#and in still cleaning up after the flooding

[sai-int]

könig loves coming home to you and your sweet pussy

cw : somnophilia, thighfucking, dubcon, mdni

he usually comes back from deployment in the middle of the night. the house is dark, quiet, and youre already in bed, sound asleep. he drops his gear by the door, taking his large, clunky boots off so he doesn't rattle the picture frames on the wall when he walks past.

he lightly nudges the bedroom door open with his foot. he sees you, all wrapped in sheets while light from the street lamp floods through the window. he told you to keep those closed when he was gone, schatz. can't have anyone looking at his best girl, now can he?

you stir for a moment when he sidles in next to you, crowding the bed, making your dreams twist just from the smell of him near you. he's been gone so long, he doesn't care to be gentle—he just puts his meaty paws around your waist, pulling you back and against his firm chest.

he's spooning you, the scent of you wafts into his nose, the sweet scent of your body wash fresh on your skin. he's nestles his nose deeper into your hair—palming your hip with his large mitt—as he grinds his growing bulge against the soft swell of your ass. he plants ginger kisses to the slide of your head, your temple, the crest of your ear, whispering how "you're always going to be his, schatzi."

fuck, it's like you knew he was there. you, oh so gently grind back onto him, soft, breathy pants leaking through the thick of your sleep. könig thanks god for the flimsy cotton panties you're wearing when he slips his hand to your front, finding your clit and setting a soft, tantalizing pace.

you squirm a bit and he has to bite back a laugh. he just knows his baby too well, of course he does. he always knows exactly what you need. he loosens his pants, unbuckling and shimmying them down along with his boxers, enough to free his weeping cock.

his deft fingers slip lower, practically gliding with how slick you've become, leaking through and soaking your panties. "naughty girl..." he slobbers down to your neck and the side of your arm, gently rutting himself against your bare back.

he pulls down your panties to mid thigh. god you're so warm and soft, he can't even fucking think straight. he takes his cock into his hands, gently teasing it against where your ass folds into your thighs, gently circling his leaky tip, lubing the space.

you grind back onto him ever so slightly and that's all it takes for his resolve to break. he pushes forward, long dick sliding through your delicate lips and kissing your clit before pulling back. he can feel your sweet, hot juices leaking out of you, coating his cock as he fucks your thighs.

you whimper your hips bucking with each pass of his drooling, ruddy tip against your clit. he knows your so close, he knows you so well, little mouse. he keeps going, but he doesn't want to wake you so he restrains himself, gently slobbering all over your shoulder while humping his cock between your soft thighs.

he's just so pent up, it's not long before his cock twitches. he's cumming seconds after, ropes of his thick seed pulse out of him, coating the inside of your thighs and your lips. he drags his fingers back to your clit, circling fast enough to get you tightening around nothing, until you finally, unknowingly cum, all over his softening cock and the sheets.

könig stills his cock between your thighs, slumping against your sleeping frame as you snuggle back toward his chest. he thinks he should go grab a towel to clean up the mess he made, but he doesn't. he knows he'll end up between your thighs before dawn breaks anyway.

[daryltwdixon]

Summary: There is no choice, not really—just the weight of a decision that will haunt him for the rest of his days. Joel moves forward, because he has to, because stopping means losing, because if he looks back, he might see what he’s done.

warnings: psychological warfare and im really sorry. read with caution. Ellie hospital scene. It's a long one!

Joel

Joel gasps in a ragged breath as he breaks the surface, lungs burning, throat raw from swallowing half the damn river. His body is done, legs barely kicking, arms aching from the weight of what he’s dragging with him. The current fights to pull him back under, but he fights harder. He has to.

When he reaches the work ramp, the water slows, lapping lazily at the concrete as he collapses onto solid ground. His knees hit hard, pain ricocheting up his legs, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except the two unmoving bodies beside him.

Neither of you are breathing.

His hands tremble as he leans over both of you, chest heaving, mind spinning. Water drips from your clothes, puddling around you, your faces too still. Too pale. His heart is hammering against his ribs, panic flooding through his veins like a sickness.

He needs to move. He needs to do something, he can’t fail, he won’t fail. There's only so much time the brain can handle without oxygen.

But how is he supposed to choose? Who does he reach for first, who does he save first? It’s a paralyzing thought as he looks between you. 

Ellie . She’s immune, she’s the only hope left for the world. What started as a promise to Tess, the reason Henry and Sam died, the reason he’s still moving after losing everything. If she dies here, if this is where it all ends, the Fireflies won’t have a cure. Humanity won’t have a chance.

But then there’s you.

And if he loses you, if he watches you slip away under his hands, he doesn’t know if there will be anything left of him to keep going. 

The thought digs into his ribs, carves something hollow and aching in his chest, a terror deeper than anything he’s felt in twenty years. You aren’t just another person he’s had to protect, another responsibility thrown on his back. You’re something else entirely—something he wasn’t supposed to have, wasn’t supposed to let himself care about, but he does, God, he does. 

His breath catches, his hands hovering, twitching, desperate to do something.

He has to pick. He has to pick.

And he doesn’t know if he can live with his choice.

There isn’t a clear path here, no choice between right and wrong anymore. His chest tightens as the seconds bleed away, each one too precious to waste. Then, finally, he moves, pressing his hands down, forcing his hands into the chest cavity. It’s robotic at this point, panic melting into auto pilot, too sick to his stomach to think about what he’s doing.

“Hands in the air!”

The voice barely registers.

“She’s not breathin’,” Joel mutters, barely aware he’s speaking. His hands don’t stop, pressing harder, trying to force the chest beneath his palms to rise again.

“Hands in the fucking air!”

Boots slam against pavement. Rifles shift. He doesn’t stop.

“Come on,” he pleads, voice raw, broken, desperate. “Please, please—”

The footsteps close in. He refuses to look up. Someone moves fast, a shadow rising over him.

The weapon swings.

There’s a bright light above him the next time his eyes crack open, stark and unforgiving. For a moment, he wonders if this is it—the moment they all talk about, the light at the end, the peace after all the hell. Maybe this is where it ends.

Then his mind catches up.

It slams into him all at once—your lifeless body, Ellie’s motionless form on the cement, the desperate press of his hands, the gasping prayers caught in his throat. His breath hitches, his body jerking like he’s still trapped in the current, still fighting to pull you both to safety.

His eyes snap open fully. His pulse pounds against his ribs as he scans the room, unfamiliar walls closing in around him. The air smells too clean. The sheets beneath him are stiff and thin, the bed hard and unforgiving. There’s a deep, pounding ache in the back of his skull, his limbs heavy in a way that makes his gut twist. Something isn’t right.

He looks to his right, and sees someone that, for all he knew, was dead.

“Welcome to the Fireflies,” Marlene says, sitting beside him in a chair, legs crossed, her expression unreadable. 

She gives him a moment before saying, “Sorry about the…” he points to her head, reminding him of the source of the thrum in his skull, “They didn’t know who you were.”

Joel barely hears her. His throat is dry when he finally asks, “Ellie?”

“She’s alright. They brought her back.”

His stomach knots. He inhales, but the breath feels shallow. “And…?”

Marlene’s expression flickers—regret, maybe, but it’s distant, weighed down by something else.

“They were only told to bring in you and Ellie,” she says. “By the time I heard there was another girl… they told me she wasn’t moving, Joel. I’m sorry.”

His body stiffens, his back pressing against the hard mattress as he takes it in. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. The words are there, clear as day, but his brain refuses to take them in fully.

You were already gone when they got there.

His hands curl into fists, nails digging into his palms, but the pain doesn’t pull him out of it. His mind lingers in the space where you might have had more time, where if someone—anyone—had just tried a little harder, you might be here. If he had just worked faster. If he had made the right call.

But Ellie is alive. Ellie made it.

Marlene’s voice cuts through the fog, like she’s trying to process it all herself. “You came all this way… How’d you do it?”

“It was Ellie,” he mutters, his voice hollow. “And…her. They fought like hell to get here.”

“Maybe it was meant to be…” He whispers it more to himself than her, like if he says it enough times, he’ll believe it.

Joel pushes himself up, ignoring the way his body protests, but then he realizes—there’s a guard by the door.

Marlene exhales, shaking her head. “You were the one person I never wanted to be in debt to.” She doesn’t look at him when she says it, just stares ahead, like she’s still working through the reality of it all. “I pretty much lost everything. Most of my crew died getting me here. And then you show up, and somehow we find you just in time to save her.”

Not in time enough. Not for both of you.

Joel squeezes his eyes shut.

Marlene glances at him, voice softer. “Maybe it was meant to be.”

The words don’t feel right coming from her. They don’t feel right at all.

Joel swings his legs off the side of the bed. “Take me to her.”

“You don’t have to worry about Ellie anymore,” Marlene says. “We’ll take care of her—”

“I worry,” Joel snaps. “Just let me see her. Please.”

Marlene’s arms cross over her chest. Her eyes flicker to the guard. “We can’t. She’s being prepped for surgery.”

Something sharp lodges itself in Joel’s gut, cutting straight through whatever daze had been dulling his senses. The exhaustion, the grief, the weight of loss—all of it clears in an instant.

His voice is tight. “The hell you mean, surgery?”

“The doctors tell me that the Cordyceps, the growth inside her, has somehow mutated. It’s why she’s immune.”

Joel feels the guard shift behind him, closing in, but he barely registers it.

Marlene doesn’t flinch. “Once they remove it, they’ll be able to reverse engineer a vaccine.” She exhales, like she’s still convincing herself of the importance of it all. “A vaccine, Joel.”

His mind stumbles over the words, trying to put the pieces together. “But it grows all over the brain.”

Marlene just looks at him.

“It does.”

A thick silence settles between them.

His chest rises and falls, the pieces of the puzzle clicking together with sickening clarity.

“Find someone else,” Joel demands, voice cold.

“There is no one else.”

“Listen,” he growls, teeth clenched, hands curling into fists. “You’re gonna show me where—”

The guard moves before he can finish, slamming him down, pinning his arms behind his back as his chest hits the floor.

Joel grunts, pain sparking across his ribs.

“Stop,” Marlene says, and as Joel groans, pressing against the cold tile, she continues, “I get it. But whatever it is you think you’re going through right now is nothing compared to what I have been through.”

His jaw clenches so tight he feels his teeth creak.

Oh , fuck her .

Didn’t she get it? He was losing both of you. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

“I knew her since she was born,” Marlene’s voice cracks, just slightly, but she keeps going. “I promised her mother I would look after her. No one understands more than me.”

Joel barely hears her over the blood pounding in his ears.

“Then why are you letting this happen?” His voice is hoarse, nearly pleading.

“Because this isn’t about me,” she says, jabbing a finger into her own chest, anger flashing across her face. “Or even her. There is no other choice here.”

Joel exhales slowly, shoulders rising and falling as he pushes himself up just enough to sit back on his heels. His voice is dark, low, edged with something dangerous.

“Yeah,” he growls. “You keep tellin’ yourself that bullshit.”

Marlene straightens, glancing at the guard without a second thought. “March him out of here. He tries anything, shoot him.”

Joel doesn’t move, doesn’t fight, just glares at her from the floor.

She watches him for a moment, something almost unreadable flickering in her expression before she turns to leave. Just before stepping through the door, her voice lowers.

“Don’t waste this gift, Joel.”

Then she’s gone.

Joel stands there, Marlene’s words ringing in his head. Don’t waste this gift, Joel. Like this was some grand gesture, like they were offering him something instead of taking everything from him. Like he had a choice.

But what other fucking choice was there?

Going back to Jackson alone? Failing the both of you? Failing everything he had fought for, everything he had clawed his way through hell to protect? He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t.

The guard orders him up. Then a second time, the barrel of a gun pointing down at him.

Joel obeys, moving slowly, forcing his mind to focus through the pounding in his skull. He needs time. He needs his weapons.

The gun shoves harder into his back now, an irritated breath hissing through the Firefly’s teeth. "Give me an excuse."

Joel tilts his head slightly. "Which way?" His voice is quiet, measured, just enough distraction.

The man jerks his gun to the left. Joel follows.

The hospital is dim, the only light flickering weakly over the center desk. It looks abandoned, half-dead already. But something catches his eye as he passes—a bag. His bag. His weapons.

His fingers twitch. He watches them until the wall cuts off his view, then slows his pace, working it through in his head.

The Firefly bristles behind him. "What the fuck are you doin’? Keep walkin’."

Joel doesn’t answer. He waits.

The second the guard’s gun nudges his back again, he moves.

It’s fast—an elbow thrown back, a sharp crack as it connects. The gunshot rings out, echoing through the halls, but it slams harmlessly into the wall. Joel is already turning, wrenching the gun from the Firefly’s hands, twisting his arm, shoving him back. The man grunts, dazed, and Joel slams the barrel against his face. Once. Twice. The Firefly’s head snaps back, blood splattering the wall.

Joel shoves his forearm into his neck, pinning him, pressing the gun to the man’s groin.

"Where’s the operating room?" His voice is low, controlled, cold.

The man grits his teeth and stays silent. Joel exhales through his nose, then pulls the trigger. The Firefly howls , sagging against him, body crumpling.

" Where ?" Joel growls again.

Still nothing.

Joel squeezes the trigger again.

"WHERE?"

The man’s head lolls, breath ragged, face twisted in agony. His knees buckle, Joel’s arm the only thing keeping him upright.

"Top floor," he chokes out. "Far end."

Joel lets him drop. A moment later, he doesn’t hesitate, firing a final shot into the man’s skull.

He grabs his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder, hands locking around his rifle just as the sound of footsteps barrels down the hallway. More Fireflies. More obstacles.

Joel doesn’t think. He just moves .

He pushes forward, steps calculated, rifle raised. The first Firefly barely sees him before he drops. Then another. And another.

One by one, he clears them.

His mind is razor-sharp, focused, his grip steady, his body moving on instinct. But your face keeps creeping at the edges, pulling at his resolve, yanking him back to the cement, to the cold water pooling beneath you, to the way your hair had fanned out, damp and lifeless, as he made his choice.

He shakes it off. He has to. He can’t lose both of you. He has to get to Ellie.

More bodies fall, but he doesn’t care. He isn’t leaving until he finds her. If he couldn’t save you, he would save her. He couldn’t leave alone.

His boots pound against the linoleum, moving faster, fueled by something deeper than adrenaline, something darker. The halls flicker in and out of shadow as the emergency lights struggle to stay alive. He follows the signs—pediatrics—how fucking ironic that they’d still use the same rooms meant for saving children, even now, in this ruined world.

It’s quieter here. The distant echo of gunfire fades, replaced by the steady, rhythmic beeping of machines. He moves down the hall, toward the bright glow spilling out from the small glass window of a red door. His stomach twists as he swallows thickly. The scrub-in room is sterile, lined with sinks, the scent of disinfectant cutting through the blood drying on his skin.

Ellie is on the operating table, too still, too pale, wires and tubes snaking around her small frame. His chest tightens. She looks lifeless. Just like—

No. Not now. He shuts it down.

There are voices. A murmur of surprise and confusion as he steps inside. The second the door swings open, the surgeon’s head snaps up.

“What are you doing?!” the man exclaims, instinctively moving back. His hands fumble for something, grabbing a scalpel—a scalpel , like that could stop Joel now.

He pushes through.

“I won’t let you take her!” the doctor shouts, voice cracking with desperation. “This is our future! Think of all the lives we’ll save!”

But those lives won’t be Ellie’s. They won’t be your life.

Joel moves forward, slow, measured. The surgeon bristles, stepping back until there’s nowhere left to go.

“Don’t come any closer! I mean it!”

Joel barely hears him. There’s only red. The bright light of the room turns crimson in his vision, flooding everything. His body moves before his mind even registers it.

The scalpel is in his hands. Then it’s in the man’s neck.

A sickening gurgle fills the air as the doctor stumbles, hands flying up to the wound as blood pulses between his fingers. He slumps to the floor, his body twitching before going still.

