make you laugh again. Billy chuckled too, brightened by your sunshine presence as always. He carried you steadily, ducking under branches to get to where he was going.

Arriving at the spot, Billy carefully helped you stand on your feet, making sure your eyes were still closed. He slid his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder, not wanting to let go of you for even a moment. "Open."

Your gasp was gift enough for him as you realized where you were. A blanket of wildflowers bloomed before your feet, as if they'd been planted in anticipation of this very moment. A rainbow of color was laid across the field, fresh with springtime. Bouncing on your heels, you exclaimed, "It's so beautiful!"

"Pretty flowers for my pretty girl." He nosed against your cheek, pressing a kiss there. "Knew you'd love it."

"I do. Oh, I do." Turning around, you threw your arms around his neck. "You found this spot just for me?"

"Just for you, baby," he grinned as though he'd planted every bloom himself. "C'mere. Got somethin' else to give ya."

Smiling excitedly, you let him pull you deeper into the field as he said, "Just over here baby-woah-!"

You tripped over a stray rock, tumbling into Billy and sending him to the ground. He'd been caught off guard or he would have made sure to hold fast and steady the both of you. Instead, he was sent backwards to the ground, sprawled on his back. Despite his surprise, he made sure to fall under you, so you had a place to land that wasn't the hard earth.

"Oomph," Billy grunted, lifting his head with a wince. He looked down at you, lying sideways across his chest. "You okay, baby?'

Giggling, you nodded, and he couldn't help his smile. Only you would laugh at falling facefirst to the ground. Billy was sure when he looked over you later you'd have a bruise or two. Before he could ask, your eyes widened, and you reached for something on the ground. "Billy...what's this?"

He had to do a double take. Between your fingers was the ring, previously stowed in his pants pocket. It must have fallen out when he fell. Billy cringed at the sight, knowing his grand plan was ruined. When you turned to him for an explanation, he squinted, exhaling through his nose. "It's...you weren't s'posed to see that yet."

"Yet?" Then your face lightened, lips parting slightly. "Oh!"

"Oh," he teased, sitting up and bringing you with him. Billy couldn't help the brief laugh that escaped him at your expression. "Was gonna do it all proper 'n everything."

Your eyes were wide as the centers of daisies. Quickly, you shoved the ring into his hand, covering your eyes with your hands. "I can pretend I didn't see it!"

Laughing again, he reached for your hands. "Don't be hidin', sweetheart. C'mere." Prying your hands from your face, he found a guilty expression.

You pressed your lips together. "I ruined it, I'm sorry."

"Didn't ruin a damn thing," he insisted, pulling you close so you were sitting sideways across his lap. Giving you a reassuring smile, he kissed the side of your head. "This feels more like us anyways, huh?"

"Yeah," you giggled, leaning into his kiss.

"Alright then." Billy gave you a pointed look. "I'm still gonna ask you."

"Ask away," you lifted your chin, smile beaming.

Holding the ring between his fingers, Billy wrapped the other arm around your waist, holding you steady. "I've wanted to marry you for a long time. Ain't nobody who brightens my world just by bein' in it the way you do. I wanna build a life with you at the center. I-" he swallowed. "I want to call you my wife."

You looked as though he'd stripped every star from the sky and strung them on a necklace for you to wear. He smiled, bouncing you once on his thigh playfully. "Will you marry me-?"

"Yes!" You threw your arms around him, sending him backwards into the flowers again. He hugged you tight around the waist, kissing your hair.

"That ain't everythin' I wanted to say," he murmured into your head, and you laughed, watching him slide the ring onto your finger.

Lifting your head and shifting so you laid directly atop his chest, chin resting on your folded arms so you could see your new ring, you murmured, "You've got a long time to tell me."

Leaning in, you kissed him softly, and he muttered against your lips. "Yes I do, Mrs. Bonney."

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

No One Here Is Alone

Elks Chapter 2 Version 2.0

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Chapter Rating: T. (Nothing explicit for the first few chapters.) Chapter Summary: The man you've had a crush on since he showed up to Jackson just so happens to be your favorite student's caretaker.. and he just saw you do a brutal face plant in front of his home. Chapter Warnings: soft jackson joel, rumors still spread in the apocalypse, 2000's indie rock, interrupted sweet moment, cats in windows, there was only one umbrella, romance, Joel Miller making dinner, thigh paint, knee pillow Words: 4,500 Header courtesy of @saradika-graphics

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist Playlist

*** “Radio Cure” by Wilco. 

It's Monday evening, and you're standing nervously in front of Joel’s house, clutching your messenger bag brimming with art supplies. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, before giving the door three quick knocks.

