#and he got me a shirt? I come into his room | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

puckinghischier · 1 day ago

Note

so hi.. i keep thinking about how hot (and probably hopefully rough) sex would’ve been after last night’s game. you do with that information what you’d like.. i just thought i’d share my thoughts y’know completely and utterly innocent like.

✶ hope you had the best day alli, baby!! ‹𝟹

oh harls, my beautiful, beautiful quinn lover.

of course quinn would be in the need of some…rage activities once he got home. he’d be seething the entire bus ride back to the hotel, thinking about how cocky those assholes on the kings were all night. i mean, the hit on brock? the multiple intentional penalties? the cheap move from clarke?

it was all he could do to contain himself until his penalty, finally having had enough of the nasty plays. and while he was letting himself seethe and stew in his hatred, all he could think about is the fact you’re going to be waiting in his hotel room for him.

when he walks through the door, you’re laying on the king sized bed, having received his text he sent you from the locker room directly after the game.

naked. on the bed. now. absolutely no touching yourself (trust me, i’ll fucking know). don’t move until i say so.

he made you send him a picture for confirmation, wanting to know you’ll be so worked up in anticipation by the time he walks through that door you’ll be putty in his hands.

and while he’s already worked up and agitated from the game, the sight of your hand snaked between your legs, head thrown back onto his pillow, soft pants falling from your lips, has him seeing red.

he drops his bag loudly, seeing as you were so lost in the feeling of your own fingers you didn’t hear the heavy door open and shut.

the sound finally startles you out of your blissful state, arms flying up to cover yourself in a panic, dropping them to rest on your stomach when you realize it’s just quinn. the look on his face, however, does nothing to calm your racing heart.

“thought i told you specifically not to touch yourself,” he grits out, clenching his jaw so tightly he could barely speak.

you still, having been so ready and needy you completely forgot about the rule. sitting there, bare pussy exposed to the chill of the room, was torturous in the best way. you could feel yourself drip onto the freshly made bed, so the initial contact was simply the swipe of a finger to try and prevent any further mess. but the warm contrast of your finger on the cold slick of your cunt felt too good, spurring you to give your clit just a brief touch. just enough to hold you over.

before you knew it, you heard the thud of quinn’s bag and clearing of his throat, not even remembering how you ended up knuckle deep in your own core.

“i-i’m so sorry. it’s just, it was cold, and i was so wet, so i tried to clean myself up a bit, but my finger was so warm, and then i thought just one touch wouldn’t hurt,” you ramble out one long run-on sentence trying to plead your case.

“oh, i see” he starts walking towards you, quickly stripping himself of his t-shirt. “you were so ready for me, that you couldn’t wait on me, is that it?”

your face heats, realizing how pathetic it all is, really.

“well, when you put it like that…” you can’t even make eye contact with him, looking down at his hands instead.

quinn starts to untie the string on his sweatpants, letting them drop and walking right out of them as he comes to a stop at the end of the large bed.

“yeah…that’s what i thought,” he smacks his teeth at you in disapproval, shaking his head back and forth.

you take in the sight of him before you. toned body, pale skin, and my god, the hair. you’ve always been one to love body hair on a man, but seeing his large, exposed thighs, and the perfect dusting of the thick, dark hairs all over them, has your hand itching to find its way back between your slick folds.

he starts to palm himself over his boxers, earning a whimper from you in return. the noise piques his interest, eyebrow raising as he looks down at you.

“oh…you want this?” he reaches down to free his thick cock, sighing at the relief of the cloth restriction.

you don’t know if you should respond or not, scared of the consequences either way. you decide on an eager nod, mouth nearly watering at the sight.

“yeah, figured you did. always so needy, so ready to be whatever i need you be,” he says dismissively. “and lucky for you, i need this tonight, too. or i’d make you sit here and watch me stroke myself until i couldn’t take anymore, spewing everything i have all over you and this bed before making you go to sleep needy and unsatisfied. your punishment for touching yourself before i could get here.”

he must be able to see the panic in your eyes at the possibility, knowing he’s upset but surely he’s not that upset with you.

“but,” he starts, rubbing his thumb over his pink tip, “i think what i have planned is punishment enough. plus, i need you tonight, my sweet girl. need you to be my vice, my cure for all these…feelings i have pent up.”

you feel the physical jolt your core does, causing your body to flinch.

quinn discards his underwear entirely, placing one knee on the plush bed to start making his way to your body. you’re still sprawled out, skin buzzing at the thought of his touching yours.

once he’s hovering above you on all fours, he brings his head down to place a feather light kiss to your lips. when he pulls away, you chase him, pouting at the barely there contact.

“nope. only kiss you’ll get tonight, i’m afraid,” he sits up on his knees, in-between your open legs.

you whine out, always loving the hot, open-mouth kisses you two share while he’s inside of you.

“ehh, no more whining, either. should’ve thought about that before you broke the rules,” he scolds you, bringing his hands down to move your legs up, bending both of your knees so your feet rest flat on the bed.

once your knees are bent, he takes your hands that were resting on your stomach and splay them out on their respective sides.

“now, since you didn’t do like i asked you to so nicely, even though i’m so, so mad tonight, no touching me,” he looks down into your eyes as he says it, making sure you understand his rules.

“so, no kissing, no touching, no whining? what, i’m basically your sex doll tonight?” you sass him, rolling your eyes.

now, you expected a reaction out of him. it was your intent, actually. you expected a small smack to the leg, or a wagging finger with a stern look.

what you didn’t expect was to feel his hand come up and grasp your face, squishing your cheeks together so hard you’re forced to bite them just to allow any sort of give from the pressure.

he jerks your face to look at him, bringing his own so close you can feel his hot, angry breath on your face.

“that’s exactly right. you’re my doll tonight. mine to use as i see fit. however i want. you know why?” he pauses, heaving breaths in and out as he waits, as if you’d actually be able to answer him. “because i’m mad. i’m mad that the stupid kings thought they could beat up on my team tonight and get away with it. i’m mad that brock was taken out during the first period because of a purposeful hit. i’m mad, because the one thing i asked you to do, you couldn’t fucking do it.”

he’s seething at this point, an animalistic kind of anger radiating through his body.

your heart races in both fear and excitement. you hardly ever get to see this side of quinn, and you don’t know exactly what all was said or done on that ice tonight, but you’re sure you’re going to be able to feel the effects of it all for the next few days to come.

he releases your cheeks roughly, standing tall on his knees.

“since you claim you were so wet earlier you just couldn’t resist starting without me, too drunk on your own fingers to know what you were doing, you shouldn’t need any help then, should you?” he asks, reaching down to feel the arousal pooling in your exposed heat.

you want to whine. you want to whine and protest and complain, but before you can even think about breaking another rule of his, your breath is knocked from your lungs.

without any warning whatsoever, quinn slams into you completely, leaving no inch of your canal untouched. on instinct, you start to reach your arms up to grasp onto him, needing to ground yourself to him.

“i wouldn’t, if i was you,” he growls out, pulling out completely before slamming into you again, gripping one of your hips for stability.

dropping them back down to the mattress, you grasp the sheets so tightly you worry you’ll rip them.

your body jolts with each slam of his rigid cock into your hole, completely removing himself each time before snapping his hips so forcefully you swear you can feel it in your throat.

“god, have no clue how fucking angry i’ve been tonight”, he huffs out, not faltering his pace. “all night, watched those smug goons think they could do whatever they wanted, to whoever they wanted. then the refs wouldn’t even let me return the favor when given the chance. it’s bullshit,” he spits with a particularly harsh thrust.

you’re trying your best to lay there, unmoving, occupying your hands with the soft cotton underneath you. a choked sob of pleasure makes its way out when he hits a spot so deep inside of you, you had no clue it existed until this moment.

“but knew i was gonna get to come home to you,” he continues, distracted momentarily by the bounce of your tits with each thrust. “my sweet, sweet girl who always listens to what i say. who’s always so ready to do what i need her to do for me.”

he reaches up to pinch one of your hard nipples. you flinch, but remember to keep your hands down.

“and imagine my surprise, when i walk in the door to see you already making yourself feel good after i told you to wait on me,” he switches his hand to your other nipple, show it some attention. “made me so fucking angry all over again. was so prepared to come in and take care of you, low and slow all night. a treat for you and for me. but you just had to go and ruin it, didn’t you?”

at this point, even if you wanted to speak you couldn’t. you’re quite literally being fucked dumb right now. the effort of keeping your body still isn’t even a challenge anymore, limbs so heavy with pleasure you’re basically his to manipulate and use as he wishes.

you don’t even feel your orgasm approaching. one second you’re listening to his frustrations, the next you’re half deaf and seeing stars.

quinn stutters only slightly, abandoning his touch on your tits to move his hand to your throbbing clit.

“god, this was so fucking easy. this turn you on? me mad at you, not letting you do what you want, just like i didn’t get to do what i wanted?” he talks you through your bliss, watching your body shake and shiver while he continues his deep thrusts.

his fast circles on your clit don’t ease up, even after you’ve come down from your high. you try to wiggle your body away, your sensitivity making you squirm.

quinn’s grip on your hip tightens, halting your movement.

“don’t fucking move,” growls at you, basking at how easy it is for him to glide in and out of you, his dick covered in your release. “you’re gonna give me another one, i don’t care how sensitive you are. know you can do it. my own little slut.”

the name surprises you, quinn never really has been one for using stuff like that in the bedroom. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t cause the feelings of another release to start swirling again, though.

his resolve starts to deteriorate, but he’s determined to milk one more from you before he enjoys his own release.

“c’mon. it’s the least you can do f’me, really,” he grunts, somehow rubbing even faster circles on your swollen bundle of nerves. “after no one at the game would let me retaliate, and after i had to sit in the fucking box for two minutes for just returning a little bit of what they dished out all night, giving me all you’ve got isn’t a lot to ask, is it?”

you try to shake your head, but the increased pace of his forceful thrusts causes your head to bob all over the place.

he can feel your walls starting to flutter again already, knowing it won’t take much to send you over the edge.

keeping his hand in between your legs, applying both pressure and friction to your clit now, he bends his body over to attach his mouth to your tit, showing the the area attention once again. he swirls his tongue around your sensitive nub.

the feeling alone is delectable, causing you to writhe in pleasure. but the second you feel his teeth encase the delicate bud, biting down, you explode yet again.

you don’t think you’ve ever come so hard in your life. you cry out, so loud and so pornographic quinn worries someone will complain, but loving every second of the sound.

you’re convulsing underneath him, tears leaking from your closed eyes at the intensity of the pleasure radiating throughout your body.

“fuck, that’s it. swear your pussy’s trying to trap me in there, doesn’t want me to leave,” quinn groans, feeling like his dick is literally being suctioned into your body.

after a few more sloppy thrusts, his balls tighten and he coats your walls with his release. he moans out, mixing with your perfect whimpers and whines as the shocks of his own orgasm cause you to twitch.

after he’s sure your body has sucked him dry, quinn pulls out of you, pushing your knees down so he can roll over to the side of you, throwing his own tired body in the mattress.

you both lay beside one another, panting and letting your bodies catch back up to you. he reaches over to grab your hand, every ounce of anger having left his body through his orgasm.

he’s back to being his usual, soft self, as he rolls over to place a kiss to your temple.

you’ve come to a little bit, turning your head to look over at his smiling face.

“maybe…maybe i should start a pact with these teams you play each week to make you mad and rile you up during games more often,” you softly speak, voice slightly hoarse from your orgasmic screaming. “if this is what i get in return, think it’d be worth the price,” you smirk at quinn.

he lets out a quiet chuckle at your words, bringing a hand to brush some hair out of your face, finally placing a real kiss to your lips.

when he pulls back you open your eyes to admire him, but are met with a serious, stern expression.

“don’t push it.”

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split-spectrum · 1 day ago

Text

YOU'VE GOT TO LEARN

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Tags: extremely dubious consent, non-con elements, explicit sexual content, exhibitionism, age gap, established relationship, jealousy, possessive!joel, softdom!joel, unprotected sex, alcohol, hair pulling

Length: 3.3K

Summary: At a client's house party, you catch yourself getting jealous of other eyes on Joel. Joel pulls you aside to show you exactly what he thinks of that.

This is my first time writing for Joel Miller, so please go easy on me <3

☆☆☆

What is it about Joel that makes him most attractive when he's stuck somewhere he doesn't want to be?

You tip back the last of your whiskey sour, gazing at the tight creases in the corners of his eyes as he nods along with the blond guy who's been talking for twenty painful minutes about the crypto market. Joel is leaning back, arms folded over his chest, his big shoulders pushing at the seams of his denim shirt.

He once told you that no one besides you could tell his emotions on his face. You'd laughed and called bullshit at the time, telling him every thought in that pretty head of his showed up plain as day on his face, but right now it doesn't seem to matter. He's been looking like he'd swallowed glass since this guy started talking, and it doesn't seem to make a bit of difference to him.

When Joel had asked if you wanted to come along to the holiday party one of his clients was having at his house, you'd said yes even after hearing that the guy was 'kind of an idiot' and you'd probably be 'bored to tears'. Joel would have skipped it, but unfortunately it was one of his biggest clients, and the invitation wasn't one he could politely decline.

Right now, though, you're sort of wishing you'd listened to him. The party stopped being fun somewhere around the second MLM scheme that had been pitched to you, and you're now counting the minutes until you'll hit the mark Joel set on the drive there: "Least a couple hours - then we can head out."

The guy takes a short pause, then launches into another tirade on bitcoin, and you realize you're going to need another drink to get through it. Joel's arm slips from around your waist as you pull away.

"Be right back, fellas. I'm going to get a refill."

Joel's brows lift as you leave him behind. "Now hold on there. Wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I let you get your own drink-"

You wave him off, trying to hold in a smirk. "No really, I need to take a lap. Stretch my legs."

He licks his lips, looks off to the side for a second before calling after you, "Grab me one on your way back, will ya?"

You smile innocently. "You got it."

After your host declines your offer to get him something, you head to the kitchen, making a little chit chat on your way to the well-stocked fridge. You decide to get Joel's beer before you return to the open bar to ask for another drink of your own. You hook your knuckles around the neck of a Modelo, no sooner closing the door to the fridge before you glance back in Joel's direction, seeing he's been joined by a few more people.

It isn't surprising. Joel's the type of guy who tends to draw attention, and not just because of his looks. He's the guy who's in charge, even when he's not in charge. People gravitate toward him; just something about his presence that makes him the most interesting thing in every room.

In spite of that, your attention isn't on him at the moment. It's on the girl making moon eyes beside him. She's tossing a long, shiny ponytail behind her shoulder and grinning ear to ear despite the fact that bitcoin boy hasn't stopped talking.

Picking up a bottle opener, you pop the cap off the beer in your hand by muscle memory, not able to tear your eyes off of them. Joel's attention is still on the host, but when she says something to him, you watch him pull his chin back to nod, holding her in the corner of his eye to give a quick smile.

Kelly, you remember. That's her name. She's the receptionist at the client's office, and she's probably seen more of Joel this month than you have.

You watch as she cranks up her smile another thousand watts, laughing at something one of the other guys in the group has said. Kelly, you think. No. Probably spells it with an i. Kelli. Probably dots it with a heart.

Your face is starting to warm up, and when someone on the other side of the kitchen counter gently asks if you're alright, you clear your throat, then reply that you're fine as you quickly open the fridge for a second Modelo. It's time for you to slow down on the whiskey.

As you make your way back to the group, you catch Kelly/Kelli's eyes and give her a subdued smile. She blinks and smiles back, suddenly looking very shy.

"Now what did I miss?" you ask, when the men dissolve into laughter.

Henry, one of the contractors under Joel, shakes his head. "It ain't worth repeating in the presence of a lady."

The host interjects, "So what do you call Kelly?"

