#i do have a lot of bones and teeth.
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Chuuya will not remember. Dazai will.
#fanart#artist on tumblr#bsd#bungou stray dogs#ćăšă#dazai osamu#nakahara chuuya#soukoku#skk#double black#I have a lot of wips to do but also school projects#I will survive by the power of the gays get my degree on art & we gucci#I need more fics of them being idiots & mutual pinning with denial yk#I should also open commissions too so i can buy a tablet to carry around & draw.#For now im giving y'all this while i walk out my cave. Bone apple teeth.
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while teen while goblin while aroace while injured while doing your best
#fantasy high junior year#fhjy#riz gukgak#figueroth faeth#sklonda gukgak#dimension 20#this. mmmmhhh this is so. I did Not know how to draw this really.#I am very normal about riz (<- lying)#it's a brennan-dm d20 campaign the bad guy is always capitalism (I am saying this with clenched teeth)#riz out of all of them being aroace fucks with me SO bad. bc its also established that elmsville specifically and probably the#majority of solace is not. made for goblins. and that becomes sklonda being worked to the bone and pok dying on the job#and riz spending all his time trying to keep his friends together. maybe to the point of it being injurous#like. do u get what I mean. its an economy of time it takes your time it eats up your time#not just the gukgaks but everyone you have to spend time to get to live and you don't have a lot of time left in a day#and you have to spend it carefully. you have to prioritize#you're somewhere without an established community and companionship is bought with your time spent working#this place doesn't take care of you. at the end of the day who do you have who'd prioritize you. do you understand me#the evolved aroace loathing where if your friends and family are granted more time nobody would have to choose. we live in a society#holds ur hand we live in a society. idk if Im making any sense#anyway . uhhh riz is my favourite that's my statement thank you for listening. au revoir
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So there was a post a while back about Ben Solo always being told "don't do (x), that's how uncle luke lost his hand" when he was a kid - and I raise you: Elrond and Elros being told "don't do (x), that's how Maedhros lost his hand"??
Like, at Amon Ereb when the twins were newly acquired and refusing to eat their vegetables and Maglor is Mag-mothering them until Erestor, feral half-sane clinically depressed anarchist Avari hostage/patient/infiltrator and Certified Little Shit, hits em with:
"I would listen to the Lord Maglor, winyamor, he well knows the dangers that come to young elflings who don't eat enough vegetables - after all, that's how his brother lost his hand."
Elrond looks conflicted. Elros squints suspiciously. "Truly?"
Erestor, practically comatose since the massacre but ultimately saved from Fading by the biological compulsion to fuck with you, lays a hand over his heart. "I would never lie about such a thing! Just what do you take me for? This is a true tale and a grave warning - the Lord Maedhros' hand was tragically lost in the days of his youth, whilst he was still growing as you are. He refused to eat his vegetables and so, cruelly deprived of the strength it needed to grow strong, his body started to fall apart! First his fingers, then his thumb, and then his palm and wrist - all turned blue and dropped off!"
"No!" Elrond gasps. Elros looks both terrified and impressed. Maglor's face is scrunched up into something that the twins probably interpret as pained - at reminder of the horrors of limbs falling off! - but is actually just him busting a rib trying not to laugh.
"Yes!" Erestor cries with relish. "And it never grew back. All because he didn't eat his vegetables. Isn't that right, Lord Maedhros?"
Maedhros, a looming terror at the head of the table, scarred and solemn and impenetrable as his fortresses, narrows his eyes consideringly at the unfolding shenanigans and the rascal behind it. His conclusion? Fuck it. He gives a slow, solemn nod. Completely deadpan and exaggeratedly formal, because it may have been centuries since he last had his brothers smothering laughter at political dinners but the FinwĂŤan sense of humour, once caught, is not an ailment easily cured.
Maglor conceals his wheezes behind his goblet as Erestor nods sagely to the wide-eyed twins, who suddenly seem a sight more interested in their vegetables.