“No!” a nurse screams, voice sharp with horror. “You fucking animal!”

Another one hisses at her to shut up. Joel doesn’t care.

He’s already at Ellie’s side, unhooking her, pulling tubes from her skin, tossing aside the oxygen mask suffocating her small face. His hands are shaking, but he works quickly, murmuring low as he cradles her limp body in his arms.

"Come on, baby girl. I got you, I got you."

Then the alarms begin to blare.

A loud, shrieking wail rips through the hospital, the red emergency lights flashing in jagged bursts. Shadows move beyond the glass doors—flashlights cutting through the darkness, the rapid stomp of boots, Fireflies closing in.

He needed to move. Now.

With Ellie secured against his chest, Joel turns and runs.

You

It’s warm.

Not just warm—golden, like the kind of sunlight that filters through leaves in late summer, shifting and flickering in the breeze. The air is soft, thick with something comforting, familiar, wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. You hear the faint rustling of trees, the slow hum of cicadas in the distance. Somewhere close, a creek bubbles, the gentle rush of water against stone.

You’re lying in the grass, the blades tickling your skin, the warmth of the sun pressing against your cheeks. You should get up. You know that. But your limbs feel heavy, too relaxed, too comfortable.

Then, fingers brush against your temple.

A slow, careful touch, tucking the loose strands of hair behind your ear. It’s gentle, warm. Safe.

“Hey,” Joel murmurs, voice low and steady. “Come on now, sweetheart.”

You hum, eyes fluttering, but they don’t open. Not yet. Just a little longer. Let me sleep.

His thumb trails lightly across your cheek. “Need you to wake up, baby.”

Something in his voice makes your chest ache. There’s something wrong there, something pleading beneath the softness.

You want to stay here. You want to keep breathing in the warm air, feeling the sun, listening to the steady rhythm of his voice.

But then his hand is slipping away.

No.

You reach for him, but the warmth starts to pull back, the golden light fading . The sound of the creek dulls, the hum of cicadas fading into something else—something colder.

“Joel,” you murmur, voice thick, slow, like you’re trying to hold onto something slipping through your fingers.

“Wake up,” he says again, but his voice is changing, shifting, deeper now, rougher.

Then everything disappears.

Suddenly it’s freezing.

Your body seizes as cold slams into you, sharp and biting, cutting through the softness in an instant. Your chest tightens, lungs spasming, and then—

You’re coughing, choking, water spilling from your mouth as your body jerks violently, muscles convulsing as you fight for air. Your fingers scrape against rough cement, nails dragging as you push yourself onto your side, gasping, spluttering, your throat raw, your ribs aching.

You blink, forcing your eyes open, the dim light of the tunnel swimming in and out of focus. Your limbs feel leaden, frozen through, but you push up onto shaky elbows, sucking in a breath that burns all the way down.

Your heart is pounding.

The warmth is gone and so is Joel. Where was he? Where was Ellie?

Your stomach knots, panic rising through the exhaustion. You scramble up, your body swaying, head spinning as you look around, searching for them.

But the tunnel is silent, just the sound of water lapping against the cement of the tunnel. You grab your backpack, thankfully still here with your bow and arrows, and begin to move.

Then you see it, a glint of metal in the grass. Your breath catches as you stagger forward, fingers wrapping around it before you even register what it is. Ellie’s pistol. Your grip tightens around the handle, stomach twisting. She wouldn’t have left this, not on purpose.

Your breath comes quicker now, uneven, your pulse thrumming against your skin as you turn, eyes lifting toward the skyline.

The hospital stands in the distance, stark and still against the gray sky, its windows shattered, its walls stained. They had to be there, didn’t they?

The wind is sharp as you move forward, pushing through the lingering dampness clinging to your skin. Each step is heavy, sluggish, but you force yourself to keep moving, the weight of exhaustion trying to drag you down. The hospital looms in the distance, cold and silent. 

You keep your grip firm on Ellie’s pistol, fingers tightening and loosening as you scan the building for movement. Nothing. No signs of people except the lights glowing in the upper windows. No signs of Joel or Ellie. But they had to be here. They had to be.

The place is too quiet, too still, but that only sets your nerves on edge. Then you hear the voices.

You freeze, pressing yourself behind an abandoned car near the entrance, listening.

“…can’t reach anyone upstairs.” A man’s voice, low and tense. “All units should be responding, but I don’t know what the hell’s going on up there.”

“There were gunshots. You think it’s them?”

“I don’t know, but keep your eyes open. If they’re here, we put them down.”

Your pulse spikes. Joel.

He’s still inside. He’s fighting. Why is he fighting? What went wrong?

You duck lower, peering through the broken-out window of the car. Two Firefly soldiers stand near the side entrance, rifles ready, scanning the area. They’re blocking the way you were planning to go, and you know you aren’t strong enough to take them both in hand-to-hand combat. You barely have the strength to hold yourself up, let alone fight someone trained.

But distance. Distance you can work with.

You ease Ellie’s pistol into your waistband, keeping your breath steady. If you miss, you’re dead. If you alert the other Fireflies, you’re dead. There’s no second chance.

Carefully, you pull your bow from your shoulders, fingers brushing over the few remaining arrows. Not much left. You grab one, nock it, draw back.

The first man drops before his partner even registers what’s happened. A clean shot, straight through the throat. His body crumples soundlessly to the ground.

The second turns, eyes going wide, mouth opening to shout—

You loose the next arrow before he gets the chance, and the thud of his body barely makes a sound.

You don’t wait to see if anyone heard. You run. More voices crackle over their walkies, static-filled and frantic.

“ —we need backup now! He’s got the girl—”

Gunfire erupts from inside the building, but you keep moving, ducking low, keeping to the perimeter as you round the building. You’re almost to the parking garage when something grabs you from behind.

A thick arm wraps around your throat, yanking you backward, your vision tilting as you struggle. Your lungs seize, hands clawing at the arm crushing against your windpipe. He’s strong, too strong , and panic explodes in your chest as you thrash, kicking wildly.

Then you remember your knife.

Your fingers scramble for the handle strapped to your hip, yanking it free and plunging it backward, twisting the blade deep into his thigh.

The man startles, his grip loosening just enough for you to tear free, stumbling backward as you gasp in air. He’s still moving, staggering, reaching for you, so you don’t hesitate. You grip the knife tighter and slam it into his throat.

He gurgles, then slumps to the pavement.

You shake out your trembling hands, yanking the blade free, wiping the blood on your jeans. Your breaths come sharp and ragged, but you don’t stop to dwell on it. You won’t let the haze that had covered you for weeks in guilt come over you now.

The parking garage entrance is open, a long ramp sloping downward into the dark. You slip inside, sticking to the walls, careful to avoid making noise. The air is heavy, thick with the scent of oil and damp concrete, the overhead lights flickering dimly.

Somewhere above you, voices echo.

You follow them.

The stairwell is narrow, the metal steps cold beneath your fingers as you climb, moving slowly, cautiously. The closer you get, the clearer the voices become.

Then you hear him. The voice you would follow anywhere, even if it was into the dark.

Your stomach knots as you reach the top landing, peering through the crack in the door. He’s there, moving steadily, his arms wrapped around Ellie’s limp form as she wears a thin, blue covering, holding her close to his chest. Her head rests against him, her body slack, and something deep inside you twists so hard it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs.

Then you see the gun in the woman’s hand. It’s trained on him, steady and unwavering.

She stands just a few feet away, her stance firm, both hands gripping the pistol as she keeps her aim locked on Joel.

Your breath catches, the weight of the moment settling over you like a vice, pressing down on your ribs, squeezing your lungs. You swallow hard, moving to switch your bow for Ellie’s pistol, gripping it tightly in your hands as you desperately try to work out your next move.

“It ain’t for you to decide,” Joel growls.

“It’s what she’d want,” the woman says, circling him. You push deeper into the shadows, but she doesn’t see you, her gaze is locked on him, “You can still do the right thing here.” the woman says, holding her hands up, the gun beginning to point away from him.

And then you step out of the shadows, and pull the trigger. The shot rings out, splitting the air like a crack of thunder.

The woman stumbles, a sharp, gasping breath hitching in her throat as the bullet tears through her shoulder. She lurches forward, her pistol clattering to the ground as her hands fly to the wound, crimson blooming against her shirt.

Joel jumps back, and you can see the panic flare. He’s ready to fight anyone who comes in his way. He shifts away from Marlene, gripping Ellie tighter to himself, and grabbing his own gun and pointing it out from under her knees.

He twists around to face the threat, and his gaze lifts and meets yours.

For a long, few heartbeats, he doesn’t move. He just stares at you like he’s seeing a ghost, like he’s trying to convince himself you’re standing there, real and breathing. His chest rises and falls in ragged, uneven breaths, his arms locked around Ellie, his body trembling with something too big for words.

Your name slips from his lips, barely a whisper, his voice hoarse, breaking on the syllables like it physically hurts him to say it. His knees threaten to buckle, like his body is giving up on him, but he forces himself to stay upright, forces himself to hold onto Ellie because he has to.

Your eyes narrow on him, had he thought–

“What the hell is going on?” you whisper, stepping toward him, heart hammering.

Your eyes drop to Ellie, her small, limp frame cradled against him, her face pale beneath the flickering parking lot lights. Panic claws its way up your throat as you reach for her, your hands hovering over her body, searching for signs of injury.

“She—she’s okay,” Joel breathes, like he can barely believe it himself.

“She’s not supposed to be.”

The voice comes from behind you, sharp and raw with pain.

You turn to see the woman on the floor, her hand clutching her bleeding shoulder, her face twisted in something between agony and fury.

“He’s killing everyone,” she rasps, glaring up at you.

Your stomach tightens. You look at her, then at Joel. He shakes his head immediately, a storm building behind his eyes, anger and pain clashing so violently across his face that it scares you.

“He’s stealing her because he’s a selfish animal,” the woman spits, voice cracked and ragged. “He’d rather save her than the entire world.”

Joel only looks at you.

“Baby,” he whispers, his voice desperate, pleading, willing you to listen to him . You swear you can almost see tears in his eyes now, “Please. They were going to kill her. You have to understand.”

Your breath catches. Your throat feels tight, dry, like the walls are closing in around you. “Kill her?”

He nods, but the woman speaks before he can.

“It’s what she would’ve wanted, Joel, and you know it,” she says, her voice raw. “She would’ve wanted to save everyone, even if it meant sacrificing herself for it.”

Your head spins, everything shifting at once.

Ellie…Ellie would’ve had to die to create a cure?

You look down at her again, at her peaceful, unconscious face, your hands tightening into fists at your sides.

Disbelief and desperation crash into you like a tidal wave. You’re not entirely sure who the whirlwind of feelings is pointed towards at the moment. Joel was taking her. Taking her from her life’s purpose, from what she was meant to do, what she had fought so hard to become. They were going to make a cure. They were going to save everyone.

But to do that, they had to kill her.

Your pulse pounds in your ears as you look back at him. His grip on Ellie is ironclad, his knuckles white where they clutch at her shirt. His jaw is clenched, his entire body coiled so tightly you think he might snap apart.

And suddenly, you see it.

The way his breath shudders, the way his fingers tremble against Ellie’s skin, the way his eyes shine with something close to madness—he couldn’t lose her.

Not again. Not after Sarah. This wasn’t just about Ellie. It wasn’t just about a cure or a choice. This was about a father who had already buried one daughter and refused to bury another.

Your stomach twists. Your chest tightens. You don’t know what to feel.

But you know what to do.

“Get her in the car,” you say, pointing to the truck behind him.

Joel doesn’t hesitate.

He moves, carrying Ellie toward the vehicle, his arms still locked around her. You don’t look at him. You don’t let yourself think.

“No!” the woman cries from the ground, her bloody hand reaching toward you, desperate, grasping at anything . “Please, don’t—”

But Joel doesn’t let her finish. He sets Ellie down and turns, moving so fast you barely register it, “You’re just gonna come after her.” he says with eerie quietness.

Then the gunshot shatters the silence, and the woman’s body jerks, then slumps, her outstretched hand falling limp against the blood-slick floor.

Joel exhales, shoulders heaving, his grip tightening around the gun as if it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His chest rises and falls in sharp, ragged bursts, his head tilting back as he drags in a breath like he’s trying to steady himself. But there’s nothing steady about him right now.

He turns to you.

His eyes are wild, his face drawn tight with something raw, something too big, too heavy to carry alone. The way he looks at you sends something sharp through your chest, something painful, something close to grief.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, his voice breaking, barely more than a whisper as he reaches for you.

And then his arms are around you.

It’s not gentle—it’s desperate, crushing, pulling you so tight against him that for a second, the air is knocked from your lungs. His fingers dig into your back, gripping you like he’s trying to convince himself you’re real, that this isn’t just another cruel trick of the world taking from him again. His breath shudders against your hair, his whole body trembling with something he can’t name, something he doesn’t even try to hold back.

“I thought—” His voice catches, cracking in a way you’ve never heard before. “I thought you were gone.”

Your chest clenches. You don’t know what to say, don’t even know what you can say. So you don’t. Instead, your arms wrap around him, pressing your face into his chest. He’s warm, so warm, his heart pounding hard beneath your cheek, his entire body still coiled tight like he can’t fully let go. Your fingers fist into the back of his jacket, holding him just as much as he’s holding you.

Neither of you move.

Then you hear more voices. They cut through the moment, distant at first, but quickly getting closer. Heavy boots against pavement. Shouting. Orders being given.

Joel stiffens, his arms tightening around you for just a second longer before he pulls back, his hands lingering on your arms like he doesn’t want to let go. His eyes dart past you, his expression shifting instantly, something hard and determined settling over his face.

“We gotta go,” he says, voice low, urgent.

You nod, stepping back, wiping a shaky hand to your tear streaked face as you turn toward the truck. Joel is already moving, carefully setting Ellie’s legs up in the backseat, his jaw tight as he checks her over one last time. The sound of approaching voices is growing louder, closing in fast.

Your fingers fumble as you grip the passenger door handle, heart hammering as you climb inside. Joel slams the driver’s side shut just as he twists the key in the ignition, the truck sputtering to life. Thank god it runs.

Joel is throwing it into gear suddenly, the tires screeching against the pavement as you speed out of the garage. The hospital vanishes behind you, swallowed by the night.

Joel’s hands grip the wheel, knuckles tight, his eyes locked on the dark stretch of road ahead. The truck hums beneath you, the only sound cutting through the thick silence that’s settled between you.

You sit stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed, still chilled to the bone, but you can’t tell if it’s from the cold or from everything that just happened. Your fingers twitch against your thigh, your mind racing in circles, trying to grasp the full weight of what you just walked into.

Joel exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face, the muscles in his jaw twitching. His body is wound tight, like he’s still ready for a fight, like he hasn’t let himself breathe since the moment he ran out of that hospital with Ellie in his arms.

You glance at her now, curled in the backseat, her chest rising and falling with steady breaths, unaware of what’s just happened. Of what Joel has done to keep her here.

The road stretches ahead, endless and empty.

Whatever it is, whatever he’d done… it would change everything, but it wouldn’t change this.

You shift slightly, leaning toward him. For a moment, he doesn’t react, his mind still miles away, lost in thoughts you can’t begin to unravel. But then, after a beat, he exhales, his grip on the wheel loosening just enough. His arm lifts, hesitates, then opens to you.

That’s all you need.

You move into him, pressing against his side, wrapping your arm around his middle. He’s warm, solid, the heat of his body seeping into your frozen skin, grounding you like it always does.

Joel sighs, the sound low, tired. His hand comes down to rest on your back, wide and steady, fingers pressing into the fabric of your shirt like he needs the reassurance that you’re really there.

“Joel?” Your voice is small, uncertain.

“Hm?” he grunts. Then, like he only just realizes you’re talking to him, he pulls in a breath, his palm splaying flat against your back, holding you closer.

“Yeah, baby?”