Henry puts an arm around her shoulder. "Aw, she's heard it all before, haven'tcha?"

"That don't mean she wants to hear it from you!" one of the other men shouts, and there's another round of laughter while you bite your lip, watching Joel's eyes as they dip to Henry's arm.

You wrap your lips around the tip of the bottle in your hand, letting the taste of the beer give your mouth an excuse to look sour. Henry's hand is dropping from Kelly's shoulder down to her waist, and while the conversation carries on, Joel leans in close so that only Henry - and you - can hear.

"Cool it, Henry."

"Huh?" comes the slow reply, as he pretends not to have understood him.

Joel just lifts his brows, and that's all it takes for Henry to back off, looking a little sheepish as he unwinds himself from Kelly, who looks more than a little relieved.

Henry turns to you, suddenly trying to make small talk, to save face. "Have you two met? This's our girl Kelly. She takes good care of us, don'tcha, sweetheart?"

You give a polite smile. "We've met. Nice to see you, again. Both of you."

"Uh huh," Henry answers half-heartedly before he wanders off, perhaps to join another conversation, or just to find another drink.

Kelly gives you another polite smile, then as the host starts to back away, bringing the rest of the group with him, she goes along with the crowd. Before she leaves, though, she softly murmurs to Joel, "Thanks for that."

He answers with a stiff nod, but it's more than enough to put the stars back in her eyes as she walks away, leaving the two of you alone.

You're biting your lip again, practically chewing on it, as you dangle Joel's beer by the throat, handing it over to him.

"Thank you," he says, then tips it back immediately.

You don't reply, lost in thought, but pretending nonchalance as you watch the group leave.

"Meant what I said, though," Joel adds in your silence. "Shoulda let me get it. I don't like to have you wanderin' around on your own. Not with this bunch of degenerates."

You smirk. "What, like Henry?"

"For one, yeah," he says, turning to face you now that the sounds of the party are fading into the background. "Lookin' the way you do, won't be able to keep their eyes or their hands off ya."

You laugh him off, but can't pretend that his voice isn't settling right in the bottom of your stomach. He's standing a little closer, now, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, mixed with the spice of his cologne. Something about him talking this way puts some boldness into you, and your words come out a bit more reckless than they should.

"Well, maybe you should have asked Kelly to get your drink, then."

He looks dumbfounded for a moment, and you widen your smile to show you're joking.

"I mean, I'm sure she would have," you go on, digging yourself deeper even as your heart kicks up faster. If you'd switched to beer two drinks ago, you probably would have explained yourself better. You would have insisted it was just a joke, because she so clearly has a crush on him. But your words are just swimming in all that whiskey.

"Cute little thing like that," you say, shrugging. "Probably don't mind her 'taking care of you', do ya?"

Joel's eyes are fixed on you, voice easing down into his chest when he asks softly, warningly, "What did you just say?"

He's turned all the way toward you, and all at once the room feels so much smaller, your face so much hotter. He's waiting for an answer, and your breath is caught high in your throat. "I-uh... it was just... nothing."

He's very slowly setting down his beer, looking down to a side table. "Wasn't nothing; I heard it." He looks back up at you, pinning you hard where you stand. "Now repeat it. Wanna make sure I heard you right."

You swallow, mouth dry. "I nn-nothing, I just said..." You force a crooked smile that you know he isn't buying for a second. "Y'know... she's- she's pretty cute, and maybe you... maybe she oughta... 'cause maybe you want her to..."

Your babbling doesn't impress him. He's just staring at you under a darkened brow. He opens his mouth to say something, but the motion of someone else entering the room catches your eye and you snap defensively before he can say anything.

"Joel, I didn't mean-"

He follows your gaze, then turns away and shuts you up with a wide, heavy palm sliding to the small of your back. "C'mere," he says. "C'mon." And the way he breathes it as he guides you out of the room and down the hall, you don't argue.

He finds a bathroom and pushes you inside. While you're looking over his shoulder to make sure no one sees you going in together, he's staring straight ahead, and he closes the door with one hand, still holding you with the other.

"I'm... sorry," you confess as soon as the door closes. "That was stupid. I don't know why I said it."

"Yeah," he grunts, crowding you up against the closed door. "You do."

The way he has you held close, arm around your waist and words warm against your mouth, you'd normally try to kiss him right about now. But looking into his eyes, you know there's no kiss waiting for you on his lips.

He's mad, and you're a little scared. Not scared of him, but scared of what he might do at a party where people might hear. People that he has to work with on Monday.

He isn't drunk, but he's had a few, and your fear ratchets up when his hand slides to your backside, gripping your ass and kneading it as he growls, "You think I give a goddamn about some teenager?"

Despite the way he's manhandling you through your dress, you can't help but roll your eyes. "She's not a teenager."

She isn't really that much younger than you are. And with Joel in his fifties, the thought has crossed your mind that he might just be keeping you around because he got a thing for younger women. You'd just never said anything out loud. Until tonight.

He stops, pulls back. "Alright, guess I'm not bein' clear enough."

He takes you by both arms, pushes you against the sink so you're looking at yourself in the mirror. Behind you, he starts unbuckling his belt.

"Joel..." you whisper, heat pulsing through you just from the sound of the metal clinking. You know you should ask him to stop - is the door even fucking locked? - but you can't get any other words out besides his name.

He slides a hand under your dress, pushing it up and over the swell of your ass. He doesn't slow down, doesn't even run his hand over your skin. He just pushes your panties to the side, pressing the head of his cock right up against your pussy, holding it there as he grits against your ear, "Guess I gotta show you where I want to be."

He pushes the thick head inside you, wrapping one arm around your stomach to keep you from falling forward. His other hand is flat on the sink, not playing with you, not easing anything. He doesn't give you any prep, just shoves in slowly, his cock stretching you all in one go.

You hiss, brow pinching. He didn't even let you get wet enough to take him. You can feel every damn move he makes inside you as he shifts his hips closer to pin you hard against the cold edge of the sink. When he's all the way in, you watch your mouth pop open in the mirror as you take a few panting breaths. The stretch is almost unbearable, but feeling so full of him, you don't want to stop.

He eases out, just a couple inches to coat himself in your slick, then presses back in even harder. You feel like your lungs are going to give out from how tight your gasps are getting.

"Fuck, Joel... hurts," you whine.

He slowly slides you off of him, then feeds it right back in.

"I know it does, honey," he breathes against your neck. "I know it does."

His deep voice makes you pulse around his cock and he drags his big, calloused hand down to the front of your dress, lifting it up just far enough to see your pussy, stuffed full of him. You're leaking down the sides of his cock, glistening in the dim light of the bathroom.

"See that?" he asks, unmoving. "That's where I wanna be. You hear me?"

Giving a shaky nod of your head, you whimper, "Yes."

He starts to piston in and out of you, and you can only watch. You close your eyes tight when he speeds up a little. "It's... mm- it's too much."

He doesn't change his pace. "Ain't about feelin' good. You've got to learn."

He groans when your pussy clenches around him, and you follow with an answering moan as the tension in your muscles starts to fade. You're soaking down both sides of your inner thighs as he opens you up further.

When you've dissolved into whimpering his name, he hooks one arm around your leg from behind, lifting it up so that you're spread wider. His other hand is still holding up your dress.

"Look at that," he grunts, making an obscene display of his cock fucking into your pussy. "Look how fucking hard you make me, baby."

You whine again, struck dumb by how good he feels with every snap of his hips. "God, feels so good... please..."

He's dragging his teeth against your neck when he replies, "Please?"

"Please, Joel. Feels so fucking good," you repeat, eyes closed.

You want him to fuck you properly, to bend you over and make you take him, to use his fingers - to let you use yours - anything; it doesn't matter. You're so worked up, you just need a little more.

"M'not gonna give you what you want, darlin'," he answers. "Don't work like that."

You can't help but loose a plaintive moan, even knowing you deserve it. "Baby, please-"

He drops your knee, letting your leg come down to the floor as he bends you over the sink. When he starts to fuck you for real, you can't hold it together anymore, softly pleading and whining for more, begging him not to stop, opening your eyes to watch him in the mirror as he starts to lose himself, too.

Until a knock at the door jars you right out of it.

"Is anybody in there?"

Joel doesn't even slow down. Just flattens his palm along your lower back to bend you back over after you jolt up.

"Joel-" you hiss. But he keeps giving you exactly what you need, and your eyes roll back.

"Hello?"

He slides a warm hand down the open neckline of your dress, kneading your breast as he looks at you in the mirror. His brown eyes are stern and steady. "Answer."

He keeps feeding you his cock, and you hiccup, legs shaking as you whisper, "I- I don't..."

"Go on and tell 'em. You're busy."

Fuck fuck fuck. "Uhh, s-someone's in here!"

Your voice comes out strained and airy, and you wait for the reply while Joel kisses the skin of your shoulder, sliding the front of your dress down.

"Joel, it's... somebody is..."

"Nothin' in here that I wanna hide," he growls, pushing his hips right up against your ass as he circles a thumb around one of your nipples.

"Fuck, Joel..." The silence outside has been long enough that the person is probably gone, but your pulse is still pounding, and he's making it so fucking hard to think. "Oh my god, yes..."

He's quietly panting, lifts his head long enough to say, "Understand now, pretty girl?"

"Mm..."

"This here's right where I wanna be. Nowhere else," he grunts, pressing his weight down on you, the squelching sounds between your bodies getting louder than your moans. Your eyes are drawn up to the mirror, watching the veins in his neck tighten as he fucks into you harder and harder. "You got it?"

You frantically nod, desperately near the edge of coming. "Fuck, yes, mhm..."

"Maybe I oughta fill you up right here, leave you with somethin' to think about."

"N-no," you stutter, almost sounding like you're sobbing your words. "P-please, I get it. I heard what you s-said."

He has to let you come. You don't care that you were acting up, making something out of nothing. You don't care what got him mad at you. All you can think about is how flushed his chest is beneath the open collar of his shirt, how tight his grip is, how stiff his jaw is set. You just want to listen to that throaty growl, feel him mercilessly fucking you a little while longer. That's all it would take. Just a little bit...

"Fuck-"

Joel pulls out, hand tightening into a fist around himself. You slump against the sink.

"Goddamn, baby. Almost got me, there."

You're on the verge of tears, shuddering with wild breaths. "No, fuck, Joel, please please please-"

He grips a handful of your ass, fingers brushing through your wetness and making you whimper.

"Told you, I ain't giving you what you want."

You hear him zip up his jeans, and then his hand is back at your ass, but this time he's pulling your panties back into place and tugging your dress down.

"Never gonna learn that way."

You whine pitifully, knowing you brought this on yourself, but still pleading under your breath, face drawn tight with frustration.

He helps you stand up properly, giving you his arm to steady yourself. You straighten your dress, cleaning up your appearance in the mirror, and eventually you're able to leave the bathroom, walking out on trembling legs.

He gives you a smirk as you leave the hallway, and something in you finally snaps. Maybe it's a little unfair, but you know exactly what to say to knock that smirk off his face.

You lean in and whisper in his ear, "Guess you didn't want me that bad after all, or you would have finished."

And all of ten minutes later, you're in the cab of his truck. You're screaming his name as you come all over his cock, hands fisted in his hair, tugging it hard while he pumps you full of his cum, cursing you the whole time.

Turns out, he's the one who's never gonna learn.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I don't have a taglist for Joel, but I'll add one if I ever write for him again. Hope you enjoyed! :)

Masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #last of us #joel miller smut #pedro pascal character x reader #tlou

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screamlet · 13 hours ago

Text

08x06 fix-it fic: break and be mended

not connected to that excerpt i posted before, just something completely different. 4.5k, read on the ao3

---

Another hospital room. Buck takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again, letting it out and hoping he gets back to sleep. It doesn't happen, though, because his brain catches up to his eyes:

Maddie, wearing a yellow paper hospital mask, a hand anxiously on her belly, sitting in the chair next to him with that too-familiar oh-thank-god-you're-finally-awake face… and Tommy leaning in the doorway.

He takes another deep breath and opens his eyes again.

"You're okay," Maddie says patiently, slowly, as Buck tries to slam the door shut or set the doorway on fire with his brain. "It's just the turkey flu, it hit you hard."

That breaks Buck's concentration. "Wait, is this a dream? Another coma dream? Turkey flu has to be something I made up."

Maddie raises her eyebrows and looks over her shoulder at Tommy before turning back to Buck. "Another one?"

"No, no, don't look at him," Buck interrupts. "He's not supposed to be here, not when I have turkey flu, not ever. He broke up with me, remember?"

In the doorway, Tommy shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He's wearing the dark blue LAFD t-shirt and pleated pants, a special Air Ops patch on his shirt sleeve. They always lurked under his flight suit, under his turnouts when they were on the same scene, but Buck didn't get to see them often. It was for the best, he thinks now, because the shirt fits perfectly across Tommy's chest and shoulders, the pants belted low. His shirt is tucked in better than Buck's ever is. He almost never got to see him like this so it feels like some new Tommy he's seeing, a Tommy that hangs around Harbor long enough to take off his flight suit but doesn't peel the rest of his work self off. He doesn't get off his shift, put the pilot away, shower and go home.

Buck looks away. He's looked too long.

"I'm actually here, you know." Tommy raps his knuckles on the door like that's proof of anything except a very strong poltergeist. "I can hear you."

Buck watches something that he hasn't seen in years sweep across Maddie's face (mostly her eyebrows, because of the mask).

She turns around and snaps, "I let you come within ten feet of my brother and you think bitchy fun Tommy was invited, too? He was not." Tommy looks shocked and abashed; Buck loves her so much.

"Why was he invited at all, Maddie?" Buck asks. "And you're both real, right? Like I'm not hallucinating both of you. Is that a turkey flu symptom? Can I have my phone? I need to look up turkey flu."

"It's a strain of avian flu, you just happened to get it from a turkey farm. Hen said you had a call to one of those last week," Maddie explains. "And you kept giggling when I said the words turkey flu so, you know, why not?"

"It's pretty funny," Buck admits. "Hey, why's he here?"

Maddie turns around and looks at Tommy expectantly. Buck still knows his face, still knows him, and can see the quip that wants to escape past his lips. He can see the work it takes to hold it back and look sincere, really sincere, for them.

"You collapsed at a scene and I flew you over," Tommy says. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Buck stares at him as he presses his lips into a fine line. "I'm okay. Thanks."

Tommy nods, then asks, "Can we talk? Alone?"

It's taken four months, almost as long as they were together, but Buck's finally hearing the words he's wanted to hear since Tommy walked out his door. I'm sorry, I was scared, I love you, yes let's take the next step together, from now on let's take every step together—that was Buck's first choice. Can we talk as a jumping off point for all those other things—that was Buck's second choice. Was.

Buck glances at Maddie and knows his face does something dumb. "I'll be outside," Maddie says. "And I'm not far, if you want me to throw him out." She looks over her shoulder at Tommy. "I'll do it."

Tommy nods. "Wouldn't doubt you for a second."

She squeezes Buck's hand and lingers for a beat, one long look at him like she's waiting for him to say actually, wait, don't, stay, but he doesn't. He hates that he doesn't. He hates that he wants to hear what Tommy has to say.

She and Tommy swap places; he takes the chair next to Buck's bed and she leaves, shutting the door behind her. Tommy doesn't see the way she passes by the window like a shark, watching, but Buck laughs. When Tommy looks back, she's gone.

"Your sister's changed a little," Tommy says casually. "Her sense of humor, I mean."

Buck licks his lips. "Yeah, well, when you were my boyfriend, you were her friend. Now you're neither."

"Yep, got it," Tommy says. He sits back in the chair, but looks so uncomfortable that someone would think he'd never sat in one before.

"Are you okay?" Buck asks. "Why are you here?"

"This chair is so weird."

"Tommy, what do you want to talk about?"

