#i coulda been a bad bitch

[missjoolee]

@claire8216​ requested 82! This prompt had a small existential crisis from me that really doesn’t matter but you know! What’s life without a little crisis here and there? 😅 Unedited to keep it real (flashes fake gang signs to look cool)

Pick a number between 1-102 (7, 13, 17, 23, 31, 45, 82, 97) I am working on them slowly so please be patient!

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Luke blinks slowly at the page, his grip on the pen loosening. God, what time is it? Maybe they should call it quits for the night. He looks around but they haven't had a chance to get a clock yet. Tapping his phone screen, nothing happens. Dead. Sighing, he recalls he hadn't charged it last night because the charger was at the bottom of one of his moving boxes.  Thankfully he'd spent the afternoon unpacking after he'd gotten off shift at the diner.

He gets up to plug the phone in and Julie only gives a tilt of her chin in acknowledgement that he's moved away, her pen still flying across the page.  Smiling, he leans against the wall to wait for the devise to power back on, taking in this gorgeous scene.

Last night the room had felt weird. The walls laid bare, boxes shoved into a precarious tower in the corner, the mattress directly on the floor. His mom wouldn't let him take the bed frame. Something about it once belonging to his great uncle. It was a lot of change and while he's definitely better about it than Alex, he wouldn't lie and say it was the best sleep of his life, finally out of his stifling childhood home. Even if the room still didn't feel like him yet, having gone through the majority of his boxes helped to at least breathe easier. But now, seeing Julie lying on his bed, lost in the words of a song he's sure will win them awards, he realizes how much she's becoming home to him. No matter where he finds himself, he will always be alright if she is right there with him. His eyes drift closed.

The tinny startup sound alerts him that his phone is turning on, the battery finally charged enough. Dragging his eyes open, he checks the time.

Shit! Fuck!

"Shit, Jules, we have to go!"

All tiredness leaves his body as he searches around for his car keys. He'd put them in his pocket yesterday when he gotten in from the last trip of bring things in. Yesterday's pants. Shit, shit how does he already have so many clothes piled on the floor? He scatters clothing around him in a flurry. Not finding them, he looks around trying to figure out where they might have gone. His eyes cross over Julie who hasn't moved, only paused her pen to look at him.

"Don't just sit there, it's after 3! Your dad is going to kill me!"

Ray is a very lenient man but even he has his limits. Luke is frantic as he starts rummaging through the open boxes.

"Luke."

"Where the fuck are my keys?!"

"Luke!"

Her soft hand slides up his cheek and pulls his face to look over at her. She's no longer on the bed, but she's also not rushing to gather her things so he can take her home. Why isn't she rushing?

Laughter dances in her eyes as she calmly says, "We don't have to leave. Did you forget I moved into the dorms last week?"

He blinks at her, still feeling in crisis mode as his brain slowly supplies him with the memories.

"Also, he would've killed me. I take responsibility for myself, thank you very much."

He snorts at that. She does take responsibility for herself. And Ray is notoriously bad at staying mad at her long enough to enforce a punishment.

His arms wind around her waist and pull her to his chest. She's still looking up at him with a soft smile, and he could drown in her eyes. He rests his forehead on top of hers and takes a deep breath, releasing it with a slow "fuuuuuuuuuuck", trying to slow his heartrate down. Her hands slide up his back before slipping into the ripped armholes of his shirt, pressing cold fingers against the skin of the small of his back.

Suddenly, he's aware of the fact that they are alone at his apartment. A fact that he'd been very aware of when he first opened the door to let her in earlier. He'd stared down at her with a goofy grin that she had reciprocated. No parents, no Aunts, no little brothers to interrupt them. No curfew. That's when Reggie's elbow had dug into his pec as he pushed Luke out of the way (read: into a wall) to hug Julie. There were, after all, still bandmates.

But no bandmates right now. And no place they need to be. His nose drifts down her temple as his hand drifts up to the nape of her neck, pulling her into a kiss.  Warmth spreads throughout his entire body, set aflame everywhere they touch. The kiss intensifies as she presses closer and his hands begin to wander.

She pulls away all too soon, her hand pushing lightly against his chest as he tries to follow. Breathing hard, he looks down into her eyes which are darker than they were before.

"I have class at 9am. We should probably go to sleep."

A groan leaves his body at the idea of stopping, but he knows school is important to Julie and it's her first week of classes.

"Okay, yeah. Let's go to bed."

A different type of thrill thrums through him. For the first time, Julie is going to sleep in his bed. She will be the first thing he sees in the morning when he opens his eyes. That's something he could get used to. He'd take Julie anyway he can. Tangling their fingers together he drags them back over to the bed. He goes to empty his pockets and he pulls out a car key.

"They were in today's pants??"

Julie snorts from where she is putting on a pair of his basketball shorts. "Did you forget you went to work today, too?" She shakes her head in amusement. Apparently he is more tired than he'd thought.

He lets out a small laugh as he shucks his pants and pulls his shirt over his head before climbing into the bed. (climbing down? it's so close to the floor!) She slides in next to him and he can't help but pull her close for another kiss. Now that he's laying down, exhaustion floods him. He pulls back and she's staring at him tenderly.

"Love  you."

"Love you too."

There's a soft smile before she is settling her head against his chest. He relaxes into his own pillow, sleep already trying to pull him under.

"Goodnight, Boss."

[mobday]

reigen getting more screentime, whore!!!!!!!

[aw-bean-s]

Ik probably no one who follows me cares abt the sims 4 but I gotta bitch for a second about the expansion pack leak because what the hell?? Like man it's kinda cute? There's some kinda neat ideas? But man most ppl who are interested in that stuff already have it covered with mods, and on top of that it doesn't seem like enough to be an expansion it seems like a game pack AT MOST like we are all aware ea is greedy and sucks ass but jesus

[puppykento]

nyxie poo.... can i request real dad toji please..... you write him so deliciously it makes my toes curl. i love you btw x

a/n: winky !! the loml being my first request omg. i love you more xxx. (i got a bit carried away this is like... a little long for a drabble. oops?)

cw: 18+ content, fem!reader, daddy-daugher incest, dub-con, cam girl reader, p in v, creampie, some slut shaming, spitting, squirting

Toji is no saint - but he's never pretended to be. He should never have been in your room in the first place, but you kept getting all of this money from god-knows-where, and he had a debt to pay. He had every intention to pay you back (eventually), but he just needed a little cash to tide him over until his next job.

The last thing he expected was to see the tab you left open on your computer. He'd only bumped the mouse trying to search through some of the shit on the top of your desk, only for a site that he was fairly familiar with to come up. That didn't mean he expected to see you on the screen, baring your pussy to the world. Your face wasn't in it, sure, but he hasn't reached that level of 'absent father' not the recognise the bedroom he's literally standing in, so... that was definitely his kid there.

That should have been the end of the whole situation. He should have hastily retreated out of your room while pretending he never saw anything. Should've and would've are two very different things, and before Toji can even register what he's doing, he's sat at your desk and pressing play.

He should feel guilty when he rubs himself raw watching his daughter play with her pretty pussy, but he can hardly feel bad when the sounds coming from your PC are so fucking hot. He stifles a groan as his cum shoots all over his shirt and hand, a frown coming to his face. Shit. He hadn't cum that quickly since he was a teenager.

He stands up quickly and clicks out of the page, making his way to the bathroom to clean up. Looks like he'd have to have a little chat with you later.

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

"So, I was in your room earlier." He says as you return home, walking over to join you on the couch. No response. Fucking typical. "Hey, brat. I'm talkin' to you."

"Yeah, I heard. Just trying to figure out how you thought you had any business going into my room." You reply, your brows furrowing as you look at him.

"You always gotta be such a bitch? Shit. I'm tryna have a talk with ya. You're my kid." He bites out, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you. You just glower at him, not bothering to reply once again. He lets out an irritated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Found your dirty tapes. Think daddy wouldn't start wondering where all your cash came from?"

That manages to get a reaction from you. You look cute like that - your eyes all wide as you gape at him. A smirk tugs at his lips as he leans forward, invading every inch of your personal space. "What? You didn't think your daddy'd find out, huh? Knew I raised a pretty girl, but I didn't think I'd raised such a slut."

"You had no right to-"

"Ah! That's where you're wrong, baby. See, you been hidin' all this money from daddy while he's been slavin' away to make sure you got a roof over your head. Been shovin' those cute little fingers in that cute cunt of yours when daddy coulda been doin' it for you this whole time and takin' a cut."

"Dad, what the fuck are you talking about?" You snap, heat building in your face as he lowers his head slightly, his gaze trailing along your body. He doesn't say anything in reply, instead choosing to grab a fistful of your hair to pull you into a searing kiss.

His lips are greedy and unrelenting, prying yours open enough to push his tongue into your mouth. Your brows furrow as you squeeze your eyes shut, letting him take control of the kiss as your body goes rigid. His hand slides lower until his thumb grazes against your clothed clit, instantly causing the tension to dissolve from your body. He chuckles as you moan into his mouth, rubbing circles with his thumb as he presses you back against the couch.

"Shit. I really did raise a fuckin' whore. Look at ya, spreading your legs for your own daddy after one kiss." He says as he pulls away from the kiss, a cocky smile spreading across his face. "Gonna fuck that slutty cunt, baby. First time's just gonna be for daddy's eyes, but I'll get ya creaming my cock on that camera soon enough."

His lips smash against yours once more, his tongue sliding into your mouth with ease. He fumbles with your clothes, only pulling away from the kiss when necessary until he has you naked. He's not patient enough to undress himself, so he settles for just reaching into his trousers and pulling his cock out. It sits heavily on your thigh, twitching as he kisses his way down your neck.

"Bet you got an easy pussy." He growls, nipping at the skin of your throat. He forces two fingers past your entrace, making your breath hitch. "Wouldn't be surprised if I could slip right in without stretchin' her open."

"Daddy, m'not easy-" Toji curls his fingers just as you try to defend yourself, pressing them against that gummy spot that has you mewling for him and arching your back. He pulls his fingers out, his eyes lowering to watch the way that your hole clenches on air, desperately waiting for something to fill it up.

"Didn't fuckin' ask." He grunts, slapping his cock against your clit until he has you squirming and pleading for him to put it in. "You're just gonna shut up 'n take it."

He presses his thumb down on the head of his cock, gritting his teeth as it catches your entrance. With a deep groan, he presses forward, his thick girth slowly stretching you open. "Fuuuuck. Needy pussy suckin' me right in. Surprised she's so tight, baby. The shit you been recording, I thought you'd be loose."

Toji could barely breath with the way you clenched around him as he bottomed out, his hips flush with the back of your thighs. "Takin' me so fuckin' well, sweetheart. Shame that slutty pussy opened up for other guys, hmm? Daddy woulda loved to be the one to break 'er in."

After a few seconds of stillness to allow you to adjust, he's pulling back until his tip is just ghosting your entrance before he thrusts back in harshly, his cock bullying your cervix and forcing a choked out groan from you. He presses his forehead against yours in what is possibly the most tender gesture your dad's ever given you before he starts pounding you into the cushions of the sofa.

You look so pretty with your legs spread wide for him, the sweetest moans spilling past your lips with every moan. Toji fucked you like his life depended on it, rutting into your cunt desperately. Your lips part, and in a hazy moment where Toji can barely remember his own name, he can't help but lean down and spit directly into your mouth.

"Shit, that's... that's fuckin' hot, Christ." He forces out through gritted teeth as you swallow it on instinct, his thrusts almost violent, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room each time his hips smack against your thighs. "M'close, baby. Y'gotta cum for me, yeah?"

He spits again, this time directly onto your pussy, two fingers coming down to rub his saliva into your clit. Barely takes any time at all before you're arching off the couch, your eyes rolling back into your head as you tighten around his length, gushing all over him. His hips falter for a moment at just how much cum floods him - his hand and stomach getting coated in your release.

"Atta. Fucking. Girl." He grunts, punctuating each word with a particularly deep thrust, his eyes locked onto his shimmering cock as it disappears over and over again in your tight cunt. "Didn't see ya squirt like that in the video. Saved it just for daddy, hmm?"

His thrusts get more sloppy and desperate, his eyes squeezing shut as he lets out a loud groan, his hands moving to grip your hips tight enough they feel like they might bruise. He buries himself to the hilt, letting out a guttural moan as he spills deep inside of you, his cock kicking as he fills you up with rope after rope of cum.

He relishes in the way you whimper at the feeling, at how good you feel squeezing his dick so tight. His thighs tremble as he pulls out, flopping back onto the couch with a groan. He's never met a girl that had taken his breath away like that. Feels like your pussy was made just for him.

"Fuck, baby. No wonder you make bank on those videos." He says after a moment, running a hand through his sweaty hair. He shoots you a grin as he looks at you, his eyes shining with mischief. "You gonna let daddy star in the next one?"

[msbigredmachine]

Checkmate - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

The new Smackdown GM reminds the Tribal Chief who’s boss, in more ways than one. The aftermath of the highly entertaining WrestleMania 40 Press Conference.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/OC

Word Count: 5.9k

Warning: Smut

Click here if you want to be on my tag list. If I’ve forgotten anyone please let me know so I can add you.

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Answer your fuckin phone.

She's been expecting his text message, to add to the half-dozen missed calls he's already deluged her phone with. His WrestleMania plans were thrown into disarray tonight and for some reason he thinks she has something to do with it.

Too bad she doesn't give a fuck what he thinks.

I'm calling you one more time. You better pick up.