You hesitate, feeling the weight of what you’re about to ask settle thick between you. The warmth of his body, the way he’s holding you, it almost makes you want to let it go. To pretend, for just a little while longer, that you don’t want to know the answer.

But you need to hear him say it.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

His body stiffens against you. His eyes flicker down, just for a second, before returning to the road ahead. His grip tightens just slightly against your back, and you can feel the shift in him, the way he withdraws just a little—not from you, but from the moment.

You don’t let him retreat.

“I want the truth,” you say, firmer this time. “I can handle it.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, his jaw working, but he doesn’t answer right away. The silence stretches between you, tense, filled with all the things he isn’t saying.

Then, slowly, he leans his head down onto yours. His breath is steady, but the weight of him resting against you feels different than before—like an apology, like a confession without words.

“I know you can,” he murmurs, voice rough, low.

You wait, holding onto the warmth of him, listening to the hum of the tires against the road, waiting for him to speak again.

When he finally does, it’s quiet.

“I saved her,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. 

But somehow you know that’s only the half of it. 

You watch him for a long moment before you say: "From the beginning," 

The road stretches endlessly ahead, bathed in the soft light of morning. Hours have passed in near silence, the weight of everything settled heavy in the truck. Your hands grip the wheel now, your body aching from exhaustion, but the need to keep moving outweighs it.

Joel sits beside you, his posture slack but tense in ways only you would notice. His head rests in his hand, elbow braced against the door, his eyes a thousand miles away like he’s trying to keep his thoughts from spilling over. You glance at him, and he exhales deeply, the sound barely audible over the hum of the truck.

Then, a rustling from the backseat.

Your breath stills. Your fingers flex around the steering wheel.

Joel hears it too. His head lifts immediately, eyes flickering over his shoulder before shifting back toward Ellie, something raw and bracing settling in his expression.

Behind you, Ellie stirs. She groans, shifting sluggishly against the seat.

“The hell am I wearing?” she mutters, her voice groggy.

Joel turns in his seat, his voice softer than you’ve heard in days. “Just take it easy,” he says. “The drugs are still wearing off.”

Ellie blinks sluggishly, disoriented, her limbs heavy from whatever they pumped into her system. You can see it in her face, the confusion settling in, the questions forming.

“What happened?” she whispers.

The air in the truck shifts. You knew it was coming, knew the second she woke up she’d ask. But hearing it out loud so soon sends a sharp twist through your chest. Your gaze flickers to Joel. He’s looking down at his seat, his fingers twitching before he forces himself to sit forward again, watching the road like it might give him the right words.

Then, he speaks.

“We found the Fireflies,” he says, voice steady, measured. “Turns out there’s a whole lot more like you, Ellie.”

The words settle like a stone in your gut.

“People that are immune—dozens of them,” he continues, pausing briefly. “Ain’t done a damn bit of good… They just—”

He hesitates. Just for a second.

Then he turns back to her, eyes softening, but his voice firm.

“They stopped lookin’ for a cure.”

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, inhaling through your nose before focusing back on the road. You can’t bear to look at her, can’t bear to see the way she processes it.

She turns slowly, facing the rear of the car, her back now to both of you.

You swallow thickly, shifting in your seat, the weight of it pressing harder into your ribs.

“We’re headed home now,” you say, voice quieter than you meant it to be.

Joel looks back at her, something unreadable in his expression. A long silence stretches between you all, the hum of the tires on the road the only thing filling the space.

Then, his voice—low, almost inaudible.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

But Ellie doesn’t turn back.

The car hood slams down with a sharp metallic clang, echoing through the empty stretch of road. You scoff, wiping your hands against your jeans, smearing grease and dirt into the fabric. The truck had held out for as long as it could, but after hours of hard driving, it had finally given up on you.

“Looks like we’re walkin’ the rest of the way,” you say, shaking your head.

Joel comes around the front, glancing at the road sign half-covered in ivy. Jackson City, next right. The paint is weather-worn, but the words are still clear enough.

“Should be a straight shot through, anyway,” he says.

You nod, adjusting your pack as he takes the lead, stepping off the abandoned road and into the thick woods beyond.

The transition is instant; gone is the cracked pavement, replaced with the uneven, damp earth of the forest floor. The trees are massive, their trunks stretching high into the afternoon light, patches of blue sky barely visible through the tangled branches. A mix of pine and bare oaks crowd the space, the ground littered with dead leaves, rotting wood, and scattered patches of bright green moss. The air is cool, crisp with the lingering bite of winter, but there’s a freshness to it, the first hints of spring creeping back into the world.

As you walk, the sounds of civilization disappear entirely. There’s no hum of an engine, no wind rattling through empty cars. Instead, it’s just the woods, the crunch of boots against damp leaves, the distant rush of a river cutting through the valley below, the occasional rustle of a bird taking flight from the canopy above.

The trek is slow, the terrain uneven, but Joel moves with ease, pushing past overgrown ferns and low-hanging branches like he’s done this a thousand times before. You follow close behind, stepping over fallen logs, climbing small rocky slopes, your boots sinking into the soft patches of dirt still thawing from the last snow.

After a while, you find yourself walking alongside Ellie.

She’s been quiet for most of the trip, but when she finally speaks, her voice is so soft, so uncertain, that you almost don’t catch it.

“Were you there?”

At first, you don’t react, thinking she might not be speaking to you at all. But when you glance at her, she’s already looking at you, waiting.

There’s something in her expression—not just curiosity, but something deeper. A challenge. A plea. Like she’s giving you the chance to be honest before she even knows if she can trust the answer.

Your breath tightens in your chest.

You shake your head. “When we went underwater in those tunnels, I think I almost drowned. I don’t really remember much.” You keep your voice light, simply recalling everything that she knew, like the weight of this conversation isn’t pressing into your ribs. Stepping carefully over a patch of exposed roots, you sigh. “Then I woke up and the two of you were gone.”

Ellie listens. Hard.

Her boots scuff against a patch of damp moss, but she keeps her gaze ahead, her fingers curling into the sleeves of her jacket. You can feel her hanging onto every word, studying the way you say it, the space between the things you do and don’t tell her.

Your hands ball into fists at your sides as you glance up at Joel ahead, weighing the right words.

“I found you when Joel was already getting you into the car,” you say carefully. That much is true. And right now, the truth—or at least, parts of it—is all you can allow yourself to give her.

Ellie nods slightly, absorbing it. Then, after a pause—

“Did he tell you what happened?”

You hesitate for just a second before nodding. “Yeah, yeah. I met…” you pause, not even knowing the woman’s name that you shot, “I met a someone there. She was with him.”

Ellie’s face shifts with recognition, “Marlene?” she asks. “She knew my mom too.”

You glance at her, watching how carefully she’s watching you.

“Must’ve been her then, yeah,” you say, choosing each word with painstaking precision. “Joel said she was—is—the leader of the Fireflies.” The correction slips out, accidental and you hope she doesn’t catch it.

Ellie doesn’t press you further.

Instead, she just nods, pulling her jacket tighter around herself as she steps over a fallen branch. Quiet again.

The two of you keep moving, the only sound between you the rustling of wind through the leaves, the distant trickle of a stream winding somewhere nearby. The trees seem to stretch on forever, the mountains looming in the distance, their peaks still dusted in winter’s last snow.

Joel remains ahead, moving with a silent focus. And Ellie stays beside you, thoughtful, distant.

You don’t know if she believes you.

You come up upon a crest in the hills, where the trees thin out, and the view opens wide. Below, the valley stretches out beneath you, Jackson nestled safely between the mountains. Smoke curls from chimneys, dotting the landscape with the unmistakable signs of life.

Joel exhales beside you, the tension in his shoulders loosening just a little as he takes in the sight. His voice is softer when he speaks.

“You know, I used to take hikes like these with Sarah all the time,” he says, his eyes still on the town below. “I think you both would’ve liked her.” There’s a pause, a faint, almost wistful breath before he adds, “She would’ve liked you.”

Your eyes find his, and you can’t help the small, warm smile that tugs at your lips. He’s letting you in. Talking about Sarah like this, openly, with both of you, it means something. A comfort settles deep in your chest, softening the sharp edges of the last day and a half.

“Yeah,” Ellie says, her voice quieter. “I bet we would���ve.”

Joel nods, his gaze lingering on the valley a moment longer before he moves forward, leading the way toward the dam. You follow, stepping carefully over the uneven terrain, the cold, damp earth soft beneath your boots. Small streams snake through the land, feeding into the massive dam that marks the entrance to Jackson.

It’s close now. You’re so close.

But then—

“Hey, wait,” Ellie calls softly.

You and Joel stop immediately, turning to her.

She stands there, hands fidgeting together, her shoulders drawn tight, her face etched with something so raw it makes your stomach drop.

She sighs, almost more of a groan, rubbing her hands over her face before finally speaking.

“Back in Boston...back when I was bitten. I wasn’t alone.”

Your brows furrow as you listen, feeling something shift in the air, something heavy.

Ellie keeps going, her voice steady but distant, like she’s pulling the words from somewhere deep inside herself. “My best friend was there. And she got bit too. We didn’t know what to do so… she says, ‘Let’s wait it out, y’know? We can be all poetic and lose our minds together.’”

She pauses, swallowing hard, her fingers curling back into fists.

“I’m still waiting my turn.”

Joel takes a step closer, his expression tense. “Ellie—”

But she isn’t done.

“Her name was Riley, and she was the first to die.” Her voice hardens, gains strength, even as pain flickers behind her eyes. “And then it was Tess. And then Sam.”

The words drive a splinter deep into your gut.

Tess.

Your breath catches. Your mind reels, searching through old conversations, through Joel’s words back at Bill’s, in the kitchen, arms crossed, walls up. He hadn’t told you the truth. He never told you she died. But what had he said? Your brain tries to search for it, for what he told you that had happened, but for all you know it was a made up story.

You glance at him now, looking for something, for anything, in his expression. But he doesn’t look at you. His eyes stay on Ellie, his jaw clenched tight.

Ellie lets out a slow breath, eyes burning.

“None of that is on you,” Joel says firmly.

Ellie shakes her head, frustrated. “No, you don’t understand.”

Joel folds his arms over his chest, his voice gentler now, but still steady. “I struggled for a long time with survivin’,” he tells her, his expression softening. “And you. No matter what, you keep findin’ somethin’ to fight for.”

His arms unfold, his fingers brushing over the broken watch strapped to his wrist. Ellie shifts slightly, already turning away, but he isn’t done.

“I know that’s not what you wanna hear right now, but it’s—”

“Swear to me.”

Ellie’s voice cuts through his, stopping him in his tracks.

She turns back, eyes burning into his, demanding,“Swear to me that everything you said about the Fireflies is true.”

Joel shifts on his feet, and you watch him carefully, your heart pounding hard in your chest.

And then he looks her in the eye and says: “I swear.”

The silence is thick, stretching too long. Ellie’s eyes flicker to you, searching, waiting.

Your throat is dry, your pulse hammering, but you force yourself to nod.

“I promise. ”

It feels like acid on your tongue.

Ellie doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move. Then, after a long moment, she nods.

“Okay,” she says.

[sturniolostars]

﹫𝓢𝓤𝓒𝓚 𝓟𝓣 𝓣𝓦𝓞﹫

Masked!Matt x Kinky!Reader

In which: after you blow him he bends you over the couch and fucks you

TW: p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do it!), knife play, mask play, dirty talk, spanking, rough sex, hair pulling

First part of suck

I quickly undress myself, eager to be fucked by Matt. I scurried over to the couch and bend over the arm of it. The leather was cold against my skin and sent goose bumps through me. I felt Matt walk behind me and my pussy clenching around nothing just knowing he’s about to fuck me.

“Are you going to be a good girl?” He asks. I whine. Smack. “Words” he whispers. “I’ll be such a good girl please!” I beg. He chuckles and runs his length through my soaked folds to lube himself up. I felt the cold metal of the same blade he’s been holding slide up my ass. He pulls my hair back so I’m looking up and places the knife to my throat from behind.

I gasp, but it quickly turns into a loud moan as he plunges all the way into me. He thrusts hard and fast knocking all the air out of my lungs. I moan and claw at the couch. The knife grazing my throat every so often reminding me my life could end making this pleasure so much better.

“Fuck Matt!” I moan out. His thrust only speed up. “Such a tight little pussy” he groans. “I can feel you clenching” he whispers and a broken cry slips free from me. He pulls my hair some more making my mouth hang open and unholy sounds flood out from it.

I can feel my orgasm building up quickly. And I know Matt was already sensitive from the blowjob I gave him earlier and his thrusts were already getting sloppy. He was right there with me.

“Matt I’m gonna cum! Please let me cum!” I beg. “Not yet baby” he says. His tip was repeatedly hitting that spot inside me that made me see stars. A tear slips down my check rolling down to the cold metal that still threatens to slit my throat.

With a groan he finally says “cum for me baby let go”. I don’t need to be told twice. My eyes roll back and I squirt all over his cock. I think I might have passed out from that orgasm because when I come back to my senses the knife is gone and Matt must have gone to the bathroom because he’s cleaning me and him up.

“That was so good baby” he says to me throwing away the rag he got and kissing me. I hum. “Can you carry me? I’m tired and I don’t think I can walk” he smiles. “Of course baby” he pulls his mask off setting it down so I can see the ice blue eyes hiding behind the dark sockets of the skull.

Sex was a completion between us both at times and that’s how we liked it. And I was going to make him cum even harder once I could properly walk again.

And I just think I’ll use his own mask to do it

@kadesturnz part two how we feeling?

[alittlegiraffe]

Could you write Marshall giving his girl aftercare?

Title: After

You weren’t sure how long you had been lying there, your body still buzzing, exhaustion settling deep into your muscles. The room was quiet except for the sound of your heavy breaths and the low hum of music playing from the speaker Marshall had left on earlier.

And then, there was him.

Marshall shifted beside you, pressing a lingering kiss against your shoulder before pulling away. You let out a little sound of protest, reaching for him blindly, but he just chuckled.

“I’m not goin’ far, baby,” he murmured.

You felt the bed dip as he moved, and then, a moment later, the sound of water running in the bathroom. You closed your eyes, sinking into the mattress, too blissed out to move.

When he came back, you felt a warm cloth press against your skin, gentle and soothing. You shivered slightly at the touch, and he murmured a soft, “Shh, I got you.”

His hands were careful as he cleaned you up, wiping away the evidence of what had just happened between you. There was something so tender in the way he touched you, so unlike the rough intensity from earlier, and it made your heart clench in your chest.

He took his time, making sure you were comfortable before tossing the cloth aside and pulling the blankets up over you. Then, without a word, he disappeared again.

This time, when he returned, he had a bottle of water in one hand and one of his old t-shirts in the other.

“Here,” he said, twisting the cap off before handing you the bottle.

You took a few sips, your throat dry, and he waited patiently before setting it on the nightstand. Then, he reached for you, sliding the shirt over your head, helping you slip your arms through before tugging it down over your bare skin.

The second you were covered, he was pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you like he had no plans of letting go anytime soon.

You sighed, pressing your face into his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him. “You always take such good care of me,” you murmured, voice still heavy with sleep.

He kissed your hair, holding you a little tighter. “That’s my job, ain’t it?”

You smiled against his skin, warmth flooding through you—not just from his touch but from the weight of those words, from the way he said them.

Like it wasn’t just something he wanted to do.

Like it was something he needed to.

And maybe, just maybe…

You needed it, too.

[mycological-mariner]

So I have no way to heat my home or have warm water.. Nice.

[deus-ex-mona]

up next on chapter 36 of idol sengen… _(:3 」∠)_

[mosquitinho]

went through the (by far) worst 2 weeks of my life but im still getting out of bed and trying to do things. Rare mental health win

[heegyukeluv]

can't take it? (enha's hyung line) 

enha's hyung line when reader has high stamina and can go multiple rounds.

pairing: hyung line x afab!reader

my's note: unironically just thought about it and wrote it lol

warnings: established relationship, pet names (baby, darling, babe, angel, pretty) SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, implied unprotected sex (please, don't!!!), implied multiple orgasms, cowgirl, dirty talk, overstimulation (both), oral (f. receiving), fingering, lowkey nipple play, choking, belly bulge kink(?), they cum inside. lmk if i missed something!!!

wc (total): 1.8k

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire, @marigold-sunflowers

Heeseung would see it as a challenge and force himself through it even though he's teetering on the edge of giving up.