Joel opens the door with a warm smile. “Hi, come on in.”

“Hey,” you reply, trying to keep your smile under control.

"Let me show you the room."

Joel leads you into his home to a makeshift studio just off the living room filled with various wood workings, half carved animals, shelves of tools, and a long work table. You'd never expect it, but Joel is an artist.

You love the space, it's so open and warm. Lived in and utilized, you're happy places like this can still exist in other people's homes. 

Your eyes fall on a couple of old guitars leaning against a wall.

“You play?” You ask, nodding towards them.

“Been playing almost my whole life. You?”

“Same, my guitar broke a few weeks ago,” you say with a hint of sadness. “There’s a big hole in the side now.”

“That’s rough. Your stereo and your guitar?”

“Afraid so. It’s very quiet in my home.”

“Those guitars are broken over there, but I just haven’t gotten around to fixing ‘em, I’m sure I could easily repair one for you.” 

“Joel, you— that’s very nice,” you say, touched but hesitant. “I wouldn’t ask you to do that for me.”

“No, s’okay, I like fixing things,” he insists with a reassuring smile. 

“Wish I could fix things,” you say with a nervous chuckle. “By the time I would be done, it’d be a pile of sawdust.”

A huff of air releases out of Joel’s mouth, his smile makes a dimple you’ve never noticed before appear. God, he’s gorgeous. “You’re funny. I can see why Ellie likes you.”

Heat creeps up your chest and settles into your cheeks. “So, Where would you like me to draw the mural?” you ask, using your question as a way to cut through the nervousness inside you. 

“Was thinking over on this wall with the window. I can see it from my chair in the living room.” 

You turn to examine the large, empty wall. You’re not sure if the cream hue is the original paint color or colored that way from age. It’s a perfect canvas.

“Good choice.” you say. “Do you want the whole wall?”

“The whole wall.”

“Just bluebells?” you clarify.

“Just bluebells.”

“Perfect.”

You pull the pencil from the chest pocket of your overalls, gently pressing it against the wall to sketch out the first bluebell. You can feel his eyes on you, his large body crowding the space behind you. You try to focus on your drawing, blocking out the sound of his breathing and the heat of his closeness.

Joel clears his throat. “I’ll just be in the kitchen making dinner. Did ya’ eat?”

“No,” you reply, glancing back at him. “But I can eat after I’m done here.”

“Have more than enough here for another person and Ellie’s at Dina’s tonight. You like pasta?”

“Of course I do,” you say with a smile. “I’d starve if I didn’t. Shelf stable.”

Joel chuckles, “I’ll be in the kitchen cooking. Just holler if you need anything. Help yourself to any of the supplies I have here.” You nod as Joel turns and strides down the hall.

“What a beautiful face, I have found in this place, That is circling all ‘round the sun, What a beautiful dream...”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle as the music starts, breaking the hush that had settled in the room while you quietly sketched. For the past hour, the only sounds were Joel’s movements in the kitchen and the soft scratch of your pencil against the wall. Now, Joel is playing the mixed CD you had left there. Despite being all alone in his studio, you can’t help but grin. You tuck your pencil behind your ear and head to the kitchen to find Joel draining a pot of cooked pasta. 

You try not to stare at the way his biceps stretch the sleeves of his shirt or the way the steam floats into the air swirling around him, creating an almost dreamlike scene of domestic bliss.

“Neutral Milk Hotel,” you say from the doorway, rubbing your daisy pendant hanging against your neck.

“S’a pretty good song.” Joel replies, his gaze shifting from the pot to your pendant. 

“Thanks for putting it on, I missed hearing music.”

“When’d your player break?” Joel’s asks, his eyes still focused on your daisy pendant. 

“A little over a week ago. I lived without a stereo for close to fifteen years, all through my twenties in the QZ. My CD’s sat in a crate next to my bed all those years. I got used to them existing almost like photographs, circular snapshots of memories… silent and incapable of their original use,” you say, your voice trailing off as you remember.  “When I got here and walked into my house the first thing I saw was the small boombox on the shelf, I almost passed out when Maria told me it worked. It had to be repaired a few times and Gordon kept warning me that it wasn’t built to last. Took it to him the day after it broke for good and he let me know nothing could be done. I felt like I lost a limb.” 