So bossy. Always has been. But he knows damn well who the boss really is. When her phone springs to life again with his beautiful face snarling at her through the screen, she rolls onto her back with a heavy sigh, smooths down her oversized t-shirt and presses the green button, waiting to hear his deep voice on the other end of the line.

"What the fuck, Joy!"

Damn. Even when he's pissed, he sounds sexy as hell; it's the same menacing timbre he adopts when he's folding her up and turning her out. The memory makes her hot between her thighs.

"Reigns." Her voice is calm and steady despite the thumps of her heart, calling out to him even when she doesn't want it to.

"Why was Cody there tonight? Hmm?" he demands, his temper simmering beneath his words. "I coulda sworn he agreed to step aside for Dwayne. Why he change his mind? Did you have something to do with it? What'chu say to him, huh?"

She extends her left hand to inspect her ombre-colored acrylic nails. "Calm your tits. I don't control Cody's actions, I'm Smackdown's GM, not Raw's. He won the Rumble and he has the right to choose who he wants."

"Don't patronize me, Joy! Rock and I were a done deal!"

"You sound tense, Reigns. Paranoid, even," she smirks, "Worried you can't beat the American Nightmare a second time? Besides, you heard the fans...they wanna see you and him-"

"Bullshit!" he cuts her off. "This wasn't about no fans. You wanted this and I know why. You saw the pictures of me and Venita over Christmas and you been in your feelings ever since."

It's a predictable, childish response, and though there's some truth to it, she dismisses its immature delivery. "What you do with your bitch is your business. You are marrying her, after all," she says coolly, hearing him bristle at the other end.

"See? We ain't had a civil conversation since those photos got out. I know exactly how you feel about her, so tell me I'm lying."

"Don't ever question my ability to separate business from pleasure. You are walking proof of that," Joy warns him. "My problem is with you questioning my authority, with your silly little threats and your temper tantrums. You did it leading up to the Rumble and I'll be damned if I let it happen again. In case you forgot, I run Smackdown now. You work for me. The Mania match is scheduled, so your ass better show up in Philly, you understand me?"

A long, tense moment crawls by.

"Are you done?" he says, sounding bored.

"No. Whatchu gon' do about it?" Joy challenges.

"You looked hot as fuck in that dress tonight."

She rolls her eyes. Of course he deflects. But it's not going to work this time. She wants him to feel as frustrated as she has been over the last couple of months. "Ain't your fiancée over there with you?" she retorts, her tone clipped and snarky.

"She's in the Hamptons. And even if she was here, that ain't never stopped us anyways," he calls her out.

"Whatever." As flippant as she's tried to be about it, she is growing tired of the same old song and dance between her and Roman. She's allowed him to juggle her and Venita, and she blames herself for not leaving him alone when he chose to stay with her. Perfect, pretty little naive Venita. The IG influencer extraordinaire whose only two cares in life are her follower count and the picture-perfect aesthetics of the 'Roman & Venita' brand.

Whatever helps her sleep at night, I guess.

Joy had wondered just how perfect they really were the first time she saw the couple backstage in the Thunderdome, with Venita looking bored as hell the entire time she was there. It was clear that she had no interest in Roman's world, and Joy told him just that. Certain she would be fired on her first day for opening her big mouth, he had merely laughed and agreed, and it was then she found out she was his producer for the upcoming Bloodline saga. Onscreen, they created magic with the now legendary Tribal Chief storyline, but the magic they soon began making behind the scenes and between the sheets was even better and way too hot for TV.

She's never had time to be ashamed of inserting herself in someone else's relationship, mainly because her career has accelerated to the top of WWE's creative hierarchy. Plus, she's not about to give up such great sex, not with a stroke game that superb and a libido as high as her ambitions. Sometimes she wishes she doesn't have to share him, but she accepts that she can't have it all. After all, she already lords over the A-show as Smackdown's General Manager, meaning she is virtually unstoppable now, with money, power, and most importantly, the balls of the biggest star in the industry in the palm of her hand. Literally.

But he's pissing her off right now.

"Look, I want us to talk. Come see me." He's turned on the charm but Joy refuses to fall for it.

"What I want is an apology for your constant disrespect ever since I became GM," she replies, "I told you; I don't give a damn that we're fucking. Do not make an enemy out of me, Roman."

The Tribal Chief sighs heavily. "Look. You're right. Let me make it up to you. Come to my room so we can talk things out."

"No. You just want pussy."

"That too," he snickers.

Joy bites her lip as she idly circles her middle and ring finger over her pussy lips. She had no prior plans to touch herself, but listening to his deep, haughty voice has sparked a throbbing between her thighs that needs urgent attention. "Right. Well, I don't feel like leaving my room. This bed is way too comfy," she emphasizes.

"Mine is comfier. Are you alone?" he asks.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Woman, you better not be givin' my pussy to nobody else," he growls, making her laugh.

"You're hilarious. My pussy is mine and mine alone, no matter how good you beat it and eat it," she reminds him, her smile widening as she hears him taking deep breaths, trying to compose himself.

"I see that you get off on testing my patience. Does that turn you on, baby girl? Hmm? Does it make that pussy wet? I bet you wet right now." His voice drops an entire octave at that last part, and she bites her lip to keep from moaning when her slick honey pools around her fingers.

"I might be," she gasps.

"Then bring your ass over here and let me take care of it."

Joy huffs, determined to resist him for as long as she can. "I can take care of myself, Reigns. Matter of fact, I'm doing just that as we speak..."

"Aww, babe, don't be touchin' on my pussy without me," he grumbles. His frustration makes her grin in triumph. She holds all the cards and she's enjoying listening to him squirm.

"I wanna see you, beautiful. We ain't been together in so long. I miss you," Roman continues.

"Is that right?"

"Uh huh. Don't you miss me, Joy? Don't you miss this dick? It definitely misses you. Listen..."

The slippery, sticky sound that follows his words is unmistakable, and her heart pounds in her chest at his soft groan. The image of him lying in his bed, probably naked, jerking off to her, makes her stomach flip and her pussy spasm beneath her fingers. The tension crackles over the phone, simmering with the same intensity as though he were right there in person.

"Hear that, baby? That's how bad I need you. Come over." His silky-smooth whisper finally loosens the last thread of control she has held onto tightly up to this point. She knows that ultimately, she won't deny him...she never does because she can't, and he knows that.

"Gimme ten minutes," she relents.

"Make it five."

"I said, ten. Text me your room number." Cutting the call before he can respond, she leaves her bed and searches for a couple of accessories to wear. After a quick check in the mirror, she picks up her phone and sees he's already sent her his room number. The thought of what is about to transpire hastens her flight out of the room, the dead of night no match for her rapidly burning need for him. She has since accepted that she will always need him, too.

His door swings open seconds after she knocks, and a surprised yelp escapes her when he yanks her inside and tugs her flush against him. He is barefoot, in gray sweatpants slung low on his hips, and shirtless to show off the majesty of his massive, inked chest. Joy meets his loaded stare head-on as he drinks in her own appearance. She is in one of his old Nike hoodies that she swiped from him and never gave back, with the open zipper in the middle showing the swell of her breasts underneath. Long pastel-pink stockings run up to her brown thighs with gray Crocs on her feet. As his eyes crawl hungrily up and down her frame, her body thrums with realization at just how hard he is, his sizable erection poking her lower belly. Despite their back-and-forth, it's no mistake that she intoxicates him, and that power thrills her.

"Like what you see, champ?" she asks, staring him down for his response.

Roman's moan is ragged as he clamps his huge paw around her throat and covers her mouth with his, and she instantly melts in his arms, her nerves alight from his touch. She is swept up in the softness of his lips, the sweetness of his taste that contrasts erotically with his aggressiveness and the eager, hungry flicking of their tongues as the kiss heats up. He feels wonderfully warm and smells incredible like he always does.

Reluctantly, his mouth retreats from hers and he tucks his face in the hollow of her neck. He nuzzles his cheek against her skin and inhales the fragrance he's missed so much, her hushed moan caressing the depths of his senses.

"You a vindictive little bitch, you know that?" he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her throat.

"Only when I wanna be," she hums, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"You musta loved watching me lose my cool tonight," he adds, "I saw the look in your eyes on that stage when I got into it with those two bums. That shit turned you on. Your nipples were hard through your dress. And I'm sure that pussy was soaked."

Truth be told, seeing his cool calm composure collapse, with his long hair flying and cocky countenance as he talked shit to Cody and Seth, made her so wet she had to run into a restroom stall to take off her panties, forcing her to go commando for the rest of the night. She'll never admit it though; she never likes to give him the upper hand. "How do you know?" she challenges.

"Cuz I know you. I know everything about your body, sweetheart," Roman brags, "I know what you like, and I know you love testing me cuz it makes me wanna fuck the attitude outta you."

"So what are you waiting for?" She licks her glossy lips, full and pouting, goading him with her bedroom eyes. But the Tribal Chief can feel her body trembling, betraying her bravado. This time he has the upper hand and he plans to exploit it.

He pulls her hoodie over her head and his eyes immediately drop to the thin beaded belly chain adorning her slender waist, accentuating her delicious curves. Desire gleams in his brown irises at the sight of her bare breasts, the fleshy mounds popping out at him, her nipples hard and aching for his touch. "Fuck, you're sexy," he murmurs. He massages each one then leans down to lick and suck on them, his tongue and hands working together to pleasure her.

"Ooh, that feels good," she moans, placing her hair behind her ear to get a good look at him feasting on her nipples. Ever the multitasker, he grabs her white lace thong at the hem, yanking impatiently until it rips from her body. Joy bursts out laughing at his savagery. "I knew you was gon' fuck up my panties," she jokes.

"I replace 'em, don't I?" He abandons her breasts and kisses her again, this time sliding both hands down to her round backside and lifting her up to press her against the wall. The friction of their bare chests pressed together, nipples grazing, her legs wrapping around his waist and bringing them even closer, builds the desire. He grinds his throbbing hardness against the open heat between her thighs, and she gets him back by reaching inside his sweatpants and grabbing his dick, stroking the turgid flesh as it jumps in her grasp. "Mmm, baby you're so hard. Put it in me," she orders.

"Not yet," he cuts her off, his huge biceps flexing as he carries her across the lavish suite. "Come over here, you little slut. Come suck my dick in front of this great view of the Strip."

Next to the expansive window is an L-shaped sofa large enough for a good trip to Pound Town. As he takes off his pants, Joy can't stop herself from drooling at his towering form. Six foot three, bronzed Adonis with chocolate eyes, luscious hair, massive and muscled and all man, with a long, hefty cock pulsing between those powerful thighs. He looks like a demigod in all his glory, and she venerates at the altar of his beauty.

Roman settles himself at the other end of the sofa and eyes her down with a smug smirk. Tucking his hands behind his head, he spreads his legs. "Crawl to me," he commands, his smirk widening when she advances towards him on all fours. Joy is a work of art, with nicely sized titties, round hips, thick, mouth-watering thighs and ass and that fat pussy he dreams about at least once a day. Every part of her is real and silky soft to the touch. It's been years since he first tasted her, and he is still drunk off it. She is a potent drug he can't wean himself off of, and frankly, he doesn't want to. He loves Venita, but for all her prowess in bed, she does not possess a fraction of the wild thrill that encapsulates the woman before him. He wants Joy, needs her like he needs to breathe, and he always will. He will seek his fiancée's forgiveness when that day comes.

Joy slowly slithers up the length of his body, ignoring his erection for now as she straddles him and plants a long, wet kiss on his mouth, the sound of their lips meeting and parting filling the suite. Her hands caress the tight muscles of his body, having memorized all the spots that make his breath quicken and his pulse spike. He puts his hands on her hips, but she seizes them and pins them above his head without breaking stride, laughing when he moans out with frustration. She catches his tongue as it slides into her mouth, and she proceeds to suck on it, her head bobbing like she is sucking his dick. Saliva quickly gathers around their joined mouths as she feasts on only his tongue. It's the messiest, sloppiest, hottest kiss they've ever shared, and the tension is reaching fever pitch as a result.

"You want me to suck your dick like this, baby?" Joy asks. When Roman nods, she tugs his lower lip between her teeth. "Say it," she orders, her fingers digging into his wrists. Her hips are rolling too, moving in a seductive, serpentine dance that short circuits every fiber of his being. He can't move even if he wants to; his senses are pinned down to the bed along with his body. The Tribal Chief is helpless, forced to endure the sweetest agony, with the head of his dick grazing her wet slit and driving him insane. An uncharacteristic whimper deserts his lips as his blood pumps with agitation.

"Yes," he responds breathlessly.

"What's the magic word?" Joy presses. The mocking smirk gracing her pretty features should infuriate him, but it only arouses him instead.

"Please," he concedes, knowing full well that she will drag out the torture until he succumbs. With a triumphant smile and one more intoxicating kiss, she finally takes pity on him and makes the descent down his heaving body, soothing his butterscotch skin with soft kisses. As she nears his groin, his eyes squeeze shut, and he takes deep breaths to remain focused.

"You think you're in control, toying with two women's lives." Joy shakes her head. "Hell no. I'm in control, Roman. I own you. You're mine to do with however I want. And you know the best part?"

She closes her mouth over the tip of him, giving it a gentle suckle before driving home her point. "Deep down, you love that shit."

Roman merely grins. The power has shifted back in his possession and she doesn't even know it. He shows her when he strikes with lightning speed, grabbing her and twisting her around so her legs are on either side of his head. Stunned, Joy grabs his thighs to steady herself, as he's already grabbing handfuls of her ass while using his tongue to part her lower lips. Her body jerks from the warm fat wetness of his tongue lashing around her sensitive crevices, softening her up with his saliva. Heady with desire, she just lays there with his dick in her hand, too overwhelmed to do anything else but moan with pleasure.