“F–Fuck, Hee…” You cried out, your body jolting, exposed breasts moving up and down to your boyfriend’s hard and deep thrusts inside your dripping cunt.

You didn’t know exactly what to do with your hands as the overwhelming feeling grew in your lower stomach, indicating your second climax coming. Torn in between kneading your boobs and rubbing your own clit, you tried to give the best view to Heeseung.

But he wore an expression of intense focus, as if his sole purpose in life was to make you cum uncountable times. And to some extent, it was. His fingers were deep in your hips, holding you still as he just kept going, eyes focused on where you both encountered.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

Heeseung didn’t care about overstimulating you – or himself. No, definitely not. So when you announced you had your orgasm, he continued on thrusting hard, fast, deep, tirelessly hitting your g-spot with his sensitive tip, since he had already cummed two times as well.

“S’too much–” You mumbled, shaking your head, squirming under the pressure he held to keep you stay as possible. “Too– Much–Ah, fuck, Hee–”

“Take it.” He managed to say, voice hoarse, low, determined, though his body was starting to betray his primal will.

The slapping sounds flooded the room as a lascivious, beautiful symphony. Heeseung looked up to catch a glimpse of hooded eyes and fucked out expression. He smirked, feeling proud of himself for leading you to the edge of insanity. 

Your nails scraped down his back when he leaned closer, slotting perfectly in between your legs that wrapped around his waist, leaving red trails as you clawed at him for any sort of grounding.

“Hee, I c-can’t–!” Your protest dissolved into a broken moan when his thumb found your overstimulated clit, circling it in unwavering motions.

Heeseung’s warm mouth found place on your hardened nipples, playing with them by swirling his tongue around it and sucking just slightly, his pace never lacking, giving you an overwhelming experience of stimulus; you felt Heeseung everywhere. 

You winced, skin tingling in despair as you cried beneath him, a complete whining mess. You were loving each second, head spinning and your chest pounding strongly; your tongue quickly swept on the corner your lips to clean your light drooling and consequently tasted the salty taste of your tears.

Heeseung trailed his hot muscle up to kiss you, a hint of a victorious grin gracing his lips as he watched you lose yourself before him. His only objective was to tire you and win that fucking stupid inner challenge. 

“You wanted it,” he groaned, close to your ear. You whimpered, feeling another wave of pleasure crossing you. “Fucking take it.”

Jay would politely ask for a break ever once and a while, falling on the bed, panting, struggling to find words in between heavy breaths.

“Oh, fuck,” Jay grunted, his body trembling slightly, thighs burning after rolling his hips in an admirable constancy.

He had cummed one time already with you positioned in all fours, but he could feel his second orgasm just as close.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck–” he chanted, jaw clenching, his digits pressing your sides with a strength that got you clenching harder, knowing it would leave marks. You loved to be marked by Jay.

Under Jay’s sight, you looked extra gorgeous with your face down and ass up, rocking back and forth within each pound, moans getting lost in between the lewd slapping sounds. You could feel his balls smacking against your pussy, sending vibrations straight to your clit and a rush of delight towards your core.

“Jay!” You nearly screamed, but your voice got lost in the pillow you had buried your face. 

Still, your mouth fell open, the tears in the corner of your closed eyes smearing your makeup and staining the pillowcase, your hands fisting the bed as you whined Jay’s name.

Soon after, you felt his warm liquid filling you up again, your own release mixing with it and making a mess. 

Jay pumped a few more times to ride you in your high before dropping himself by your side, panting hard, body still weak due to the effort of pleasing you. He had his eyes fluttered close as he tried to regain his composure, air difficulty making its way down his burning lungs. He felt his throat dry and groaned when you turned his body upwards. 

“Just… A sec… Please… Darling…” He said in between ragged breaths and you giggled, grabbing the bottle of water on the nightstand and handing it to him, watching his neck moving as he drank on it.

After he finished and you drank a bit yourself, you shot him a glance. He quivered, eyes widening a little. 

“Want more,” you mumbled, straddling on the bed just to position yourself on top of him. “But don’t worry, I’ve got you,” and with a wink and a smirk mischievously dancing on your lips, you aligned Jay’s softened dick on your folds, starting to grind back and forth.

All he could do was to rest his hands on your hips and pray not to pass out.

Jake would be so tired after the first round but he mastered the art of making you cum with his tongue and fingers a few times before fucking you.

The slurping sounds echoed through the room as lascivious as the wet noises of Jake’s fingers. He was switching in between fucking you with his tongue and with his slender digits, the same ones that would curl on the exact shape to hit your sensitive spot.

You had no idea of how much you have cummed, your cries entering Jake’s ears deliciously and traveling all the way down to his leaking cock. 

He was so fucking turned on by your pretty sounds and your body searching for his own, searching for pleasure on his mouth and fingers. He could spend hours with his head buried between your legs; the pressure of your thighs against it was too good to dismiss, the sweet taste of your pussy melting on his palatar was addictive. 

Jake loved how high your libido was, nearly matching his own. However, he would be extra tired after having his orgasm, so he just learned how to get yourself done until he finished fucking you deep and hard.

“God, Jake– Your fingers– So good–” You threw your head on the pillow as your back arched, your hips grinding on his face and hands shamelessly. 

“Like my fingers, babe?” He asked within a grin, trying to ignore his aching dick screaming for some friction. 

Jake didn’t want to rut on the mattress, because he had a job to do and it was to fill you up with his seed after eating you out for who knows how long. His hands were messy with your juice, just like the sheets beneath you two. He couldn’t care less.

To have you, screaming his name just with his fingers and tongue was satisfying at most for him to worry about bed clothing. 

You nodded, lost into the blissful desire Jake provided so perfectly. You jolted forward when you felt his lips sucking on your clit, his fingers now far gone from your pulsing hole as he licked your folds, lapping his tongue with precision, nearly making out with your cunt.

“Cumming–” You whispered with a broken voice, just to scream after; the grip on Jake’s locks tightening, eliciting a moan from him. 

He chuckled, drinking from your arousal just like it was his favorite drink.

“Give me one more and then I fuck you with my cock, yeah?”

Sunghoon would match your energy. If you can go for a whole fucking night, so does he. 

“Yeah, ride my fucking dick, baby,” Sunghoon moaned, brows furrowing with how warm and wet you were around him, swallowing every centimeter of his shaft.

You were on top of him, bouncing, riding, doing anything that gave you the euphoria of being fulfilled. Both emotionally and physically. 

Sunghoon definitely loved you, and the biggest proof was when he started doing gym just to match your stamina in bed, now able to follow you throughout the whole night without tiring too much. He could do it just fine before, but he wanted to be sure he was giving you the best. Always.

“Fucking shit, so good,” he bit his lip, smirking, admiring the view of your boobs jumping as you tried new ways to pleasure yourself, his eyes wandering each curve of your body. You felt his dick throbbing inside you. “My baby is so good, feels so good,” he said in between moans as his hands gripped your hips to help you.

You decided to grind back and forth, the last two orgasms helping to ease the movements; your lips were parted chanting Sunghoon’s name like a beautiful, addictive mantra. 

He could feel how you started to squeeze his dick in no time, his finger sliding towards your clit to give just enough of friction. 

“I love your cock–” You slurred, drunk in Sunghoon’s scent getting all over you. The feeling of his hard length nearly destroying you inside was too good not to vocalize. “Love it so fucking much– So big, so deep– Mhm…” You sounded… delighted, as if you were experiencing the best sensation of your life – and you were. 

Your exposed neck as you threw your head back invited Sunghoon's long fingers to wrap around it gently, just to give a light press that interrupted your airways to work properly for a few seconds. Your mind entered a haze of ecstasy, one that got you accelerating your riding almost instantly and seeking for your release as soon as possible.

The coil in your stomach tightened, and at some point you started to notice you could feel Sunghoon’s dick in there as well. One of your hands gave away the support you found on his chest just to press your belly, provoking Sunghoon’s hips to buck forward as he felt the slight pressure. 

“F–Fuck,” he stammered, letting go from your neck and clit to hold you still on top of him, starting to thrust frantically. “Cum for me, angel– Cum with me.”

As if a command, your moans increased the volume, so did Sunghoon’s thrusts, until you came all over his body, your juices mixed with his seed coating his dick and part of his stomach.

He gave you nearly seconds to recompose, maneuvering your body to lay back on the bed. You both smirked, because you knew what was coming. 

“We’re in for a long night, pretty.”

[renarots]

The ability to evacuate is a privilege and I’m sick of people applying Florida logic to the Appalachians right now. Yes it is horrible for those who couldn’t in Florida but the people in the Appalachian’s had no warning. People still have “dial up” there, 55.9% of the population is under the poverty line. “I’ve been seeing warnings for a week” no you haven’t the warnings were for Florida and Georgia, even then it wasn’t supposed to hit the apps like this at most flooding but they would recover. When hurricane helene took that turn it was too late to even warn others before dams broke. The infrastructure is not meant to take this beating especially given the storm they had the week before causing all of the waterways to be full already. Towns are wiped out, towns that relied on tourism and coal mining to bring in revenue are gone. My great aunt and uncle lived in a trailer off a plot of land and were so happy they finally got a clean running water system hooked up two years ago. They have one tiny little old android that they have to travel about an hour in town to use so they can call us up. They lived off a fixed income because any sort of job was two hours away at least and they’re getting older they can’t just travel that much anymore. My great uncle can’t walk without his cane and my great aunt is getting there too. They always joked about taking me home with them and I would always say when I got older they would come live with me because I knew how rough it was for them but they couldn’t just leave. I haven’t been able to contact them in over 48 hours and the highways leading out after the one hour evacuation notice was given was shut down. Most places are air rescues only because there is no other way for them to be rescued. To add on as well that they deployed FEMA in many of the places affected but yet there is barely any coverage and radio silence from our government. No national guards are here to rescue them they are left to fend for themselves. People are drowning, being electrocuted, some didn’t even stand a chance. These are human beings who have been prayed on for generations the least you can do is show some fucking sympathy. I don’t care what you have to say family’s are being devastated. I wouldn’t wish anything like this to happen to anyone so if you find yourself in your bed at night I hope you know that out there, there are families who are grieving all they have lost and you are cozy at home with running water, electricity and a warm bed and you feel an ounce of guilt for even thinking that.

A link to ways that you can help. Keep Appalachia in your minds do not look away.

[ddejavvu]

Mean!Logan who absolutely will NOT kiss you on the mouth while he’s fucking you. You’re crying and begging and so so desperate for it but he just will not give in, loves to watch you cry and cry even while your whole body shakes and your eyes roll back from how deep he is in you

Logan won't kiss you

send me mean!logan requests!

contents/warnings: mean!logan, teasing, dacryphilia, don't like don't read.

a/n: anon i hope you know this made me moan. shit the first line almost had me creaming my jeans. thank you <33333333333

It's a tease, being given so much and yet nothing at all. Logan's strong hips are steadily thrusting against your own, driving his cock in and out of your cunt that begs for nothing more, but you're being held tantalizingly close to the precipice of your orgasm solely from the denial of a kiss.

Logan's mouth is heaven.

Whether against your own or against another part of you, your sensitive nipples or your throbbing pussy, his mouth has always brought you to completion. You yearn for it now, with sharp aches and pleas from your drooling cunt as he fucks into you, but he refuses to give you what you want- what you need.

"What's'a matter?" He drawls, and by the condescension in his voice, by the sharp, rigid smirk on the mouth of his that you want so bad, you know he knows, "What gives, you don't like me or somethin'?"

"Logan," You whine for mercy, tears beading in your eyes as you grip his biceps and attempt to hoist yourself up to kiss him. He deflects skillfully, pushing you back down to the mattress.

"No, no, don't be greedy. My dick isn't enough? Looks like it is." He muses, eyeing the way your cunt slobbers on his length, coating it generously in your thick, slick arousal.

"Look at you, you're ruined," Logan scoffs, panting through the continuous motions of his hips, "And you still want more."

"I want a kiss," You feel pitiful whining like that, and he laughs like you are.

"Oh, princess wants a kiss, is that it? All this cock and what you really want is my mouth?"

"Yes," You gasp, tears flooding down your cheeks at the contempt in his eyes, even if its staged, "Please Logan, please, I jus- I just want one kiss, please." You try yet again to raise your head, but he won't take the bait- he sneers like you're nothing but an annoyance.

"No." He decides simply, hips only snapping faster and faster, harder and harder into your cunt, "You have enough. Use it."

You do. You clench around his cock, thighs squeezed together so that your entrance is as tight as possible. You feel every inch of his impressive length as it pounds in and out of your pussy, you feel pleasure in every fiber of your being, and yet- it's the visual of Logan's tongue flicking out over his lips after a hefty exhale that finally sends your brain and body into overdrive.

His lips, thin and a shade pinker than his skin, look so enticing, and the way that his tongue laves over them leaving translucent saliva behind sends sparks between your legs like nothing you've ever felt without Logan's mouth. You wish it was yours, you wish his tongue was dipping into your mouth the way it does so often, licking every inch of your skin, tasting every part of you there ever has been.

You cum hard and you cum almost painfully, writhing on the bed covered in tears and sweat. There's surely a pool of slick beneath your ass on the bed from where your cunt has drooled onto the sheets but Logan will clean it up later- if you're lucky, from you with the mouth you're still fantasizing about.

"There, that wasn't hard," Logan hums, crooning tenderly like he's taking care of you as he finally dips down to press a firm kiss against the slack ring of your mouth. It's late, but better than never. You exhale shakily as he kisses you, a balm to soothe the hurt feelings of his denial, and he chuckles as you twitch beneath him. He leaves his cock buried in your warm, twitching cunt- he hasn't finished himself, but he'll feed his cock down your throat later- anytime you cum and he doesn't you offer to help him out. Watching the way that your eyes blink hazily at him post-kiss is certainly helping him along, and he won't take long up against the warm wet seal of your mouth.

"Poor thing is sensitive." He nudges his nose against your own, muscles bulging as he keeps himself hovering over you, "Can't handle being used, hm? Gotta be loved?"

"I love you," You whisper pitifully, chasing his mouth with a desperate, sticky kiss of your own, "Logan, I- I love you, mm-"

"Alright, alright." He mumbles through your sloppy attempts at kissing him, muffled by your lips, "Alright, crybaby, 'love you too."

[synvil]

Recording.. // Pornstar! Rafe Cameron x Pornstar! Fem! Reader

a/n: welp, this will be interesting. there’s so many ways this can go but let’s see which one i came up with.

synopsis : getting to work with the famous, most current top rated star in the porn industry was a dream. Let’s see how it turns out for you. pornstar! au!

warnings : explicit content! penetration, choking, cunnilingus, afab!, multiple orgasms, roughness, squirt, etc.

“[Name], thank you for coming. Did you get the email regarding today’s content?”

Shaking hands with the producer, you share a smile and nod, pulling away. “Yes, I read through it. I’m alright with it all.”

“Great, and I take it you’ve already showered and cleaned up before coming? Any questions?”

You nod again to the first part before thinking for a moment and parting your lips to speak. “Actually, I just wasn’t sure who I would be working with today. That wasn’t clear in the email.”

The producer exhales in understanding and hears the door opening, “Actually, we needed confirmation that he was willing to come in today,” and a tall, muscular and toned male steps out, a towel around his neck and in nothing but boxers and some gym shorts. “And there he is. Cameron!”

“Cameron..?”

The male who steps out looks up as he ruffles one end of the towel against his head of hair. “Yeah?” Almost immediately, he locks eyes with you.