It startles Tommy, and it should. He only got soft and smitten, totally-in-love (even if he couldn't admit it out loud) Evan Buckley, cute and bratty Evan Buckley. He doesn't get that Evan anymore. No one has.

Tommy sits with his feet flat on the floor and his hands folded in his lap. He takes a minute, a long minute, of staring at the floor before he looks up and stares at Buck. "You asked me to move in with you."

Buck blinks. "I did."

"You asked me to move in with you."

"You said that. I mean, I said that, but you—"

"Evan," Tommy interrupts.

"I thought I was Buck now," Buck interrupts.

Bitchiness lurks on Tommy's tongue, but he holds it back. "You asked me to move in with you. Into the loft."

Buck tilts his head. "Yeah?"

Tommy shuts his eyes hard and shakes his head before he looks at Buck again. "Evan, I own a house."

"... okay?"

"Did you ask me to move in with you and expect me to give up my house?"

"What, no—" Buck says, then stops himself. "I don't—I didn't think—"

"Did you even think about that?" Tommy asks. "Like when you talked about moving in together, getting married, the future, all of that—did you even remember that I own a house?"

"You know," Buck interrupts. "Four months ago, you could have said, haha, wow, that's moving pretty fast, also I own a house, maybe when we're ready, we could move into MY HOUSE and make it OUR HOUSE, but you needed to run out the door so why would you say any of that?"

"Yeah! I was freaked out! Because here was this guy I—this guy I really liked, and he asked me, a 40-year-old man, to move into his loft?"

"What's wrong with it? Why do you keep saying it like that?"

"It's downtown! Downtown is loud and filthy and did I mention it's noisy? It was hell sleeping there in the summer because even with your central air, heat rises and it rises right into the bedroom. I saw your electric bill, Evan, it was unforgivable."

Buck wants to throw something at him. "And we could have been at your house, quiet and with better temperature control, but we weren't because…?"

"I'm just saying," Tommy continues. "Yeah, all that's true, but I realized you wanted me, wanted a future with me, and you didn't even remember that when I wasn't working or with you, I was at my house."

"I get that," Buck says. "Now how many times did we hang out at your house?"

Tommy sighs. "It's out of the way, your place was always closer to the 118 and to Harbor, and I kept—I was going to, okay? Like maybe after our anniversary, we'd take a week off together and we'd actually be at my house, or take a trip somewhere—"

"You got me basketball tickets," Buck snipes at him.

Tommy stops completely.

"For our six month anniversary, remember?"

"How the hell am I going to forget that?"

"You got me tickets to see the Lakers. Really good tickets."

Tommy rolls his eyes. "Alright, well, that's the last time I call that guy I know in the press office for anything."

Buck thinks he's getting closer to setting something on fire with his mind. "I hate basketball."

Tommy stares at him. "What the hell are you talking about? We met because of basketball."

Buck sits up so quickly and angrily he starts wheezing and that turns into a coughing fit. Tommy's immediately there, sitting on the edge of his bed with water, getting him to take a small sip as he rubs his back. When Buck realizes what's happening, he covers his mouth with his blanket and shoves Tommy away, coughing even more.

"Sorry, I was just—"

"I have turkey flu!" Buck yells through the blanket covering his mouth.

"The doctor said you're not contagious anymore."

Buck points at a small paper box across the room. Tommy, so put-upon, grabs a pale yellow mask and slips it on before he sits in the chair again. "Sorry."

"It's—" Buck halts because Tommy had grabbed two masks and was holding one out to him expectantly. Tommy motions to it again and Buck can see how he wants to make a bitchy comment about not having this conversation through a hospital blanket, but he doesn't. That's what makes Buck reach out and put the mask on. The icy fist around his heart thinks about melting.

"We didn't meet because of basketball, we met because of Bobby and Athena and the cruise ship," Buck corrects. "I wanted to see you again after that tour at Harbor but I couldn't think of another reason—"

"I gave you the widest of openings," Tommy interrupts. "Hello? Flight lessons? When you finally offered to buy me a beer, I almost dropped to my knees right then and there."

"But you never called me! You're the one who left to hang out with Eddie!"

Tommy throws up his hands. "Ball was in your court! Speaking of basketball."

Buck sighs, exasperated. "We weren't, like, running into each other, I didn't have a reason to call you—don't say the beer—so finally I saw Eddie was going to that pick-up game with you and I dragged Chimney along."

"Right," Tommy says. "And you played basketball with us. We kicked your ass in a way that made me think you were pretending to be bad at it to make me feel good or something? And then there was the whole thing with Eddie's ankle."

"I hate basketball!"

"You brought your own ball!"

"I same-day ordered a basketball so that when I showed up you'd be like, wow, that guy's ready for basketball, what a cool guy!"

"So you're mad that your basketball ruse worked on my dumb ass, and worked so well for six months that I got you Lakers tickets for our anniversary."

Buck's so annoyed that he put it like that. Maybe that's true, but he didn't have to say it. "I don't like basketball! It was a ruse but I didn't hide it after. You watched games with Eddie and I never came along because I don't like basketball."

"You said you wanted us to have our Eddie-Tommy friend time!"

"Why do you make me sound and feel like a five-year-old? Eddie-Tommy friend time? Seriously?"

Tommy folds his hands together like he's in prayer and shuts his eyes. "Okay, listen, I just. I wanted to get the house thing off my chest, alright? Because it's—it's bothered me so much."

Buck could argue about the basketball thing for about another 500 years, except that Tommy has said what he said. "Has it?"

Tommy puts his hands in his lap again, folded politely as he looks at Buck. "I meant what I said. You were so swept away in how new and exciting everything felt, that I felt like you forgot who you were talking to. Like… I'm not a guy who's going to move in with you. I'm a guy who has a house with a home gym and a car lift, and—and the winter was so mild that I put in this little patio space in the backyard. I bought furniture for it. I took this corner of my front lawn, too, and started to plan a pollinator's garden because they sounded really interesting after those three days of bee hell. Evan, I have a house."

"You keep saying that," Buck says. His ears are burning, but he's listening too intently to feel embarrassed about it (much).

"I freaked out, alright? Because I heard: give up your house to live in this downtown loft with a couch that has a faded but GIANT blood and placenta stain on the other side of the cushion, and then the words engaged and married got thrown in there, too? All in the same breath?"

Buck stares flatly, then nods. "Yeah. I get it. Sorry." He clears his throat and grabs his water before Tommy can offer it to him. He takes a sip, looking at Tommy before he nods at the closed door. "Are we done here?"

"And I'm not a gay rights hero," Tommy adds. "You said that, too." Tommy looks away, and looks so miserable. "I'm just a guy, Evan. I've been burned before by younger guys who thought I was everything that their first gay boyfriend should be, and then—and they didn't see who I was. It's always—" Tommy holds out his hands like he's balancing scales. "Not straight enough to fake a life with a woman, not gay enough to have a real life with a man."

Buck hasn't done this in so long that his throat almost aches with it. He sighs, pained and breathless, the word crinkling against the mask: "Tommy." He swallows again and asks, "Did you really think that was me?"

Another long pause. It ends with Tommy saying, "I thought you were too good to be true."

"I'm not, though, I'm—I'm just me," Buck says. "And I did have a lot to figure out, but not about you."

Tommy laughs suddenly. "Really? Because you forgot I was a homeowner and I didn't know you hated basketball. Did you even go to that game?"

Buck coughs. "I gave the tickets to Karen and she took one of her brothers. They're nuts about the Lakers."

"Huh," Tommy says. "Well. I'm not mad about that."

The two of them are quiet until Buck says, "Seems there's a lot of things we don't know about each other."

Tommy glances at him; Buck can see the shape of his smirk beneath the mask, and the very specific way it makes his eyes crinkle. "And just when we thought we knew everything about each other."

"Yeah, I thought that, too, and then you dropped that you were engaged to my first serious girlfriend at our six month anniversary dinner." Buck raises his eyebrows. "Do you land helicopters that smoothly, too?"

"I got you here, didn't I?" Tommy bites back, then catches himself with a laugh. "Okay. Fair point."

It's so easy, it's so easy, it's so easy, it's so easy and Buck hasn't had it easy for months. He hasn't had these quips, this back-and-forth, this person who got him until he didn't, who—Buck rubs at his eyes. Tommy made it easy. He made everything easy. Not perfect, not effortless, but easy. Easier.

"So, uh." Buck fusses with the blanket in his lap. "What have you been doing for the past four months? You, uh…"

"Am I seeing anyone?" Buck nods. "I was, yeah. Didn't last that long."

Buck can't help himself: "Neither did we."

"Ouch." Tommy looks back. "And you?"

"Yeah," Buck says. "I liked them but I broke up with them because it just—it wasn't going anywhere."

"And what's wrong with that? Staying in one place? Isn't that what you wanted for us?"

It's not, but Buck can't articulate it, so he says, "Do you think that's the same?"

A beat, and then Tommy says: "No. No, I don't."

"Tommy," Buck says quietly. "How many people do I have to be with before you decide I've figured it out?"

Tommy's eyes widen. "What? I never said that."

"Tell me what you said, then." Buck swallows painfully, that turkey flu kicking his ass harder than he thought. "Tell me what you meant when you said I didn't know what I wanted. Because I told you what I wanted. I told you I was ready for something and all the things we did together, I thought that you believed me. I guess you didn't, so tell me how many bodies it'll take before you believe me."

Tommy doesn't say anything.

"God, and you know what really sucks?" Buck asks. "That we were together long enough to talk about who we'd been with so we could get tested and be safe. We talked about all that, but I never told you how many times I'd had my heart broken and you never told me yours."

"Three," Tommy eventually says. "Shawn, who was like… all of 25. He was all-in, knowing for sure that the first time was the charm, and I was old enough and steady enough to be That Guy. I believed the hype even though I was barely out of the closet. I shouldn't throw stones at Abby's House of Himbos when I set up my own on the other side of town. And then there was Raúl, my Army buddy who came out to his family and immediately moved to LA to get away from them. Everything felt like a fresh start for him, but… not quite for me."

Buck thinks to ask, but Tommy beats him to it. "Do I need to say the third?" Buck shakes his head. "What about you?"

"Abby, and you." Buck looks at Tommy as he says, "It's not just ending things with someone because it doesn't work. It's heart break. Something's gotta break and be mended."

"I don't think I did that part. You've one-upped me there."

Buck wouldn't have believed that 20 minutes ago, but he believes it now.

"So Bobby's been there, watched me since I was Abby's himbo and helped me to grow into the person who wanted that stuff with you. Once he, kinda, told me that if I care about how people see me, then I haven't learned a damn thing," Buck says. "And that is and isn't true, here. I can't live hoping I meet people's expectations of what they think I should be. I want people—I wanted you—to see me as I am. I thought you did but you didn't, and I didn't either because I didn't see how scared you were. I've made my peace with that. We had something really special and made each other feel really good but, in the end, I guess we were saying all the right things to people we didn't know."

Tommy listens, considers, and nods. "Whole lot of past tense, there."

Buck glances at him and doesn't want to look away, but he does. He doesn't meet Tommy's eyes. He's scared, too. He's done enough today: said a lot of things he's been thinking about for four months and said them very calmly and thoughtfully, but this is gonna hurt. It hurt Buck to realize it and it's gonna hurt Tommy to hear it.

"You got what you wanted, right?" Buck asks. "You got to keep your heart, and I don't feel new and excited anymore." Buck inhales deep; it hurts. "I feel like I did before, like I'm short one piece of being whole. Now the ocean I have to search is so much wider and deeper. So thanks for that, I guess."

"Evan—"

"I let you into my family," Buck interrupts sharply. "Because I cared about you and because you fit. I fit because they're mine and that's my family I made, and you fit there right next to me. With us."

"You're absolutely right."

Buck watches him, tries to see behind the sunshine yellow and white mask on his face, but all he sees are his eyes that, like always, make Buck feel too much, like laser beams disintegrating him.

"Were you really that scared?" Buck can't help the way his voice cracks. "You were that scared of me?"

Tommy looks up again, lasers in place. "I was that in love with you." He shakes his head like he did that last night in the kitchen, and looks up like he'll tip the tears back into his eyes. "And those heartbreaks—you'd leave them light-years behind if I let you. You'd leave me light-years behind."

Buck nods, then says, "Could you leave, please." His wet breathing crinkles grossly in the mask. "Thanks for telling me all this, thanks for the closure, but I don't need to see what someone looks like after they've walked away from me."

"You collapsed at a scene three days ago and I was the closest pilot to medevac you here," Tommy says slowly. "You were delirious and told Shreya, Don't tell Tommy I'm sick, he doesn't care anymore."

Tommy clears his throat. "I do care. I never stopped."

Buck sits back in his hospital bed and pulls the blanket up to his neck, the only comfort he's got right now. "If this is a turkey flu dream, I'm gonna be so pissed at you, real you," Buck says.

Tommy laughs quietly, sadly, then hesitates for a moment. "Can I ask you something? Can I ask you the scariest thing I've ever asked anyone in my entire life?"

Buck doesn't move, doesn't breathe. "What is it?" he finally asks.

"Will you give me a second chance?"

Buck, hearing what he's quietly dreamed of hearing for four months, doesn't feel the euphoria he thought he would. He feels something else, though: a strange kind of wonder that someone wants him again. Again. He swallows hard, feeling the pain right in his turkey-flu-ridden throat. Someone knew him. Someone left him. Someone came back—came back for him.

Tommy left. Tommy came back. Tommy wanted him then. Tommy wants him now. Tommy's wanted him all along.

Buck asks, "Will you invite me to your place more than once every six months?"

Tommy's half-smile is still wide enough for Buck to see behind the mask. It falls, though, back into something serious. "Will you forgive me when I'm not a paragon of queer virtue?"

"Will you believe me when I tell you I've fucked around and found out enough for a lifetime?"

Tommy raises his eyebrows ever so slightly. "Will you believe me when I tell you I've fucked around and found out enough for a lifetime?"

Buck thinks he smiles a little behind his mask, but it doesn't stay. "Are we gonna break up again?"

"I don't know," Tommy admits. "But maybe next time we can stop each other and hit the brakes. I love romcoms, but maybe we don't do that again: you don't propose fixing a problem with marriage and a baby, and I won't run out the door."

Buck raises his eyebrows, too. "Who said anything about a baby?"

Tommy sputters. "I mean, you were the one raising the stakes before."

Buck laughs. "Right, right."

The quiet stretches out between them. They look at each other and don't look away. The stubborn, proud, cocky side of Buck feels annoyed that this feels like—like he can't get out of this. Like all roads lead back to Tommy, like he doesn't have a choice. Like if he wants to be happy, it's with this person.

A part of him wants to run and throw himself into the hunt again. He wants to thrive in the search for someone who makes him feel that euphoria and fondness and love that he felt with Tommy. He tries to imagine someone else, some vague smoky figure that isn't Tommy's height, Tommy's build, Tommy's arms crossed over his chest and that tilt of his head. The problem is that Buck feels more looking at that furrow and arch of his eyebrows than he's felt for anyone he's met in the past four months, maybe even longer.

Not all roads lead to Tommy—only the ones he wants to take.

"Say it again?" Buck asks.

Tommy nods ever so slightly. "I'm in love with you." He pauses and a smile reaches his eyes. "I love you."

Buck can't help the way his eyes water; neither can Tommy.

"Ask me again," Buck says.

"Will you give me a second chance?"

"Yeah." Buck wonders if his own smile reaches his eyes. He hopes it does. "Yeah. Will you?"

Tommy chokes out a laugh behind his mask. "Yeah, god, of course. Of course. You sure?"

"About you?" Buck asks. "Yeah. I mean, I want to be. Don't make me regret it."

"Don't make me give up my real estate."

"Don't make me go to any sports events."