“M’sorry,” Joel says as he begins to dish the pasta and sauce into two bowls.

“Thanks, I still have other things to fill up my time so it’s not as bad as I’m making it seem. I know it’s a luxury and I know I can live without it. It’s just… the noise kept me company, you know?” 

“I do,” Joel says, setting the bowls on the table, his eyes still locked on you. 

He watches you intently, as if he’s captivated by your presence. You’d be doing the same if you weren’t so nervous about him noticing. You sense Joel doesn’t care if you notice him watching.

You sit at his table, the orange glow of the sunset filters through the window, casting a soft light over everything. Coffee rings cover Joel’s wooden table top, a sign he probably never cleans up his mug until after he’s home in the evening. The smell of tomatoes, garlic, and onion from the bowl of pasta in front of you tantalizes you.

“This looks delicious,” you say, picking up your fork.

“Sauce was made by Maria, she takes pity on my kitchen skills and makes sure Ellie and I are well fed.” 

“She’s great,” you say through a bite. “So is Tommy.”

He nods in agreement. 

You both settle into a shared silence as you eat. 

A slow and haunting song begins to play, Joel looks up from his meal. “This is my favorite song on your CD.

“Cheer up, honey I hope you can,

There is something wrong with me,

My mind is filled with silvery stars”

“‘Radio Cure’ by Wilco.” you say, recognizing the song. “One of my favorite bands. My only CD of theirs is so scratched it no longer works… this is the only song I have now.” 

You lean back, closing your eyes, getting lost in the music, mouthing the lyrics silently. 

“S’beautiful,” Joel says softly as you open your eyes and find him watching you again. “...The song’s beautiful.”

Your heart skips a beat at the tenderness in his voice. So soft and deep, you wonder if he talks to anybody else this gently. 

“If you like it, keep my CD,” you offer. “You’ll get more use out of it than I will now.” 

“I’ll borrow it until you get a new CD player,” Joel says as he stands. “You’re welcome to come over and listen anytime. You can bring your other CD’s over if you want.”

“Really? I appreciate that,” your voice lifts with excitement.

“Glad to help.”

“I”m going to get back to drawing before it gets any darker,” you say, handing him your empty bowl. “I really enjoyed dinner, thank you.”

“Course,” he nods, taking the bowl from your hand and depositing it into the soapy water.

You return to the woodworking room, pick up your pencil, and continue delicately sketching flowers on his wall.

“It really, really, really could happen, Yes, it really, really, really could happen If the days they seem to fall through you Well, just let them go”

You hum along to your favorite Blur song, the eighth track on your CD.

“Did you want another light in here?” Joel’s deep voice startles you. You jump and turn to see him leaning against the doorway; you don’t know how long he’s been there. “S’getting dark in here.”

“Y-yeah, that would be great. I just want to finish up the first outline tonight.” 

Joel nods and heads over to the large cabinet in the corner, retrieving a work light as you turn back to your work. 

“This’ll help,” he says, grunting slightly as he bends over and plugs it in. “It’s lookin’ really nice so far.”

“Thanks,” you reply, still sketching. I love the process of beginning a large piece like this. It makes me so excited to think what it’ll look like when it’s all finished. Breaking it down into small steps, then seeing it all come together.”

“No wonder Ellie’s always so excited about art, when you put it all that way.” 

You nod without looking back at him, choosing to focus on your sketch.

“Just going to be in the living room reading my book. Lemme know if I can help,” he offers.

“Thanks.”

You hear him settle into his chair with a sigh. The chair he can sit in and look at your mural, the chair he can sit in and watch you work. Your insides twist as you feel like you’re being watched by him–you like it. 

You round each small petal making every flower perfect for Joel’s eyes.

Sometimes you hear a page turn in between tracks, sometimes you hear a sniff or a throat clear, you actually wish there wasn’t any music so you could only hear Joel.

“Okay,” you step back from the wall shaking out and stretching your overused hand and stretching your tired fingers. 

“Finished for the night?” Joel asks as he stands and walks into the room, eyes landing on the wall. “It’s really beautiful,” he says as he stares at your preliminary sketch.

“Thanks, there’s still a lot that has to be done, but I’m really happy with how it’s looking so far.” You back up to stand next to him. “When do you want me to come back?”

“I’ll be out on Patrol with Tommy until Wednesday night, Thursday work?”

“Thursday’s good. Same time?”