Holy shit.

THE Rafe Cameron. The highest rated star in the industry, where every man and woman alike would kill to meet the handsome stud, much more, to work with him.

Must be a fever dream.

When you first auditioned to be part of this industry, Rafe was only beginning to take off.

And now that you were one of the top stars alongside him, Rafe was the highest rated one, and every woman who ever had the chance to work with him, could never be the same.

Thing is, you had no idea what he was like. Was he rude? The pompous kind of asshole? Or was he charismatic and sweet? But if he was, was it just for show?

Many thoughts begin to flood your head until you realize the producer and Rafe have been talking, and now he’s coming over to you, hand extended out.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Y-Yeah, same.” You mentally curse yourself out for your anxiety and shake his hand but even more for the fact that you have yet to make eye contact, still glazing over his dripping wet bare body.

Rafe follows your gaze and gives a small chuckle, a charming smirk following it as he pulls away. “Sorry, thought I’d get a quick shower in before we start our filming.” He explains but you just manage a small nod. “R-right.”

The producer comes over and pats both of your shoulders. “Alright, now that we’ve done introductions, we’ll go over the scene once more with both of you and we’ll get started. Rafe, why don’t you go get dressed and I’ll get [Name] prepped?”

Rafe nods and gives you one more glance, his smirk still shining at you. With a wink, he turns away and takes his leave.

That smirk.. it sends a certain thrilling feel of desire in your stomach and you swallow thickly before attempting to focus your gaze on the producer, who begins to instruct the scenes.

Here you are..

“I can’t believe you!”

You shout as you slam the front door behind you, just for it to open a second later and Rafe coming in. “God, you’re insufferable!”

The current scene was you and Rafe coming home from the bar, celebrating a night of a special occasion, you had gotten a promotion at work.

And now you were rushing inside, having caught your on and off boyfriend of two years, openly flirting with another woman right next to you, once again.

At least that what it looked like to you, but your boyfriend has cheated before, and you weren’t going through it again.

“Would you just listen to me for one second?!”

Rafe’s voice follows after you while you take off your heels and throw it his way. “Don’t fucking talk to me!”

He narrowly dodges the heels thrown at his face before the expensive bag in your hand is also aimed for his head.

“What are you doing?” He asks, catching the bag with a scoff as you retreat to the kitchen.

“Take it back. I don’t want it anymore, we’re done.”

“Done? So you’re just giving all the things i bought you, back?” Rafe looks at you in disbelief as you begin to take off the jewelry on your person and drop it on the counter with a clink.

“I’m done with second chances, you asshole. You can’t just do one nice thing for me, one night.” I curse, slamming my hands down on the countertop as I turn to face him.

Rafe calmly sets the bag down as he stands opposite of you of the counter and sighs softly. “Baby, you’re not thinking straight, just let me explain before you-“

“Before I what? Break up with you for the final time?” You pull off the bracelets until you’re finally free of any jewelry and slide it towards him. “Take it all back.”

This time, Rafe can’t help but curl his lips into an amused smile, as he watches you return everything on you that he had bought for you.

“All of it?”

You tsk and point to the doorway. “The heels are back there.” You remind him though he was obviously aware.

“Alright, everything.. then the dress is included, right?”

. . .

“W-What?-“ Clearly taken back, Rafe’s lips forms a smirk at your clear surprise.

“Last I checked, I bought that stunning black gown you’re wearing tonight.. to celebrate.. remember?”

His words cause you to purse your lips and you’re aware of his slow advances towards you as he rounds the island counter in the kitchen. Rafe doesn’t break eye contact, keeping his eyes trained on you as he does this.

Tensions are high and you know he’s right, but you also know what will happen if you take off the dress.

However, behind the facade, behind the cameras rolling, your inner self is ready to burst. Your cheeks are beginning to flush and you can feel the intensity of his gaze on your body, trailing up and down your figure. Whether or not he was in character was unclear but it still made you wet with arousal at the sight.

Reluctantly, you bring your hands up to the straps, pulling it to the side of your shoulders and down slowly.

Rafe’s eyes hungrily takes in your fully naked form, you weren’t even wearing panties.

Your lack of undergarments weren't part of the script, which you can tell catches Rafe by real surprise momentarily, but it quickly dissipates into a smirk instead.

“No underwear?.. How naughty of you..” he murmurs as he finally makes it to your side and you fight the blush that’s threatening to spread and darken further.

“Shut up-“

Rafe just chuckles at your reaction as his hands sneaks around your bare waist. He looks down from his height with a certain glint in his eyes. “Hey, i’m not complaining..” He says as his head moves to your neck, kissing your collarbone softly. “it's kinda sexy..”

What the hell, I can’t respond.

He’s so hot.. i need to talk.. but im speechless..

My heart is pounding so hard— Relax, [Name], this is all just acting- Rafe Cameron is just acting.

You’re overthinking, stay professional!

But the next thing you knew, Rafe Cameron’s lips were smashing against yours in an intense, heated kiss.

And the faint whimper that escaped your lips wasn’t fake.

Needy hands roam your body everywhere, his lips planted on your neck and kissing every inch of your skin. He raises his head up to your ear and whispers, his breath hot. “You good?” It was quiet and subtle, not loud enough to pick up on the microphone hanging near us.

You nod faintly, and he grins, not waste another second ravishing you.

All the prior anxiety and worries you had faded and you found yourself melting into the kiss, Rafe’s muscular arms lifting you up by the waist and placing you on the counter, the cold touch making you gasp.

That gasp was enough time for him to allow his tongue to slip in, the muscle exploring inside your mouth, making you moan lightly.

Every movement was full of passion, Rafe fondling your breasts, giving each mound a full squeeze. His fingertips pinch your buds, a gentle twist causing you to send a breathy sigh. Your hands find their way to his hair and tangle your fingers in the locks of his dirty blonde locks.

Rafe's low chuckles reaches your ears again as he travels up to nip at your earlobes. His right hand goes down to dip between your thighs, his index finger planting itself right at your clit. He rubs it a few times before whispering, "So wet.. I can't wait to taste your pretty pussy.."

It's almost a growl when he says it, sending rushes of adrenaline through your body and the boost of arousal grows further in you.

The Rafe Cameron gives you one last kiss on the lips before he slowly slides down to his knees, muscular hands grabbing a hold of your thighs tight and firm, and being face to face with your already glistening pussy.

He licks his lips and doesn't hesitate to dive face first, tongue taking a long lick to your folds before going down on you. "O-oh, fuck-" Your eyes flutter shut at the wet sensation, a sharp inhale slipping out.

Holy shit, it felt incredible.

Rafe's tongue moves in circles around your clit a few times before continuously slurping up your juices that leaked from your folds, devouring your pussy like he was starved.

Your hands prop up your body by placing it firmly on the surface under you, but you can't help the hand that goes to tug on his hair and push his face deeper in, which causes him to chuckle deeply, the action creating vibrations through you.

"Oh god, Rafe." You breathily pant, his grip forcing your thighs to remain spread while his tongue prods at your entrance, pushing in and out. "Shit.. you taste incredible.." He mutters as his nose buries itself against your clit. The feeling is enough to send you into overdrive, your head tossing back and a tightening in your stomach makes you cry out.

"R-Rafe, I'm so close-"

Grinding your hips against his face, you illicit a loud mewl of pleasure, your body sending shocks throughout as you tremble from a hard orgasm.

Despite your fluids gushing down his chin, he continues to delve deeper in, overstimulating you, causing your thighs to shake as you cry out again, making him laugh.

“Aw, was it too much for you, sweetheart?” He grins mischievously and you flush, ignoring the way your heart flutters at the nickname as you attempt to catch your breath, watching as he licks his lips and stands up straight, ripping off his button up.

You can feel your mouth going dry at the sight of his toned, chiseled abs, the sweat glistening on his skin but what widened your eyes was the sight of his hardened bulge through his trousers, and you reach for the hem of his pants and pull him close, wrapping your legs around his torso.

Remembering you’re still on camera, you speak, “This doesn’t mean I forgive you.” You mutter, staring into his eyes while your hands palm him softly, working to unzip his zipper. But your words only cause him to flash a smirk as he helps you undo his trousers. “Oh don’t worry, sweetheart, by the time i’m done with you, you’ll forget about tonight.”

Crashing his lips with yours, you grunt but let him pull you even more towards the edge before pulling you down to the ground, his hands pulling the waistband of his pants and boxers down.

He strokes himself a few times, your eyes unable to help itself to the sight and you swallow thickly.

“Something wrong, baby?” He hums in amusement and you turn away a bit bashfully. “Not at all.”

Turning you around so you faced away from him, he breaks into a smirk as he wraps his arm around to give you a hand necklace, your throat firm in his grasp. Lining himself up at your entrance, he leans in close and speaks lowly. “Good, because I don’t intend to stop.”

Without warning, he inserts his length inside and you cry out a noise of pleasure. Your back at arches and he tightens his grip on your throat, but not enough to hurt you. “Heh, shit, you’re so fucking tight..” It almost seemed like it was actually Rafe saying this to you, instead of his character, but you didn’t have much time to think about it after as he begins to thrust into you from behind.

“F-Fuck-!”

One hand goes up to grab ahold of his arm that was holding your neck, and the other holds onto the counter for support. Every hard thrust causes your breasts to bounce as you two move in sync, Rafe doing deep but slow thrusts. His other hand is firming holding your waist but it travels up to grope your right breast, squeezing it hard.

Strings of moans are filling the room, and you momentarily forget the audience and cameras on you as all you can focus on is Rafe’s cock penetrating you hard.

He’s so deep.. i-i can’t think straight- it’s too much..

i’m so close- no wonder he’s so popular..

Rafe pulls away from your neck to use both hands to hold your hips firmly, his own picking up the pace as he begins to fuck you fast, the wet juices squelching each time your skin makes contact.

His hand goes down and his finger flicks your clit and it’s starting to send you over the edge. “Rafe..” Whimpers escape you as you dip your head down, clenching your fists on the countertop tightly.

“R-Rafe, fuck, you’re so deep.. i-i’m gonna cum-“

Rafe just smirks as he rubs your clit further, continuously thrusting you harder and faster until he feels a gush over your release and he pulls out, watching as your pretty glistening pussy squirts all over the floor.

“Fuck.” He bites his lip at the sight as he feels his own building up, and he spins you around while you’re panting. “Get on your knees,”

You fall to your knees to his command, and watch as he strokes himself fast and seconds later, his cum spurts its white salty liquid over your face, painting it like a canvas.

He pants heavily, catching his breath while you do the same, eyes fluttered shut at the warm liquid drips down.

“And cut! That was great, now get cleaned up you two!”

“You alright, [Name]?”

Still on the ground, you barely register a voice is talking to you while you appear dazed and confused.

Rafe has some skin-sensitive wipes in his hands, gently rubbing your face to wipe off any of his fluids before carefully helping you to your feet. “Did I go too rough on you?”

“I’m alright, thanks..” You whisper, feeling the exhaustion take over you. You lean onto Rafe, who holds you securely against his chest. “If it’s any consolation, today was fuckin’ amazing..” He chuckles lightly as he presses a tender kiss to your temple before guiding you to the couch where you can rest for a bit.

“Yeah?.. I think i understand why so many women gush over you after working with you.” You giggle weakly, sending an appreciative look when he sets you down gently, placing a blanket over you. He also chuckles lightly. “Yeah, but I think i’d like to work with you again, sometime soon. Maybe we can talk about our next filming together over dinner?”

Your stomach feels as though butterflies are doing flips inside you at the assumption of his words. “Are you asking me out, Rafe Cameron?”

Rafe merely shares a wink before pecking your forehead and getting up. “I’ll let you figure that out. Meanwhile, I’ll head to your room and draw you a bath to clean up.”

He takes your hand to press a soft kiss to the back of it before smiling your way and then turning to leave. Maybe he wasn’t acting the whole time.

“.. Rafe Cameron just asked me out..”

Best filming job ever.

a/n: hello all, hope you enjoyed! :) merry christmas. i shall have the first post of my camgirl series out soon!! <3

i’m sorry if this seems like such a rushed abrupt ending but i wanted to finish this in time for christmas :)

pt. 2 with JJ Maybank !!

[buckyalpine]

40s Sergeant Barnes with a nurse and a Sergeant kink (and breeding and house wife kink, virginity loss). This was supposed to be a pure smutty drabble but then I got in my feelings and added some fluff and angst but I promise Bucky is still a dirty, nasty little fuck in this. Just with a sweeter ending. The one he deserves.

Listen just imagine what a cute, sexy menace Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes would be just waking up from an injury when his eyes flutter open to the pretty nurse he’s been eyeing from the day he started. You’re not a shy, dainty little thing, nope. Not at all.

You bark out orders like a drill Sergeant and one glare from you is all it takes to get everyone in line and on task without a second thought. Even his superiors are scared of you, biting their tongue when you stitch them up and send them on their way before running off to your next patient.

Bucky was in love.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he rasps, throwing you a charming smirk while you roll your eyes in response, shaking your head. "How'd I get so lucky, got a my little angel tendin' to me"

“I see your injury hasn’t stopped hurt that mouth of yours Sergeant" You quirk an eyebrow while he playfully huffs as you change the dressing covering a gash on his abdomen. You swab the area clean and he doesn't flinch even though you know it must burn like hell, his muscles tensed while he continues to watch you with heart eyes. "Now you know I'm not your little angel, I got 20 other men to fix up, you better be out of this bed as soon as you're all healed up"

“C’mon sugar, you're breakin' my heart" Bucky gives you a little pout with those perfect lips and you catch the twinkle in his eye as he looks over your form with complete admiration. He loved your sassy, take no shit attitude and it's taking everything in him to calm himself down so he doesn't get a hard on right there in front of you.

"You'd tell that to a cat with three legs if it was in a nurses outfit" You try your best to not give into his flirty comments and puppy eyes, knowing damn well he's a heart breaker but he makes it so difficult when he continues to woo you with his boyish charm.

He can't help but chase after you; catching the way your eyes always dart around with anxiety when his group returns from an operation, relief flooding them when you finally spot him. He loves your indifferent attitude, patting him down to make sure he's uninjured but your furrowed brows and the tiny pout on your lips give away that you're worried.

How can he just let you go. Every time you check over him, he needs you closer.

So much closer.

-

"Ms. y/l/n, Sergeant Barnes is requesting you in his tent, he says it's urgent"

You shake your head looking over at the time, quietly making your way over to the tent he's stationed at, thankful that a number of troops were sleeping so you wouldn't be seen as you quickly slip inside.

“And what hurts now” you sass with your hands on your hips seeing the soldier in perfect health, doing your best to assess him without letting him know.

"Always checkin' over me" Bucky chuckles, seeing what you're doing; his words making your cheeks heat up, "Knew you cared about me sugar"

"Well what am I doin' here" You give him an unconvincing huff, struggling to keep your voice steady, refusing to meet his eyes, keeping your gaze on his silver dog tags instead. It doesn't help that he's handsome as hell with a light dusting of scruff covering his cheeks. Bucky's never seen you flustered before and it evokes something in him, all the blood in his body rushing south seeing your fingers twitch.

All he wanted to do was kiss you but now-

“Help your Sergeant out doll” He whispers, taking another step forward till his chest brushes against yours, his hand coming to tilt your chin up, "Will you?"

You gasp feeling his hardness press against your thigh, your heart fluttering wildly as his thumb traces your lips, any semblance of control you had slipping away feeling the warmth of his skin.

“Y-yes Sergeant Barnes”

His lips press against yours, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the way his body was screaming for him to pick you up and toss you onto his cot.

"Sweet like sugar" He lets his hands fall to your waist, pulling you flush against his body while your arms drape on top of his shoulders. You stand on your toes chasing more of his lips and he chuckles at the needy whine you let out when he pulls away for air.