#it helps that maedhros also has a metric fuck ton of scars so he can make up so much shit#know how i lost my eye? didnt go to bed on time and it shrivelled up#why do i have to wear a shoulder brace sometimes? didn't practice my letters and the bones all fell apart#where'd my fingernails go? didnt wash my hands before eating and they ran away#why is my back all stripy with criss-cross lines? didnt use my cutlery and they attacked me#why are some of my teeth metal? cause i didnt clean em properly for two minutes with mint ointment and i accidentally ate them in my sleep#whys there grey bits in my hair? didnt bathe after running around in the woods and the cobwebs got stuck and never came out#what happened to my ears? ducked underneath a horse and it spooked and bit them off so never ever do that again elros its very dangerous ok#i dont care your ears are smaller because youre peredhel elros the horse will get you#whys my hair so short? didnt comb it so it was stolen by orcs now hand me the brush and get over here elrond your head's a birdnest#for all that the kid's questions sometimes make maedhros a lil uncomfortable its actually really healing for him#sure sauron whipped him until his spine broke but now he uses those marks to get his kids to eat with cutlery like civilised people#and he cut his hair in a depressive spiral after fingon died but his kids think it was so tangled the orcs stole it to make scruffy orc wig#and his shoulders fucked from hanging on thangondrim for decades but if you kids dont sit down and do your lessons then so help me -#his beloved fingon always kissed his scars when he was allowed but it was witty irreverent half insane erestor who helped him laugh at them#i kind of ship it in a 'secret third thing' kinda way u feel me? not sex not friends but they bring a lot out of eachother its weird#erestor#maedhros#kidnap fam#elrond and elros#maglor#there is a fic that goes with this who wants it
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the reason teeth decay and bones do not is because teeth are literally not bones and do not act like them
#a broken bone if set will heal because the bone contains cells that build it back up#and blood vessels to provide energy and oxygen for that process#a dislodged tooth MAY be able to be set back in and heal but a chipped or broken tooth will never regrow#tho calcium is an important component of both they are structured very differently#and behave differently as a result. like. you don't lose bones and grow all new ones#you do with teeth. and they have to do this bc unlike bones teeth CANNOT grow larger#it's surprising how common this misconception is on here! maybe it's my wwx bias#I MEAN BIOLOGY BIAS đ thinking abt myu agaib#but like if you think about it they only thing they have in common is that they're white and hard and have calcium#people have argued this with me before. idk what to say it's simply not true anatomically#its like arguing a rabbit is a rodent <- lots of personal history w this one#it's easy to look up and see it's simply not true#cor.txt
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actual adults always say im so mature for my age and that im well adjusted and put together but thats just cuz i square my shoulders when i speak and know how to pay off my credit card. i never learned how to wash my face and i routinely have to be reminded to shower and i dont know how to talk to people my own age or how to dress myself in anything except a t shirt and jeans or eat anything except frozen meals and fast food and im too scared to go to the store by myself because what if i do it wrong and then i get yelled at and i just feel generally unprepared to be a part of the real world
#shush up jj#personal#realized recently that although i was given a lot of freedom as a child i was not given much guidance#so i know how to handle myself in fucked up situations#(crashed my bike and cut my shin down to the bone and patched it up with my skirt and rode home cuz i didnt have a phone)#but in every day situations? no clue.#i didnt brush my teeth ages 6-17 cuz nobody showed me how to do it myself after my mom stopped doing it for me#in high school i got in trouble for not washing my hair properly even though id been getting in the shower and getting it wet and soapy!#how was i supposed to know about washing the scalp!! nobody told me!#and so now im having to learn all this stuff in my 20s?? i have to learn to behave socially as a young adult AND i have to learn hygiene??#that most of my peers learned as Literal Children?? tell me how thats fair
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i feel sad about not belonging anywhere and being small/invisible and like.. idk who i am
i feel really regretful of my life but idk what to do or how to change anything
or i mean i know what i need to do but i feel like i cant or im too scared .. and lately ive been frustrated with myself bc ive been experiencing that "trapped inside my head" feeling really intensely where idk how to speak to articulate thoughts and it feels painful
#ive been thinking a lot about getting a job i want a job so so so so bad but im so fuckig scared i seriously cant even describe how afraid#i feel like my social anxiety has gotten so bad over the past several years to the point that its unrecoverable ajd i need to#kill myself#i feel that way about everything wrong with me#ive just been stagnant for too long and its festered to a point of no returning#and like the worst thing about this is feeling like im on a time limit bc i need dental implants.#ive been wearing dentures for like 5 years now and already experienced a lot of bone loss in my face#i have to get dental implants for too much time passes without teeth but i need a lot of money for that i and i need to get a job to hav mo#ney but i cant get ajob because im too scared and incompetent#dude i want to kill myself so bad its unreal but i wont bc i couldnt do that to my mom#and i want to live.. because i like looking at beautiful things and listening to music and#talking to myself and imagining things#idk i wish i could cry or something but cant cry about anything