“Same time,” he confirms with a nod. “I’ll make dinner again.”

“You really don’t have to,” you reply, bending down to grab your bag.

“S’okay, I want to.” 

“Okay,” you say, stifling a yawn and blinking your tired eyes. 

Joel notices and grins slightly watching you. “Getting late for you, huh?” 

“Yeah, close to my bedtime,” you admit. 

He follows you to his door. “G’night,” he says, holding the door open. “See you Thursday.”

“Good luck on patrol,” you walk out the door and glance back at him, offering a small smile. “Good night.”

You feel Joel’s quiet, watchful gaze follow you as you leave his yard.  

Once you get home, you don’t bother changing out of your shirt when you crawl into bed. It smells like Joel’s home.

“Hey lady,” your friend Helen greets as she leans against the doorway of your classroom, interrupting your paper grading. 

You look up and give her a smile. “What’s up?”

“Thirsty Thursday at the Bison tomorrow, you in?” 

“Oh,” you pause, putting your pen down. “I can’t, I’m painting something for Joel Miller at his house.” 

Her eyebrows rise. “Joel Miller, Joel Miller?” 

“Yeah…” you nod.

She steps into your room, crossing her arms and smirks. “So, the rumors are true?”

“Rumors?” you ask.

“Grace said she saw you leaving his place late Monday night. Apparently, Joel stood and watched you walk home the whole way.”

You roll your eyes. “God this place is small, isn’t it?”

Helen laughs, her expression softening as she moves closer. “He nice to you?” Her protective side always shows when it comes to you. 

“I wouldn’t be doing this for him if he wasn’t.”

She nods. “Atta girl, I’ll leave you to it,” she knocks on your desk before leaving.

You’ve heard all of the rumors about Tommy Miller’s scary older brother. You’ve listened intently as people regaled tales of his violent past and whispered stories of his brutality. You heard the hush amongst the crowd whenever he’d walk into a room when he and Ellie first showed up. He’s supposedly a monster, and yet all you see are deep, soft brown eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles at you.

Thursday, you find yourself at Joel’s wearing your overalls again. Today, though, you’ve layered an oversized flannel for warmth, shielding yourself and your box of paints beneath an umbrella from the pouring rain. Before you can knock, Joel opens the door.

“Come in,” he says, grabbing your umbrella. “Was lookin’ for you so you didn’t get stuck in the rain.”

“Thanks, it’s awful out,” you reply, stepping inside and shrugging off your flannel. “How was patrol?” 

“Same as usual,” he says, taking your jacket and hanging it up on the hook over his coat.

“Well, that’s a good thing,” you say heading into his woodworking room and place your paints on the floor.

“That your book?” Joel nods to the faded black leather portfolio with tattered corners covered in faded stickers. 

“Yeah, I brought it over.”

“Haven’t seen something like that in years. Can I look at ‘em?”

“Go ahead,” you say smiling and handing it over to him. “Find something to play. It’s your stereo. Don’t tell me what you pick–I want to be surprised.” 

You love hearing the soft, familiar thud of the pages as Joel flips through it.

“Don’t recognize most of these names,” he murmurs.

“What kind of music do you like?” you ask as you unroll your brush holder, picking out what you’ll need.

“Rock, country… a little bit of blues.”

“Country? Really? How typical Texas of you.”

He chuckles. “Good country. Real country. Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, ’n the like.”

“I stand corrected, Texas.”

He grunts in amusement while you begin laying out your paints on the countertop, carefully choosing your colors. 

“Found something,” Joel says.

“Can’t wait to hear what you pick,” you respond, pulling your palette out of your bag as he leaves the room. 

A bluesy rock guitar intro with a steady drumbeat begins to play as you mix emerald and olive tones together.

“Haven’t heard this one in over 20 years,” Joel says, re-entering the room. “Liked The Rolling Stones.” 

You kneel down on the floor to begin painting green stems. You move your brush and body slowly and smoothly, rising up to finish each stem tip. You feel Joel’s steady and attentive gaze follow you. 

“Never thought I’d see somebody paint like this again,” he says from the doorway.

“It’s my favorite thing to do,” your focus unwavering from the wall. 

“Can tell,” the gentleness of his voice causes your skin to prickle. “M’excited to see how it’ll look when it’s done.”

“Me too.”

You hear Joel take a deep breath and his footsteps shift. “I’m gonna go finish cleanin’ my guns,” he says with an exhale. “I’ll be in the dining room if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” you say, twisting your torso to look back at him with a smile. A large dollop of green paint falls from the paintbrush in your hand, plopping onto your exposed thigh. 