Now let's say your first night together was actually quite tame. He kisses you again and you swoon when he repeatedly checks in with you before going any further. His hand slips under your skirt, letting his fingers toy with places no on else has touched. With each night, he needs you more and more until he can't hold off any longer and neither can you.

-

You sneak into his tent and this time he doesn't hesitate to undress you completely, not when he needs you bare with nothing separating you both. You feel your heart race as he lies on top of you, draping a thin sheet over himself when you shiver at the chill night air. You feel his body heat instantly warm you up, his heavy cock resting between your soaked folds.

"Are you sure, sugar?" He asks, his hand cupping your cheek and stroking your skin.

"Please Sergeant" You whisper and the way you say his title makes his cock twitch. There's something so different about you when you're in his bed, a sweet little bunny giving herself to him completely. It drives him feral with a need to make you feel good, make you cry for his cock and his cock only, to keep you nice and full of him.

You don't look twice at anyone else and here you are completely naked in his tent with your tight little virgin cunt, your legs spread open so he can put his dick in you; there was no way he was ever going to let you go.

"You tell me if it's too much, alright?" His lips tickle your neck as kisses your skin while rubbing his heavy cock through your folds, coating it in your slick, "Breathe for me"

He slips his tags into your mouth as he starts to press in, the initial sting making you bite down hard onto the metal feeling a mix of pleasure and pain. You whine at the way he stretches you open, your thighs squeezing around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Shhh, that's it love, doin' so good for me so good for your Sergeant, look how you're takin' all of me baby" He looks down to where you're both connected as he continues to slowly push himself in till hes fully sheathed inside you. He gives you time to adjust, slipping his tags out of your lips and letting his tongue lace with yours instead, his balls already throbbing with how tightly you were squeezing his cock.

"Please-Sergeant" your heels press into his ass desperate for him to move, gasping when he starts to slowly roll his hips, barely pulling out.

"I got you love-don't worry" Bucky moves as slowly as he could not wanting to hurt you, taking just as much care of you as you had with him countless of times.

But he can only keep up at that pace for so long. Your muffled whines and moans don't help the way his mind is already spiraling. His pretty little nurse all spread out just for him, taking his raw, bare cock in her soaking pussy, squeezing him so tight, he was only a few strokes from cumming.

If it were up to him he would've proposed on the spot, thinking about making love to you on your wedding night, seeing you all shy and sweet wrapped up in soft white lace. If you were his wife, he'd take you apart every which way, not giving a fuck about traditions, taking you right on the dining room table.

You'd be the prettiest little thing for him to come home to, such a good wife all dirty just for her husband. Only he'd know the way your mouth would slobber all over his cock like your life depended on it. The way you'd moan at the taste of his cum. Bucky's eyes rolled back at the thought of you with nothing but some heels and a string of pearls he'd put around your neck while he stuffed you with cum and emptied his balls in you.

"S-Sergeant-I-oh god" You whimpered feeling his cock grow harder, your pussy pulling him right back in, feeling the coil low in your belly pull tighter and tighter as he hit that spot.

Meanwhile Bucky's jaw clenched as he felt his balls pull tight to his body, the tip leaking steadily in your pussy. His mind spiraled into places he didn't think would exist before he met you, rogue thoughts he only entertained when he had his dick in his hand. The harder he fucked you the more he thought about how gorgeous you'd look with a swollen belly.

Fuck, imagine if he got you pregnant right then and there. That nurses uniform would no longer fit you. Everyone would know he knocked you up, your perfectly round tummy carrying Sergeant James Barnes' baby, breasts heavy with milk, God, he wasn't going to last-

“Gonna let your Sergeant pump you full of cum?” He pants, letting his hands grip onto your hips like his life depends on it, the wiry hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit.

“Yes!!” You sob, biting down onto his shoulder to keep your cries down while he continues to fuck you into oblivion. You don't understand how such filth can spew from that pink, pouty little mouth of his. "Please-please-need-youI-I'm gonna-"

"M'yours sweet girl, m'all yours, go on, cum for me love, cum on my cock, it's all yours" He gazed into your eyes, cooing at your parted lips and sweat slicked skin. It didn't take long for you to shatter around him his lips smashing against yours to swallow your moans.

"Want your cum Sergeant" You beg , desperate to have him claim you from the inside.

"Oh fuck baby, y-you can't say that, m-gonna, oh fuckkk" Your words throw Bucky right off the edge as he lets out a deep groan stilling his hips and shooting endless ropes of his spend into you. You both lay in comfortable silence, your fingers playing with his hair; his usual kempt brown locks now disheveled .

“Y’know m’gonna marry you” his scruffy cheek nuzzles into your neck as he continues to stay deep inside you as his cock softens, “after all this is over. Gonna put a ring on that finger”

His words send a different wave of emotions over you, feeling more safe than ever, clinging onto him as tightly as possible. You let a whimper slip out and he pulls away from your neck with an expression of concern.

“What is it love” Bucky coos, wiping away the tears that slip you, stroking your cheek while you bite back a sniffle.

“Do you mean it? After this is all over?” You weren't sure what Bucky would want-there was still a war going on. Anything could happen. Perhaps this was just to keep his bed warm. Something to keep him calm, you were just someone to-

"Of course sugar" Bucky presses a firm kiss to your forehead, silencing the thoughts that tried to run wild. "You're mine"

-

And of course he gets his happy ending. Because when it's all over, he gets the ring for the girl he loves. He's on one knee, proposing to you with the sweetest words. He treats you like a princess on your wedding night, making love all night long until the sun is up.

There isn't a surface in the house he's left untouched. Nothing makes him more feral than moaning for his pretty wife, constantly taking her hand and wrapping it around his cock, watching that diamond glint with each stroke.

It doesn't take long for you to feel a little squeamish, knowing all the tell tale signs.

The day you tell him he's going to be a dad is one of the happiest days of his life. There isn't a single night that goes by where he isn't nuzzling his face into your tummy, talking to your little one.

Everything was perfecttt.

[screampied]

Pls write a Toji fic where at any point he says he fucking loves your pussy 😞 Toji’s dirty talk is just different

toji being obsessed with your pussy ★

cw. fem! reader, brief p in v, degradation, spıt, ōral (f! receiving), overstim, hair pulling, mdni.

it was no secret— toji fushiguro was a nasty man,

the nastiest. especially whenever it came to being propped up between your legs. whether it’s giving you ruthless thrusts to where your toes are all curled up and numb, or . . he’s shoved face first right between your plush thighs. it was hard to differentiate whether his slick mouth or his dick in general was the nastiest of the two. currently, he’d have you sprawled out on the bed. your ankles instinctively lock against his slim waist as he’s pounding into you again and again. “shit, ‘m gonna fill you up again, baby,” he’d groan, grabbing ahold of one of your legs. it dangles as you’re just being fucked stupid. the most doltish expression marinated against your face before he brings your ankle up to his mouth to give it a teasing kiss. “mhm, always know how to take me everytime. wet girl, ‘s fuckin’ sloppy just for me.”

“t- tojiiii,” you’d whine out in pathetic babbles.

due to his thick size and even thicker girth, the stomach seizing that churns all throughout your lower abdomen comes so easily that you’re panting.

hot, parching breaths of airy air aerates out of your sheeny parted lips before he’s balls deep. you’re clenching down onto him tight, gripping him with all your might like a vice and he sucks his teeth from the addictive rapture. leafy, cunning eyes of his stare into you and a hand of his gingerly wraps around your throat. “fuck, f-fuuuck. inside, ‘toj. i can’t take it.”

“course ya can,” he snickers, grinding his beefy body against yours before he sneaks a kiss against your trembling lips. the strong taste of alcohol resides on his tongue and you moan before he precipitously pulls away. “hold onto my arms, sweet girl. ‘s gonna get a bit messy, heh.”

as he continues to mercilessly drill into you—he lets off a four second groan. it’s so low that you can hear the baritone growl from underneath it. it’s sexy. you stare up at him with glossy eyes, the way he elongates the single syllable in such a gruff tone.

it makes you throb, toji’s head throws itself back as he’s starting to flood your womb with such goopy amounts of his cum. it trickles into you in ropes, satiny rich ropes that leave you feeling entirely fulfilled.

fulfilled in a filthy way though,

“. . goddamn,” he huffs as his chest steadily raises in and out. your shaky legs still envelop around his slim waist as he’s pumping you full of cock. the vicious wet squelches that came out of your own cunt was so lewd, he never wants the noise to stop. “such a messy girl. mhmm,” and he slowly pulls his pulsating dick out. gradually, he’s purposely taking his time and smirking at your little irritated whimper. devastatingly enough, your gaping entrance now feels completely empty once he’s not inside of you anymore. all you feel was the freshly soaked viscous wads of seed shoved all inside of your walls. still gushing, he leans down and brings his face right up against your legs. “mine.” he purrs, poking out a single thumb to spread your puffed, swollen lips open. toji happily gawks at the mess he created, you’re still trying to catch your own breath as you’re slumped back against the cushioned bed frame.

it’s so sticky—he flicks his tongue near the right side of his mouth. it swipes against his inclined scar and you can hear his breathy chortle right between your legs.

you knew what that meant,

he wanted more, he was still hungry and he was gonna clean you right up—after all, toji didn’t like putting things to waste. especially if that ‘thing’ was nothing more than his precious cum.

“f- fuck, toji,” you moan, your hips wriggling a bit as he pries your legs apart from each other. as he moves you a bit, you wreathe from his weight thwacking against you. with the way his cum droops out of your fluttering entrance.

oh, it was such a sight to see.

a fat thumb of his goads toward your dampened, oozing slit before he gives your sloppy pussy a single kiss. toji doesn’t even flinch at the taste of himself now starting to go against his tongue.

it’s bitter anyway—barely with a taste to it but with a concoction of your sweet arousal, it tasted appetizing,

you tasted appetizing.

“you’re s-so nasty.” you puff, tugging ahold of his ravened strands. he’s always loved whenever you did that. as he’s still swaying his hips against you, you take it upon yourself to comb a few curling fingers into his rumpled hair. toji simpers, showing you nothing but a sly, hungry gaze. “t- toji, mhm.”

“yeah, girl. duh, nasty just for you though,” he whispers against your pussy. his breath was warm, feverish even. with each movement he moves closer, lolling out his tongue to get a good enough taste, you’re throbbing right in his mouth. your back naturally arches and he hums, slurping in your syrupy fervor. “fuckin’ love this pussy, ‘s sweet. sweet ‘n sloppy. listen to how she tries to give me little back talk, baby.”

and you grow mute—feeling him purse his lips, moving away to only then bring a big hand towards your slick opening. as you’re convulsing time and time again, he slithers two thickset fingers inside of your entrance and you whine. another hand of his starts to give your cunt a few rude spanks. you jolt back, moaning with your exposed breasts harmonizing with your unsteady movements. “ooh,” he snarls, hearing the slosh. it’s so wet, a few spurts of your juices even lands directly underneath his chin. he licks it with his tongue before giving it another spank, and another, and another.

swatting a palm repeatedly against your pussy, you’re continuing to drag and scrape his face closer between your thighs. “like that, huh. fuckin’ messy girl,” and he spanks it again before blowing against it. “my messy girl. my messy pussy.”

and toji starts to make out with your cunt. literally french kisses against it with tongue—his lengthy dark lashes close shut before he latches his lips against your swollen walls, feeling your body twitch in response. “heh,” he exhales deeply before departing his spit-coated lips away. his scar tickling against your entrance and another whine dies out of your throat. “keep this up ‘n ‘m gonna propose to this sloppy cunt, right princess?”

and he’s not even talking to you anymore, nor is he looking at you—he’s talking to your pussy, as if it, could reply.

“exactly,” he jibes, gifting you a final mean spank against your folds before flipping you over. you gasp once he pulls your hips against him. a hand of his squeezes a fat chunk of your ass before he spanks it. the recoil of your ass makes him groan. “mhm, not done though. gimme that arch again baby, bend against me. gonna take my time with you, messy girl.”

[rosiereveries]

Retired!JohnPrice, who, after retiring, bought a cabin in a small town where everyone knew everyone. He was a stranger, and people talked about him all the time. They wanted to know where he was from, why he came to their town, and what he wanted. He didn’t have a lot to do in his free time. He restored the cabin he stayed in; the roof was leaking, he needed to buy new kitchen supplies, and the attic needed good cleaning. The previous owner left all their stuff there. John came to the conclusion that the previous owner loved to read. There were books everywhere. The old bedroom had one huge bookshelf filled with romance books. Until now, he didn’t even know that there were so many books with hot men on the cover. He felt sorry to just throw them away; the books were in good shape, and they could make someone very happy.

That was how he found you. After searching the town for a charity shop or something, he found a library where you worked. You greeted him with a smile, and he was enchanted. He explained to you that he would like to donate books to the library and asked if you could help him with the process. You agreed that after work, you would visit him and make a list of the books he had. When you arrived at his cabin, he told you that he had made dinner, and he would love if you could join him. It had been a while since someone had cooked for you, so you accepted his offer. After dinner, you went through the books in his bedroom. You blushed the whole time, looking up the titles of the books, and John didn’t make your job easier. He read aloud some parts of the books, each scene steamier than the previous. After you were done, he drove you home. He didn’t want a pretty girl like you to go home in the dark. He knew that the town was safe, but he needed to be sure that you got home okay. John promised that he would bring the books to the library tomorrow and help you with them. The whole evening, he tried to get your number so he could ask you out, and now he had the perfect chance for it. He said that he needed it to call you tomorrow when he would come. On the drive back home, he thought about how enchanting it was to meet you.

You felt the same. You had butterflies in your stomach since the moment he walked through the library door. The same old tired, lonely place vanished when you saw his face. You felt like a schoolgirl having a crush on the older boys, but now you felt like he might have a crush on you too. You were blushing the whole way home, hoping that he would ask you out. You eagerly awaited the whole morning for when he would text you that he was on the way. After lunch, you started to lose hope that he would show up. He told you that he would come before your lunch break so that he could take you out for lunch. You felt stupid; you didn’t ask for his number, and now you had no way to contact him. Yes, you could go to his house, but you were not that desperate, and it would be weird if you just showed up. You tried to distract yourself with work, but it didn’t stop your wandering thoughts. What if he had someone, and you were too flirty, and now, he didn’t want to talk to you? Maybe he was just a friendly neighbor who wanted to do something nice for the community. Maybe you just imagined the spark that was between you and him. You hoped that this was the very first page and not where the storyline ended.

Just before closing time, you heard the bell above the door, and you wondered who could come this late. It was John, who immediately started to apologize. He said that his bathroom pipes had broken, and the water flooded the entire bathroom. He had to get it fixed quickly, and it was so much work that he didn’t have time to come up and see you. At first, you didn’t believe him, but after he came closer, you could see that his hands were dirty, and his pants still had some water stains. You invited him to your place, and he drove you there, still trying to apologize. He said that he would make it up to you, take you on a proper date, buy you flowers, and take you somewhere romantic where you could have your first date. When you arrived at your place, you cooked dinner for both of you. He spent the evening with you, asking so many questions about your job, your life, and other things. John insisted on leaving just before midnight. You walked him out to his car, and when he thanked you for the dinner, you kissed him. He was too much of a gentleman to kiss a girl on the very first night, so you had to take control into your own hands. After the kiss, it didn’t take much to convince him to come back to your house and eventually to your bed.

Masterlist

[ariestrxsh]

જ⁀➴ ♡🍨 content warning: smut, innocence corruption, masturbation, public fingering, praise, sneaking around, mentions of sex and virginity loss, small age gap (both characters are adults), pervy!brothersbsf!matt, innocent!reader

જ⁀➴ ♡🍨 author's note: sooo i wasn't planning on making a part two for this fic, but you guys asked, and now there will be multiple parts. you can read part one here.

જ⁀➴ ♡🍨 summary: your brother's childhood best friend, matt sturniolo, takes your virginity, and the two of you begin sneaking around in plain sight.

young god part two

Matt woke up in a cold sweat, his chest covered in a thick layer of perspiration, laying on the floor next to your brother's bed in his dark room. He had heard your brother's voice so clearly in his dream that he was sure it was real while it was happening.