A sudden, stinging smack on her left ass cheek jolts her back to earth.

"You gon' suck me off or what?" Roman demands impatiently before refocusing on his own task.

Regaining her senses, her mouth engulfs his length, her head bobbing with her wrist twisting around the base. She cups his balls and rolls them in her other hand, making him groan wantonly. Her mouth is warm and her pouty lips are tight around him, sliding up and down with her tongue trailing saliva along his hard flesh. He retaliates by spreading her pussy open and holding her down on him, sucking and licking her folds with rapid strokes and enjoying her sexy throaty sounds that mingle with the sloppy slurps of his mouth on her. The increased pressure on her sensitive pussy has her moaning and squirming against his face, which in turn floods his tongue with her taste. His appreciative groans while licking her in rhythm with her rolling hips sends shivers down her spine.

Mustering all the strength she possesses, Joy frees herself from his clutches and crawls back down his body, her juices smearing a slick trail along his torso as she guides his length inside her with impressive quickness. She moans out loud as he fills her, her head tipping forwards as his big palms paw at the supple flesh of her backside. Roman groans at the wetness that welcomes his dick as it disappears into the warm canal of her pussy. "Yeah, fuck me good, baby girl," he growls, slapping her ass in encouragement.

Holding onto his ankles, she rocks up and down his erection, winding her hips with each drop down to take him as deep as she can. His husky moans and his tight grip on her waist empower her. Joy seizes every chance she can to turn him into putty in her hands. Because the motherfucker never likes to relinquish control, always determined to break her down into submission; whether it's with his God-gifted tongue, or his huge hands choking her, or with that big ol' dick, fucking her against the wall of her office, bending her over the table in his locker room at TV, or making her ride him in the bowels of his private jet. It's fun taking control from him and showing him who's boss, on the job and especially outside of it.

"You love it when I ride this big dick dontcha? Got you deep in this pussy just the way you like it," she purrs haughtily, upping the ante by reaching down to grip his cock.

The Tribal Chief realizes she's on demon time to be stroking his dick while riding him. She looks so sexy on top of him, in them pretty waist beads and stockings. Her thick hips roll back lavishly, her even thicker ass presses down on his pelvis, grinding and twisting and nudging him all the way up in her creamy pussy. Damn. He loves the way she fucks him. Baby girl has mad skills and a juicy pussy, and he is glad to be the one she uses them on. "Go faster, baby. Bounce on my dick," he cajoles, massaging her ass cheeks and groaning softly when she obeys, "Uh-huh, just like that, babe, unnnh..."

She can almost see the look of pleasure on his face. She can definitely hear him as he tugs at the soft flesh of her butt, lost to the depths of her warm wetness, in the erotic sounds of their sex noises and their slapping skin filling the big room as she bounces on his dick. Another moan escapes her, her head tilting back as he angles his hips to make his dick reach that oh-so-sweet spot inside her. He smacks her ass again, earning yet another whimper from her lips as her juices trickle down his length down to his balls. Her thighs are starting to burn from her efforts, but she can't stop, not when she's so close...

"Uhhhn baby, I'm comin'," she gasps, leaning back to rest her hands on his chest as she gyrates her ass on him. Roman's breathing is as heavy as hers, his fingers digging into her hips to steer her movements. The sensations are overwhelming as her walls contract around him, her pussy moistening as she leans forward again and rides him even harder. Seconds later, a flooding orgasm bursts inside her with such power that it wracks her entire body with tremors. Through the thick fog of numbing pleasure, she hears Roman's surprised grunt as her cum leaks all over his groin area.

"Damn baby, you nuttin' all over me. I knew you been needin' this dick," he taunts her.

Truth be told, she wasn't expecting to come this hard, but fuck it always feels so good when she does. "Oh my god," her voice trembles, her hand clutching the headrest to keep from collapsing in a heap.

Roman spanks her again. "I ain't tell you to stop. Keep goin'..."

"Hol' up, you got me shakin' so much," Joy groans, her thighs still quivering. He is still deep inside her, his dick throbbing impatiently inside the warmth of her tight walls.

"If I take this shit over, you won't be able to walk in the morning, that's a promise," he threatens.

"Then quit talkin' and do that shit," she bites back, glaring at him over her shoulder.

"A'ight then." He pulls her backwards on top of him, with her back to his chest. He grabs her legs and holds her up by her knees, thrusting upwards into her, reveling in her surprised yelp that quickly dissolves into loud moans. This new position feels so good that she's whining and making noises that only seem to turn him on as he strokes in and out of her pussy from underneath, making her body react and remind her exactly why she's not leaving his trifling ass anytime soon.

"Uhnnn yes, Roman, fuck me," she whimpers over and over, her mind spiraling, her eyes rolling back. He is relentless, pulling her legs further back and pounding her faster, sparking another intense orgasm. She squirts so hard that she's left dizzy and boneless, causing her to slip off his sweat-slick body, a shivering crumpled mess. She curls up into a fetal position and gives in to the intense euphoria of her release. With a proud snicker, the Tribal Chief caresses all over her body, then rolls her onto her stomach, spreading her thighs to observe the damage he's inflicted on her pussy.

"We ain't finished," he informs her, tapping his hard, slickened dick against her soaked, puffy folds. She tenses and arches her back on instinct, anticipating his invasion. He smiles behind her, grabs her hips, and drags her limp body up and onto his hard, waiting dick. The moans they exhale together is a symphony that serenades the pair as he continues his hard, deep thrusts. With her hips in the air and her backside in his calloused palms, she is at his mercy yet again, and her vision swims at the feeling of him practically in her spine. She knows just how deep that big ass dick of his can get inside her, but it never fails to wipe her mind blank when it does.

"Oh, fuck," she mumbles into the couch, her face sinking further in it as he drills into her hard and rough. It hurts so good that it's quite literally taking her breath away. "Shit, fuck Roman, wait, wait," she pleads, reaching behind to push his thigh and forcing him to halt his movements.

"Too much?" he asks, laughing as he presses gentle kisses along her spine, feeling her body shiver from the contact. "That's what you get when your pussy is so good. You was talkin' all that shit earlier, best believe I ain't lettin' up, baby girl. Who owns who now, huh," he says, swatting her ass and starting again.

"You're a cocky asshole," she moans shakily, defiance swirling in her lust-filled gaze.

Roman's smirk is diabolical and panty-wetting. "And don't you forget it. Now shut up and take this dick."

Joy winces as his hand curves around her throat, the other clutching her lower hip as he fucks her prone body into the sofa. She clings to the cushions and her sanity with everything she has, tears filling her eyes as he pummels her with hurried, lethal thrusts, making her ass jiggle and her pussy drip some more as she's dragged dangerously close to the precipice. He pushes the arch out of her back and flips her around, sliding right back inside before she can regain her bearings and dropping his body weight on her. His intoxicating cologne surrounds her as their mouths crush together in a hungry, toe-curling kiss. Incoherent moans leave them both as he rolls his hips against hers, nestling his dick right there, eking a sob out of her as she falls apart again.

"Aww, f-f-fuuuck..."

"I know baby, I know it feels so good," He kisses away her tears and then her cheek, his fingers curling over her breast in a light squeeze which in turn squeezes her walls around his pounding thrusts. "Mmm, this pussy so tight and wet. Keep comin' for me, baby, gimme all that nut."

His sultry command sends another wave of pleasure crashing into her like one of his trademark Spears, and her jaw drops from the force of her orgasm, her pussy clenching painfully around his dick. Her pitiful moans that she struggles to muffle against his tattooed shoulder are music to the Tribal Chief's ears as his own body is moments away from the same fate.

"Shit," he groans gruffly, shuddering breaths tearing from his lungs as his balls tighten and his strokes become sloppier, heavier, "Fuck, I'm boutta buss..."

Joy lifts her left leg up and rests it on his shoulder, digging her other heel in his lower back to pull him in deeper and finally take him down. She runs her hands all over his sides, his back, his ass, her moans mingling with his as his hips snap harder and faster. Their foreheads touch, and a devilish smile forms on her face at the helplessness in his glazed eyes, licking his lips in between throaty gasps of pleasure. She has him right where she wants him. "There you go baby, pound that fuckin' pussy, fill it up," she coaxes.

"Unhhh, shit," Roman's whines disintegrate into a whimpering cry as his big body trembles viscerally against her own. Joy's toes curl as he lodges his dick all the way inside her, making her feel each throbbing spurt of his warm seed spilling generously in her pussy. She never minds him coming inside her; her IUD is always in place, mainly for his benefit and hers. His deep, sexy grunts as he rides out his nut with stuttered ruts of his hips wash over her, leaving her breathless and weak-kneed for him.

Kissing her leg and letting it down, Roman finally pulls his dick out with a hiss and strokes out the rest of his cum onto her softened, battered pussy lips. Joy stares dazedly at the ceiling, her body humming from the last vestiges of her orgasm and a touch of pain. She feels his big arms slide around her waist and draw her in so their lips meet, savoring their collective taste with their tongues as they bask in the afterglow. He takes her arms and winds them around his neck before picking her up, transferring her from the sofa to the king-sized bed a couple of feet away. He lays her carefully on the bed and sits at the edge, watching her snuggle against the soft sheets and pillows with a satisfied sigh. The outdoor lights peeking through the window cast a glittery shadow over her nude body, making her look even more beautiful. And speaking of beautiful...

"I got you something," he announces, taking a small gift box labeled Van Cleef & Arpels sat on the nightstand and handing it to her.

"What's this?" she questions, slowly sitting up.

"Just a lil' sumn I thought you'd like," he simply shrugs. "Open it."

Eyeing him suspiciously, she unties the ribbon at the top of the box and removes the lid. Nestled in navy-blue velvet are an eighteen-carat yellow-gold Alhambra bracelet and matching earrings. She wishes she disliked the warmth that blooms inside her at the sweet gesture. She meets his eyes, noting his cocked eyebrow and cocky smirk as he gauges her reaction.

"This a good enough apology for you?" he asks.

Joy smiles gratefully and kisses his lips. "They're beautiful. But I keep telling you, you don't have to buy me anything," she says.

"Well, I want to. Sue me." He goes quiet for a few seconds, contemplating his next words. "You got tickets to the SuperBowl, right? Let's go together. We can hang out in my skybox."

"And have people talk about us? We got reputations to uphold. And what about Venita?"

"She'll be there. She's still clueless about us. And I told you, ain't nobody gon' say shit. Between your lawyer and mine, all them NDAs are water-tight." When he speaks again, his voice is much softer. "I just miss spending time with you. I miss when we weren't at each other's throats like we are these days."

"That's only cuz you make my job harder, Reigns," she points out, scooting over when he rolls into the bed and sits up against the headboard next to her.

"And you, mine. But despite all of that, I would do anything for you. You know that, right? That's why I agreed to that damn match. For you," he adds, biting his lip as he caresses her chin and gazes tenderly at her. Joy feels her heart flutter as his chocolate-colored eyes gleam with that familiar, intense passion that the two of them have been sharing for almost four years now...

"You're so cute when you get all soft and sweet on me, champ," she smiles, leaning in for another kiss that lingers pleasantly this time. It's little moments like these that try to con her, even to this day, that their affair has veered towards the romantic side. She thanks the cynical businesswoman in her for swiftly kicking that childish notion to the curb every time the delusion attempts to rear its ugly head.

Their embrace is interrupted by the grating sound of his phone vibrating, forcing him to pull away from her with a tired sigh. On the nightstand, a text message with Venita's name lights up his phone screen.

Countin the minutes till I touch down in Vegas 🥺😍 Can't wait to see you again! Love you Baby Boo 😘

"Aww, poor baby," Joy's giggle is dark and mocking as she looks over Roman's shoulder. Snatching the phone out of his hand, she opens up the message and begins typing.

"Don't start no shit, now," he sighs, but makes no move to stop whatever havoc she's causing through his device.

"Relax, Baby Boo," she teases, pressing Send and holding his phone up to his face to show him her response.

I'm waiting for you babe. Can't wait to see you 😍 Love you sm.

"See? I was nice," she says, putting away his phone and climbing on top of his big body.

Roman rolls his eyes and runs his hands along her thighs. "I guess I should thank you, then?"

"Oh, no need to thank me. I'm just being a good, caring boss," she replies, bending to kiss his lips, trailing her tongue along his bearded jawline and tasting her dried juices. "You're my star employee, so it's important that I always give you what you need. And I always give it to you, don't I?"

Roman groans into her mouth as she kisses him harder, her dainty fingers stroking his dick which immediately pulses in her grasp as though it hasn't been touched all day. "Yeah, you do," he rasps, his body heating up as she starts to descend on him. "Oh shit, baby, you feelin' generous tonight..."

"Mmm, more like selfish..." She sits all the way down with a gasp, making both their hearts race with each twitch of his cock inside her. "Cuz I want that dick again, and I'm taking it..."

She is already moving, hunched over him, her titties in his face, sucking them both back into that sensual place of pleasure they like to visit together. He answers to her, in more ways than one, and he won't have it any other way. "Anything you want, boss. Anything you want," the Tribal Chief croaks out, allowing himself to sit back and enjoy the ride, quite literally.

THE END

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

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[katzkreationz]

Hey all! Sorry for the long absence here, life has been kicking my ass 😅

But I did finally pick up the tablet again, and I've been working on some things. I've been interested in character redesigns so thought I'd try it with some of my favorites (and some old OCs no one's seen yet or in a while). So if you're interested in seeing them sooner, please do drop by my patreon!