Joel’s eyes immediately drop to the spot, widening as you grab your paint stained rag and wipe the paint off. He clears his throat, his cheeks blush a subtle shade of red. “Uh, right. I’ll be in the dining room,” he repeats, turning quickly to stride away.

His hurried footsteps fade as they move into the next room. A small smile tugs at your lips and a rush of excitement blooms within you. 

You dip your brush back into the paint again, steadying your breath, and begin painting a new stem.

"S'pretty nasty out there, d’ya want that work light again? Sky’s turnin’ real dark,” Joel asks, interrupting your focus. 

“Yes, thank you,” you answer as your focus is still on the delicate petal you’re painting.

You hear Joel shuffle behind you to pull the light out, the same small grunt as earlier this week leaves his mouth when he bends over to plug it in. The light buzzes on, flooding the room and your painting with a bright white hue.

“You been kneeling on the floor like that for long?” he asks, concern lacing his voice. 

“Yep, it’s not so bad while down here,” you reply, still focused on your brushstrokes.

“Ya’ still have the hurt knees and you’re kneeling on the damn hardwood floor,” he mumbles under his breath as he leaves the room. 

You’ve gotten used to people not being concerned about such simple things like your personal comfort, Joel’s worry for you makes you feel a foreign feeling. 

He returns and holds a pillow out for you. “Here, grabbed ya’ this.”

“Oh, I’m okay, really,” you protest, “I don’t want to accidentally get paint on it.” 

“Don’t care, take it,” he insists.

You hesitate for a second before taking the pillow and slipping it underneath your already aching knees.

“Feels much better, thank you,” you say as you wiggle back and forth on the softness. 

“Welcome.” 

A long sigh escapes his lips, grabbing your attention. You glance up and meet his eyes– his hazel flecks glow in the light supplied by the work lamp. He sticks his tongue out to wet his supple lips, your eyes move to watch. He reaches a hand out, his thumb rests against your cheek, his fingers cradle your chin. 

Your breath hitches, lips parting as you inhale deeply, a chill takes over your whole body. The music from the stereo muffles. All that exists now in this moment is Joel’s touch. 

“Thank you again, for doin’ this for me,” he says, his voice low and tender. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout how nice it’s gonna be to look over and see this once it’s finished… reminding me of home.”

“O-of course Texas,” you stammer, your eyes still lingering on his mouth. 

“Mm,” he grunts, his head dipping with a slight nod. 

“L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L–” The music stutters.

“Shit, I forgot this song always does that,” you say as Joel’s hand retreats from your cheek. 

“I got it,” he says, quickly striding out of the room. 

“You just have to skip to the next track and it should work!” you call after him as your skin still tingles from where his hand had been moments ago silently cursing your scratched CD.  

The track changes, the interruption long gone, just like Joel’s touch. You return to painting, calming your body and emotions in the aftermath. You exhale slowly, trying to calm the flutter of nerves in your chest, grounding yourself back into the rhythm of painting. You don’t hear from him until well after the CD finishes and the house falls silent.

“Dinner’s ready,” he says, rapping his knuckles gently on the doorway, snapping you out of your trance. “You got a lot done—s’lookin’ real good.”

You glance over your shoulder at him, surprised by how much time has passed. The shared moment between you now feels long gone and distant.

“Thanks,” you say standing up and stretching, placing your paintbrush in the jar of water.

“Just come to the kitchen when you’re all done in here.” 

“Hope you like turkey and barley soup,” Joel says as you enter the kitchen. 

“Any soup makes me happy,” you reply with a smile.

“Good,” he places a bowl in front of you. “This one I actually made, Maria didn’t hafta take pity on me for this meal.”

It looks delicious and smells incredible. Joel’s taken the time to set the table tonight, a tattered cloth napkin folded neatly beneath a soup spoon, a glass of water to the side, you notice the coffee stains have been wiped up. 

You take a bite, the warm soup slides down your throat, perfect for a chilly rainy evening, it’s good. “Joel, this is… really, really delicious.”

His eyes soften. “I’m glad you like it, haven’t cooked for anybody ‘cept Ellie in years.” 

“You did boil me spaghetti earlier this week, remember?” you tease.

“Hmph,” he chuckles, “right.” 