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i should probably get that checked
#i don't like explaining my art because like you should form your own opinions and stuff but this one is literally about my dental problems#that i am having right now as well as generally throughout my life#i have weak teeth (and bones) (that's why i can't get lip piercings though i really want to)#i had a really good dentist that i frequented before moving to a different city and it would be very difficult to see him now#and he has all my history like where i had nerves removed and all that and there's a lot and i don't remember all of it#and recently i got a gum infection#and i hoped it would go away on its own (based on nothing)#because i don't take care of myself until i have choice#maybe it wouldn't have gotten so bad if i saw a dentist sooner who knows#so in the end i did see a new dentist and i was like it doesn't hurt that much it's probably not that bad#and she was like no this is actually very bad and it will take a lot of time and money to fix#i was kinda saving up for a new laptop but like that's not time sensitive unlike my teeth. i need those to eat#ive never been afraid of dentists as a kid but now their prices do fill me with dread#traditional art#my art#body horror#ink drawing
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Thrilled that my genes have caught up to me and I am now officially at risk of early onset artheritis rather than just potentially susceptible to it, so every fine motor task (including and especially writing) now has to be done with these compression glove thingys on đ¤Ąđ¤Ą
I am officially an old man now âđť
#max rambles a lot#kind of annoyed about it tbh#i was doing so well gene pool wise#didn't get the bad teeth gene#got high bone density which is why i've never broken a bone#there is my trick knee but idk i think that's mainly a weight thing#and bad eyesight ig but that was a given because both sides of the fam have glasses#but yeah i've been getting a lot of pain in my hands and wrists#specifically in the joints and things so i went to the doctor and bing bang bosh she's worried i might be developing artheritis#so time to wear compression gloves to try and stall the development of it âđť
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As a death expert, what do you find the most practical way to dismember a body?
If ya want quick and dirty, go for the chainsaw, nothin better ⤴ď¸
If you're looking for precision and (a reasonable amount of) grace, pick up that autopsy saw ⤾ď¸
You *could* use a hatchet or a manual saw, but get ready to SWEAT
#ask#death#disclaimer d.......... actually no disclaimer i fully endorse this#what you do with this information is your business#kiss kiss <3 sparkle on <33#I've cut thru ribs and skulls with that autopsy saw#it's not hard like you don't have to use a lot of pressure#and if you've ever had your teeth drilled#like for a root canal#you know what cutting thru bone smells like
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MOVING THIS TO RBS bc i have my laptop and can actually give a longer response now. >:]. And man where do I start. Mmmmmm.
When Danny finds out he's a clone is v v important to me because in clone^2 he acquires Lil Damian after finding out he's Bruce Wayne's clone (rather than Batman's) and it offers a lot of weight and introspection to their relationship, but I also want to follow your post's canon. MMMM. I'm putting a pin in it for now bc im running circles around in my own head, and deciding for now that Danny knew he was a clone before he and Kon started dating, and waited to tell him because being a clone is very personal to him, and it's not something he tells just anyone. Only his close circle of friends and family know he's a clone, so him telling Kon was a huge show of trust and vulnerability.
Also, for no other reason than I think it's hysterical, but when Kon tells Tim about his boyfriend being Batman's clone, he has no idea about Damian. He knows Danny has a little brother he adores, but they've never met and Damian isn't really that rare of a name.
That's because Danny's pretty secure (most of the time) in the knowledge that nobody will piece together that he's a clone regardless of if he knows he's Bruce's/Batman's clone, since A (if he knows he's Bruce's clone): the current general public know Bruce Wayne as a he is currently; a well-dressed man in his late thirties-early forties with a Captain America build (among other things), and Danny is a 17-18-ish year old boy with a sleeper build and long hair and a preferred fashion of "baggy alternative that forces people of all kind to question their sexuality"
(Genderfluid danny for the WIN)
and B (if he knows he's Batman's clone): nobody knows what tf Batman looks like.
Baby Dames is a whole other story, since Damian Wayne is in the public eye quite often, Danny thinks Dames is at a bigger risk of getting recognized despite being significantly younger than his template. Which means he's a bit more protective/wary about introducing him to people, although they've been lucky so far.