Notes:

Anti Comso and his family were my favorite villains in Fairly Oddparents (even when they kinda just...vanished along with every other previous villain that wasn't "relevant") Always thought it was a missed opportunity that we never got them acting ad a villainous family unit. Evil vacations, family bonding thru world conquest scheming, board game nights! C'mon it coulda been great!

Anti Cosmo-- some outfit changes, wanted to break away from the all navy blue color scheme a bit to make him really stand out more among the masses. Also wanted him to have a legitimate crown since...dude is the ruler of the race he deserves a cool ass crown. Made it reminiscent of a salt shaker, put a little upside horseshoe, and the number 13 for bad luck vibes. Alsoooo put some runes in there to symbolize "great protector", because even tho he's a menace....his plans are all focused on freeing his kind so they can do their thing. Just saying, if I had control of these characters, I'd probably be delving more into their place in the world.

Anti Poof (because I'm not calling him Foop)-- gave him a real body, and wanted to try and style his hair after both parents? Make him look a bit more like their kid ya know. Pretty simple design, cute lil onesie. Gave him a rattle instead to mirror Poof more, but cube instead of rounded. Styled it after a dice, and each side has an ailment he can inflict on people. Pink eye, stubbed toe, etc. In my version he's around his folks a lot more, but tries to keep himself presented as an independent person; he's a big boy he don't need no parents (the self proclaimed big boy says as he's burped like the 1 year old he is)

Anti Wanda-- the biggest changes, obviously. The show had some faults...like the constant fat jokes (cough fuck you Bitch Fartman). So out of spite, she's a chubby queen and her twink of a husband adores her every time she nearly snaps his spine. She's not the smartest, but she brings the muscle to Anti Cosmo's brains.

And of course, gave em all tails. Because they're cute, sue me.

[garbagequeer]

Tell you what, we coulda had a good life together! Fuckin' real good life! Had us a place of our own. But you didn't want it, Archie, Betty and Veronica! So what we got now is pop's chock'lit shoppe! Everything's built on that! That's all we got, boy, fuckin' all. So I hope you know that, even if you don't never know the rest! You count the damn few times we have been together in nearly seventy years and you measure the short fucking leash you keep me on - and then you ask me about the narrative and tell me you'll kill me for needing somethin' I don't hardly never get. You have no idea how bad it gets! I'm not you... I can't make it on a coupla quad fucks sixty seven years ago! You are too much for me Archie, Betty and Veronica, you sonofawhoreson bitches! I wish I knew how to quit you.

[theoddest1]

The Full Moon

Why are the Cherubs who are stealing, were cast out, and helped in getting someone murdered in ep 4 not demons/fallen angels?

Why tf were DHORKS in this episode? They barely served a purpose and took up run time that could have been used to focus on the actual plot.

Why are Cherubs in this episode? They have done nothing to actually expand the lore or character development of anyone, so why tf are they here?

Why tf is Stolas bitch ass crying over Blitz not taking his ass seriously when he is the very cause of such a reaction? He made Blitz, who was desperate, his sex slave.

No way is Stola complaining about Blitz seeing the relationship and his feelings as only being tied and about sex when it literally was built upon sex and only existed FOR sex.

Why are there 3 things going on in what is supposed to be an important episode? CHERUBS, DHORKS, STOLITZ. Why????

Did Lonna and the gang just stop following Blitz or?

So, the DHORKS can't tell the difference between angels and demons? CHERUBS have halos, demons have horns. Wtf? And why would angels looking for demons be out of the ordinary?? I get they're SUPPOSED to be stupid, but this whole interaction feels forced and a way to kill two birds with one stone rather than actually have the story naturally progress.

Okay so the gag with the kids dying. Was that A MONSTER that killed them or the result of the environment that killed them? I ask cause I coulda sworn humans couldn't even withstand hell.

Humor was still weak. Not as bad as Unhappy Campers, still weak.

Yeah, this episode was freaking bad lmao. Can Stolitz die in a ditch already? And can Viv stop writing for this show? Her ideas so far have been doodoo-sauce.

[bagofshinyrocks]

Face to Face

Prompt: Reader has vitiligo and is insecure about it. Ghost finds it attractive. [Requested by anonymous]

Featuring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Male!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: insecurity about vitiligo; past teasing/bullying/disrespect/etc. regarding vitiligo; no reference to genitalia, but reader uses he/him pronouns; besides the skin condition, no reference to the reader's skin color; no smut, but nudity; two dudes who like dudes making jokes about dudes liking dudes

Note: Vitiligo is an autoimmune disorder wherein patches of skin lose pigment. I totally recommend looking it up if you haven't heard of it.

A/N: Brain shit itself, but hopefully this is still enjoyable to y'all.

You could have kicked yourself. All the years of prods and nicknames (especially in the military), polite and impolite inquiries, stares. You had tried sunscreen, makeup, every medicine available to you either at home or in the clinics. Even did some research on phototherapy.

And you could have just worn a fucking balaclava like this bloke from ‘Manchesta’ (with quite the man-chest). No one even looked at him for very long. You figured wearing a goofy costume mask would get eternal ribbing, but no. None at all. Very relieving to you.

The next time you changed bases you started wearing something to hide your face. Balaclava, facial mask, sunglasses. If it was in regs, you wore it. And it felt a bit better. Not that you couldn’t go outside without something, but the looks or stares didn’t bother you.

You coulda kissed Ghost for having such a genius idea.

Then you actually got to know the bastard. God, he was scary. No wonder no one teased him.

You started working with Ghost on base a few weeks after first seeing him, and the two of you were actually on friendly terms. You were one of the few he seemed to like. If it was it a good thing or a bad thing, you weren’t quite sure yet. 

He would sit with you at meals where you got glimpses underneath that mask. Find you during training and start competitions. Playful nudges and shoves in the hall. Ribbing and teasing. It was really nice.

“Have I started a trend?” he teased, plucking at the cloth of his mask.

“You do realize its like ten degrees outside? Not interested in snot-sickles every time I sneeze.”

A rare chuckle. “Tha’s true. Snot-sickles are prob’ly not in the regs.”

“Definitely not. Distracting. Unprofessional.”

A gloved hand landed on your shoulder and gave you a good shake. “I bet you could pull it off though.”

“Oh, you betcha.”

It hadn’t even occurred to you that Ghost had yet to see your face. He’d seen your hands and forearms, and you figured that he knew what vitiligo was and that odds are it was on your face too. You appreciated the balance. He knew which mask jokes were funny and which were uncomfortable, and you two could shoot back and forth.

Finally, after some disgusting obstacle training, you were in the men’s room together, bitching and stripping in a wholly unsexy manner.

“Fuckin’ God,” you gagged, wringing out socks and shoving them in the laundry bag.

“I’d rather get shot in the arse than do that again.” The heavy thunk of boots on the tile. Then he braced himself on the counter and slipped out of his outermost pants. You whistled, and he told you to fuck off.

You went to the showers and decided it would be most efficient to rinse your clothes and gear at the same time as you washed yourself.

Your helmet, the various plastic pads on your joints and limbs, your vest. The slowest, muddiest strip tease. You’d rinse off your shirt a bit, ruck it off and wring it out like a towel and chuck it to the side. Then your pants, your undershirt. 

A quick glance behind you and you could see Ghost continuing to struggle with twigs and leaves stuck in the straps of his tactical vest.

You shucked off your undergarments and a good round of water and body wash got the mud, dirt, and sweat off. It had been a minute since you showered with someone else there in the group shower rather than the little cubbies. But Ghost wasn’t looking. You thought.

He had told himself that he was only staring at your naked ass and back because he was curious about your skin. He thought it was maybe burns or scarring, but it appeared all over your body. They didn’t look painful or raised. They were fascinating. Sexy.

His head snapped back to the front and he yanked off his vest. Was he being a creep? A sneaky glance back to you. You were none the wiser.

If he wasn’t staring at your vitiligo, did that mean he was staring at your ass? Nah, you were his mate. Wanting to touch your skin was because he wanted to see if the depigmented patches were raised, or felt different. He wanted to see if the same pigmentation was on your front. Symmetric or asymmetric. Not because he wanted to see anything in particular on the front of your body.

The water shut off and his head jerked away.

Whilst distracted, he had stripped down to his undershirt and boxers and rinsed off a bit in the sink. 

You wandered back over with a towel wrapped around you and another in your hand, drying your face and head.

“Mate, I had mud in places I didn’t even know I had.”

Ghost chuckled. “Wash behind your ears?”

You tilted your head and showed him. “Yep. With soap even.”

Finally, his eyes fixed on your face. You were in front of a mirror, but you were distracted with brushing your teeth and checking yourself for cuts and bruises. And he wasn’t being a creep. Right? Fuck, he felt like a freak.

To make himself feel better, he tugged off his balaclava and dropped it with the rest of his discarded clothes. A cursory scrub of his face in the sink.

Oh, good, he wasn’t being a freak. Because your eyes kept darting to his face.

“Alright, 50 minutes.” You patted the washing machine. “Time for a fat nap.”

Simon wrapped an arm around your neck and gave it a gentle squeeze. You grabbed at his bicep and turned to look at him. So close, his nose almost brushed the skin of your cheek.

“Harder, sir.”

He almost laughed but kept it in. A quick movement and you found yourself in the hallway as Simon dragged you backwards to his room.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

You went limp and he finally laughed. 

“That won’t save you, pretty boy.”

Goosebumps. A warm rush of blood under the skin of your face. A funny feeling in your stomach. The hair on the back of your neck stood up. You were not excited to decode why you had that reaction to those words.

The officer’s quarters were nicer than the regular ones, with a private room. Small, but private. So (what felt like) a few seconds later you were in Simon’s room. On his bed. On top of the sheets, but still on the bed.

Then he crammed in next to you.

“It’s fine if it’s back to back,” he teased, pressing up against you and ‘got comfortable’, meaning he was rocking around and bumping into you on purpose.

“Yeah, sure. You like having your ass against my ass L.T.?”

“Fuck we supposed to do? Lay dick to dick? Snuggle arse to dick?”

“I’m wearing socks, L.T.” You flipped around and settled your hands over his shoulder blades. “Want a… back rub, sir?”, you said as sensually as you could while trying not to laugh.

Simon craned his neck. “You will turn back around and make our arses kiss or I’m going to break your arms.”

The bed shook with your laughter.

“We have 47 minutes to nap. Hop to.”

“Yes, sir.”

Enjoy reading this? Here's a link to my other works! Thanks for reading :-)

Posted: 2024 January 7

[bbyboybucket]

Beds

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: While sharing a hotel room with Reader, Bucky has a nightmare.

A/N: Surprise. Bet y’all didn’t expect a fic from me. How longs it been? Too long. Anyways, I’m rewriting one of my old fics, or more so taking the same concept but doing it more in character. Also I think this is the first time I’ve written something where we don’t see Bucky’s pov, so I think that’s kinda fun. Btw I’m rusty so don’t judge me if it shows. Also I think this is gender neutral but I’m not sure?

Warnings: language, sexual references, nightmares, ptsd, panic attack (not too intense), allusions to some hydra stuff but nothing graphic, hurt/comfort, frenemies to lovers, Bucky is moody, the one bed trope™️, no use of “y/n”, kinda sappy

—————————

A loud sigh came from the left of you just before the elevator dinged and the metal doors creaked open. You ignored him, you chose not to engage in his passive aggressiveness. You weren’t going to accept the invitation of a petty rant hiding behind that sigh.

You walked down the hallway with Bucky stalking behind you, like an angry pitbull trailing after its owner.

“I don’t even know why we got a fucking hotel in the first place.” Bucky grumbled, and you could practically feel the weight of his eye roll, even though you couldn't see it.

“Here we go.” You muttered under your breath. “What did you want? A safe house? It’s not like we’re on some high stakes, undercover op. Anything more than a hotel would be excessive.”

“Anything more woulda had better sleeping options.” He whined. “Coulda at least got us separate rooms.”

“My god, give it a rest Bucky, you’ve been complaining all day about this.” You we’re exasperated, it was about the third time you’d heard him gripe that day.

“Well, I’m not a fan. Us sharing is the stupidest fucking idea Sam’s ever had.”

“Bitching about it isn’t gonna change anything. And, it’s not like we have to sleep together or anything, I’ll be in a whole different bed.” You said, unlocking the room door. You had been looking forward to chilling out and resting, but as soon as you entered the room, you realized that your night would be anything but restful.

“Fuck.” You laughed, humorlessly, knowing you were about to hear an endless rant. “I take that back, there isn’t different beds.”

Surprisingly that rant didn’t come. Bucky weirdly seemed calmer than he had before and merely shrugged. “‘S fine. I’ll take the floor.”

“Well, one of us can try the couch?”

“That thing could fit a toddler at best.” He gestured towards the small leather love seat as if it was the most ridiculous suggestion he had ever heard, and in all honesty, he had a point.

You pinched the skin between your eyebrows. “Sam said he booked a two person room.”

He shrugged again and then blankly said. “This is why he shoulda booked separate rooms.”

“My god Bucky, I’m not that bad of a roommate. I don’t snore, I don’t sleep walk, and it’s not like I’m gonna kill you in your sleep. It’s one fucking night. Just-“ You took a deep breath and tried to mellow out. “You can have the bed.”

“No, you can have it.”

“You’re obviously more tore up about this than me, so it’s yours. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No.” He refused, his eyes held an odd stubbornness. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“I literally don’t care, I’ve done it a million times. Plus, your grumpy ass probably needs some good sleep.” You half teased, trying to do the nice thing. You unzipped your bag and pulled your belongings out. “I’m gonna go change clothes.”