The two of you eat in comfortable silence, your spoons against the bowls are the only sound. You should be nervous in this situation but the way Joel handles himself in front of you, as if he’s perfectly comfortable with you in his home makes your nerves settle.

You place your spoon down and sit back in your chair. “What was your favorite food before …everything?”

He thinks for a moment. “Don’t really know, maybe tamales? My mom used to make them every year for the holidays. I could eat six of them in one sitting.” 

“I loved tamales, too. God, I miss Mexican restaurants. You know, I just remembered margaritas. I used to always see people drink them when we’d get Mexican and I always thought that looked so cool. I never got to try one.” 

He watches you with that familiar expression, as if he could listen to you talk for hours, nodding along with a small smile. “What was your favorite food?” he asks.

“Fettuccine Alfredo, one hundred percent. My mom used to make it for me every year for my birthday. If we went to an Italian restaurant, it’s what I’d always order, definitely Fettuccine Alfredo.”

“Never had it, always just stuck to pouring a jar of Ragu over spaghetti or a frozen lasagna,” he says, a small grin on his face. 

“I miss those too. Anc cheese. I miss being able to have cheese whenever I wanted so much. The stuff we have now just isn’t the same.”

“Mm,” Joel nods, “kinda like the ice cream we have. Not the same, but good enough.”

“Isn’t that the motto of these times?” you say with a smirk. “‘Not the same but good enough.’”

“S’a good one,” Joel pauses, “you’re funny.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear feeling Joel’s eyes follow your movements as he gets up. 

You rise as well, grabbing your bowl to follow Joel over to the sink. He reaches for it, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes it from your hand. “I’ve got it,” he says, placing the dishes into the sink. “You seem to be almost finished in there.”

“Yeah, I think I only have a couple more hours of work left,” you say stretching your back. 

“Don’t want to keep you any longer tonight, know you got work tomorrow and know it’s a lot bein’ down on the floor like that for as long you were.” 

“Yeah, they’re aching,” you admit with a shy smile. “When do you want me to come and finish it?”

“Tomorrow at the same time, if you want.” 

“That works, might be a little late though–Fridays are always busy with the end of the school week.” 

“Course, take your time. I’ll be here.”

“Is it okay if I leave my things in the room? If not, that’s okay too I can take them ho–” 

“S’fine,” he interrupts gently, he places his hand against your back. “Don’t mind at all. I’ll walk you home, s’getting late and it’s still rainin’ pretty bad.” 

You protest. “No, I’ll be okay, I’ve walked through much worse.” 

“Don’t care.” he cuts you off as he grabs your flannel from the hook. “I’m walking you home, it’s pourin’.”

He holds your flannel open for you and offers a small nod. You step forward and slip your arms through the sleeves, the closeness sends goosebumps across your skin.

“Course,” Joel breathes out as you step away and grab your backpack.

“You really don’t have to—“

“Now, stop telling me I don’t have to,” he says, mild frustration tinging his voice as he shrugs on his jacket. “I want to.”

He opens the door and motions you to go ahead of him before grabbing your umbrella. 

“Don’t you have one as well?” you ask.

“Never got one. S’a nasty storm today, I think it’s going to be just as bad tomorrow.” 

You step out, the rain falls in a steady stream. “It’s good for the crops and the water reserves at least,” you shrug as Joel holds the umbrella above you. 

As you walk down the road, you notice the rain pelting Joel, his head and shoulders already damp as he holds the umbrella over you.

“There’s enough room for both of us under here, there’s no sense in you getting soaked,” you say, stepping closer to him.

He murmurs something under his breath–it sounds like “Y’sweet,” but the rain drowns out the sound. You almost think you imagined it. He adjusts the umbrella, moving it so that both of you are shielded from the rain.

The two of you walk towards your home, your bodies occasionally tapping against each other as Joel huddles over you. You wish you could slow down, elongate your time next to him, stay under the shelter of the umbrella and his body.

“That’s me, right there,” you say nodding towards your front door. 

“Y’got a cat?” Joel asks when he sees your cat Penny sitting on your windowsill backlit by your lamp.

“Yeah, two of them. You like cats?”

“Even if I did, couldn’t have ‘em. Allergic.”

“That’s a shame,” you reply with a shrug.

“Hm,” he grunts with a subtle smile.

Escaping the rain underneath the safety of the awning of your front porch, Joel closes your umbrella and hands it back to you as you tap your wet boots against your frayed welcome mat.

“Well, thanks for walking me home, I’ll see you tomorrow?” You say as you rest your back against your front door.