"Seriously? Not even baseball?"

"God," Buck moans. "The sleepiest one of all."

"Hockey's good."

"You hate the Kings."

Tommy scoffs. "Of course I do. You always hate your local teams—you just hate visiting teams more. Can't let management get comfortable."

Buck attempts to take a deep, exasperated breath, but he forgets that he has the fucking turkey flu. He chokes and starts to cough and wheeze, but Tommy's there again. He freely, lovingly pushes Buck further to the other side of the hospital bed so he can sit and take care of him: water, tissues, hand on his chest to steady him, eyes worried and on him.

"It's not official until you kiss me," Buck says. "I'm not contagious."

"I mean, not with turkey flu," Tommy says. "Your Buckness? That I'm not so sure."

"Don't call me that anymore," Buck says.

Tommy puts his cup of water on the table next to Buck's bed, then shifts so he and Buck are closer, face-to-face, head on looking at each other. "How'd you get even brattier in only four months?"

"How'd you forget I was this bratty?"

"At my age, well, everything's starting to go."

Buck laughs, then coughs and wheezes. "Stop making me laugh."

"How'd you forget I was this funny?"

Buck tilts his head. "I didn't. I didn't forget a thing."

Tommy searches his face, then cups his jaw with one hand. Buck doesn't lean into it, just lets Tommy hold him as he tips Buck's chin up ever so slightly.

Then Tommy kisses his forehead and his birthmark, and wraps his arms around Buck. It's the warmest Buck has felt all winter. It finally feels like spring.

---

read on the ao3

#911 fic #bucktommy fic #bucktommy #fix-it fic #tevan #tevan fic #tommy kinard #evan buckley #maddie han #my fic #screamlet #this may as well happen

324 notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 2 days ago

Text

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Three

None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.

Lestappen X Reader

Chapter One Chapter Two

It all happened so fast. Max grabbed a hold of Charles and pulled him away from you, as your handler grabbed the back of your shirt and pulled you away. A good thing, too. Your teeth were bared at him, ready to bite down on any inch of skin you could reach.

The muzzle was fastened over your mouth, keeping every body else safe from you. "Huh," Charles said as he struggled out of Max's grip. He looked at you, at the way your expression changed the minute the muzzle was back over your face. Eyes wide, expression guilty as you stared at him.

I'm sorry, you wanted to choke out. But you couldn't. Instead a whimper left your lips as you tried to beg for some sort of forgiveness. But Max (Max fucking Verstappen! But you could freak out about that later) stepped between you. The look he gave you was enough to shut you up.

"Come on," said your handler as she pushed you through the garage. You couldn't stop yourself from looking guilty as engineers and mechanics stared at you. They'd seen what had just happened, there was no doubt in your mind. Your gaze fell to the floor, unable to look any of them in the mind.

There was your car, your F1 car. Your status as reserve driver had been kept quiet, your seat fitted and the car set up to your liking. Your number sat on the car, number fifty-three. It was real. It was really, really real.

They were still watching you. They watched as you touched the numbers on your car, as you climbed your way inside of it and sat in your seat.

"How does it feel?" Your handler asked, leaning over the halo.

You nodded as you looked up at her. Good. It felt good. It felt right. As soon as this part of your life was over, you could finally be done.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Max pushed Charles through the garage. Through the garage and out the other side. Your focus fell back onto the steering wheel in front of you and you mimicked a lap around the circuit.

You didn't know that Max was pushing Charles into his drivers room. You didn't know just how angry he was with Charles. But you did hear as Max slammed the door shut.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Max roared, his expression furious.

Charles didn't cower at his anger. They were long past the days where Max's wrath would have his retreating to safety. "You saw her, right?" He asked and glanced at the door. "You saw how much she needs me."

"Needs you? Charlie, she went to attack you! She doesn't need you."

But Charles shook his head. "She needs me in the way you needed me, Max. She's what you would have become if you didn't let me in."

"She's dangerous."

Charles's hands were on his cheeks, holding his face. "So were you." He didn't let Max drop his chin to his chest and kissed him slowly. "What if I can help her in the way I helped you? Shouldn't I try?"

Max placed his hands over Charles's. His cold hands, cold from the can of Red Bull he had finished before he marched over, against Charles's warmer ones. "Not if it puts you in danger," he whispered, his eyes pleading. "Charles, I..."

But he couldn't say it.

"Come on," Charles said and let his hands slip away from Charles's face. "I can't top your speed in practice if you're sulking in here," he whispered and kissed Max once more.

As they walked back through the garage (Max continuing on to the Red Bull garage), there you were. Your helmet, Ferrari red and covered in sponsors, nothing personal about it, sat on your head. Acting as a muzzle, Charles realised when he looked at you.

His leg jolted, but he stopped himself from walking over to you. No, not yet. Not after what had just happened. He gave you a smile and you flipped up the visor, letting him see your eyes.

Charles got himself ready to climb into the car. All the time he wasn't wearing his helmet, he was looking at you, watching you. You, in your fireproofs, with your overalls around your hips. It suited you, everything but the helmet. The helmet looked too corporate.

You needed something personal, a design all your own.

"Tell me how she does," Charles said to Bryan before he pulled his helmet over his head.

Bryan passed him his gloves. "You worry about your own drive, okay?" He said and Charles focused his eyes forward.

Formula One was nothing like Formula Two. Everybody on the grid had forgotten it, even if they had all been in the series at some point. Most before it was called Formula Two, back when it was GP2.

There had been little preparation for your transition into Formula One. It wasn't supposed to happen yet, you were supposed to have more time. But then Carlos went and broke his damn leg and here you were.

If only he wasn't human, maybe you wouldn't be in this situation.

Your first lap was, well, terrifying. More than once you wanted to stop the car, jump out and dry heave onto the gravel. Nothing would come up, that you knew. But you kept going, keeping out of the way when the McLaren's came past.

First practice isn't about being the fastest, you told yourself.

"Next lap go," your engineer said, as if you were a dog he had taught a trick to. You gritted your teeth as you took the last corner. And then, you went for it.

It wasn't about topping the times, about being the fastest on track. It wouldn't be for you this weekend, anyway. This weekend was about getting a feel for the car you'd spend the next few weeks in. It was about bringing the car back to the garage in one piece. You didn't need to worry about scoring points or helping the team in the constructors, not this week.

But that was all you were thinking about.

Gotta go fast. Gotta score points. Gotta go fast. Gotta score points. Gotta go fast. Gotta score points. Gotta go fast. Gotta score points.

The lap felt good. Not fast, but good. But that wasn't enough, not for you. Your engineer said something, something that was met with a snarl as you went again.

"Come into the pits on this lap!" Your engineer was shouting. "Box fucking box!"

Box box. You knew that phrase, even when you weren't thinking right. But the lap was good. You couldn't abandon it, not now. "Box box, beastie."

Slamming on the brakes, you swerved into the pitlane. A dangerous move, one that would definitely see you penalised. You pitted and the car was pushed back into the garage.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Your engineer roared as he marched over to you. He gripped the halo are he stared down at you.

You were still, chest heaving as you waited to be told what to do. Waiting for your handler to come over and give you instructions. Eyes set forward, watching as Charles pulled into the pit. He wasn't there for very long, a minute at most, before he was making his way back onto the track.

"Beastie," your handler said, grabbing your attention. You looked up. Well, looked up as much as you could in the car. "Listen to your engineer. No more driving like that, okay?"

She said it so gently that you found yourself attempting to nod. Just wanting to make her happy, to make her proud of you. Her hand was suddenly on top of your helmet. "You know what happens if you disobey."

Your eyes were still focused forward and you nodded again. You weren't going to disobey again. You wouldn't dare.

When she patted your helmet, you shut your eyes. That was close to what would happen, close enough to have you moving away.

"Get back out there," she said and moved away from you. You drove out of the garage, down the pitlane and out onto the track.

You did what your engineer told you. Did a push lap when you were told and cooled down when you had to. Of course, you didn't see the wave Charles gave you when you went past, couldn't hear as he asked about you on the radio.

"How is she doing?" He asked Bryan.

"She's doing good, Charles, but concentrate on your own drive, please."

You were doing good, that was all Charles needed to know.

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toxicanonymity · 2 days ago

Note

Imagine Slasher sees a man entering (or leaving?) Kitten's house, while he's stalking watching her. How would he react, what would he do? 👀

Thank you for all this ��🖤🫂

sexyback

SLASHER JOEL x f!READER | PLAYLIST | WC: 900

ENTERING! Let's do entering. And you're quite welcome. I hope this rascal makes some of you smile. Love you, Milla. 🖤🖤

WARNINGS: 18+ dark fic. Unsafe/dark sexual behavior, degradation, humiliation, slasher being slasher, cucking, dubcon/noncon but it's okay cause he ain't got no soul.

Joel watches from outside and perks up when your living room light switches off, and a dim orange light in your bedroom turns on. Yeah, let's go. He doesn’t have much of a view, so he creeps around back to the sliding door of your kitchen. And look at that, the door isn’t even locked.

This is big. An opportunity to see you whoring around. Catch you in the act. He’s not gonna blow it: unlike the other times he’s broken in, he doesn’t make a sound. He even takes off his shoes and leaves them outside.

You little sex kitten…you even left your bedroom door open. He takes a seat on your living room couch which faces away from your bedroom. He rests his elbow over the back of the sofa and angles himself so he can watch. He doesn’t see much, at first. Just the silhouette of some loser awkwardly lying on his side on your bed, presumably facing you.

Then there are kissing sounds. Gross. You must have thought the same. You don’t sound impressed when you stop and ask the poor guy, “Uh, ok. Can we just uh–”

And then you’re on top of him. Attagirl. That's the kitten Joel knows. You take off your shirt. Well, damn. You look sexy as hell from this angle.

“You’re so pretty,” the guy gushes softly. Joel rolls his eyes. That guy totally has a cuck voice. You lean forward, still with your skirt on, although it’s riding up. Your hips move, a little. He pulls your head down for a kiss. Dumbass. That clearly wasn’t doin’ it for ya before. Your faces connect, and while you’re not looking, Joel sneaks over to your room. He crosses his arms, holding a knife in one hand, and leaning against the doorframe.

You pull back from the bad kisser and he apologizes softly.

Joel has had enough. “Alright, just take your dick out man. That’s all she wants.”

The guy gasps. You turn around with a startle, but you don’t freak out. You're getting used to the break-ins.

“Joel,” you scold a little too calmly. “What the fuck?”

“Take it out,” Joel repeats to the guy.

“What are you doing?” You demand.

Joel answers, “Don’t whore around on me if ya don’t want me involved, babe.”

The guy hesitates, and Joel uncrosses his arms. With his knife still in one hand, Joel gesticulates in front of himself, starting with both hands near his crotch. “Take… your cock…” He lifts his hands and advances them forward. “Out of your pants.”

The guy is just staring at the knife in Joel’s hand.

“NOW,” Joel adds, then addresses you. “God damn, I can see what you're so bored about.”

The guy’s hands are shaking as he unzips his pants. Joel steps forward to take a look, and, well. Lol.

“You wanna go first or second?” Joel asks.

“W-What?” The guy stammers.

“Trainsgiving’s come early,” Joel explains. “Go on, get her while she’s tight.”

The man asks you, “Do you want me to-”

Joel interrupts with an exasperated sigh, then, starting in a mocking voice, “do you want me to–Shut up and do it,” Joel points at him.

Joel gets a good look at you. He knows that look on your face–mortified AND aroused. And when Joel gives you a little smirk, you seem to suppress one of your own. It’s clear in your eyes.

“Okay fine, just lie there,” Joel directs the guy. “Hold it for her.” Joel turns to you. “Go on, kitty. Don’t stop whorin’ on my account.”

You look Joel up and down, and when he palms a massive bulge in his jumpsuit, that’s enough to make you do it.

You’re more cock hungry than anyone Joel’s ever met. Too bad this guy’s not much of a meal. That’s okay. Joel’s here.

You put a condom on the guy, and Joel laughs, “ouch.”

When you sink down on the man, you’re hoping it’s a test. A test you’ll fail, provoking Joel into a rage. But no, Joel stands close by and unzips his jumpsuit, staring at where your body meets the cock.

Okay, he’s not that bad, both you and Joel think to yourselves. The guy is frozen.

“What,” you ask the guy, “you don’t want this?”

"No, I do." He looks back and forth between the two of you and asks, “Does he have to be here?”

Joel is now holding the absurd girth of his own shaft and glances down at it before looking the man in the eye. “Someone’s gotta pick up the slack,” Joel complains and adds under his breath, "Make up for what you lack."

You begin to move your hips.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Joel decides and puts an arm around you, pulling you off the guy. You pretend to fight Joel off.

The guy asks, “Do you need help?”

“She’s fine,” Joel cuts him off.

“I wasn’t done with him,” you protest convincingly.

The guy whispers,”What the fuck,” as he backs out of the room, still putting his dick in his pants.

“Why are you ruining my date,” you ask Joel.

“Shut up,” Joel pushes you forward and holds you face down on the bed. He growls in your ear. “You.. filthy.. slut,” then shoves into you brutally.

There he is, you think as you smile into the pillow and savor the incredible stretch.

#slasher!joel #joel miller smut #dark!joel miller #cw noncon #i guess #toxicanonymity ☠️

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evnseokz · 2 days ago

Note

how bout overstim with jongseong. like u and him had an argument (it was ur fault) so to make it up to him, for the first in ur relationship, u make the first move. teasing him the moment u two got in the car then seducing him even more when u got home, making him cum more than once and not stopping until he gives u his forgiveness

pairing: jay x reader

contents: reader takes lead, overstimulation, reader is a lil mean at the end, handjob, kissing, making out, pet name: baby, hopefully that’s all!

a.n: ty for the request! i had fun writing this and it ended up longer than i wanted it to be 😭 w.c 1.1k

deep down, you knew you were being irrational, overreacting over something that wasn’t even a real issue. but instead of apologizing, you just grew more frustrated, crossing your arms tighter across your chest.

the drive home was quiet. jay’s usually easygoing demeanor had shifted into a defensive silence, and you could feel the distance between you growing with every minute that passed. jays knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, and his brows furrowed as he drove. you took notice of this, guilt immediately creeping in.