When you came back from the bathroom, Bucky was already in his boxers and a T-shirt, positioning a pillow and blanket on the floor.

“I told you the bed was yours.”

“Okay, and?”

“Why are you getting down there?“

“Why the fuck are you arguing?”

“Because you’re all pissy about this whole situation, so I’m trying to make your life easier and give you the bed.” You didn’t understand his defiance and odd aversion to the thing he’d been complaining about restlessly: the better sleeping option.

“I don’t want the goddamn bed, just shut the fuck up about it!” Bucky snapped. His outburst caught you off guard, he acted as if you had been purposefully pushing his buttons.

“Damn, fine.” You held your hands up in defeat, almost offended at the way he lashed out. “I get you’re trying to be all gentlemen-like but ya know, the aggressiveness defeats the purpose.”

“It’s not about being a gentlemen. Don’t get it twisted, I’m not being nice, I-“ He grunted. “Never mind I don’t owe you a fuckin’ explanation. Just get in bed.”

“I will, thank you, cause I’m tired. Especially tired of whatever the fuck is up your ass and has you so bitchy.”

You said it with full sincerity, of course you were used to bickering with Bucky but it always was in a playful manner, even when annoyed with each other, it was always friendly fire. There had been no sign of that all afternoon, Bucky was purely hostile and treating you like his greatest burden.

“You running your damn mouth and arguing isn’t helping anything.” He spat as he turned off the lights.

“Wow, sorry. Didn’t know offering you the bed was so fucking rude and offensive.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He groaned.

You muttered “fucking dick” under your breath.

“I heard that.”

As you settled into the bed, you couldn't help but roll your eyes in frustration. You found yourself pondering what you could have possibly done to provoke such a strong reaction from him. You couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't entirely about you. Maybe something else was going on and you were standing in as Bucky’s punching bag, just being the unfortunate catheter for his anger.

It didn’t matter. You had to force all the worry and aggravation out of your head because his attitude wasn’t worth losing sleep over. The last thing you need was to be exhausted on a mission.

—————————

You were jolted awake by a sudden, loud gasp, followed by a soft groan emanating from his direction. Rubbing your eyes, you opened them to find him sitting upright, his knees drawn close to his chest. He looked so small, a stark contrast to the huge stature and borderline intimidating presence you’d become so familiar with. His breathing was audible despite the distance between you, it was quick and shallow.

“Buck?” You concernedly called out to him but he didn’t answer. You then got out of bed, and flicked on the nightstand lamp.

“Bucky?” You tried again when you were closer.

Out of all the time you’d known Bucky, this was the first you’d seen him vulnerable. He was trembling harshly, hyperventilating too. He seemed equally dazed and terrified, but also distant as if he were lost in his head. You always thought Bucky had rather sad eyes but right now, the way they were widened with fear and slightly watering, took it to a whole new level.

You knew what was happening and seeing it felt like a stab to the heart. You slowly sat down in front of him, keeping space between you as to not worsen his panic.

“Buck, it’s okay.” You cooed. “Can you hear me right now?”

His gaze shifted to you, finally making eye contact, which gave you an answer.

“Okay, can you try to breathe with me? Deep breath…in 1…2…3” You exaggeratedly took large, slow inhale to lead him. “Out 1…2…3…”

You repeated the example, guiding until he finally started to follow along with you. “Good, you’re doing good. Do you know where you are?”

“….hotel. We’re on a mission?”

“Good, that’s right, good. It’s okay. You’re safe.” With a gentle and caring tone, you spoke to him, hoping to bring a sense of peace to the turmoil that was raging within him. Your heart felt heavy as you seen the pain that was laced within him, and you wished so badly that you could erase it all. You’d been scared you weren’t doing the right things, but his increasing improvement made you more confident.

“Can I touch you?”

He nodded.

You supportively placed your hand on top of his, stroking your thumb over his skin in a soothing manner. He initially flinched but didn’t pull away. “Starting to calm down now?”

“Yeah.” He released a long heavy breath and wiped the wetness off his eyelids with his free hand.

You sat silently with him, providing that tender, tactile support as he as he worked to regain his composure and steady his breathing. As he gradually calmed down, you noticed the shame creeping over him, causing his cheeks to flush red and his gaze to avert from yours.

“I didn’t want you to see this shit.” He finally said after minutes of silence.

“It’s fine-“

“Fuckin embarrassing is what it is.”

“No, stuff happens. I’m not gonna judge, ya know? I understand. I know what having panic attacks is like.” You revealed in attempt to make him feel more seen.

He slightly shook his head, at himself instead of towards to you, but he stayed silent.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” He paused for a moment, he licked his lips and hung his head even lower. “‘M used to it. Get ‘em bout every night.”

“The panic attacks?”

“Nightmares. Those sometimes comes after though.”

“Oh.” You whispered, feeling like something in you had just shattered. “About hydra?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna talk about it?” You offered carefully.

“Nothing you should hear. My head’s a fucked up place.” He laughed humorlessly.

“Try me.”

He hesitated for a moment, you assumed he was debating on wether or not he should trust you with such a heavy part of himself. “Basically all memories. Not so much dreams, more so just stuff that’s already happened. Flashbacks I guess.”

As his mouth parted to speak, only to close again, you knew that he wasn’t finished so you waited patiently, allowing him the time he needed to gather his thoughts.

“Most of the time it’s…you know…what I’ve done. People I’ve killed. It’s….of course it’s horrible. Pretty gruesome but uh….I’ve gotten better at dealing with those, it’s still….I just get em so much that I can calm down faster now. But sometimes…it’s the shit Hydra did to me and it’s just….I’d get punished a lot. Some kinda torture or beatings, I’ll spare you the details.”

You continued to stroke his hand and stayed silent, not wanting to push him.

“But uh…they had this chair. Um, I’d get strapped down and they’d electrocute me. That’s how they’d…ya know. And I’d always end up there for a wipe after I fucked up. Or even if I didn’t. I don’t what’s worse honestly…the sick twisted shit they’d come up with or the wipe but…but reliving all that….”

“That’s fucking terrifying.”

“Yeah. Yeah, terrifying is an understatement. Sometimes…it’s hard to feel safe after that.”

His breathing started to pick up again. The cracks in his voice made it clear he was starting to get overwhelmed.

You then firmly grasped his hand, giving it a supportive squeeze. “It’s okay, you don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t like to think about all that. I try to never actually. It’s like…obviously it’s…I can’t describe how fucking awful. But at the same time, if I do think about it, it’s like I’m ignoring all the evil shit I’ve done. And that’s not fair to everyone I’ve wronged. So then….if I never think about or deal with the torture….when I have to relive it in these goddamn nightmares…it just fucks me up worse. And my fucking luck is one of the few times it happens is when I’m sharing a room with someone.”

Your heart sank to the floor, your own eyes were watering at this point from getting just this small glimpse of his pain. “I’m so sorry, Buck. Hell, I don’t even know what to say right now. I wish I could do more to help.”

“You’re doing enough.“

“You didn’t deserve it, ya know? I don’t know everything that went on but you never deserved to suffer like that.”

“Half-debatable. At certain point it had to become karma for the suffering I was causing myself.” He shrugged solemnly.

“That’s not true. You had no control.”

He sighed exasperatedly, filled with a sad frustration directed at himself. He put his face in his palm. “We’ve had that conversation. You already know I don’t see it that way.”

“Yeah but I hope one day you will. And I’ll die before I stop trying to get it through your head that you’re innocent. You know you’re strong, right? So damn strong to be holding it together right now. After going through all that pain and to still be here and be a good man? To come as far as you have. I’ve never met anyone as strong as you.”

“We can agree to disagree but I appreciate it….and thanks sitting with me and calming me down and all that.”

“Of course.”

“I’m sorry about earlier. This is why…I didn’t wanna share. And this is….one…of the reasons I don’t like sleeping in a bed. Makes the nightmares worse sometimes. That’s not your fault though, so I shouldn’t’ve…I just didn’t want you to know.”

“It’s alright. I get it now.”

“I shouldn’t’ve took it out on you. I really am sorry.”

“Buck, I get why you were upset. Well kinda, I honestly can’t imagine even a fraction of what you go through.”

“Goin a little far with the pity.” He grew a tiny smirk.

“Compassion.” You corrected. “And I can’t help it, I mean…not to get all sappy, but I care about you. A lot.”

His smirk morphed into a smile and you mirrored it. You wrapped your arm around him and laid your head on his shoulder, Bucky then slowly encircled you with his own arms. You knew the hug was Bucky's way of wordlessly affirming that he cared about you too.

“Didn’t know Mr. Grumpy was capable of hugging.”

“Consider it a one time gift.”

You chuckled in response but then an idea entered your mind.

“You think it’d help if I slept with you?” You asked softly.

He gave you a cheeky grin. “Could at least take me out to dinner first.”

“You know what I meant.”

He sighed. “Not to be an ass but I literally just told you I don’t like beds?”

“No dumb ass, I mean down here.”

He tilted his head and gave a tight lipped frown. “You don’t gotta do that.”

“No. But if it’d help you feel more comfortable, then I want to.”

He didn’t answer at first but because his face had always been an open book, revealing every emotion with striking transparency, he wore an expression that was etched with heartbreaking gratitude.

“Yeah…we can try that.” He whispered, as if he was in shock.

With gentle movements, you plucked the blanket and pillow from the bed and nestled yourself beside him. As you lay towards him, your faces drew closer, until they were mere inches apart. You could feel his warm breath caressing your skin. In that moment, time seemed to stand still as you both gazed into each other's eyes, it was almost hypnotic. There was no awkwardness when it should have been expected, instead, a comforting feeling washed over you. You were consumed by excitement, tinged with a soothing calmness. Sure, it was paradoxical, but it was consuming and left you lost in the moment.

“Um…” Bucky started hesitantly but then cut himself off, he bit his bottom lip nervously.

Before you had a chance to even consider the words, they spilled from your lips. You were surprised with your own spontaneity, but the question had already slipped. “You wanna cuddle?”

It was as if you read his mind, you could practically see all the anxiety melt off Bucky before he pulled you into his chest. “This okay?” He asked.

“Mhm.” You replied, allowing yourself to sink into the comforting warmth of his body, all while listening to the soft thumps of his heart beating. It was a new intimacy that strangely felt familiar and natural, like everything had suddenly fallen into place.

You heard him yawn and you hummed fondly at how cute it was. “Goodnight, Buck.”

Tenderly, he leaned in and softly placed his lips upon your forehead, holding them there for a fleeting moment before settling his chin atop your head.

—————————

Bucky straddled your lap, his hand cupping your face as he devoured you in a passionate kiss that unraveled you with each flick of his tongue. His other hand roamed to less innocent regions of your body, exploring them with a touch that was both bold and tender.

He repositioned and pressed you down onto the couch, towering over you as his tongue continued to dance in your mouth. You were both breathless, and desiring more. He proceeded to plant kisses on your jawline before moving down to nibble on your neck.

He suddenly stopped, muttering against your skin. “You wanna move to your room? Have a little more space for this?”

“You know what’s funny?”

“Hm?”

“How before we got together, you hated beds, but now you want in my sheets every damn second.” You teased.

“Well…feels a lot more pleasant now.”

“Weird way to say ‘I’m always horny’.”

“I’m making up for 80 some years. And like you aren’t, you’re worse than me half the time.”

“Definitely worked up now, so get me to the bed and we’ll go as many rounds as you want, pervert.”

“Fuck you.” He laughed.

“I’m waiting for it.”

[corazondebeskar-reads]

you know you never stood a chance - chapter five

you know you never stood a chance series

five: steal from yourselves

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

qz!Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: 2.2k

Summary: You and Joel fight while taking Ellie to Lincoln.

Warnings: dub-con due to power imbalance, free use, sex as payment, vaginal sex, oral sex (m&f receiving), cum play, Joel is mean/bad with feelings, this is not canon compliant, no use of y/n, degradation, canon-typical violence and danger, mention of Tess, description of injury

also on ao3

He’s worse than a field of landmines.

You never know where you stand with him. One moment, he’s eating you out on the floor of a convenience store, his jacket under your hips to keep away the broken glass.

The next, he’s bitching about your eternal uselessness.

You get it. Sort of. The only purpose you ever served him was a set of warm, wet holes. Never mind the fact that he used to fuss over you. So now, out here, what good are you?

It’s that kind of thinking that makes you keep your mouth shut when you twist your ankle.

He’s there in a heartbeat when you fall, pulling you back up with one arm. You brush the leaves off your clothes and mumble your thanks.

“Dunno how you made it this long,” he grumbles. It’s a harken back to when you were sat at his kitchen table, broken wrist cradled in his gentle hands. It’s sickening, actually, to hear the venom in his voice this time around.

So you press on, ignoring the way your body is screaming in protest. Alarms blare, but you ignore them, keeping pace with Joel so he can’t find another thing to hate you for.

But Joel is Joel, and so when you stop for the night, he spies the swelling.

“Stubborn brat,” he says. “Coulda said something.”

“Oh yeah? What good would that have done?”

“How am I supposed to take care of ya if you don’t tell me when you’re hurt?”

You don’t look at him. You know it won’t last. He’s angrier more than he’s not these days, at least with you.

“What if we had to run? What if I counted on you to do something, and you got us all killed?”

Yep, there it is. You pull yourself up, sneering at him when your ankle protests. “I’ll save you the fucking trouble.” You grab your bag, and even though you know it’s stupid, you walk away.

You don’t make it far. The swelling has made it so much harder to walk, so you get around the curve of the street, about five houses down from the one Joel cleared, and slump on the porch. It has solid half walls, thankfully, so you’re concealed, and you don’t hear any noise or see any lights inside.