“Yeah,” Joel says, his eyes holding your attention for a moment longer than expected. “See you tomorrow.”

He turns and leaves your little yard, turning back around at your fencepost to give you a nod before continuing down the road in the dark rain. Joel Miller just walked you home.

No One Here Is Alone- Joel's Version

[seventeenpins]

friends i am ~zooted~ and managed to post and promptly delete my response to this but THANK GOODNESS I'd screenshot it 🙏 thank you @sp00kymulderr for the ask, you KNOW i'm a freak for sub!joel* 💕 *this is a bit more sub!joel adjacent but i hope it scratches that itch!

pairing: joel miller x reader wordcount: 601 content: edging, choking, sub!joel/brat!joel, a WHOLE lotta breeding kink, literally just smut a/n: shoutout to @ems-chaos-corner for being my brain when mine was out of commission

send me a drabble prompt?

Joel is writhing beneath you, sweat-slicked skin glowing in the surge of the waning daylight. His hair is a mess, plastered to his forehead, one loose curl bobbing aloft with every heave of breath.

"You're gonna be the death of me, sweetheart," he pants, eyes screwed shut in concentration.

"Sweetheart," you echo back, "If you're dead, I don't get to use you. But I promise, this next time I cum, you get to cum with me."

His responding moan is nearly a whimper, building to a growl as you seat yourself back on him.

You've been edging him for hours. You're not going to admit it but you're impressed. You've cum half a dozen times already, on his face, his fingers, twice on his cock, but still; all it takes is one little shake of your head. Just one little "did I say you could cum?" and he somehow powers through and fucks up into you, rutting like a goddamn animal as you ride him through another wave.

This is the most vocal you've ever gotten him, and he's cute all pussy drunk. You know you should probably let him cum soon, but you do want to enjoy him like this for as long as you possibly can. Most of what he's saying is just please please please- but now it gets even more desperate, begging like you've never heard, pressing all the right buttons.

"C'mon sweetheart, please, You feel so damn perfect clenchin' round me like that, gushin' on me like a faucet, baby, please let me cum-- Wanna bust so deep in ya you're still full o' me for days-"

It's your absolute kryptonite, hearing him talk like this, and he knows it. You're gonna cum again, you're already close. You need to draw it out, though, to pull this orgasm out of him, finally, slowly and surely so that when it finally builds to a peak, it makes him see the fucking stars-

"Shut up, Joel-" you plead, and the man has the audacity to grin. You know he can feel the way you're balancing on the edge, how your cunt is squeezing him.

He's so fucking pretty, cupping your jaw gently as he smirks up at you. His other hand is holding you by the waist, grasping at your flesh to rock into a rhythm. He's matching your thrusts, pulling you so so deep when your hips meet, grinding his pubes against your swollen clit.

"Oh, you want that, honey? Want me to get deep up in there? Want me to fuckin' flood you with my cum? I'm gonna pump so much into ya, it has to take. Sure feels like that's what you want, the way you're squeezin'-"

You need to shut him up.

The hand you'd tangled in his hair releases, and for a moment, he relaxes. Then you wrap it around his neck. The way he moans makes your stomach flip, another gush of arousal adding to the slipperiness between you. Your eyes flutter shut as you focus just on the sensation, drawing it out just that tiny bit longer-

Apparently, choking is equivalent to a mute button on Joel. You think he likely still has the ability to form words. What he lacks is the capacity. He isn't silent, though. He's grunting, feral but dazed.

"I like you so much better with my hand around your throat," you tell him.

You cum together, his tongue in your mouth, hands grasping all along your body as he pulls you tight and doesn't let go till he's emptied his balls and fucked it in deeper.

[bigbadvoxbox]

Would you be okay with doing a Adam x Fem reader? I need more possessive sex from Adam I can't help it

absolutely yes

warnings: nsfw. possessive sex. unprotected sex too, and he cums inside. we hate the drummer too.

- Adam loved his fangirls. He knew he fuckin rocked, but it was still so fuckin hot to hear them tell him that he rocked.

- You were his favourite fangirl in particular, always cheering him on, in your cute little homemade tees with his logo on.

- He hadn't yet had the chance to whisk you away backstage and show you something that he's even more skilled at than guitar. But he figured you'd wait for him, like the adoring little fangirl you are.