“jay,” you trailed off, but he didn’t respond, eyes staying focused on the road in front of him. you reached out, hand landing on his thigh. his eyes darted to your hand for only a moment before they were back on the road. “jay, i’m sorry. please look at me,” you pouted, but jay wasn’t letting up. you internally rolled your eyes. fine— if he didn’t want to forgive you, you would make him forgive you. your hand remained on his thigh for the rest of the ride home, ideas plotting in your mind.

when you finally got home, you immediately ran upstairs to slip into something a little more comfortable. you grab one of jays t-shirts, stripping yourself of your own clothes and replacing them with it. you hear his footsteps approaching, and your plan immediately sets into action. you quickly scurry over to the bookshelf, leaning up on your tippy toes as if you were trying to reach something, allowing his t-shirt to ride up, exposing your plump ass. the door opens, jay’s presence filling the room immediately. his breath catches in his throat when he first notices you, eyes scanning up and down your figure. he begins to approach you, and just when you think he’s going to stop, he continues his strides straight past you and into the bathroom. well that didn’t work.

you huff to yourself, arms crossing as you sit yourself on the edge of the bed. you hear water running and use this time to devise another plan.

some time passes before jay is out of the bathroom, and here goes plan b. jay comes out in nothing but his boxers and a t-shirt, coming over to settle on his side of the bed. your eyes follow his every move, yet his don’t meet yours once. “jay,” you pouted, “please look at me.” you were practically begging at this point. when he doesn’t respond yet again, you crawl over to him, perching yourself atop his lap, legs straddling either side of him. he has to look at you now.

his eyes only meet yours for a split second before he’s looking down, as if you weren’t even there. you lean in, placing a kiss on his cheek and down his neck. "please, baby.." your tone is desperate, but there's a dominant fire in your gaze. sinister thoughts clouding your mind. he still doesn’t reply, but he moves his head slightly to one side, letting you have more access to the skin of his neck. you smirk to yourself; you knew he couldn’t resist you. your hands trail up his stomach to his chest, ultimately perching on his shoulders as you feel him up. your lips work expertly on his neck, moving to kiss and suck at his adam’s apple. this causes a small groan to leave jays lips, a tent beginning to form underneath his boxers.

your plan is working. you lips trail back up to his face, stopping right at the corner of his mouth before pulling away to devote your attention elsewhere. your hands leave his shoulders, fingers dancing down his torso and stopping at the waistband of his boxers. you toy with the hem, teasing him, hoping to get another reaction out of him. you feel him tense up underneath you as your fingers dip underneath to pull down the garment. his breath hitches in his throat when his rock-hard cock springs free, a light blush coating his cheeks, obviously embarrassed with how easily turned on he was.

you chuckle to yourself, bringing your hand down to his cock. his hands fly to your thighs once you begin stroking him slowly, fingertips digging into your bare skin. you sigh as you continue stroking his cock, which is pulsing underneath your touch. “you’re mine. only mine,” you coo as you bring your thumb up to swipe over his sensitive tip, applying light pressure. his hips buck into your hand. “do you honestly think i could possibly want anyone else when this is what you do to me?” jay finally speaks up, sighing as pleasure takes over his senses. your head snaps up, surprise and accomplishment filling you as you realize you finally got him to properly acknowledge you.

your strokes on his cock have quickened, bringing him over the edge faster than he’d like to admit, and as his hips buck into your hands and his cum shoots out onto your hand, you don’t slow down one bit. his hips stutter, his fingertips digging even harder into your skin as whines start to escape his lips. “y/n,” he breathes, “t-too much.”

you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine, ignoring him completely while you continue your ministrations on his length. his head is thrown back; overstimulation is oh so apparent. he can’t control how quickly he cums all over again, thick white ropes coating your hand, but you don’t mind the mess, once again not giving him a break as you continue to stroke him. tears begin to form in his eyes as a choked sob leaves his lips. “y/n, p-please, i forgive y-you,” he pleads. satisfaction coats your lips, but you aren’t ready to let up yet, recalling his stubbornness with you earlier.

“cmon baby, you have one more in you, don’t you?” you coo, a smirk splaying on your lips as you reach up with your free hand to wipe a stray tear from his cheek. you slow your movements just slightly, feeling a little bit bad for him as he shakes beneath you, pathetic whimpers leaving his lips. you lean in, capturing his lips in yours, giving him a distraction from the overwhelming pleasure he’s feeling. it’s not long before he’s cuming all over again, hips stuttering as his legs shake and incoherent babbles fall against your lips. you finally remove your hand from his cock, pulling away from his lips at the same time. his eyelids are heavy, his cheeks are flushed, and his lips are swollen. he looks so fucked out, and you love it. you cradle his head in your clean hand, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

“not nice to be ignored, is it?”

…

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hel1nn · 21 hours ago

Text

apologies ၄၃

𐔌 . ⋮ satoru gojo x fem reader .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ : angst to fluff | arguments | cursed words |

୨୧ : your boyfriend didn't replied to your texts and calls after leaving for a long mission.

Smau + written part below ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

Satoru sighs in frustration. He hadn't replied to your texts and calls because he was way too busy with work and.. forgot about you. So when he saw your texts he knew he fucked up. He continued his day, trying act everything was normal. Teaching his students then going on other missions blag blah. As always he came home late. Instead of using keys he teleported to your sharing apartment. There he saw you talking with someone on the phone, maybe shoko? Utahime. (Yes)

"i don't think he'll come home tonight" you sighed while talking on the phone, you were wearing on of his shirt, eyes puffy wnd tears stained cheeks, you didn't noticed satoru

"if you're not his top priority just leave him already"

"you don't understand,utahime. He didn't meant it like that but.."

"but what?"

"the way he told me i am not his top priority and if i don't understand i should just leave him,i don't know what to say but i got hurted so bad.."

With that you walked off to bedroom. You didn't noticed him standing Infront of your main door. The dinner left cold on the table. He felt guilty but didn't said anything. He got day off for few days. He sighed. He knew you wouldn't talk to him until all the anger you have disappeares.

He puts your portion of the food in the fridge after finishing his dinner. And then lays down on the couch , too scared to enter your room for now since he heard you sobbing there..he felt way more guilty than before but..he wasn't confident enough to approach you now. He sighed, thinking of ways you could forgive him. all the thinking took the best of him and then finally he fell asleep

You woke up a little later than usual,when you came out of your room and you saw satoru sleeping on the couch. You frowned seeing him like that. All you could do was covering him up with a blanket in the cold room. You called yaga asking if satoru got a day off or not,so when you heard he got few days for himself you sighed in relief. Leaving a simple breakfast with a too sweet coffee for satoru before you left for your work. Teaching the students as always, sparring and doing the usual things . But you were still sad about how satoru behaved with you yesterday. You weren't able to see him and now you ended up making things even messier. You don't know how you will greet him when you get home. After the long day when you finally arrived your shared apartment,you hear some noices coming from kitchen,when you go to check whats going on there you see satoru cooking something,hes face slightly covered in flour. A cake in the oven. Him trying to make steak for you on the other side. His six eyes immediately noticed you, looking at you with a nervous smile.

"sweets..your too early.." he mumbles, trying to find any kind of anger on your face. You sigh,trying not smile at him

"what are you doing.." you said as you make your way to satoru standing beside him with a soft frown on your face

Satoru sighed, finally giving you his full attention.

"i just wanted to apologise..for yesterday by...making you a dinner.." he pouted slightly, looking down. Looking like a puppy caught stealing food. He thought you'd say something like 'fuck off' but instead he hears a soft giggle, when he looks up fully he sees a soft smile on your face. You hand covering your mouth "your lucky iam not mad" when heard you say that it felt like a heavy weight got off of his back. He attacked you with a bone crushing hug with kisses and multiple 'sorry's about yesterday. You couldn't stop smiling,cheeks hurting from smiling actually, just like satoru. You helped him with making dinner. You don't know when was the last time you had a proper dinner with him. It doesn't matters now. All that matters right now is satoru.

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verycoolusername1 · 3 days ago

Text

Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another

Summary: Luke meets your parents, which leads to taking a huge step in your relationship.

Luke Hughes x gn!reader

Warning! Mentions of a embarrassing childhood story(that I have made up((it isn't that bad) 😔)

A/N: I have never been more tired but man is Hotch(from criminal minds) so damn fine in the earlier seasons- I miss him more every single day.

And I gave your parents names to help me keep track of them... guys say hi to Bobby and Athena(definitely wasn't taken from a certain fox/abc show about first responders whatsoever)!!

You fixed your hair for what felt like the tenth time in the past five minutes. Luke groaned quietly besides you, wanting to do nothing more than to hold you.

Yours and Luke's relationship was fairly new, only ten months in, and you decided it was time for him to meet your parents.

"Are you done now?" Luke asked the question for the 3rd time.

You sighed. "Yes, I'm just nervous. Everything needs to be perfect."

Your parents were coming in to visit you since Luke and the team were staying home a couple of days.

"Everything is going to be perfect, no need to stress." He kissed the crown of your head.

"Well, I'm sorry for wanting my parents to like you." You joked, but it did nothing to ease your nerves.

The doorbell rings, scaring the two of you.

"Shit," you cursed. "They're here." You grabbed Luke's hand and took him to the living room but not before fixing his shirt and hair.

"My hair is fine, baby stop it." Luke swats your hand away.

"No, it's not," You continued to fix it before the doorbell rang again, and you sighed in frustration. "Don't touch it."

Luke rolls his eyes. "Aye aye captain."

You walked up to the door and were greeted by your parents.

"Oh Y/N there you are." Your mother smiled warmly at you.

"I was beginning to think we were at the wrong place." Your dad joked.

"Just had to fix stuff up is all." You said, but you didn't miss your mom's glance. "Not like that, mom!"

Your mom only chuckled in response, moving past you. "Now, where's this boy you keep talking about?"

"He has a name." You told her.

"Which is?" Your dad snickered at your mom's patience.

"Luke." He appeared from the bedroom. "Luke Hughes. It's a pleasure to meet you both, Mrs. and Mr. Y/L/N."

"Oh please, sweetie, call me Athena." Your mom looked at him warmly.

Your dad shook his hand. "Bobby is fine. No need to be formal son."

While they shook hands, your mom whispered to you. "He sure is tall."

"Yeah I know, you should see his brothers." You told her.

Your mother's eyes widened. "There's more??"

"Just two mom, both older." You answered.

"So tell me about yourself, Luke, Y/N was just telling me you had two brothers." Athena spoke.

The four of you guys recently moved to the kitchen as you got the plates.

"Uh yeah, two older brothers, Quinn and Jack. We actually live with Jack, Y/N cause I asked and me and Jack work together. He makes appearances here and there mostly to tease us."

"Yeah, siblings tend to do that." Bobby chuckles.

"You said you and Jack work together? What do you guys do?" Athena asked.

"Oh uh actually me and my brothers play hockey, professionally." He answered.

"So your other brother Quinn isn't on the same team with you two." Bobby put the pieces together.

"Yeah, don't get to see him much during the season, but during the summer, we hang out all the time." Luke adds.

You came back with plates, clearly struggling. Something that Luke had noticed.

"Hey baby, cmon, let me." He took two of the plates away from you and served your parents.

Your parents observed the scene with a silent conversation between eyes.

"I was doing fine, Luke." You sighed.

"You were totally going to drop the plates. You don't have to do things by yourself. You can always ask Jack and I to help, I tell you that all the time." Luke mumbles.

"Y/N was always known for being stubborn. It'll take them a while to finally let you help." Bobby reassuranced Luke.

"Yeah, like once when they were younger, they were so sure they were going to be a lawyer." Athena says an example. "But refused to ask for any advice from their aunt who was a district attorney, said they wanted to do it by themselves and didn't need help from anyone."

"Sounds like Y/N, alright." Luke chuckles but quickly stops when he sees your glare.

You noticed your parents seem to be welcoming Luke in with open arms, which was a shock, considering the last time you brought your ex home, they were furious. But then again, you were also a teenager. Now you're an adult.

Your dad seemed to catch the interaction between the two of you and laughed. "Don't be mean to your boyfriend Y/N." He scolds playfully.

"I wasn't being mean just warning him is all." You smiled innocently.

Now your mother started laughing. "We certainly raised them well."

"Yeah, no, we did." Bobby chuckles alongside his wife.

The four of you ate the meal with laughter and jokes till it was time for your parents to leave.

Your dad talking with Luke before pulling him into a hug, your mom pulled you to the side.

"He's good for you, Y/N." She said, you nodded.

"I know." You smiled softly.

"Don't let him slip through your fingers honey." She hugged you. "And let him help you from time to time." She winked.

You groaned. "I thought we was over that."

"Oh please we'll never get over that sweetie." She kissed you on the cheek. "We'll text you when we get back, love you."

"Love you guys, too." And with that, you shut the door.

"That went better than expected." Luke says beside you.

"If your definition of better is disaster. Just promise me one thing, baby?" You looked at him.

"Anything." He hummed.

You looked at him sternly. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid... like ever in front of me, or I will break up with you."

Luke chuckles. "Noted."

#nhl imagine #nhl #nhl hockey #nhl players #new jersey devils #luke hughes #verycoolusername1 #luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes fic #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes oneshot #luke hughes x reader #lh43

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sugarcoatedstarkey · 10 hours ago

Text

Touch Yourself

Pairings - Drew Starkey x Female!Reader

Summary - based of a scene in love lies and bleeding.

Warnings - finger fucking, vibrators 18+

You stood in the bathroom, brushing your teeth as you stared back at yourself in the all too big mirror. Bending your neck left and right until a small crack traveled up, loosening the knot that kept forming.

You had been stuck at your desk all day, writing your second book. Ideas had started to fade and motivation was nowhere in sight, deciding it was time for sleep you made your way to the bathroom.

Drew was due home any minute, working late on the set of his upcoming movie. You had planned to be awake when he got home but the tiredness had become overwhelming and your eyes blurred from the laptop screen.

Just as you bend over the sink to wash your mouth out the front door slams closed and you jump at the intrusion of noise, Drew’s walking through the threshold of the bedroom seconds later. Throwing his bag onto the chair, his eyebrows are creased together in annoyance. “Babe?” You call out, his eyes meet yours through the mirror and his facial features soften. Pulling his shirt over his head he begins walking towards you.

He crowds your space, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his face into your neck. “You okay?” You question, enjoying the closeness of your boyfriend. You both didn’t get much time together anymore as he was always filming or you were busy in meetings for your book. “Just missed you” he mumbles into your neck, his lips kiss at your sensitive spot sending shivers up your spine. “I missed you too”.

You go to turn around but he holds you in place, running his hands down the length of your arms and moving them up above your head, pressing your palms against the mirror in front of you. “Wha-” you cut yourself off as his hands slip under your shirt, tickling your stomach and skimming under your breasts. His eyes flick to yours for a moment silently asking for approval, you press your ass into his crotch and he palms your tits. “I've been hard all day for you” he groans, you're now realizing the hardness pressed into your ass is his cock and not his belt.

You stay silent as his hands wander your body, he kisses your shoulder blades and drops to his knees behind you. Lifting your oversized shirt to your waist, taking a soft bite to your ass cheek and then kissing the teeth marks. “I want to touch you baby.. I want to stretch you out, see how far I can take you” he groans, slipping his hands between your legs and pushing them apart to give himself room. “You want that baby? Want me to play with you?”

“Yeah” you breathe, watching him through the mirror. He pulls down your panties and presses his palm into your lower back. Your hands slide from the mirror to grip the faucet, your pussy on display for him now. He presses a kiss to your wet lips and runs a finger through your folders. You watch as he sucks on his finger and brings it to your cunt, he starts off slow, pushing one finger into your hole. His eyes don’t leave yours as he pushes a second and then a third. “Fuck” you moan out, his fingers are slow and tantalising. Stroking your walls softly and nudging your soft spot with each thrust, your clit aches to be touched but he doesn’t go near it, knowing it’ll tip you over the edge too soon.

He’s enjoying you squirming, suddenly he’s inserting a fourth finger and you're crying out in half pain and half pleasure. “That’s it baby.. stretch you out so you can take my cock” he whispers, kissing your ass cheek again until his face is buried in your cunt. Tongue swirling and sucking until you're seeing white and cumming on his face.

He pulls away and orders you to spin, pushing you against the vanity. He’s still on his knees for you, staring up at you with lustful eyes. “Touch yourself”

The apples of your cheeks redden and you clench your fists together at your sides. “Come on baby, show me what you do when I’m not around to make you cum” he begs, grabbing your wrist and bringing it to your pussy. You nod and spread your legs again for him, reaching between your legs. You can feel the dampness on your thighs. You press your fingers to your clit, circling softly. “Is that what you do?” He questions, looking between your hand and you. You bite your lower lip and shrug. “Fuck baby come on.. that’s not what you do, show me how you fuck yourself”.

You pull your fingers from your pussy and bring them to your mouth, sucking on two fingers before dropping them back between your legs, his eyelids heavy and chest pounding. His eyes follow closely as you swirl the tips of your fingers across your clit and slowly push them deep inside of you, I gasp falls from your lips at the intrusion. “I usually use a vibrator.. for my clit” you choke out, riding your fingers as he grips your hips. He nods and pulls himself to stand. “Keep going”.