“That was fuckin’ rude,” Ellie says.

Joel’s head snaps to her from where he was still watching the road, the inky darkness of the moonless night having swallowed you up.

“Shut up,” he grunts.

“You’re just gonna let her go off and get fungified?”

“Ain’t my business what she does.”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “I’m just sayin’, it’s kind of fucked up.” But she settles down in her sleeping bag, too tired from the long trek to keep arguing.

You had just gotten home from work, still in your regular clothes, when Joel and Tess burst in. He was angry; she was loud.

They’d been bickering about some kind of pills, some kind of trade. You didn’t pay attention; they’d been very clear it was none of your business. Instead, you made a second cup of coffee with extra milk for Tess.

They were still arguing when you went to your room and shut the door. Your hands couldn't seem to unbutton your shirt, fumbling with each, until you gave up after the third and flopped on the bed. Fuck it. You were tired. And as much as you liked Tess, you were pretty sure this meant you weren’t getting fucked, and you felt a little petulant about it.

The door slammed. Your bedroom door flew open moments later. There was something in his eyes that scared you just a little bit. It also made you wet, so there was that.

“Why’re you still dressed?” he asked, already moving to rectify the situation.

“Dunno, didn’t seem like you were in a rush,” you said.

He had you peeled out of your shirt and pants and laid out flat on the bed in record time. He loomed over you, one hand grasping at your waist and the other wrapping around your neck as he bent to capture a nipple between his teeth.

You took a deep, shaking breath, a little dizzy from the barrage of sensations. He bit and licked your breasts, your neck, your chin. You moaned and squirmed under him until he squeezed your throat a little tighter, nipping at your ear.

He pulled away abruptly. “Need your mouth,” he said, tugging at you with the hand on your throat.

You scrambled up onto all fours and held your mouth wide while he stroked his cock a few times in front of your face. When his hand was out of the way, you replaced it with your lips, wasting no time in burying him deep in your throat.

You gagged, but held on, gut telling you he’d be more appreciative of your enthusiasm than anything else that day. You choked yourself on him, tears streaming down your face, but you were right. He rewarded you with a gentle hand cradling your head.

“Fuck, that’s it, good girl. Look at you, takin’ my whole cock.”

You moaned around him, warmth from his praise seeping down your limbs. It made it easier, somehow, for the head of his cock to batter your throat. He fucked up into you, grunting while you struggled to keep breathing.

When he pulled out, he didn’t bother to give you orders. He just shoved you back on the bed and parted your legs with his thighs. Grinning, he rubbed the head over your clit to watch the way you writhed for him.

“You want it, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you groaned, trying to spread your legs wider, be more accommodating. “Please, Joel.” You looked up at him with tears weighing down your lashes, lips turned in a pout.

He was too impatient to string you along, so he just smirked and pushed into your waiting cunt. You cried out from the stretch. Sometimes, it still burned and stung, like the first time, when he didn’t work you open first. Not that you could have waited that night..

There was something in the air you couldn’t quite identify. He fucked you open with vigor, but he was quieter than usual. He mumbled the occasional “good girl” when your moans betrayed a little pain, and his thrusts were smoother, deeper, like he was trying to hide something in your body for no one else to find.

He’d kill them if they tried.

He took you apart over and over, his thumb on your clit demanding your obedience. You gave him everything you had to give, sobbing when it became too much. He kissed the tears from your face.

“Poor thing,” he murmured, though it was not as cruel as he usually got. It was almost tender. He made up for it by returning a hand to your throat to coax another orgasm from your wrung-out body, biting at your breasts until you clamped down on him. He pulled out and covered your tits in his thick, milky cum.

He stayed over you, caging you in with his body. You were exhausted, eyes fluttering shut as you gasped for air. He took two fingers and smeared the cum all over your breasts, tweaking your nipples with slick-coated pads. When he was satisfied with his artwork, he stuck the fingers in your mouth.

You cleaned them off, humming softly at the buzz between your ears. He got up and tucked his cock away, looking down at you.

You forced your eyes open to see him. His forehead was creased, and his lips tugged down at the corners.

“Leave that there,” he said when he finally looked away, leaving the room without another word.

You lay panting on your bed, shivering a little as the cum dries on your breasts. He always cleaned you up after. Always.

You dozed off a little, startling awake when he entered a while later. You weren't sure how long it had been, but the sun had almost set. In the orange glow across your bedspread, he dumped an armful of… well, something. You couldn’t quite tell.

“Put these in your bag,” he said, rifling around in your closet and tossing the backpack at you. Clothes followed it, one of his long-sleeve shirts and a pair of sweats that unfolded in the air, smacking you in the face.

Your brain hadn’t caught up with him, still in the pleasant hallows of your dream, but your body knew what to do. When all else failed, it obeyed Joel Miller. You were dressed and standing before you were fully acclimated.

“Why?” you finally said, shoving handfuls of what turns out to be protein bars and batteries, bandages and clothing, and a flashlight into your backpack.

“Ya can’t stay here anymore,” he said, and you froze, a wounded sound slipping out.

“No,” he shook his head, “I mean when I’m gone.”

“Lead with that, asshole,” you grumbled. “But wait, then what—”

“You’re gonna have to come with me,” he said. He handed you a rolled-up sleeping bag, which you attached to the bottom of your backpack with the never-before-used straps.

“But why?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” He didn’t want to tell you what one of Robert’s men had said, how he had known that you were naive and alone in Joel’s apartment twice a month.

The man was dead, but if he knew, then you probably weren’t safe there anymore.

“How am I going to be safer out there? That’s where you go, right, outside the walls?” You’d never asked before. Better not to know.

He grunted, which, based on the tone and volume, was Joel for “yes.”

“I haven’t been outside in fifteen years.” You didn’t need to tell him how little you knew, even then.

“You’ll be safer because you’ll be with me.”

You were scared. You couldn’t hide it; you knew he could see it carved into your face. It didn’t make sense; he wasn't some superhuman; he was not repellant to Infected or the horrors beyond. But you were soothed by the thought nonetheless.

You had the bag slung over your shoulder and were toeing on your boots when he stopped filling his bag from the kitchen and came back out to look at you.

“Look,” he sighed and shook his head. “You don’t have to. I won’t drag ya by your hair or anything. I just can’t protect you if you stay.”

“I’ll go wherever you tell me, Joel.” You didn’t mean to say it; your stupid, anxious mouth ran twice as fast as your idiot brain. But you found that you meant it.

“Don’t come cryin’ to me if you regret that.”

Well, you regret it now, but you’d die before crying to him about it, you think. You’re still buried in your sleeping bag on the porch, sun just barely cresting the horizon. You’re slumped down, saved from the damp, plastic carpet by the mostly intact cocoon. The porch is uneven, tilting to the right with decades of shifting foundation coming to haunt its shoddy construction.

It’s quiet. Birds chirp from somewhere as the dim light filters between the dilapidated carbon copy houses. You haven’t slept at all—too afraid.

A voice rumbles in the distance. Undeniably human, possibly male. For one second, your heart jumps, thinking maybe it’s Joel, and you won’t have to try to drag your ass back to him and grovel or find your way home.

And then you remember the reality of the situation. Chances are good that they moved on, and chances are even stronger that you’re not alone in this little subdivision. You don’t have time to wait and see what direction they’re coming from, let alone what they look like. You scuttle to the other side of the porch and jump from the top of the rail over the chainlink fence. You land hard on your side, trying to avoid actually breaking your ankle. It knocks the wind out of you, and there’s sure to be a bruise tomorrow, but you’re able to stand up and creep around into the yard.

There’s a back porch, raised high, with broken trellises along the bottom. At the far end is a garage, the sliding door hanging at an angle, and the regular door missing. Around the corner is an overgrown, dead garden, a doghouse, and the rusty frame of a trampoline.

They’re all shit options for shelter. But you’re not sure you could clear the fence from the ground without rattling it. You can hear boots scraping on the road, low murmurs spilling in their wake. Whoever it is clearly doesn’t want to attract clickers, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t looking for trouble.

You don’t have time to clear any of the hiding places. The garage and the porch are the highest risk for lurking Infected, but you don’t think you can fit quickly into the doghouse. You hear the sound of feet on the creaky front porch and dive for the garage, tucking yourself in around the corner from the regular door.

There are no Infected. There is a corpse, but it’s long gone to rot, skeletal and sickening, in a beach chair in the corner. The skull is shattered and jagged, and a revolver is on the ground. You sneak over and grab it. There are two bullets loaded and no more in sight. Hands wrapped around the grip, you press yourself back against the wall where you shouldn’t be able to be spotted from the house.

And you wait.

next chapter

*title from "Jars" by Chevelle

[justagalwhowrites]

Homecoming - DBF!Joel x Female Reader

It's been years since you moved away from home but you never stopped wishing your dad's best friend Joel Miller saw you as something more. Request from @reds-ramblings!

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: No Outbreak AU, legal age gap (Joel is 40 you are 26), SMUTTTTTTT oral (f receiving), p in v sex, one shot. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only!

Length: 4.4k (sorry guys, I got carried away)

You sighed, looking up at the ceiling of your childhood bedroom. It was still that popcorn shit. Your mom had redone most of the house since you’d moved out but your room was still intact. Still had the movie posters, the caricatures of you with your best friends from trips to Six Flags in the summer, the mountain of stuffed animals that were covered in a fine layer of dust in a hammock that hung from the ceiling. 

It was a little like being in a museum, relics of who you’d been a decade ago when you’d first moved into this house in the Austin suburbs with your parents. You hadn’t known how to drive yet when you moved in here. You were a different person now. A different person who lived in Chicago and had a job you loved and still came running home to your childhood bedroom when shit got hard. 

You sighed, bouncing a tennis ball off the popcorn ceiling. 

“Fuck it,” you muttered, getting up and rifling through your suitcase. 

Your parents weren’t home. They wouldn’t be for a few more days - too busy lying on a beach in Maui - so you had the place to yourself. At least there was the pool. 

You found the sluttiest bikini you had since you’d be too embarrassed to wear it around your parents anyway but dammit you’d bought the stupid thing so you were going to wear it. You slid into it, admiring yourself in the mirror for a second. This would have looked way better on a beach in the Caribbean. This was a swim suit meant to make a man fuck you in the ocean. It was not a swim suit meant to be worn in your parents’ pool. But you needed something to feel good about. 

You put your earbuds in and pulled up your favorite playlist, dancing a little as you put on the gauzy white coverup, straw hat and flip flops before heading downstairs. 

It was almost like the shuffle mode on your playlist was reading your mind. Lizzo came on just as you made it to the kitchen and you turned it up as loud as you couldn’t without fully deafening yourself. 

“Why men great ’til they gotta be great?” You more yelled it than sang it, grabbing the tortilla chips and salsa you’d picked up on your way to the house the day before. You went into the freezer next, grabbing the frozen margarita pouch. 

“You coulda had a bad bitch, noncommittal,” you nudged the drawer closed with your leg. “Help you…HOLY SHIT.” 

You almost leapt out of your skin, dropping the plastic container of salsa and the bag of margarita to the tile floor. You clutched your heart that felt like it was threatening to burst out of your chest with one hand and tore your earbuds out with the other. 

Joel Miller was leaning against the counter, watching you and smiling, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Jesus Christ, Joel!” You panted, dropping the earbuds to the counter before leaning against it to keep from falling over. “What the fuck, man?” 

“Don’t stop on my account,” he smiled a little wider. “You were puttin’ on a great show…” 

“Ha ha,” you glared at him. 

“No, really, stadium quality performance there, Princess,” he said. “I’d buy tickets…” 

You rolled your eyes before bending over and picking up the mercifully still intact containers of salsa and frozen margarita, trying to not think about the fact that you were in the sluttiest bikini you’d ever owned in front of Joel fucking Miller. Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend. Joel Miller, guy who lived across the street. Joel Miller, man you’d basically been in love with since you were 16 years old. 

How was it that he’d gotten better looking? There should be limits on this shit, men who were as gorgeous as Joel Miller shouldn’t be allowed to get hotter as they aged. His graying hair made him look experienced, wiser somehow. The wrinkles around his eyes made his already gorgeous chocolate brown gaze look softer and sweeter. It was a dangerous combination. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, heart rate returning to normal. Or, normal for when Joel was in your immediate vicinity, anyway. 

“Your dad told me I could borrow a ladder,” he shrugged. “Said it was in the shed out back. Told me to let myself in. DIdn’t mention you’d be here. Promise I wasn’t trying to scare you.” 

“What kind of contractor doesn’t have a ladder?” You frowned. “Sounds like you’re falling down on the job, Miller.” 

“I don’t have it at my house because I left it on a job, Princess,” he stepped closer, smile shifting to more of a cocky smirk. “But needed one at home and didn’t really feel like drivin’ clear across Austin to pick it up. 

“But that’s beside the point, what are you doing here?” He asked. “Ain’t you some big time city girl now?” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Just decided to come home for a visit,” you replied. 

“While your parents are on vacation,” he said, skeptical. You narrowed your eyes at him. “C’mon, what’s goin’ on.” 

You sighed and groaned a little. 

“I was supposed to be in The Bahamas this week,” you said. “Booked it a few months back.” 

“So why aren’t you in The Bahamas this week?” He asked after you were silent for a minute. You rapped your fingers on the counter, nails clacking on the granite. 

“I got dumped, alright?” You groaned. “It was supposed to be a trip with my now ex for our one year anniversary but we broke up a month ago and now he’s in The Bahamas with Laurel from accounting.” 