He had taken your virginity earlier in the night, and his conscience was already nagging at him in the form of vivid nightmares that the interaction had ended in your brother walking in on the two of you.

In reality, he was thankfully a heavy sleeper, and it was a running joke in the family that he could sleep through a car accident, and he actually had once. It was a minor fender bender, but still. So even as Matt woke up in a panic, gasping for air, your brother was snoring loudly, the same way he was when Matt had snuck back into the room after he'd cleaned you up.

It's not that Matt regretted having sex with you. In fact, he was already plotting how he could get you alone again. But he knew he was playing a dangerous game. Your brother was bigger than he was, stronger than he was, and he'd seen him beat the shit out of people for less. Matt really believed him when he told him he'd kill him if he had sex with you.

But how could he have walked away from you after finding you like that, pleasuring yourself and moaning his name? He really thought it would have been more cruel to have left you all alone to your own devices when he knew that what you really wanted was between his legs, and he knew he could make you feel better than any toy could.

He started pawing at himself through the soft fabric of his underwear while he replayed the encounter in his head. He recalled the way he had stumbled upon you with your vibrator, softly moaning his name from one room over. He remembered how vulnerable and fuckable you'd looked.

His curious hand wandered into his waistband, and he wrapped his fingers around his thick shaft, fervently tugging at his cock while he recounted the shocked expression on your pretty face while he'd breached your entrance. He couldn't stop thinking about all the lovely sounds you'd made while he'd deflowered you, stretching you out for the very first time.

He started pumping faster, his mind flooded with images of you, getting closer and closer to the finale. He remembered how you'd clenched around him while he played with you and the way your breasts had jiggled while he had pounded into your sweet little cunt.

You were no longer pure and virginal, and it was all thanks to him. He had tainted your innocence with his dark desires.

He threw his head back and shut his eyes as a few strangled moans filled the room. His stomach dropped, and his muscles tightened as he finished himself off, milking his throbbing cock for all of its worth. He came all over his hand while he pictured your hole dripping with his seed after he'd filled you up.

He remembered the way you had softly begged him, "Please, don't tell my brother," while peering up at him with your big eyes, your lip caught between your teeth as his cum was still dribbling out of you. "I wouldn't dream of it," he had panted in response before leaning down and pulling you into a deep kiss.

A satisfied smile formed on Matt's face as he slowly brought his strokes to a halt, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips. He couldn't wait until the next time he got to have his way with you.

Finally, Matt was able to drift off again and sneak in a few more hours of uninterrupted sleep before the sun began to rise.

જ⁀➴ ♡🍨જ⁀➴ ♡🍨જ⁀➴ ♡🍨જ⁀➴

The next morning, you woke up smiling and satisfied from what Matt had done to you the previous night. You galavanted into the long hallway, tiptoeing past your brother's door. You floated down the staircase, running your hand along the smooth banister like you did every morning on your way to the kitchen.

"Morning Boots!" You greeted the family dog, ruffling his fur, and he wagged his tail in response. You let him out the back door to do his morning business.

You were humming to yourself, rifling through the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs when Matt appeared out of the corner of your eye at the bottom of the steps. "Shit," you muttered as you lost your grip on the carton of eggs, sending the last six in the container crashing to the floor about your feet.

"Sorry, sweet thing. I didn't mean to startle you," Matt chuckled, watching you forget how your motor skills worked just because he was in your presence. "Hi, Matt," you timidly greeted him.

For a moment, you glanced up at him and then back down at the shattered eggs beneath you as you remembered the vulnerable position he'd seen you in the night before. You knelt down on the ground and started scooping up the broken shells.

"I make you nervous, don't I?" Matt smirked, slowly walking towards you. You innocently looked up at him with a flushed expression and your big, doe eyes. You didn't have to respond for him to know he was right. "Has anyone ever told you how pretty you look on your knees?" Matt cooed quietly, bending down and softly brushing his thumb against your smooth, pink cheek.

You felt your stomach drop as Matt looked into your eyes, caressing your face and saying all the right things to you. "You were such a good girl for me last night," Matt whispered, smiling deviously and running the pad of his thumb along your plump bottom lip.

Suddenly, you heard heavy foot steps descending the stairs, and Matt quickly pulled his hand away as your brother materialized at the bottom of the staircase. Matt started to help you pick up the broken egg shells, but you couldn't will away the pink shade your face took on after Matt had spoken so sweetly to you.

"That's okay. I'll just have cereal for breakfast," your brother rolled his eyes, approaching the pantry after witnessing the mess. "It's my fault," Matt said, winking at you as he stood up, disposing of the eggs shells and rinsing off his hand. You avoided eye contact with them both, cleaning the rest of the egg off the tile.

You appreciated that Matt took the attention off you by taking the blame. You were paranoid that if your brother looked at you for too long that he could see it written on your face that you weren't a virgin anymore.

"You know, why don't we all go out for breakfast?" Matt suggested, smirking over at you once he picked up the nearly empty carton of milk out of the fridge.

જ⁀➴ ♡🍨જ⁀➴ ♡🍨જ⁀➴ ♡🍨જ⁀➴

You, Matt, and your brother found yourselves at a nearby local diner with a bit of a 50's vibe to it - classic checkerboard floor, a vintage jukebox, and vinyl pink booths. I Only Have Eyes For You by The Flamingo's played quietly through the speakers as a woman in bright red lipstick and a poodle skirt greeted the three of you and led you towards your table in the back of the empty restaurant.

Both you and your brother sat down across from each other, and Matt made the bold move of taking a seat next to you, earning a curious look from your brother that Matt quickly brushed off.

The waitress poured fresh, hot coffee into each of your ceramic mugs and set off in another direction to give you all a few minutes with your menus.

You decided on French toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon. Matt got the biscuits and gravy combo, and your brother got steak and eggs. Shortly after ordering, the server came back around to top off everyone's coffee.

"So what do you guys like the most about being away at college?" You asked Matt and your brother as you stirred a couple sugars and cream into your mug. "Definitely the fact that our overprotective mother isn't always asking where I'm going," your brother chuckled, taking a sip of coffee.

"How about you, Matt? What do you like the most about college?" You asked, batting your lashes at him. "Probably how loud I can fuck now that I don't live at home with my parents," Matt said, smirking over at you.

"Wow. How inspirational. Maybe tone done the sex talk in front of my little sister, huh?" Your brother snorted, dipping his fingers into his water and flicking it at Matt. Matt did the same in return. You blushed and giggled at their rapport.

"What have you guys missed the most about being home?" You wondered, glancing between the two boys. "I missed Boots the most. We can't keep pets in our dorm rooms," your brother stated, excited to be around the family dog again.

You turned your attention towards the boy to your left to hear his response. "I missed you the most," Matt said in a seductive voice, staring into your eyes, nudging you in the knee with his, and secretly placing his hand on your thigh. You smiled and blushed at him.

"Did you miss me as much as I missed you?" He cooed, gently drawing circles with his fingers just inches from your heat. You bit your lip and nodded. "Hey, Matt. Could you stop hitting on my little sister in front of me?" Your brother asked nonchalantly. "No. Look at how much she likes it," Matt sneered at him, and your brother kicked him under the table.

It was a small price to pay in order to watch how embarrassed and flustered you'd get around him.

It was around this time that the waitress returned with your steaming hot breakfast. The smell of maple syrup and bacon wafted through the air, and you each thanked her as she placed your plates in front of you all. There were a few moments of silence while everyone dug into their meals.

You felt Matt's hand that was resting on the inside of your thigh as he started hiking up your sparkly pink dress and inching towards your pussy. Your eyes widened, and you slowly looked over towards Matt as he casually pulled your panties to the side.

He shot a subtle smirk in your direction as he slipped a finger between your folds, gently stroking up and down and just barely grazing your clit. You bit down on your lip to suppress a whimper. With one hand between your legs and the other gripping his fork, he nodded at your brother while he recounted his least favorite teacher his first semester of his freshman year of college.

"Hopefully, you don't get him next year, sis. Basically had to teach myself trigonometry because he refused to dumb down the information. Pretentious bastard," your brother mumbled under his breath. "Yeah, and he was a real hard-ass for no reason," Matt added, gesturing with his fork while he rubbed your sensitive button underneath the table.

"Just because you never showed up to class doesn't mean every single one of your teachers is a hard-ass, Matt," your brother snarked at him. Matt chuckled at your brother's comment while he inserted a finger into your drooling hole as you were taking a sip of your coffee.

You inhaled sharply, sputtering on your hot drink and nearly spitting it out onto the table. "You good?" Your brother asked you, and you nodded while you placed your mug back down with a trembling hand. "Lay off the coffee. You're shaking," he pointed out before cutting into his steak.

Matt slowly thrust his finger into you while you tried to remain as composed as possible. You loved the feeling of him moving in and out of you while your brother was across from you, unaware of what the two of you were up to on the other side of the booth.

Thankfully, after a few more minutes, your brother excused himself to use the bathroom, and he walked away without paying any mind to what Matt's fingers were doing under the table.

The second he disappeared around the corner, Matt grabbed ahold of your leg and rested it on his knee to open you up further. He spread your lips and stared down at your wet, juicy cunt. "Such a pretty pink pussy you have," Matt admired, hungrily wetting his lips.

He lined two of his fingers up with your entrance and started fucking you hard and fast with them under the table. "If the waitress or your brother start coming this way, be a good girl and let me know. I don't think this will take very long, though," he whispered, seductively smiling at you.

A few strangled moans escaped your lips as you gripped the edge of the table. "Good girl. You're so wet," Matt softly commented as his digits slipped in and out of you with ease. You could feel your stomach dropping, your core tightening, and your whole body quivering as Matt brought you to the quickest climax you'd had in your life.

There was something about the risky factor and the publicity of it all that sent you plummeting over the edge while Matt passionately finger-fucked you.

"That's it. Cum all over my fingers. Come on, sweet thing. I know you can do it," he urged you. His praise sent a current of pleasure through you while you started rhythmically clenching around his digits, your hips bucking as he finished you off.

"Good girl," he lustfully commended you as your jaw fell open and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He pumped in and out, slowing down his pace as your orgasm concluded. A wave of tranquility washed over you, and Matt gave you a mischevious smile as he pulled his fingers from your slick hole that were covered in shiny layer of your juices.

"Mmm," he hummed as he stuck them in his mouth and licked them clean, cherishing your flavor. "I can't get enough of you," he whispered as you pulled your legs shut again, smoothing out your dress, and going back to eating your food as your brother came into view from around the corner on his way back from the bathroom.

You almost couldn't believe you'd let Matt do that to you in such a high-risk situation, but you fucking loved the rush you got from it, and Matt could tell due to how quickly you came.

When your brother returned to the table, you could feel how flushed your face must have looked as your brother's eyes traveled between you and his best friend. Matt couldn't hide the guilty smirk from his face, but he tried to cover it with his hand as he propped his elbow up on the table.

He got a sort of sick satisfaction out of sneaking around with his best friend's little sister right in front of his face. The only problem was that he was too smug and arrogant for his own good, and his God complex would quickly have him falling from good graces if he wasn't careful.

"You guys are acting weird today," he commented, narrowing his gaze. "If one of you did something to my food while I was gone, you're both dead," he laughed, skeptically looking at you and the boy beside you.

"Nah, nothing like that. Don't worry about it," Matt replied in a conceited tone. "If you're playing some kind of prank on me, I'm gonna figure it out, Sturniolo," your brother responded, laughing and pointing at him with his fork.

You sat uncomfortably in your soaking wet panties, silently finishing your coffee, unable to look at either one of them. Your heart was still beating quickly, and you were still trying to subtly call your breath back to you. Luckily, the subject changed, and the boys started talking about something unrelated.

You couldn't bring yourself to add to the conversation, so you listened quietly while you picked at your french toast and eggs, trying to draw as little attention to yourself as possible.

You couldn't keep your eyes off Matt the whole ride home, studying his profile and swooning every time he turned around to wink at you or lick his lips while he peered between your legs. Every silent exchange between the two of you felt like a little secret that only the two of you were privy to.

You liked concealing the sexual nature of your relationship with Matt. As far as everyone else around you knew, he was just your brother's best friend. However, behind closed doors (and under the table in empty diners), he was the manifestation of your fantasies, the embodiment of your wildest wet dream, and the boy who had popped your cherry.

All you could think about was the next time you'd get to be alone with him. Behind his hauntingly beautiful blue eyes, he was wondering the same about you, daydreaming about the next time he could fill you with his cock.

જ⁀➴ ♡🍨 part three here 💖

taglist: @thepubeburgler @realqueenofpepsi @mattsredgaphoodie @purpledreamertyphoon @moosegirl96 @bsturnzmtts @sturniolo-girl @theyluvme-2315 @jassturn @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @jaysturniolo @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @babysturniolo @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1 @chrislova

[luvsupa]

I WANT TO HEAR YOU SCREAMMM!

summary: whatever you do, do not fuck mr.ghostface!

tags: ghostface!geto x fem!reader, naoya mention .., set in the 90s and inspired by fear street!!, smut, ōral sex (m and f receiving), knife play, slightly mask kink, humiliation kink, exhibitionism kinda, death, mentions of blood, etc, mdni

w.c: around 3.6k (sorry I got carried away …)

a/n: THANK U GUYS FOR 1.6K WAAAATTTT WE GOIN UPPPPP YEASSS

+ geto in tbis fic looks just like this fanart 🙂‍↕️

kinktober masterlist

you lean against the register, bored out of your mind as you scribble distorted faces on your company’s notepad. working a night shift sucks—especially a closing shift. you huff as the intercom blasts the latest rock song, a weak attempt to liven up the dead atmosphere. lately, the cd shop has been busy with customers buying vinyls, posters, and movies. ugh, it was so annoying having to scan the newest movie, scream. the line was always so long it nearly wrapped around the whole building!

you glance out the glass front doors, scanning the empty, dark streets, genuinely debating whether you should close two hours early since no one is coming. your attention shifts as you hear the bell ring, indicating a customer entering.

ugh.

your smile drops when you see naoya, your annoying coworker who flirts with you in the weirdest ways. he’s always condescending and putting you down until you found out from another coworker that he’s actually attracted to you. he walks toward you, standing in front of the register as if he were a customer. you honestly forgot he was still here after he said he would take a ‘five-minute’ break an hour ago.

“you don’t get paid to draw, now do you?” he says, leaning over to grab the notebook. you let him take it, but he rips the page clean, crumpling it in his fist. gosh, you hated when he acted like the manager. “anyways, I’m clocking out! must suck having to stay for another… two hours!” he laughs, glancing at the clock above. he giggles as he walks behind the counter into the bright red font ‘employees only’ room, leaving you scoffing in annoyance. you waste time fixing the decorations on the register as every minute drags by.

ring!

your heart stops when you hear the company phone ringing. who the hell calls at this hour? you pick up the corded telephone and force yourself into a professional tone.

“thank you for calling cursed tracks, how may I help you?” you say, lazily watching over the store. there’s a long pause, and your brows furrow. is this a prank call?

“hello—”

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

you burst out laughing, doubling over at the blatant prank call. there’s no way. it’s beyond cringey that you would be a victim of ghostface’s evil scheme. tears roll down your cheeks as you hang up the phone, your laughter still ringing in your ears. but then, you stumble backward, colliding with something solid—no, someone. your laughter halts as you slowly turn your head, gulping hard as your eyes drop in horror. screaming in genuine fear, you see him: ghostface, knife in hand, just like in the movies.

you stumble back into the counter, panic rising as you cry out, cornered in the booth. he drops his hand and bursts into laughter, and your brows furrow in confusion. he lifts his hand to remove the haunting mask, and embarrassment floods over you.

seriously.