He exits the bedroom and rounds the bed to your side, opening the draw he grabs the small handheld vibrator and enters the room again. He kicks at your feet silently asking you to spread yourself further for him. Dropping to his knees all over again. He flicks the switch of the bullet and brings it to your pussy, teasing you by running it across your hand and just above your clit, he wants until your squirming above him and presses the vibratortor to your clit, watching as your eyes widen at the fluttering sensation.

“Oh shit” you cry, your fingers pushing deeper inside of you. “That’s it baby, fuck you look so good making yourself cum” he groans, pressing the head of the vibrator against you harder, sending you into a shaking mess. Your orgasm hits you instantly and you wobble on your legs, his arms wrapping around your waist as you cum around your own fingers.

“Such a good girl.. now let me fuck you baby”

#drew starkey smut #Drew starkey one shot #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #outerbanks smut #Rafe Cameron smut

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sweetbunpura · 2 days ago

Note

I’m sorry to request this I’m really am but have been reading a lot of this HC and then read post https://www.tumblr.com/sweetbunpura/766516274381586432/im-needing-some-drama-how-about-yuu-and-rollo? And thought I want to know. Rambleshack dorm after Yuu’s death. I’m sorry.

MORE DRAMA BUT WITH PAIN!

The dorm is cold and the lights are off, there are upturned chairs and destroyed items all over the place. Walking up the stairs, Malleus can see scorch marks and claw marks on the railing. The halls are filled with the sound of the crying residents. Passing an open door, there was Honest curled around a crying Gidel, he's trying hard to comfort the child but he's crying as well.

"C-Come on, Gideon. She wouldn't want to see you cry." Honest's ears were pinned flat to his head as he sniffed. "We have to be... have to be... I ain't got it in me, Giddy."

Gidel wails into his brother's shirt as Honest muffles his own sobs.Malleus stared at them with a sad look on his face and with a simple snap of his fingers, put them both to sleep. Following the loud sound of wailing to the open door master dorm room, there was Flamme holding a sobbing Grim whose claws were in his shirt.

"She said she'd be fine!" Grim wails. "She said she'd try not to get involved anymore! She lied! She's a liar!"

The young man doesn't say anything, but his body is shaking as if he's trying to hold everything together. Malleus put Grim to sleep as he slumped in Flamme's arms.

"Are you just going to go around putting everyone to sleep?" Flamme's voice was quiet as his back was facing Malleus. "Did your overblot mean nothing to you? Did her risking her life to save you mean nothing to you?"

He was quiet as he levitated Grim onto the bed and looked at the crying man.

"What? What are you here for?" He hissed. "Have you come to see all of us when we're at our lowest?" Flamme got to his feet. "Or are we the last ones you haven't-"

Malleus wrapped his arms around Flamme and gave a shaky inhale. "I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry."

The human was still before his body started to shake with hiccups that soon shifted into sobs. They both fell to the floor, holding one another the same way Yuu had held them. NRC was never going to be the same ever again.

#twisted wonderland #welcome to ramshackle #rollo flamme #fellow honest #twst gidel #twst grim #malleus draconia #twst fic #OH BOY PAIN

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eu-nicola · 2 days ago

Text

never enough

summary: Rafe and you share a connection that has always bordered the line between friendship and something deeper. Despite knowing that loving him is a game of risks, you cling to the intensity of his company. Rafe makes you feel alive, even when his love arrives with scars.

warnings: idk

word counter: 2862

author's note: english is not my first language

tags: @rafegf-real

The sun was streaming through the curtains in the room, illuminating the messy edges of your bed. It was a new day on the Outer Banks, but there was something different about the air, something you could only describe as a whisper of what has always been between you. You and Rafe Cameron.

For as long as you can remember, Rafe has been a constant in your life. You were no stranger to his fame on the island: the troubled boy, the son of the powerful Ward Cameron. But, to you, he had always been something more. There was a complexity to him that few bothered to see, an invisible pull that always brought you back to his side, even when you knew you shouldn’t.

That morning, your phone vibrated on the nightstand. Rafe’s name flashed on the screen, a reminder that even when you tried to keep some distance, he always found a way to get past your defenses.

“Breakfast at the dock?”

It was his usual way of starting the day with you, as if you both didn't have a history full of moments that neither of you wanted to name. Moments like the time when, after one of his most intense arguments with his father, he appeared at your window at midnight, seeking comfort. Or that time when his hands lingered a little longer on your waist while you were dancing at one of the many parties on the island. Neither of you mentioned it afterwards, but the weight of what was left unsaid always lingered.

You arrived at the port, and there he was, leaning against his motorcycle, with that arrogant smile that only he could effortlessly sport. Your steps slowed down, but your eyes couldn't help but search for his. There was always something in his gaze, a sparkle that he only reserved for you.

"I thought you weren't coming," he said, although you both knew that you always came when he called.

"And letting you have breakfast alone, who would you take it out on then?" you answered, trying to keep the lightness in your tone.

He laughed, that kind of laugh that felt like an escape, and walked over to you. There was something about the way he closed the distance between you that always made you hold your breath. There was nothing particularly romantic about that gesture, and yet, every time he did it, you felt like the world became a little bit smaller, leaving room for just the two of you.

“Come on,” he said, taking your arm with a familiarity that bordered on intimacy.

Breakfast was like any other, filled with jokes and sarcastic remarks.

After breakfast, the two of you headed to his bike. As you climbed onto the back of his bike, the familiarity of the contact with his back hit you. There was something addictive about the feeling of being so close to him, the engine roaring beneath you, the wind blowing away any rational thought. You gripped his shirt tighter than necessary, as if that could keep you anchored in a world where he wasn’t always a storm.

Rafe led you to a secluded path near the beach, a place you had both frequented since you were kids. No one would find you there, which made it perfect for those moments when neither of you wanted to face the rest of the world.

Upon arriving, he got off the bike and leaned against a large rock, lighting a cigarette. You watched as the smoke rose in spirals, his sharp features bathed in sunlight.

“You know being with me isn’t going to get you anywhere good, right?” he said suddenly, his tone low, almost a whisper.

You stepped closer, crossing your arms as you looked at him. You knew there was truth in his words. Loving him was like walking a razor’s edge; one wrong step and everything could fall apart. But you also knew that the intensity of his love, of his presence, made you feel alive like nothing else.

“I know,” you finally admitted, your voice firm. “But I also know that I prefer that to a life without feeling. And you… you make me feel.”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, it was like time stood still. There was a weight in his gaze, a mix of desire, pain, and something deeper that he’d never been able to put into words.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I do anyway,” he said, throwing the cigarette to the ground and crushing it with his foot.

You moved closer, your body now just inches from his. You could feel the tension in the air, the electricity that always seemed to exist between you. You lifted a hand and placed it gently on his cheek, forcing him to look at you closely.

“We all have scars, Rafe. Mine don’t scare me,” you whispered. “But I don’t want you to keep running away from what we feel.”

His lips curved into a half smile, though his eyes were still filled with uncertainty. Rafe had always been good at hiding his emotions, but with you, it was different. You could see the cracks in his facade, and every time you did, you found yourself wishing you were the one to save him, even though you knew he didn’t want to be saved.

Suddenly, his hand moved to your waist, pulling you towards him. His fingers pressed lightly against your skin, and for a second, everything else stopped mattering. Rafe looked down at your lips, as if he was weighing whether to cross that line once more.

“You’re too good for me,” he murmured, his voice husky.

“I don’t care,” you replied without hesitation.

And then, as if finally giving in, he leaned his head down and kissed you. It wasn’t a soft, delicate kiss; it was a clash of pent-up emotions, of desire and desperation. His lips were insistent, almost possessive, as if he wanted to mark you, to make sure you knew what you meant to him, even if he could never put it into words.

Your hands found his hair, tugging lightly as his arms wrapped around you tighter. Everything about him was intensity, as if he wanted to absorb every part of you in that moment. But there was also a vulnerability in the way he held you, as if he was afraid you would pull away.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing heavily. Rafe rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if trying to hold on to the moment.

“This is what scares me,” he admitted in a whisper. “I don’t know how to not screw this up.”

You took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you again.

“You don’t have to be perfect, Rafe. You just have to be you. And I’ll be here, even when things get tough.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, you thought that maybe, just maybe, this scarred love might be worth it. Because, despite everything, Rafe Cameron made you feel alive, and that was a risk you were willing to take again and again.

There was something in the air when you were with Rafe. A raw, intense energy that made you feel more alive than anything else had ever managed. When you were with him, every emotion was amplified; every brush of his skin against yours ignited a fire that consumed you completely. But that love, so fierce and visceral, also came with scars.

That night, he had come home late, stumbling slightly, his eyes red and a trace of regret marked in every line of his face. You knew what was coming before he even opened his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, stopping in the doorway of your room.

His words were familiar, as were the promises that accompanied them. “I’m sorry” was always followed by his need to fix it, to make you feel like you still loved him, despite everything. You looked up at him, your eyes filled with mixed emotions. You had cried before he arrived, silent tears at the way he always found a way to hurt you, whether it was with sharp words or the shadows of other women. And yet, there he was, begging you to forgive him.

“Why do you always come back here?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “Why do you come back to me, Rafe?”

He didn’t answer right away. He took a step toward you, his gaze catching yours, as if he were looking for a way to explain something that even he didn’t fully understand. Finally, he said,

“Because you’re the only thing that makes me feel real.”

Your chest tightened at those words, that naked confession he would never make to anyone else. And you knew, with every fiber of your being, that it was true. No matter how much he ran away, no matter how much he sought comfort in others, he always ended up coming back to you, as if you were his only refuge in a world that he himself had turned into chaos.

He moved closer slowly, his shaking hands finding yours.

“I know I hurt you,” he said, his voice cracking. “But I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know how to love you without scarring you.”

His words were like a knife, but also a promise. There was something about his vulnerability that completely disarmed you. You felt each of his flaws, his mistakes, like a shared burden. But you also knew that, despite the pain, you couldn’t walk away from him. Rafe was both your storm and your refuge. A love that lifted you up and consumed you at the same time.

“I don’t hate you for what you do,” you finally said, your voice firm though your eyes shone with unshed tears. “I hate you for how you make me feel, even after everything.”

Rafe lowered his head, his lips brushing the back of your hand with a tenderness that seemed almost impossible for someone like him.

“Let me fix it,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Let me prove to you that I’m still worthy of you.”

Your breathing quickened as his hands moved to your waist, gently pulling you towards him. You felt the urgency in his touch, the desperation of a man who feared losing the only thing that gave his life meaning.

“Rafe…” you murmured, but your words were caught in your throat as his lips found yours.

The kiss was anything but gentle. It was a storm, a hurricane of emotions that left you breathless. His mouth moved against yours with an almost desperate intensity, as if he wanted to etch you into his skin, to make sure you knew how much he needed you. Your hands found his hair, tugging lightly as he pressed you against the wall, his body enveloping you in searing heat.

Every touch, every kiss, was a mix of love and penance. Rafe knew he had crossed boundaries, that he had hurt your heart in ways that might never fully heal. But he also knew that, in moments like this, he could redeem himself, at least for a while. And you, despite everything, let him.

His hands slid down your back, caressing your skin with a gentleness that contrasted with the intensity of his kisses. He lifted you slightly, whispering your name as if it were a mantra, as if that could repair every crack he had caused. And in those moments, when both of you were wrapped in the purest intimacy, all the pain, all the scars, temporarily faded.

Rafe loved you with the same intensity with which he consumed you, and although you knew it was a dangerous love, you couldn't help but surrender to him. Because, despite the scars, he made you feel alive. And in a world full of shadows, that spark was all you needed to keep going.

Weeks passed, and though each night Rafe slipped by your window felt like a new beginning, the cycle never changed. During the day, he was the same again: the boy who moved from girl to girl, who sought in others what, deep down, he knew only you could give him. You saw him at parties, his arm around some new conquest, and you felt a part of you break every time his eyes didn’t seek you out in the crowd.

But he always came back. At the end of the day, when the world was dark and silent, it was your name he whispered, your window he knocked softly. And you, despite the pain, always let him in.

That day, after one of those parties where you’d seen him with another girl, something inside you finally gave in. You were in your room, the dim light from the nightstand illuminating the space as you sat on the bed, your hands shaking with frustration and sadness. You didn’t want to open the door for him this time. You wanted to scream, to break something, to make him understand how much it hurt you.

But when you heard the knock on the window, your body reacted before your mind. You walked over to it, your steps slow and heavy. When you opened it, Rafe was standing there, his hair messy and his eyes downcast. There was a trace of guilt in his expression, but also something deeper, something you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

You didn’t say anything, just stepped aside. He walked in and stood there, looking at you as if trying to find the right words. But there were no words that could fix what you were feeling right now.

“I can’t go on like this,” you finally said, your voice cracking.

Rafe looked up, surprised by the harshness in your tone.

“I’m tired, Rafe. Tired of being your refuge when the world turns its back on you. Tired of seeing you with others and pretending I don’t care. Tired of loving you more than you love me.”

Tears began to roll down your cheeks, and this time you didn’t try to stop them.

“I want you to love me, Rafe. I want you to need me, not just in your worst moments, but always.”

Rafe took a step toward you, but you held up a hand, stopping him.

“I’m broken, Rafe. Every time you leave, you leave a part of me behind.” And I don’t know how much more I can take.

For a moment, silence filled the room. Then Rafe slowly approached, ignoring your raised hand. His eyes were filled with something you hadn’t seen before: fear.

“I need you,” he said, his voice shaking. “I need you more than I’ve ever needed anyone.”

His words hit you hard, but they didn’t stop hurting.

“It doesn’t seem like it, Rafe. Every time I see you with someone else, I wonder if I’m enough for you.”

Rafe shook his head, his hands finding yours with desperate urgency.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice firmer. “There’s not going to be a time in my life when I don’t need you. You’re my constant, my only refuge when everything else falls apart.”

His words made your tears flow harder, but this time you didn’t stop them. Rafe pulled you to him, enveloping you in a hug that was both comforting and heartbreaking. You could feel him trembling, his own eyes wet as he rested his forehead against yours.

“I know I hurt you,” he admitted quietly. “I know I’m a mess and you deserve better. But I can’t imagine my life without you.”

You clung to him, your hands gripping his shirt tightly. You wanted to believe him, you wanted to think that this time it would be different. But the pain was still there, a constant reminder of the wounds he had left behind.

“I don’t want to be your refuge if you can’t be mine too,” you whispered.

Rafe nodded slowly, as if he understood the magnitude of your words.

“I want to be. And I’m going to do whatever it takes to prove to you that I can be.”

Silence filled the room again, but this time, it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was a silence filled with unspoken promises, with hopes that you both knew would be hard to keep.

That night, when Rafe kissed you, it was different. It wasn’t the kiss of someone seeking comfort, but of someone willing to fight for what really mattered. And as his lips moved against yours, a small spark of hope began to burn in your heart.

Maybe this time, the scars could start to heal.

#fanfic #oneshot #imagine #x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader

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oceantornadoo · 16 hours ago

Text

pockets of possessiveness (john price x lieutenant f!reader)

you knocked on his door with your pillow in hand, feet freezing on bare tile. after a second, you heard a gruff “come in”, and pushed open the door to the sight of your captain smoking a cigar with paperwork spread around him. he looked up at you syrup-slow, eyes dragging up and down your body.