“Shit,” Joel’s face fell a little. “I’m sorry that…” 

“It’s fine,” you sighed. “I wasn’t really that into him, honestly. I was surprised we lasted as long as we did. But I wasn’t about to sit in Chicago in April when I’d already bought enough bikinis to last a week on the beach. And hey at least there’s a fucking pool and it’s above freezing here.” 

When you mentioned the bikinis, his eyes finally left your face, quickly trailing up and down your body before looking back at your face. 

“He’s a fuckin’ idiot, Princess,” he said. “Promise there are better ones out there than that and lord knows you deserve better.” 

“Thanks,” you smiled a little. “Anyway, you’re here for a ladder, not to keep me company.” 

“Depends,” he nodded at the margarita pouch. “Got another one of those?” 

You scoffed. 

“C’mon,” you went into the freezer and grabbed another pouch. “The hell do you take me for?” 

You poured the drinks into the plastic margarita glasses your mom had bought for a party when you were a teenager and handed one to Joel before you both went outside. Joel sat on a lounge chair but you set your glass down on the edge of the pool, stepped out of your flip flops and draped your coverup on a chair next to him. 

“You’re getting in?” He asked. “Thought that was more of a… layin’ around swim suit thing you girls like to wear.” 

“Didn’t fly across the country to not get the suit wet,” you glanced over your shoulder at him. His eyes immediately rose from your ass to your face as you did. “You’re welcome to join me.” 

You jumped in the water, sinking down to the bottom, water so cold that it made your nipples harden and press against the thin fabric of the suit. You swam back to the surface and to the edge of the pool, grabbing your margarita. Joel was watching you. 

“You coming in or not?” You teased. 

“Don’t think I feel like goin’ and getting changed,” he said. 

“Never said you had to,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. “Come on. You saw me dancing around my parents kitchen and heard my sob story. I think I can see you in your underwear.” 

He looked away from you for a moment, a twitch in his jaw, before he shook his head for a moment. 

“Alright, Princess,” he stood up and pulled off his shirt in one fluid movement. You were trying not to stare. It’s not like you’d never seen him without a shirt before. He’d been swimming at your house with your parents before. He took his shirt off when mowing the lawn and you’d peer through your window and watch him when you were a teenager. But this was the first time he’d taken his shirt off because you wanted him to and that fact almost made his biceps seem more sculpted, his chest more beautiful. His hands went to his jeans as he stepped out of his boots. He unbuttoned and unzipped his fly, starting to pull the denim down. “Your wish, my command.” 

“That is how I like it,” you took another drink. 

He stripped out of his jeans and down to his black boxer briefs. You resisted the urge to lick your lips at the sight of him, just a thin layer of fabric covering his thick, long cock. 

You shook yourself mentally. Yes, you’d had a crush on Joel for 10 years. Yes, you wanted him to fuck you six ways from Sunday. Yes, it looked like his cock would be far and away the largest you’d ever had. But he was your dad’s best friend and 14 years older than you. His daughter was closer to your age than he was. Nothing was going to happen. 

He jumped in the water, purposely landing close enough to you to splash you with it and you laughed, wiping the chlorinated water from your eyes. 

“Fuck that’s cold,” he said when he came up. “Feelin’ like you got me in here under false pretenses…” 

You swam for a bit, catching up on life, drinking your margaritas. Joel told you about Sarah, how she was doing at A&M and about one client he’d been stuck with who kept changing shit half way through the project. 

“Swear to God the next time this woman changes her tile, I’m driving off a fuckin’ bridge,” he said. 

You told him about your life in Chicago. The promotion you’d just gotten at work, the fact that you’d become enough of a regular at the bar down the street from your apartment that the bartenders knew you now. 

You’d been in the water long enough that your drinks were long empty and your fingertips were starting to prune, leaning against the edge of the pool with your arms propped on the ledge, close enough that your elbows touched. 

Joel’s eyes ran over you, from your hairline to your face to your throat to your chest. Your nipples were still peaked against your suit and your wet hair clung to your neck. 

“What?” You asked, smiling a little. 

“Any plans later?” He asked. “Can’t have you sittin’ at home all by your lonesome when you were supposed to be havin’ a good time this week.” 

“Offering to show me a good time?” You teased. 

“Don’t tell your dad that,” he teased back. “But I’m going out with some of Tommy’s friends later. Think you’d have fun if you wanted to come along. Just some drinking, music, dancing. Usual shit. Assuming you don’t have plans with any old friends from school or somethin’.” 

“Ah yes, my vibrant social life in high school,” you said, smirking a little. 

You’d been a wallflower before you went to college. You hadn’t fit in well with your classmates, you hadn’t really grown into your body yet - all awkward limbs and unruly hair. College had been your chance to reinvent yourself and you’d leaned into it. You still remembered the first time you came home on break from school your freshman year. 

You and your roommate, Carolyn, had become fast friends and she was easily the most fashionable person you’d ever met. She’d helped you come into your own in your first semester away and you’d basically replaced every item of clothing in your closet with finds from every thrift store within a 20 mile radius of Northwestern. You’d changed your hair, figured out that blue eyeshadow was NOT your thing and just started feeling more confident. 

That Christmas break, you had just grabbed a package off the porch for your mom and were carrying it around to the garage to stash where your dad wouldn’t find it when Joel stopped you. 

“Hey,” he said, sounding a bit defensive as he jogged over to you. “That yours?” 

You stopped, frowning, before turning to face him. His eyes went wide. 

“I mean, it’s my mom’s…” 

“Shit, I’m sorry Princess,” he said, looking you up and down. “Didn’t even recognize you! Must be liking Chicago…” 

You definitely liked your new sense of style even more after that. 

“I’d be down to go out,” you said. “Better than playing catch against my ceiling all night.”

“Pick you up in two hours?” He said. “We’ll hit the town.” 

Once Joel left with the ladder, you focused on calming yourself down while getting ready to go. 

Yes, it was Joel. Yes, he might have checked you out a bit in the pool. Yes, you’d do more than you were really comfortable admitting to get him into bed. But he was still Joel, your neighbor and your dad’s best friend. That made him pretty much off limits. 

Right? 

You’d brought a few of the dresses you’d bought for The Bahamas and you slipped into the one that hugged your curves in just the right way. Just in case. 

“Shit, Princess,” Joel said when you answered the door. “Think you might be a bit overdressed for this crowd.” 

“I can change,” you frowned. 

“No!” He said quickly. Then cleared his throat. “No, don’t… Don’t worry about it.”

Joel drove you to a bar with live music and a table full of people he seemed to know about half of. Tommy, his brother, clapped him on the back and whispered something in his ear that made Joel glare at him. 

He’d been right, though, it was fun. You stuck close to Joel at first, bodies near enough that your arm would brush his chest if you picked up your beer. But then one of Tommy’s friends asked you to dance and pulled you onto the dance floor. His name was Jim and you were pretty sure he was closer to Joel’s age than Tommy’s. His hands slid down your body, pulling your hips against his as you moved with him. Joel’s eyes were on you the whole time. 

You only danced with Jim for a song and a half before Joel appeared over his shoulder. 

“Mind if I cut in?” He asked, giving Jim a look that made it seem like he didn’t have a lot of other options. Jim stepped back just as the music started to shift to something a bit slower. Joel took one of your hands in his and slipped the other around to your back, his fingers splayed wide against you, pulling you against him. 

“DIdn’t take you for the dancing type,” you smiled a little as you started to sway. 

“M’not,” he said. “Not usually, anyway.” 

“Really?” You teased. “So I’m a special case, hm?” 

“Somethin’ like that,” he said. “Can’t let my best friend’s little girl go runnin’ around with some old man.” 

“But what if I like old men?” You asked. 

“Should pick a better one than Jim then,” he replied. 

“Never said I liked Jim,” you said. “Not my type.” 

“What is your type?” He asked, his eyes drifting over your face to your neck to your breasts. 

You swallowed, hard. 

“Contractors.”

He ground his teeth for a moment before stepping back from you and leaving the bar. 

“Shit,” you muttered, trailing behind him to the parking lot. 

“Joel!” You called out to him. “Wait!” 

He stopped and turned to face you. 

“You don’t know what you’re sayin’ in there,” he said. “So just give me some space, OK?” 

“I know perfectly well what I was saying,” you said. 

“No,” he shook his head. “You don’t. You shouldn’t go around sayin’ shit like that…” 

“Oh, so you wanted me to lie then?” You asked.

“Princess,” there was a warning in his voice. “You don’t want to go here.” 

“Yes, I do,” you said. “It’s not like I’m some little kid, Joel, I’m 26 years old…” 

“That’s too damn young,” he snapped. 

“It’s not like I don’t know what I want,” you replied. 

“You’re my best friend’s daughter,” he said. 

“So?” 

“Get in the truck,” he growled. You frowned. “Want to talk about this like adults? Get in the damn truck.” 

You hesitated for a moment before you obeyed. 

“You don’t know what you’re sayin’,” he said again after he’d been driving for a few minutes. 

“Do you really think I’m that stupid?” You asked, offended now. “That I just say shit I don’t mean with no understanding of the consequences?” 

“No, I think you’re young,” he snapped. “Too young to be even joking about getting involved with someone closer to your dad’s age than yours.” 

“Wasn’t joking,” you said defiantly. He glanced over at you before looking back to the road. 

“Princess,” he said, the warning tone back in his voice. 

“Joel.” 

He glared at you. 

“We’re not doin’ anything,” he said. His grip tightened on the steering wheel. 

You stared out the window, the ache between your thighs warring with the hurt in your chest. 

He dropped you at your door and you practically jumped out of the truck, not saying a word. He sighed and followed you, catching you as you were trying to unlock the door without crying.  It was hard not feeling stung by it. Yes, he was your dad’s best friend. Yes, he probably had better options. Yes, there were plenty of reasons why you shouldn’t fuck or anything more. But this rejection hurt somehow more than your ex dumping you for fucking Laurel in accounting. 

“Princess,” he said quietly. 

“Look it’s fine if you’re not interested,” you said, sniffing a little. “But don’t act like you’re doing it for my benefit. It’s shitty.” 

“Not…” he touched your shoulder, making you turn around. “You really think I’m not fuckin’ interested?” 

You shrugged. 

“How the fuck would I not be interested?” He asked. “Jesus Christ, spent half the goddamn afternoon thinkin’ about baseball stats so I wouldn’t get a hard on in your fuckin’ pool. All I am is interested.” 

“Interested in what?” 

“Interested in fucking you until you can’t see straight,” he said. “Interested in makin’ you cum so much the only thing you remember is my goddamn name. Interested in eating your pussy til I drown in ya. Interested in your dad punching me in the fuckin’ face over you because I’m too old for you but I don’t give a shit, bein’ with you is worth it. I’m interested.” 

He stepped closer to you, your back against the door. 

“You should come inside then,” you breathed. 

He kissed you then, pressing his body against yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You could feel him through his jeans, thicker and longer than what you saw in the pool before. You fumbled with the door until it opened, both of you spilling into your parents’ entryway. 

You didn’t make it past the living room. 

Joel slid the straps of your dress down your arms and you pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it to the floor. You backed up until you were against the arm of the couch, his hands ranging over your skin. He pushed the dress lower until it was over your hips and it fell to the floor. You were just in your panties and your shoes when he nudged you down onto the arm of the couch. 

He kissed down your body, over the swell of your breasts and down your stomach until he reached the top of your panties. He guided your hips off the arm of the couch for a moment and slid your underwear down and cast them aside before kneeling in front of you and spreading your legs. 

“Fucking hell you’ve got a pretty pussy,” he reached out and ran his thumb over your slit, pressing down a little when he reached your clit, making your back arch as you moaned. “Can’t wait to taste you, Princess.” 

He ran his tongue over you, delicately pressing the tip into your folds. One of his hands slid up your body to your chest, gently pushing you back until you were lying on the couch as his mouth worked your slit. 

“Fuckin’ perfect view,” he said before thrusting his tongue into you. You groaned, rocking your hips against his face, his nose pressing into your clit as you did. You could see his eyes devouring the rest of you the way his mouth was devouring your pussy, like there was no part of him that could get enough of you. 

His fingers dug into your thighs, spreading you open wider so his tongue could get deeper, your core tightening around him. Just as you were getting close, he slid his tongue from you, making you whimper as he kissed up your slit to your clit. He took the delicate nub into his mouth, licking and sucking as he thrust two fingers into your dripping pussy, making you gasp and your hips stutter. 

“Good girl,” he pulled his mouth away from you just enough to praise you. His fingers pressed deep, hooking into you and finding the spot inside you that made you gasp. “Want you to cum for me baby, don’t be shy now.” 

He went back to sucking, his tongue unrelenting, his eyes drinking you in. Your hand flew to the cushions of the couch and you gasped as you came, moaning his name. 

His mouth stayed on you until your body stopped pulsing, his fingers gently working you through your orgasm. He almost reluctantly pulled himself from you and licked his lips as he stood, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, stripping off the last of his clothes as you came down from your orgasm. He reached out and took your hand, pulling you back upright on the arm of the couch. 

Joel kissed you again and you could taste yourself on his tongue. He guided your legs around his waist and slid his hands below your thighs, picking you up and making you gasp. 

He didn’t take you far, only to the couch. He sat down, making you kneel on his lap as he reached between your legs and started stroking himself, close enough to you that his knuckles brushed your overwrought slit as he did. You looked down between you, the first chance you really had to see his cock. 

Your eyes went a little wide at the sight of it. He was so thick and long with a slight curve, you were almost afraid he wouldn’t fit. 

“Take it at your own pace, Baby,” he said, all but reading your mind. “M’not in a rush.” 