“naoya, that wasn’t funny,” you snap, shoving him away as he continues to laugh uncontrollably. “you— you should’ve seen your face! I wish I recorded this— we would’ve been stars!” he wheezes, still amused as you find none of this funny. he continues to mimic your reaction, and you bite your lip to keep from lunging at him.

“stop wearing display costumes, asshole! you’re gonna get us in trouble,” you scold, turning away as he playfully bonks your head with the fake plastic knife. irritation washes over you.

“jeez, naoya— just leave already, you’re ruining my alone time,” you say coldly, clearly annoyed by his antics. you hear his footsteps retreating to the employee room, allowing you to calm down from his stupid joke.

you lean against the counter once again, watching over the store in boredom, your eyes feeling heavy as each minute passes. maybe you should really quit- you’re not getting paid enough for this. you roll your eyes at the ruckus coming from the room behind you—nayoa’s making way too much noise.

bastard, you mentally insult him.

you close your eyes to rest them, feeling exhausted from the long shift when you suddenly sense someone standing behind you. your eyes shoot open, and your heart drops again as you turn around to see nayoa in that damn ghostface costume.

“very fuckin’ funny, naoya,” you scoff, trying to ignore him, but he doesn’t move. he’s breathing heavily under the mask, staying still as if waiting for your reaction. you turn to yell at him, but the words choke in your throat. your eyes drop to the knife he’s gripping in his hand, and it looks too real—dripping with what looks like blood. your breathing quickens as you glance at the fake plastic knife that naoya left on the counter, your eyes twitching in disbelief.

“o-okay, naoya, you’re scaring me.”

“darling, who’s naoya?” the male voice says, distorted through the mask’s speaker. tears rush to your eyes as you see blood seeping from under the employee room door.

you step back, your back hitting the counter, trapping you just like before when nayoa scared you. the male steps closer, tears spilling down your cheeks as fear overwhelms you; you can’t call out for naoya—he’s fucking dead!

without thinking, you attempt to jump over the counter, but before you can touch the ground, you feel yourself being yanked back by strong hands. you squeal at how fast he moves, pinning you against the wall with one hand holding you in place and the other gripping the sharp, bloody knife to your throat. your eyes widen, the blade too close to your artery. if you looked up at the popcorn ceiling. you’d see the end of it—your life flashing before your eyes.

“oh pretty, you were just acting like a big girl,” geto coos, his voice soft yet terrifying. the grip on the knife loosens slightly as he pulls back his head, and your eyes remain shut, fear washing over you.

“y’r sooo fuckin’ nasty, huh,” geto comments, and your brows furrow as you stare at the creepy face behind the mask. he chuckles, and you follow his gaze down—oh fuck. you wish your body wasn’t reacting on its own! you’re grinding your hips against his knee placed between your thighs, your rhythm so subtle you didn’t even realize.

“let’s test how nasty you really get.”

those were the last words that echoed in your head as he had you behind the counter, knees grinding against the freezing floor, your jaw aching from the relentless thrusts. his thick cock slammed into your mouth with brutal force—so deep that you swore you could feel him in your chest, the bulge in your throat visible as he used you mercilessly. both of his hands gripped your head with brutal force, his long fingers tangling in your curly locks as he fucked your face like a filthy fucktoy. his groans, muffled by the infamous ghostface mask, sent shivers down your spine, the hollow black eyes staring soullessly at you as he threw his head back in ecstasy. the obscene sounds of wet gags and sloppy suction filled the store, the mess overwhelming—drool and spit spilled uncontrollably from your mouth, coating his shaft and dripping down your chin, soaking into the front of your work shirt.

your nose repeatedly slammed against his crotch, the rough patch of his pubes tickling against your skin, making you tear up even more. the strain in your jaw was unbearable, his fat cock stretching you wide, each thrust so forceful you thought your jaw might snap. but you kept your grip on his jeans, fingers digging into the fabric as your throat was pounded raw. his heavy black boot was wedged between your legs, you couldn’t stop grinding on him. each roll of your hips against his boot sent delicious friction through your core, and you were drenched, your panties soaked through your pants, sticking to your swollen folds. the slick sounds of your cunt rubbing against his boot mixed with the wet slurps coming from your mouth, each grind making you moan pathetically around his cock.

geto’s head dropped down to watch, eyes behind the hollow mask taking in the sight of you—a filthy, drooling mess on your knees with his cock buried so deep down your throat that a bulge swelled in your neck. drool poured from your lips in thick strings, and your hips moved desperately against his foot, grinding on him like you couldn’t help yourself. but he didn’t let you keep going. his movements stopped abruptly, and with a harsh yank, he pulled your head back off his cock, making you gag and cough, gasping for air. the sound of your desperate choking echoed through the store as strings of spit connected your swollen lips to his twitching tip, your eyes wide with lust and tears. the sight of you, completely ruined in your leggings, face soaked and pussy grinding against his boot, only made him harder, his cock throbbing in front of your face.

“you jus’ can’t help it, can you?” geto growls, his voice thick with cruel amusement as he grinds his boot harder into your cunt, your soaked panties doing nothing to dull the friction. the pressure sends jolts of filthy pleasure up your spine, making you cry out pathetically, your body writhing against him. his grin stretches behind the ghostface mask, those empty black eyes staring down at you, drinking in your desperation.

in a single, brutal motion, he rips you off the ground and slams you onto the counter, CDs clattering to the floor around you. your legs fly up, bent and spread wide, exposing you to him completely. his eyes rake over your body like you’re nothing more than prey. with a harsh tug, he rips your pants off, tossing them carelessly behind him. the moment his gaze lands on the soaked crotch of your panties, your clit twitches in response, your cunt clenching involuntarily, knowing what’s about to come. the fabric is practically see through now, drenched in fear and filthy arousal, and it only makes his smirk widen behind the mask.

your eyes are glossy, chest heaving as your legs stay bent up, thighs trembling with anticipation. you should be terrified, and you are—but the heat pulsing through your core is undeniable. the sight of him towering over you with that eerie mask, black eyes hollow and unfeeling, does something sick to you.

without warning, geto pulls a another knife from behind him, the blade gleaming dangerously in the store light. you gulp hard, a whimper escaping your lips as he waves it inches from your face, the cold steel sending a wave of fear coursing through you, but it only makes your cunt throb harder.

“don’t move,” he whispers darkly, dragging the tip of the knife down your neck, making your skin break out in goosebumps. the blade hovers over your chest, your nipples hardening as he traces your curves. he presses just enough to remind you of its sharpness, enough to let you know he could cut deep at any second. the threat lingers in the air, the thrill of it making your thighs tremble.

he doesn’t hesitate when he reaches your shirt. with a quick flick of his wrist, you hear the rippppp of fabric as the blade slices your work button-up clean open, exposing your bare chest. the sharpness of the knife cutting through the material like paper sends a shiver of fear and arousal down your spine.

“cheap shit,” he sneers, but the way your nipples perk in the cool air has his cock straining even harder. his hand moves lower, the tip of the blade dragging dangerously over your trembling stomach, inching closer and closer to your cunt.

you gasp when he finally reaches your panties, the cold metal resting against the swollen lips of your pussy. “y’know. . .” he trails off, voice thick with lust as he presses the flat of the blade against your clothed clit, the cold, sharp edge making you jerk involuntarily. “never had someone so . . .desperate in their final moments.”

it’s humiliating how your clit twitches at the contact, how your cunt clenches around nothing, soaked and aching for him. he notices, of course, the way your hips twitch toward the blade, and the wetness that’s already beginning to drip down your thighs.

“fuckin’ embarrassing,” he mutters, but his voice is laced with something darker—he’s getting off on this, on how soaked you are for him. the knife slides lower, grazing your inner thigh, just shy of cutting you, the scrape of the blade against your skin sending shivers through your body. you can feel your pulse in your clit, each drag of the cold steel only making you wetter, more desperate.

“this turning you on, baby?” he asks, his voice low and mocking. you can’t even respond, too lost in the filthy heat coursing through you.

with a quick flick of his wrist, the knife slices through your panties, the sharp blade cold against your slick folds. you gasp, your pussy finally exposed, clit twitching as the cool air hits your drenched core. the knife grazes your swollen lips, barely a whisper of pressure, but it’s enough to make you moan, your cunt clenching desperately.

he hums in approval, staring down at your glistening pussy, the wetness dripping from your folds, thighs trembling as you lie there helplessly. geto’s exposed cock twitches painfully at the sight, his eyes narrowing behind the mask as he drinks in how ruined you already are.

“fuckkk,” he mumbles, voice thick with lust. he lets the knife trail up, dragging it over your clit just enough to make you gasp, the cold edge sending waves of agonizing pleasure through you.

you’re fighting the urge to touch yourself, legs trembling with need, but he’s dragging it out, watching you suffer, savoring every filthy, desperate moan that spills from your lips. your cunt clenches again, dripping, aching for more, but all he does is graze the blade over your sensitive skin, keeping you on the edge, waiting for him to finally take what’s his.

without a second thought, geto rips off the ghostface mask, revealing his face in all its sinful glory. his long black hair cascades down his back, a few loose strands framing his face just right, giving him that perfect, messy look. your heart nearly stops at the sight—those silver piercings in his lower lip glint under the lights of the CD store. fuck. your breath catches as you realize just how devastatingly hot he is, a man who could ruin you in every sense of the word.

“f-fuck, mr. ghostface. . .you’re so fucking hot,” you moan, your cunt clenching involuntarily at the sight of him. he smirks, catching your reaction instantly, bringing the blade right back to your dripping cunt, but now it’s different—now you can see every twitch of that gorgeous smirk, every glint in his wicked eyes. nothing is processing in your mind at this point. you’re too far gone, body shaking as he holds all the power over you. he could do anything right now, and you’d let him.

geto leans in, inhaling deeply, letting your scent drive him mad before diving headfirst between your thighs. his lips find your cunt with no warning, devouring you like a fucking beast. his tongue plunges into your soaked hole with reckless abandon, the wet, obscene sounds echoing through the empty store. your back arches violently against the counter, the cold glass windows around the store only barrier between you and the outside world. if anyone walked by and caught sight of this—fuck, you’d be fired in an instant. but the thrill of that thought only makes the heat in your core burn hotter.

your body reacts before your mind can catch up, hands flying to tangle in his thick, soft hair, yanking him closer. he groans deep, the sound vibrating through your clit as you pull his head in tighter. mr. ghostface loves his hair being pulled—check! you think, feeling the way his body reacts to your grip, only making him devour you more ruthlessly.

his nose nudges your clit, adding to the torment as his tongue relentlessly works your insides, the metal ball of his tongue piercing sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. it’s so nasty, so fucking loud as he slurps up your juices, the slick sound echoing around the store. you can’t believe your body is making this much of a mess, slick dripping down your thighs, pooling on the counter beneath you. you’re losing it, completely undone by how he’s devouring you.

geto’s tongue is merciless, and just when you think it can’t get any better, he brings two thick fingers to your entrance, thrusting them in deep. the stretch makes your head spin, his digits spreading you open wide as his tongue continues to work your cunt. he groans low in his throat, the vibrations sending another wave of ecstasy through your core. the sensation of his tongue, his piercing, and his fingers all working together has you seeing stars, your walls clenching around him uncontrollably.

“fuck, look at you,” he growls against your cunt, his voice muffled but still dripping with arrogance as his fingers curl inside you, finding your sweet spot instantly. your eyes roll back, legs shaking uncontrollably as the tension in your belly coils tighter. your grip on his head tightens, forcing him further into you, needing more, more of that perfect, filthy mouth. his lips close around your swollen clit, biting at it just enough to drive you insane, while his fingers pound into you relentlessly.

you catch a glimpse of his face between your thighs, his half-lidded eyes fluttering shut as a moan slips past his pierced lips, his tongue flicking out to lick your slick from the corner of his mouth like he can’t get enough. he’s completely lost in you, ruthlessly making out with your cunt, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. the sight alone nearly pushes you over the edge, your body trembling violently as you feel your orgasm building, heat burning in your stomach, your cunt clenching around his thick fingers.

“listen to how talkative she is,” geto sneers, a wicked smirk stretching across his face. without hesitation, his free hand grabs the store’s telephone, fingers working quickly to connect it to the intercom. before you can process what he’s doing, he presses the microphone right up against your drenched, sloppy cunt.

your eyes go wide in horror as the filthy, wet sloshing of your pussy echoes through the entire store. the slick, obscene sounds of your cunt squelching and dripping around his thick fingers fill the air, amplified by the speakers. every thrust makes it squirt, the embarrassing symphony of your slick coating his fingers making your stomach drop with humiliation. you’re completely exposed, the sound of your body’s desperate reactions bouncing off the store walls, reminding you just how nasty this is.

the wet slaps, the relentless gushing of your cunt, and the squelching noises leave you utterly mortified. It’s so loud, so filthy that if anyone were to walk by, they’d hear everything—and know exactly what a mess you’re making for him. every slick, nasty sound screams your shame, broadcasting to the entire store that you’re getting off to a literal serial killer!

“look at you,” geto chuckles darkly, his voice dripping with arrogance. “so fucking nasty for me. all this for a killer? huh? you like knowing what a filthy slut you are?”

geto throws the telephone, letting it dangle by the cord, before roughly flipping you onto your stomach. your feet barely touch the ground as your chest presses into the counter- bent over, giving you a full view of the empty store. his eyes darken as he takes in your position, biting his lip at the sight of your ass wiggling back, grinding against his hard cock. you can’t help but plead, your voice breathy and desperate.

“please, mr. ghostface, you’ve been sucha tease,” you whine, turning your head to watch him as he toys with his lip piercing, eyes fixed on you like he’s weighing his options. before you can beg again, he makes his choice—sliding his fat, mushroom tip past your dripping entrance. the stretch of his tip slightly burning but- oh it felt so good. your body jerks forward with the slow, agonizing thrust, his thick crownhead teasing innn and outttt of your needy, aching walls. you cry out, wanting—no, needing—more.

desperation overtakes you, and you try to fuck yourself back onto him, but his hand comes down hard, swatting your ass. the sharp sting only makes your pussy clench harder, and you hear him tut in disbelief at how filthy you’ve become for him. “unbelievable how you’re this horny,” he sneers, gripping your hips tighter as if to hold you still.

“if you’re a virgin, just say—ahh,” you taunt- gasping loudly when his fingers wrap around the back of your neck, his grip firm as he pulls you flush against his broad chest. his thick tip remains lodged inside your cunt, teasing you with how little he’s giving, yet how desperately you crave more.

he leans in close, his breath hot on your ear. “i’d love to stay and prove your point,” he purrs, eyes flicking to the front of the store, where the bright blue and red lights of approaching police cars flash in the distance. your mind is too foggy, too consumed with lust to understand what he’s hinting at. “but baby, your little coworker—the one you never bat your pretty lashes at,” he continues, his tone darkening as his grip tightens around your neck, turning your head toward the ‘employee’s only’ door.

that’s when you see it—the large, dark puddle of blood seeping from under the door, your coworker’s lifeless body hidden from view.

“i-i don’t care, i wan’ you,” you plead, tears stinging your eyes as your walls grip his girthy tip, trying to coax more from him. geto chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. he turns your head back toward the front of the store, where the police cars are getting closer. his hand slips away from your neck, leaving you trembling as he cruelly pulls his cock from your addicting cunt, leaving you empty and desperate as he swiftly tucked it back in his pants.

tears spill from your eyes as you feel him slipping away, denying you what you need. “he’s the one that ruined our fun,” geto says, his voice soft but menacing. “and sadly…” his words trail off, and you freeze as you feel the cold tip of a sharp blade pressing against your neck. you gulp hard, heart pounding as the reality of the situation sets in.

“’m really sorry, baby, but i can’t have you snitching to the police, can i?” he whispers, and with a swift motion, the blade slices cleanly across your throat. blood trickles down in a warm line, your breath catching in your chest as your body collapses to the floor. the cold tiles beneath you feel distant as your vision blurs, the last thing you see is geto standing above you, pouting as he watches the life drain from your body.