“whose clothes are those?” you peeked down at the oversized tee and boxers you wore. “mine.” he grunted. “y’ make it a habit buyin’ shit that doesn’t fit.” you rolled your eyes, stomping over to the couch you came for. “yes, actually. i like to buy oversized shirts and men’s boxers are extremely comfortable and cheap.” his hat was off, which meant you could see the slight rise of his eyebrows, disbelief in his vision. “‘s long as they aren’t johnny’s.” you took a while to answer that, instead dropping your pillow on couch and making yourself comfy, taking out the blanket he tucked away in a box underneath. “‘m not dignifying that with a response.” a small smile tugged at his lips, fond affection spreading slowly. he turned his desk lamp away from you so the harsh glare was no longer in your eyes. “g’night, sweetheart.” you closed your eyes. “night, cap.”

it was way too early in the morning for someone to be bothering you on your day off. you felt a presence standing over you and groaned, hand reaching out to push him away. “go back to sleep, sweetheart. was jus’ sayin’ bye.” your hand landed on his bicep, tugging him down to crouch before you. blearily, you opened one eye, watching the movement of your hand travel to his neck, wrapping around the strands with his hair. he understood you immediately, moving closer til your foreheads touched. you sighed on contact, his smell of cigars and pine seeping into your skin. “got to go, baby. i’ll lock the door so y’ can sleep ‘s long as you want.” you whined a little, then acquiesced with a nod. “‘m not sleepin’ with johnny.” he let out a big sigh. “i know.” you were both silent for a bit, breathing in each other’s presence. for a second, you could imagine it was under different circumstances. with no ranks between you and only lazy sundays like this. instead, you dropped your hand and he rose up, pinching your hip in goodbye.

“y’r not goin’. it’s a suicide mission.” you huffed at his attitude, crossing your arms over your chest so he couldn’t see your hands trembling. “but it’s made for my skills, cap. why else would they assign it to the team?” you looked to the rest of your task force around the room, making eye contact with them individually. “anyone?” gaz tried to speak and you shut him up with a look, already knowing he was going to take his captain’s side. johnny was oddly silent, eyes tracing patterns on the floor. “captain’s right. ‘s yer death if y’ go.” ghost’s voice was low and gravelly in the silence of the room. that was it - overruled by your fellow lieutenant. with him on your captain’s side, you had no shot. “fine. i’ll just not do my job.” you avoided john’s gaze, instead staring a hole into the side of simon’s face. the idiot turned and faced you, cocking his head in silent argument.

i hate you

no you don’t

you’re wrong

you know i’m right

whatever. you’re still on my shit list.

the meeting ended and you beelined for the door. despite your fervent strides, john caught up with you, tugging you into the nearest room (your quarters), before you could run away. you unlocked the door without acknowledging him, letting him follow you into your sacred space and locking the door after him. “‘s for your safety, sweetheart.” you whipped around, pushing him into the door with a finger on his chest. “no, john, it’s for you. you not trusting me, not trusting my skills.” he grabbed your finger with his hand, dwarfing it in his rough warmth. “‘s not that i don’t trust you. i don’t want- i can’t see you killed.” somehow in the darkness of the room, you could see his eyes pleading, an unusual vulnerability for your captain.

“you can’t be this possessive and still not fuck me, captain.” you mocked him with his rank, pointing out the one big problem between you. “y’ know it’s more than fuckin’, sweetheart. woulda done it a while ago ‘f it was jus’ that.” oh. oh. you had guessed, slightly, but to hear him say it was…new. “next time, can you tell me that before going all caveman in front of the team?” his grip on your finger had loosened, his hand spreading out your own so he could link the two together. your palms were over his heart and you could feel its heavy beating calm slowly. “y’ didn’t know?” you shook your head, eyes focusing on the sight of your hands intertwined. your left hand to be specific, his fingers rubbing your ring finger absentmindedly. “don’t want t’ see you hurt because i care for you. and i don’t mind using my position t’ ensure it.” he leaned in, and for a heart stopping moment you thought he would kiss you. instead, he kissed your forehead, lips resting for a second. “we okay?” you nodded against him, feeling the scratch of his beard. “yeah, john, we’re okay.”

john was two seconds away from tugging you off the dance floor, ripping off the scrap of fabric you wore, and taking you in front of the entire club. you had begged the team to go clubbing after the mission, and with gaz and johnny on your side, your prayers were answered. you’d found the perfect thing to wear in a local shop - a scrap of a dress in your favorite color that showed off almost all of your skin. of course, you’d done shots with gaz and johnny, and now the three of you were on the dance floor, dancing the night away. “gonna break that glass, captain.” ghost nodded towards the tight grip price had on his whiskey, knuckles white and strained. he loosened slightly at his lieutenant’s words, gaze never leaving your figure. “fuckin’ hell.” ghost muttered, tracking the figure of his captain’s obsession. johnny had joined you from the back and gaz from the front, the three of you grinding like there was no tomorrow. johnny’s fingers gripped your waist while kyle’s brushed your shoulders, occasionally running up and down your arms. “cap-“ but he was already moving, glass empty and dropped on the table as price made his way to the dance floor.

“‘m cutting in.” your captain peeled his two sergeants off you, sending them scampering and snickering with a glare. “didn’t know you danced, john.” he didn’t, just stood unmoving with arms akimbo and possessiveness flaring in his eyes. “come on.” you grabbed his arm and dragged him through the crowd, finding a dark corner for the two of you, away from the team. “took you long enough to come get me.” you giggled. he raised an eyebrow, resting his hands on your waist as you swayed to the beat of the music. “y’ sayin’ that was all for me?” you nodded, biting your lip in anticipation. instead of replying, he flipped you around, tugging you into him until there was no space between you. you started grinding, not the false imitation of what you were doing with johnny and kyle, letting the beat move your hips. “a worse man might take advantage of you, darlin’. so pretty an’ willing f’ me.” he was right next to your ear, beard scraping your soft skin.

“doesn’t make you worse, john. it makes you human.” huh. he’d never thought of it that way, that he was just a man instead of a captain. he contemplated it, that gray area, as you moved one of his hands from your waist to your lower stomach, pressing it above your core. “‘s not taking advantage, john. i’m not drunk, just tipsy.” he pressed harder against you, drawing out a moan in the darkness as you felt that familiar coil of arousal. you could feel the outline of his cock through his jeans, the thin material of your dress barely a barrier. “don’t want our first time to be in a filthy club bathroom, baby. when i fuck you, i’m goin’ to take my time.” he grinded his palm into you, noting the hitch in your breath as he found your cunt, hidden behind two layers of fabric. it was building up, your nipples hardening and scraping against your dress. he was rock hard now, hips loose and all yours. you couldn’t quell that one voice in the back of your mind, though. “will it- will it just be once? when you fuck me?” he shook his head, spinning you around until your back was to a wall, your captain pinning your hands up and looking down at you with a hungry gaze. his hips were still pressed into yours, cock rubbing against your cunt. “y’ gonna get it through your head. you’re mine and i’m yours.” his eyes were searching yours for confirmation that he hadn’t been grasping at straws. you nodded quickly, wrapping a leg around his waist and tugging him closer. “mine. yours. when are you gonna kiss me, john?” you whined that last part, turning on your biggest puppy dog eyes. he almost growled at it, you so helpless under him. the invisible limits he had on himself, on a relationship between a captain and lieutenant, broke easily under your heady gaze. he leaned in slowly, cupping your jaw and running his thumb over your lips. and finally, finally, he kissed you.

it was slow and soft and john, the taste of whiskey rushing through your mouth. you were in a bubble, tugging your pinned hands out of his grip so you could pull him closer. his hips slotted further into yours but his lips told a softer story, biting and licking, exploring yours. you never wanted to stop, content to lie here forever and never let him go. “y’ taste like my dreams, sweetheart.” he whispered, just for you. he tasted like your future.

#price #price call of duty #price is right #captain john price #john price x y/n #john price x you #john price x f!reader #tornadothoughts #captain johnathan price #captain price x reader #captain price #john price x reader #price x reader #price x you #price x y/n

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julymusings · 5 hours ago

Text

will you hold me instead, and tell me that it's over now?

i look forward to a little me and you, so now i hope that you don't tell me that it's over

or; patching jason up after an intense mission [2.1k]

jason todd x fem!reader; angst/fluff; brief mentions of human trafficking and allusion to murder (he's talking about how the mission went); mention of his scars; jason being insecure & thinking he's not good enough😞; description of injuries and the first aid applied to them (please do not take anything as actual medical advice); this is me hard-launching my physical touch x touch starved!jason agenda

You don’t know how early it is when you hear the sound of the front door opening and closing, just that it’s too early. It’s not like you could sleep anyway; you spent the night drifting in and out of semi-consciousness, too worried to let yourself relax. You always got like this when Jason went away on missions. Several days, and sometimes even weeks, spent anxiously anticipating the state in which he would return home—you haven’t been able to get a manicure since before you met him.

You’re still a little delirious when a hand ghosts up your arm, stirring you from your half-sleep. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room and register the sight in front of you. Your boyfriend is on one knee on the floor in front of you, brushing strands of hair out of your face with endearing eyes.

“There she is,” he says when you lift your head off the pillow and reach out to him. He catches your hand and kisses your fingertips, spreading a warmth up your arm that combats the midnight chill. You push yourself up to a sitting position, and he takes the opportunity to cup his hands around your face and bring you in for a kiss.

“Missed you,” you mumble against him, and his lips curve upwards against yours.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” His mouth travels up from yours towards your temple, leaving a path of gentle kisses in his wake. Your palms, pressed flat against his chest, slide up to loop around his neck. He tenses, choking back a strained grunt. But you catch it.

You pull back abruptly. “Are you hurt?” Your eyes frantically dart around, scanning his entire body. Now fully alert, you reach over to the bedside table and switch the lamp on.

“’s just a bruise, baby, I’m fine.” A hand comes up to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness. But with newly unobstructed vision, you can see more than just a bruise. He has a busted lip, a shallow gash on his temple, and splotches of purple and red peeking out of his shirt collar.

“You’re bleeding, Jason,” you chastise him, getting up off the bed.

He stands alongside you with a huff. “It’s nothing,” he sighs. “Doesn’t even hurt.” But when you take his hand and start pulling him to the bathroom, he follows without argument. You lead Jason to sit down on the edge of the tub and fetch the first aid kit from under the sink, setting it down next to him on the bathtub ledge. You stand between his legs, your positions making you a half-head taller than him. He gazes up at you and for the first time tonight you notice how dark and deep the skin under his eyes is.

“Off,” you order, dragging up the hem of his shirt. He helps you pull it off, wincing when it requires him to lift his bruised arm.

“Someone’s eager,” he muses, raising his eyebrows in a teasing manner. It earns him a swat on the arm; he grunts loudly and doubles over in pain.

You gasp. “Oh my god! Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I—”

But when he looks up, it’s with a coy smirk and a twinkle in his eye. You swat him again.

“Asshole,” you mutter, but you can’t help the slight twitch at the corner of your lips. “Why didn’t you take care of this earlier? Alfred wasn’t at the manor to help you?”

He shrugs his good shoulder. “Don’t know. Came straight here.”

“Did you tell anyone where you were going?” You ask.

He looks at you blankly, as if to say, don’t you know who you’re talking to?

You sigh, exasperated. “You shouldn’t have done that, Jason. What if ended up becoming serious? And you didn’t make it here in time? What if—”

He interrupts your doom spiral by pressing a finger to your lips. “I know, honey, I’m sorry. But I wanted to see you.”

You sigh. There’s a sadness to it, one that comes from familiarity with the fact that he does not care for himself as much as he should—as much as he deserves. But there are no words to make him believe it that you haven’t tried, so all you do is lean your forehead against his, hoping he can hear the what you don’t say. You need him to hear you.

“You’re not sorry,” you whisper.

“No, I’m not,” he whispers back.

You start with his shoulder, which was decidedly not ‘just a bruise,’ but actually several bruises, all clumped together to form one giant Franken-bruise that covered his entire shoulder. It gets rubbed with ointment and you’re not sure who it pains more, because while you’re spilling out frantic apologies as you try to speed through it, Jason is white-knuckling the edge of the tub with a wad of gauze between his teeth.

His lip doesn’t require any medical attention, but he insists you kiss it better anyway, and who are you to deny him?

You tend to his temple last, but he’s antsy now. His leg bounces up and down, one hand is drumming its fingers on the tub, and the other is fiddling with the loose threads that hang from the hem of your shirt; you have to scold him into sitting still.

“Where’s the dermabond?” You ask, sifting through the contents of the first aid kid.

“Used it up last month, remember? After you just had to feed that fuckin’ squirrel.” His voice is gruff at the recollection. “Should be a new pack under the sink.”

You fetch the new box, picking at the plastic wrapping. “Can you blame me? He was so cute.”

“Yeah, was. Until that greedy fucker decided he wanted the whole picnic.” Jason sees you struggling with the plastic covering and takes it from you, breaks it open, then hands it back. “Bastard.”

You giggle. “You know, you could’ve just let him have the cupcake. It wasn’t worth risking rabies for.” You fish out the glass tube of surgical glue, tossing its cardboard box aside.

“‘Course it was. My girl wanted red velvet, she should get her red velvet.” Jason’s hands finally rest on the backs of your bare thighs, squeezing them lightly. He grins when that makes you let out a little squeak.

You roll your eyes, though there’s a warmth flowing in your veins that courses from the tips of your ears to the bottom of your feet. “My hero,” you muse with a smile.

There’s a pause. Then:

“I’m not a hero,” he responds. His tone is still light, but his eyes feel far away.

You start to clean the blood from the wound, which has since clotted and dried, with a saline-soaked cotton pad. He stares at you while you clean and then close the cut with the glue. And when you finish, supplies set aside and glue cured, he’s still staring. His eyes are traveling all over your face, taking in each feature, committing every ridge, every angle, every pore, every freckle to memory. The light-hearted teasing demeanor from mere moments ago is long gone. You're a deer caught in emerald headlights.

You recognize this shift. You noticed hints of it since he arrived home, but assumed it was just due to the pain. Now it’s obvious that there’s more. It’s the same shift that comes when the news becomes a circus, or when he stares at his scars in the mirror for too long.

His hands slide up your body slowly, reverently. One stops at your waist while the other continues, blazing a trail up your ribcage, over the side of your breast. He pauses at your shoulder for a split second, squeezing the flesh every so gently before continuing up your neck. His thumb drags across your collarbone, brushing against the spot that always lights up your senses and parts your lips in a breathy sigh. He stops when he reaches your face. He cups your cheek. Your hand covers his and you lean into his hold, the stroke of your small, soft fingers juxtaposing the rough callouses of his knuckles. You stay here for a moment before turning to press your lips to his palm once, twice, thrice, four times, each one lingering a little longer than the last.

“What is it, Jason?” Your hands come to cradle his neck before dragging up to his hair, and his move to wrap around your torso and pull you closer into him. You place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Hmm?”

“I’m not a hero,” he says again, softer.

“Jay,” you whisper. “You know that’s not true.”

He says nothing, only heaving a heavy sigh and burying his face into the crook of your neck. You’re content to stand like this, to simply hold him and graze your nails against his scalp for as long as he needs while he inhales the comforting scent of your skin.

After what could have been one minute or twenty, he pulls back to look up at you. He looks exhausted. “It was a human trafficking case,” he says. “They knew we were closing in on ‘em, so we had to act fast. They were…trying to…” He trails off, unsure how to put it in words delicate enough to spare you. He breaks eye contact. “Destroy the evidence,” he finishes.

You don’t respond. Despite the heavy silence that follows this admission, you know he’s not done. It takes another several minutes of stroking fingers and feather-light hairline kisses to coax it out of him.

“There was a woman. She…we didn’t—“ His voice cracks. “I didn’t get there in time.”

“Oh, honey.” You run your palm over his forehead, pushing back his thick waves. His eyelids slide down over glassy irises as he sinks into your touch. You lean down to press your lips to his forehead. “You know that’s not your fault,” you whisper. He shakes his head, eyes still closed.

“But if I’d just—”

“No, Jason.” You grip his face between your palms. He opens his eyes at the sudden sternness. “But nothing. You did everything you possibly could—”

“You don’t know that,” he interrupts.

“I do know that. I know because you are always doing everything you can. For me, and for everyone in this city. And I know that it wasn’t just you on that mission. Do you blame anyone else for what happened?”