He adjusted his cock a bit, making it so the edge of him rubbed your clit as he worked himself. The contact made you needy, a sharp ache growing in you, a feeling deep inside that you knew you couldn’t reach but he could. 

You rose up on your knees, your hands on his shoulders, and he rubbed his thick head against your slit, your wetness spilling over him as he worked it lower down his shaft, coating himself in you. 

“So fucking wet for me,” he groaned, lining his head up with your entrance. 

“All for you,” you breathed, lowering yourself onto him. 

You moaned at the intrusion as you pressed him into you, a spark of pain with the pleasure as he stretched you. 

“Fuck Baby,” he groaned, his hands going to your hips, guiding you down over him as you sank lower onto him. “Fuck, so tight, so goddamn…” 

You couldn’t help but smile a little, watching him start to lose himself in your body, his head falling back, eyes closing, fingertips sinking into your flesh. Your body opened for him, his cock parting your inner walls and stretching you. You groaned when you finally took all of him, his head pressed flush against your back wall as his hips ground against your own. 

“Good girl,” he gasped it out, his hands traveling up from your hips to your waist. “Knew you could take it all…” 

You started working over him, rising and falling on his cock, working your hips down against your own. His hands slipped up your back as he looked up at you, kissing your neck, your chest, trailing his tongue along the swell of your breasts. 

Joel pressed you close to him before he thrust deep into you and shifted, laying you down below him on the couch and sinking somehow deeper into you, making you moan. 

He started fucking into you harder and faster then, angling your hips so your clit was pressed against him with every stroke. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you groaned, pressing yourself against him, wanting to feel him everywhere you could. “Harder… need more…” 

He groaned. 

“Fucking perfect,” he buried his face in your neck as he started working you harder, faster. “You’re goddamn perfect…” 

It wasn’t long before you were cumming around him, your pussy gripping him so tight it almost hurt to hold him that way. He fucked you through your orgasm, his breathing faster, his kiss sloppy. 

The second your walls stopped fluttering around him, he pulled out of you. He sat back and fisted his cock. 

“Where?” He said quickly. 

“My clit,” you panted. 

“Fucking hell,” he moaned, jerking his cock just twice before pressing the tip against your swollen nub and spilling his warmth over you, making your ultra sensitive pussy shudder again. He collapsed on top of you, his face buried in your neck as you both caught your breath. 

“Please say you’ll visit more,” he said, not moving from on top of you. 

“Think I’ll be visiting a lot more.” 

A/N: So this was my first request and my first one shot! I am NOT good at keeping things brief lol so I appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you for reading! Love ya!

[goodnightmemes]

KNIVES OUT (2019) SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ Anything you need. You’re part of this family. ❜

❛ Kids today, with the internet. It’s amazing. ❜

❛ I read a tweet about a New Yorker article about you. ❜

❛ I’m here at the behest of a client. ❜

❛ You will find me a respectful, quiet, passive observer of the truth. ❜

❛ Are you baiting me? ❜

❛ You think I am dumb enough to be baited into talking family business. ❜

❛ This is not how I wanted to have this conversation. ❜

❛ He’s always been the black sheep of the family. ❜

❛ Are you, goddamn, insane? ❜

❛ You tell her or I will! ❜

❛ I know it’ll hurt, but it’s all for the best. ❜

❛ I expect it’s going to be about something, if not extraordinary, then at least interesting. ❜

❛ Does having a kind heart make you a good nurse? ❜

❛ Just the thought of lying, yeah, it makes me puke. ❜

❛ Have you seen her insta? She’s an influencer. ❜

❛ Can I wait inside? I feel like I shouldn’t be here. ❜

❛ So, somebody suspects foul play. ❜

❛ It makes no damn sense. Compels me though. ❜

❛ I don’t know why we keep going over this. ❜

❛ Physical evidence can tell a clear story with a forked tongue. ❜

❛ Can you just take your goddamn medicine and go to bed? ❜

❛ You really love drama, huh? ❜

❛ Why can’t I beat you at this game? ❜

❛ Such a bad loser you are. ❜

❛ There’s so much of me in that kid. ❜

❛ Playing life like a game without consequence, until you can’t tell the difference between a stage prop and a real knife. ❜

❛ I don’t fear death. ❜

❛ I don’t fear death. But, oh God, I’d like to fix some of this before I go. ❜

❛ Hey. You had a long day. You wanna do drugs? ❜

❛ I messed up. ❜

❛ You know, this is an interesting and efficient method of murder. I need to write this down. ❜

❛ There is no time, you have to listen! ❜

❛ If what you said is true, I’m gone, there’s no saving me. ❜

❛ But you have to do exactly what I tell you. ❜

❛ Will you do this? This last thing. For me. ❜

❛ What do you want me to do? ❜

❛ It sounds crazy, but it will work. ❜

❛ Don’t lie. Tell fragments of the truth. ❜

❛ I keep waiting for the big reveal, where it all makes sense. Wouldn’t that be nice? ❜

❛ Jesus, I’m gonna disappear until the politics talk is done. ❜

❛ Something is afoot with this whole affair. I know it, and I believe you know it too. ❜

❛ I trust your kind heart. ❜

❛ Be it cruel or comforting, this machine unerringly arrives at the truth. ❜

❛ You do as I say and everything will be just fine. ❜

❛ Best judge of character is a dog. ❜

❛ I don’t feel like talking. I’m distraught. ❜

❛ People grieve in different ways. ❜

❛ I don’t know what any of that means. ❜

❛ Now, you heard something. Spill it. ❜

❛ Maybe this might finally make you grow up. ❜

❛ This might be the best thing that could ever happen to you. ❜

❛ Nothing good is ever easy. ❜

❛ Up your ass. ❜

❛ Matter of fact - eat shit, how’s that? ❜

❛ The game is afoot, eh Watson? ❜

❛ Please accept it with grace and without bitterness. But do accept it. ❜

❛ You little bitch! ❜

❛ Did you know about this? Were you in this from the beginning? ❜

❛ Were you boinking my father? ❜

❛ In the meantime I’d maybe run. ❜

❛ I’m not on Twitter anymore. ❜

❛ You look like you’re gonna pass out. Have you eaten anything today? ❜

❛ I know I shouldn’t say this out loud, but when he told me, I… Jesus, I coulda killed him. ❜

❛ You asshole. ❜

❛ Tell me everything. ❜

❛ There is much that remains unclear. ❜

❛ I suspect foul play. ❜

❛ I have eliminated no suspects. ❜

❛ You’ve come this far. Let me help you go all the way. ❜

❛ What’s going on? This isn’t you. ❜

❛ You should do whatever you think is right. ❜

❛ You have to make things right. ❜

❛ I want you to know I’m gonna take care of you. ❜

❛ You lay low for a couple of days. Wait for this investigation to blow over, and it will. ❜

❛ Are we rich? ❜

❛ Why is grief the providence of youth? ❜

❛ I’d imagine that age deepens all feelings. Including grief. ❜

❛ One thing I assume of age is weariness. Damned if I don’t get more tired every day. ❜

❛ I think you have something you wanna tell me. ❜

❛ I don’t like any of this. ❜

❛ What kind of blackmail scheme is this? ❜

❛ You regret helping me yet? ❜

❛ Oh my God. I’m just pure adrenaline right now, I feel like I swallowed bees. ❜

❛ That was the dumbest car chase of all time. ❜

❛ Strange case from the start. ❜

❛ Listen, I don’t know what you want. Whatever it is, we can work it out. ❜

❛ I don’t want any more surprises. ❜

❛ God, you’re not much of a detective, are you? ❜

❛ You make a pretty lousy murderer. ❜

❛ You’re a pack of vultures at the feast. ❜

❛ Is anybody else confused? ❜

❛ I’m so sorry. I told them everything, I figured it was up. I’m sorry. ❜

❛ You shared a love of twisting the knife into one another. ❜

❛ I’m warning you! ❜

❛ You won’t get away with this. ❜

❛ A twisted web. And we are not finished untangling it. Not yet. ❜

❛ This is stoopid with two o’s. ❜

❛ You don’t have a shred of evidence. You’re just spinning a fairy tale. ❜

❛ In for a penny, in for a pound. ❜

❛ I knew you were a no good son of a bitch! ❜

❛ And then you’ll see just how much hell I can wreak on your life. ❜

❛ You vicious little bitch! ❜

❛ What the shit!? ❜

❛ I want you to remember something that’s very important: you won not by playing the game his way, but yours. ❜

❛ You’re a good person. ❜

❛ I have my own opinion. But I have a feeling you’ll follow your heart. ❜

[cleansedhantu]

Ray: Yeah well try this one, and I'll say it just once!

Egon: Go ahead

Ray: Tell you what, we coulda had a good life together! Fuckin' real good life! Had us a place of our own. But you didn't want it, Egon! So what we got now is NEW YORK CITY! Everything's built on that! That's all we got, boy, fuckin' all! So I hope you know that, if you never know the rest! You count the damn few times we have been together in nearly twenty years and you measure the short fucking leash you keep me on - and then you ask me about Mexico and tell me you'll kill me for needing somethin' I don't hardly never get! You have no idea how bad it gets! I'm not you, I can't make it on a coupla high-altitude fucks once or twice a year! You are too much for me Egon, you sonofawhoreson bitch! I wish I knew how to quit you.

Idk I got bored and I thought of this

[interviewwiththewerepire]

Tell you what, we coulda had a good eternal life together! Fuckin’ real good life! Had us a place of our own in Buenos Aires. But you didn’t want it, Louis! So what we got now is Rue Royal! Everything’s built on that! That’s all we got, boy, fuckin’ all. So I hope you know that, even if you don’t never know the rest! You count the damn few times we have been happy together in nearly forty years and you measure the short fucking leash you keep me on – and then you ask me about Antoinette and tell me you’ll kill me for needing somethin’ I don’t hardly never get. You have no idea how bad it gets! I’m not you… I can’t make it on a coupla below-sea level fucks once or twice a year! You are too much for me Louis, you sonofawhoreson bitch! I wish I knew how to quit you.

[alexblakeisgay]

Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda

Ship: Elle Greenaway/Jennifer Jareau

Summary: Maybe it was a good idea, maybe it wasn't. That was something they could decide tomorrow. For tonight, there was just them and the sexual tension that had been building for months...

Word Count: 647

Author's Note: This fills the Masturbation square on my @cmkinkbingo2024 card.

It wasn’t something either of them had planned.

Borne, perhaps, of too much stress and too many nights in close proximity, one thing had turned into another and before either of them knew what was happening, they were kissing...

“Should we be doing this?” JJ asked breathlessly between kisses.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Elle said, biting her way down the column of JJ’s throat. “It’s just sex.”

“Just sex,” JJ repeated, paused to whimper as Elle’s teeth grazed a particularly sensitive spot.

Elle laughed. “You liked that, huh?” She nodded eagerly, causing her to laugh once again. “You’re a needy girl, aren’t you?” When she nodded, Elle clicked her tongue scoldingly. “Ah-ah, I want to hear you...”

“Yes,” she gasped.

“Good girl,” Elle praised and JJ quite literally keened. “Oh, I’m going to have fun with you...” she purred, grabbing JJ’s hips and pulling her down onto her thigh. “Are you wet for me, Angel?” She returned to her task of marking up JJ’s neck with teethmarks and hickies.

She whined, nodded, then bucked her hips sharply as Elle’s fingers brushed against her centre through her panties.

Humming a pleased note at finding her so wet, Elle smirked, “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already soaked... If I’d known it was going to be so easy, I would have done this a long time ago.” (JJ laughed a little, but she had no doubt that Elle was telling the truth...)

This was the first time she’d ever done anything like this – the first time she’d had no-strings-attached sex in cheap motel room paid for by the government with someone she worked with, someone she’d known all of a few months. (Maybe she’d regret it in the morning, but that was tomorrow’s problem...)

“Are you gonna be a good girl?” Elle asked, watching with amusement as she squirmed desperately. When JJ nodded eagerly, Elle chuckled. “You want me to make you cum?” She nodded a second time. “Show me how bad you want it.”

JJ didn’t need to be told twice. She straddled Elle’s thigh and began grinding down on it.

Elle chuckled. “God, you’re needy,” she scoffed, leaning back to watch her desperately chase her climax against her thigh. “Such a little slut – rutting against my thigh like a bitch in heat...”

“Yes,” she said on a gasp, “Elle, please... I need more...”

“More, huh?” she taunted. “You want more? Show me.” JJ suddenly seemed shy in the face of Elle’s dominance. “Go on...” Elle prompted again, “Show me how you want me to touch you.” She nudged JJ’s shoulder, prompting her to lie back and, when she tried to close her legs, Elle forced them back open.

JJ was extremely aware that from this position her cunt was on full display and she felt her cheeks heating up with embarrassment – she definitely hadn’t done this before: masturbating in front of anyone else...but she also really wanted to cum and if this is how she’d get Elle to touch her, she’d absolutely do as asked.

Timid at first, then growing slowly bolder, her fingers found her clit and began rubbing slow circles on it. Then, slipping her fingers down to her soaked centre, she dipped her fingers in to coat them with her juices before returning to her clit.

“I bet that feels so good, huh?” Elle simpered, “A horny little slut like you wants her clit played with?”

“Mm-hmm,” she whined, head tossing back, arching up off the bed.

“You want more?” Elle taunted, settling between her legs and blowing a cool stream of air on her overheated cunt. “You want me to touch you?”

She could feel her pussy clench at the stimulation. “I want more,” she begged, “Please please touch me... I need it! Please!”

With a chuckle, Elle finally gave her what she wanted, pushing her hands aside and diving in.