- That was, until he saw his band's drummer gettin all close n touchy with you at a meet n greet. Of course it was the fucking drummer, that fuckin dick. He couldn't help but feel a bit pissed. Of all the fans, he had to go and choose you? No! You were Adam's number one fan!

- That was when his brilliant, genius, amazing idea came to mind. He yanked a microphone from whoever the fuck, he didn't care,

"Announcement everyone! I have a fuckin' announcement to make so listen up! I'm gonna choose a toootally random person here today, and you get to spend the day with me! Fuckin' Adam!"

- It was not random at all.

- He immediately chose you.

- Fuck you drummer, whatever the fuck your name is.

- You were absolutely ecstatic. Sure the drummer was cool, but Adam? He was your dream guy. You found him so awesome, and jumped at the chance to spend some time with him.

- 'That's my girl. You fucking know who's best.' he couldn't help but think to himself.

- You spent the day at his place listening to him play guitar, and tell you allll about how awesome band life was, and just how awesome Adam was in general, to which you agreed.

- You briefly mentioned your encounter with the drummer, explaining how he had offered to take you out some time. Adam couldn't allow that, you were his girl!

- He needed to act fast.

- "Y'know Babe, I saw those cute little t-shirts you made for our last gig. I especially loved the ones with my logo on 'em." he started, before his voice quietened, "And I bet... if I were to take a little look under this jacket of yours... I'd see that tshirt, wouldn't I?" he asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

- Your face turned red with embarrassment. How did he know? You unzipped your jacket, showing off the homemade tee you wore, his logo proud and bold in the centre of your chest.

- "I fuckin' knew it." his grin was smug as fuck.

- He started off with a few light touches, grazing your thighs, moving upwards to your waist. "Y'know... you got a pretty nice pair on ya." he'd say, his eyes roaming over your chest for a moment.

- Before long, you had returned his gentle touches, which turned very quickly into a heated makeout session. You just couldn't resist him. (and I can't blame you)

- The kisses escalated into his hands groping at your chest while you clung to his shoulders.

- "You ready to have the best fuckin' night of your life?"

- As he got closer and touchier, he noticed a little bracelet around your wrist. A gift from the drummer in a pathetic attempt to convert you to a whatever-the-fuck-their-name-is-fangirl. He can feel his eye twitch slightly.

- "Let's just get this off." he says as he removes the bracelet. "You don't fuckin' need shit from that asshole. You got me, right?"

- When you both get to the main event, he is so fucking eager to touch you everywhere, get his hands on you and make you his, his girl.

- Hovers over you on the couch, not even knowing where to start. He needs you now.

- Soon enough, whatever pants or skirt you were wearing has been tossed across the room, underwear pulled to one side. But you're keeping that cute t-shirt of yours on. No fucking way is he missing out on fucking you while you wear that.

- He starts with his fingers, since he's gotta treat his pretty little fangirl right, doesn't he? Has you blushing and flustered and he thinks it's the cutest thing ever. He likes that only he will get to see that face.

- But once you're all prepared, his fingers now slick, he cannot wait to be inside you. And god his cock does not disappoint. He leans in, your foreheads almost pressed together. He loves the closeness, making that sweet blush spread across your face as he pushes his cock into you.

- That's when the fun starts, he starts off easy, since no doubt you're a cute little virgin who's been saving yourself for him. But while he starts off gentle and... almost romantic, that image of the drummer gettin too close with you flashes in his mind, and then his hips start to move faster.

- He's now grabbed you by the hips, moving your body in time with his thrusts, to push him even deeper, driving you absolutely wild. Your moans echo off the walls, and he revels in it.

- He can't help himself, and one hand slips under your homemade t-shirt to touch your tits again. What can he say? He loves a good pair of tits.

- The hickeys! My god, the hickeys. He leaves you covered. Everyone will know you are not up for grabs. He'll make sure of that. He's not quite used to feeling so possessive over someone, but you were special.

- It drives you crazy that he slows down, but his thrusts get deeper as he whispers filthy things into your ears. He has you twitching and panting beneath him, which in turn, drives him crazy.

- He then thinks of the perfect way to claim you as his.

- "You want my fucking cum?" he murmurs into your ear as you get closer and closer to cumming. You feel euphoric and dazed, nodding your head dumbly. He can't help but chuckle a little, proud at the state he's reduced you to.

- He makes sure all of it stays inside, keeping you plugged with his cock for a little bit, just letting you both stay in that position even after you've both came. You have another small makeout session as you both come down from it, and he just knows.

- You're always gonna be his girl.