He says nothing, but his eyes are welling with tears.

“You saved so many other people, Jason. You are a hero, and you know that. You have to know that.” Some of his tears spill over, but you brush your thumbs across his cheeks and kiss them away.

He pulls you onto his lap so your legs are straddled over his and rests his head against your sternum. His arms squeeze impossibly tight around your waist, but you don’t say anything. When his shoulders tremble and you feel the dampness on the front of your shirt, you still don’t say anything. And when he places a hand on the back of your head to pull you in for a hard, searing kiss that leaves you both breathless, you don’t say anything. You just look at him, at how pretty he is, and hope that he can hear you.

The sounds of buzzing echo in from the next room. To your dismay, he turns away, towards the direction of your phones. “I should get that,” he says. His voice is hollow. “It’s probably the bats wanting to know where I am. They’ll send a search party if I don’t check in.”

He’s about to move you off his lap, but you stop him. “In a minute, Jay.”

Jason’s forehead crinkles. You use your thumb to smooth it out.

“Please?” You breathe out. “Just let me look at you a little longer. I love looking at you.”

He relaxes back into his seat. And you keep looking at him. At his beautifully rosy cheeks and shining eyes, his puffed lips. The scar that runs diagonally down his slightly crooked nose.

It’s dawn now; the tangerine beginnings of sunrise elicit a soft glow that spills through the window. Jason takes it all in. The two of you together in the home you share, arms around each other, your face all honeyed and beautiful in the light.

And you know he can hear you.

love when you guys leave messages/feedback it really brightens up my day<3

divider is from here

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springgirlshowers · 3 days ago

Note

I got possessed by freaky bob 😈

Joost coming after a concert all sweaty but reader is freaky and finds it attractive, and ends up leading to things heating up

Aftershow

Pairing: Joost Klein x Fem!Reader

CW: fingering, oral (m receiving), p in v, teasing, overstimulation, joost being cocky as hell, very tiny bit of subby joost in some parts

WC: 3029

A/N: 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂𝓫𝓸𝓫 is calling… 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂𝓫𝓸𝓫 has entered the chat…. i’m sorry i had to, also so sorry this has been in my drafts for months 😭

You couldn’t stand the heat. It was July and Joost had festivals all month.

You couldn’t imagine how he could handle being outside for so long, jumping and running all around the stage, performing for a whole hour. Then sometimes even coming back out a few hours later for another set.

You weren’t surprised when he finally decided to take off his shirt, nor were you surprised by the screams from the audience when he did.

You found it amusing hearing the crowd cheer and fangirls scream bloody murder, you knew if you were in the crowd, you’d be freaking out over it too.

After standing way too long in the heat for you, you decided to go back to his green room. Somewhere with AC and actual cold water.

You felt a bit guilty for walking away from your boyfriend’s performance. But he didn’t mind, he knew you hated the heat and he knew you’d already seen over fifty of his full sets, maybe even a hundred. He didn’t mind if you weren’t there for a couple.

It was about an hour later once Joost got off stage, you didn’t expect to him to get back immediately, knowing he’d be getting stopped by all his friends to hype him up and he’d be engaging in conversations.

Though you knew he was near once you heard muffled compliments and thanks from behind the door.

Joost opened and walked in the door with a rag and cold water bottle in his hand.

You swiftly moved over to him and gave him a hug, not caring about the sheen of sweat his body was covered in.

“Sorry, I went in here early because it was way too hot outside.” You placed your chin on his chest, looking up at him.

“That’s fine, liefje. You’ve seen enough of my shows.” He left out a soft laugh, putting down his water and throwing the rag on the same table before bringing you over to the sofa with him.

He sat down first and you straddled his hip. Resting your arms around his shoulders.

His thumbs rubbed against your torso as he had a sweet grip on your waist.

His hair was messy, his lips were parted with a slight smile on them as he looked at you, he was still shirtless, and his skin shiny from sweat made him seem ten times sexier.

God, he looked so gorgeous.

It didn’t take you long before you pounced on him.

Kissing him all along his jaw, soon your lips moving down his neck. He took in a sharp breath as you ran your tongue along his sweet spot.

“Where’d all this come from?” He let out a puzzled laugh as you moved your mouth to his neck and combed your fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know,” You said in between kisses, “You just look really hot.” He chuckled, hearing the random desire in your voice.

His hands trailed up and underneath your tank top, pushing it up slightly, you pulled away from his neck to pull it fully off your body. Leaving you only in your bra and shorts.

He brought his hands up to your covered breasts, dragging his hands down and then bringing one up to your mouth, resting a finger on your bottom lip.

“So needy. What should I do with you?” He teased as he ran a tattooed finger all the way down the middle of your chest, stopping right above the waistband of your shorts.

“Joost, don’t tease me right now. I can’t handle it.” You let out a breathy laugh, just a tiny bit annoyed. The heat in your core getting hotter.

“I can’t help it, you look so cute when you’re frustrated.” He brought his hand back up, holding the side of your face. “What do you want, hm?” He tilted his head, giving you a cocky smile.

“You.” You mumbled putting a hand to your mouth, biting your fingernail as a shyness took over you.

“Don’t get shy on me now. What about me?” He spoke softly, putting on a fake face of concern just to mess with you.

“I want your fingers, I want your cock. Please, just touch me, for the love of god just do something.” You whined, beginning to rub your core against his thigh. Desperate for some type of friction. Anything.

He held your hips still, stopping from moving as you let out another frustrated whine again. He shushed you.

“Don’t get upset. I know what you want, turn around liefje.” His voice was supposed to be sounding demanding, but the sweetness in his tone overpowered it. You did as he said, turning and going to get up but then he grabbed you by the waist, before pulling your back to his chest and you sitting between his legs, he unclipped your bra and threw it somewhere on the floor.

He held your legs back under his to prevent you from trying to close them the minute his hands made contact with your heat, a squeamish habit you had.

He slowly moved his hands around your breasts, kneading them, pinching your nipples between two fingers and smiling to himself as he watched you squirm, pushing your back into him and silently mumbling out a plea.

He finally, finally, moved one hand down, pulling your lacy underwear to the side and running two fingers up and down between your folds.

“Oh, is this because I got you so worked up schatje?” He cooed as he felt your wetness on his fingers. You nodded against his chest.

With all the pleasure making your brain go fuzzy, you thought about how the position you were sitting in, back against his chest and in between his legs with his one hand wrapped around your stomach, it would make a really comfortable cuddling position.

You giggled silently at the thought of it, Joost grinned and craned his neck to look at your smiling face.

“What? What’s so funny?” He laughed back, beginning to tease your hole. You giggled some more and shook your head, making a mental note to tell him about it later.

“You’re not gonna tell me what’s got you all giggly?” He faux pouted though you could barely get a look at his face, dipping the tip of his finger inside you.

You were just about to tell him, deciding you wouldn’t care if it ruined the moment because he was most likely going to continue to tease you about it. As you opened your mouth to speak, he had slid one finger inside of you, a sharp gasp came out instead of words.

Quick and short repeated whines and squeals left your throat. You slid a hand over your mouth, trying to deafen your moans, Joost quickly brought up his tattooed hand that was wrapped around your breast to pull your hand away.

“No ones gonna hear us, you can be as loud as you want. I wanna hear those pretty sounds you always make.” He encouraged you, nuzzling his nose into the side of your head.

You listened to him, yet still bit down on your lip, embarrassed at all the pathetic sounding noises you were making.

His fingers began to pick up speed, placing a thumb on your clit. That heated coil in your stomach began to grow tighter and tighter.

His hand was probably going to cramp soon but he was way too focused on you and the state of bliss you were in. He placed sweet kisses among your neck and head as his fingers continued to quickly plunge inside you.

You craned your head back to get a look at his face, he was giving you such a sweet saccharine smile as his dick got harder and harder, pressing against your back.

��Gonna cum?” He pressed a quick peck to your lips. You were too close to finishing that you could barely speak, so you just nodded wildly.

Your eyes began to roll back and you shut them. Biting down on your lip so hard you swore you might draw blood, and the coil inside you finally snapped. You let out a harsh breath as your orgasm crashed over you. Joost kept up the pace of his fingers.

The overstimulation began to kick, your locked legs pressed against his and you grasped your hand around his wrist tightly, shaking your head as your face scrunched up and repeated gasps left your body.

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re doing so good, so good for me.” He kissed your temple as he continued slowly pushing his fingers into your wetness, working you through the sensitive sensation of the aftermath of your orgasm.

“So good…” You repeated his words, breathlessly and barely audible.

Your head lolled against his shoulder, he then removed his fingers from you, satisfied.

“You okay?” That cockiness was gone from his voice, replaced with care and sweetness, he wiped his fingers against your thigh.

“Just need a second.” You said, taking heavy breaths as you looked at the ceiling through droopy eyelids while he freed your legs from his.

After a moment, you soon sunk off the couch and onto your knees in front of him. He gave you a puzzled look.

“My turn.” You said, a michevious look in your eyes. This was your time to recover from the mind blowing orgasm you just had and now you get to get Joost worked up.

He gave you a toothy smile and went to reach for his belt, you pushed his hands away.

“Mm-mm, let me do the honors.” You joked as you unclipped his belt and unbuttoned his jeans.

He lifted his hips slightly as you pulled down his jeans and boxers at the same time. His hard cock sprang out and you smiled up at him.

You rubbed your thumb against his tip, collecting the precum that had leaked out. You laid your head against his thigh as you gave him slow strokes.

“Please liefje, please, I need your mouth.” He breathed out.

“You do?” You asked, bringing your head up and tilting it. He nodded slowly, letting out a small plea.

“Aww, who’s the needy one now?” You cooed at him, he just shook his head and rubbed a hand down his face, muttering something you couldn’t understand.

You decided to be nice and stop your teasing there, taking the tip of his dick in your mouth and slowly moving down.

You kept a steady pace as you bobbed your head up and down, taking in as much as you could.

He placed a hand over your head, not pressing down but just keeping it there, needing something to do with his hands.

He let out shaky breaths through his parted lips, his head tilting back and fingers gripping your hair comfortably as you worked.

He made a few small whimpers as his breath began to speed up, he sat up a bit as his hand gripped your hair and carefully pulled your mouth off him.

Even though you were looking up at him with messy hair, glossy eyes due to your previous orgasm, and pouty lips. You still looked like a dream to him.

“Zo mooi.” His voice was so close to a whisper as he rubbed a thumb over your swollen lips. “Now come up here.”

You happily did what he asked, knowing what he was asking as you straddled his lap as you hovered your hips over his, positioning yourself and sinking yourself onto his cock.

Your eyebrows knit and eyes shut as you lowered yourself slowly, getting used to his size inside you.

Once he was bottomed out inside you, he waited and let you choose to start moving when you were ready. You took a few seconds before you began a slow pace moving up and down.

You bit your lip, eyes still shut as you sped up slightly, he began to help by thrusting up inside you, making a perfect rhythm between you both.

Joost sat up and leaned into you, his turn leave sloppy kisses all over your neck as his hands massaged the plush of your tits.

You ran your fingers through his damp blonde locks, grasping onto his hair as you whined, you were getting close already.

“I thought you looked really- fuck- really good on stage. You sounded really good.” You said breathlessly, you could feel Joosts smile against your skin.

“Ja? You look good too. You always do.” Joost groaned out after a hard thrust. “Mijn lieve meisje.”

His compliment only added to your pleasure. It made your orgasm creep up on you faster and faster.

Cumming again already felt a bit embarrassing, but God, he just felt too good. You were already sensitive from your previous orgasm. He knew all your sweet spots, and how to hit them so perfectly.

“I think- I think I’m gonna cum.” You whimpered out silently.

“Go ahead, don’t let me stop you.” He said breathlessly. Oh he was doing the complete opposite from stopping you.

He kissed all over the side of your neck as you hid your face in the crook of his neck while your body tensed as you reached your high.

He slowed his thrusts once he felt your body slump onto his and your breaths become more relaxed.

He soothingly rubbed his hand up and down your back, softly whispering sweet words and compliments into your ear.

His thrusts were still continuing but slow and soft. He waited for you to bring your head up when you were ready.

When you did, you looked at him through droopy eyelids and a lazy smile on your face, a breathy giggle leaving you as he looked at you with such sweetness.

He gave you barely a few seconds before he held onto your hips and started thrusting again, watching your mouth turn from a smile into an ‘o’ shape and your eyes squeeze close.

His hands moved your hips and up and down as he thrusted his cock inside you.

Joost bit down on his bottom lip in focus and pleasure, head slightly tilted back as he looked at you.

He moved one hand into your hair, scratching at your scalp lovingly.

“Joost….I can’t, I can’t again..” You whined, opening your eyes a small amount.

“You can, I know you can.” He cooed at you as he moved his hand that was in your hair to cup your face, “Please? Just one more for me.” The neediness peeking out clearly in his tone.

“I’ll help you out, ja?” He said, moving his other hand from your waist to your clit, rubbing circles.

You took in a sharp gasp, nodding your head as your nails digging into his shoulders.

You used all your remaining strength to roll your hips against him as his thrusts became faster, harder, wanting so badly to get you to reach your third high of the night.

Your breath hitched as you did, loud squeals and cries leaving your mouth, one final cry coming out of you along with your release.

Joost never ceased his pace, still slamming up into you. He kept one arm wrapped around your hips, the other hand had gone to squeeze around your breast.

You could tell he was close to cumming once his grip on you became tighter, sure to leave marks the next day. His eyebrows creased and his mouth parted slightly, eyes shut and head leaning against the couch, small whimpers and pleads leaving him.

“Don’t- fuck- don’t stop. You feel so good, please don’t stop.” He moaned out, eyes scrunching.

“I’m not, I’m not.” You said breathlessly, using the very little energy you had left to keep moving up and down on his cock.

He bit his lip, his hands leaving your hips and arms wrapping around your waist instead, pulling your chest to his, and hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

He attempted to muffle his moans against your skin but it did nothing, you could still hear him clear as day.

He tried kissing your neck to cover them up, that didn’t work either, he was too deep in bliss to keep himself from making noise.

With one hand holding your waist, the other gripping tightly at the base of your hair, his hips began to stutter and his thrusts became sloppy.

“Liefje, liefje, liefje.” He cried and whispered into your skin, moving both arms around you and pulling you down harshly, “Fuck, liefje, fuck I’m so-“ His sentence cut off by a raspy groan.

He let out throaty growls as he spilt inside you. Stopping after one final pull down, burying his cock inside you. He stayed there for a second, the both of your sweaty skin sticking together.

He eventually pulled away, fully lying against the back of the couch, you winced at the slight movement, still sensitive and overstimulated.

He was flustered from the whimpers you heard him make, he decided to distract and tease you once again.

“You hold your breath when you cum, did you know that?” He said out loud, you let out a puzzled laugh.

“Don’t embarrass me.” You tried to hide your face in his neck, he gently grabbed your face with his hand.

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed, it’s cute.” He tilted his head with a grin spread across his face.

You mumbled a ‘shut up’ and turned your face to hide your smiling yet embarrassed expression. He took the chance of your exposed neck to attack it, sloppily kissing on it.

You squealed and tried to back away, every single part of you was so sensitive right now. Joost kept a tight hold on you as you squirmed.

“Joost!” You laughed, trying to push his head away again.

“Sorry, sorry. It was staring at me.”

“You’re evil.” You shook your head playfully.

“You’re beautiful.” He tilted his head and smiled lovingly at you. You shook your head and looked away. Only he could be this sweet and kind after fucking your brains out.

“You wanna get back to the hotel? I think we both need a shower now.”

#joost klein x reader #joost klein fanfic #joost klein fic #joost x reader #joost klein x fem!reader #joost klein smut #inbox #requests

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