Danny introduces Kon to Damian about a week or so after telling him about being a clone, Kon's positive reaction to the reveal gave Danny the confidence and security to introduce him to Damian. He doesn't outright state Damian is also a clone, but Kon connects the dots instantly upon meeting him, but is smart enough to keep mum about it.
ALSO, to switch gears again, I love the implication here (to me at least) that Tim knows about Danny, but hasn't quite met him yet. I think he'd clock Danny being a clone pretty quickly (not instantly, but quickly) due to the sheer amount of research/stalking he went into with Bruce. Iirc he even knew what kind of paintings he liked, so I think he'd definitely (even if its eventually) recognize a younger Bruce Wayne in Danny.
Like, oh, yeah, his best friend is dating some guy from the Midwest and Kon's probably told him everything under the sun about Danny -- like how he does this cute little grunt when you catch his attention, and that he has a habit of chewing on the end of his pen or thumb nail when he's lost in thought, and he scrunches up his brows sometimes when he's confused, and he has a smile that could light up a whole room, and eyes as bright as glaciers, and -- and it's to the point that Tim probably knows everything about the guy and they've never even met.
He doesn't even bother looking him up, because damn, he already knows what Danny looks like just from Kon's description alone. The one time he decides not to be an obsessive little freak and it comes around to bite him in the ass, because Danny is apparently a clone of Bruce. He finally goes and looks him up and goddamn, the similarities are right there. He even has Bruce's goofy-ass bat-wing shaped eyebrows.
How did this go under the radar for so long.
AND -- because the ADHD is hitting and i'm hopping topics like a mallet in whack-a-mole -- the meetcute. Obsessed with thinking about how Kon and Danny met, and imo the only appropriate (/j) way is that it was as mutually civilians. Except I wanna explore the concept, so instead of it being a coffeeshop meetcute, it's something else.
Danny is in Metropolis with his family for something and was exploring the city during the rare few moments he's alone, and it's very important to me and only me to mention that he's been having a rough go of it lately. Just the new-usual and monthly identity crisis, so he's gone and stuck more holes in his ears. With the added bonus of a brand spanking new eyebrow piercing and lip piercing. If he doesn't like it, he can just take them out and let them heal.
Anyways, he's standing at a stoplight and waiting for the crosswalk to go, Kon was standing next to him and they were relatively ignoring each other. They're standing at a corner with relatively low traffic, and the crosswalk lights up. What happens is that Kon is walking somewhat in front of Danny, when a car comes veering around the corner. It's going fast enough that it would've most certainly hit Kon, if he weren't half-kryptonian.
And also if it weren't for the fact that Danny is faster. Before Kon can dive out of the way of the oncoming speeder, an arm snakes around his waist and he's yanked back and onto the ground. Seconds later, the car whizzes past, a hairsbreadth away from Kon's feet.
"Shit." He says without thinking, slack-jawed and shocked for multiple reasons, and he continues to not think as he tacks on; "Good reflexes."
He turns to look at his supposed savior, and sees a boy with long, dark lashes and even longer hair, pretty blue eyes, and propping himself up on his elbow. The boy gives him a sarcastic smile, "Thanks," he says, "made them myself. You alright?"
"Just peachy." Kon manages to get out, and watches the boy unwrap his arm from around his waist and get up, and then thinks to get up himself.
"You'd think that guy was being chased by the Bat himself." The boy quips dryly, brushing himself off. "He's in the wrong city for that, Gotham is the next storm cloud over."
Kon snorts, and somehow manages to get the pretty boy's name and number, offering to show him the best places in Metropolis as repayment for "saving" him. The rest is history. They start out friends, and only start dating half a year later. Kon was visiting Metropolis to visit Clark and Lois, and heads back to Smallville after he's done -- which is fortunate. Because it's about five hours closer to Illinois than Metropolis, which makes popping by Amity Park to see Danny occasionally just a liitttle bit easier.
Over 900 prompt
Okay I love the Danny is a clone of Batman aus but I've never seen this done.
Danny and Kon dating and Then Danny learning his parents cloned Batman thinking he is a ghost only to find out he isn't and kept Danny as their kid.
Just think of the hilarious reactions
Caue this immediately popped into my head.
Kon: *muffled screaming into Tim's couch*
Tim: ....you good?
Kon: danny is the clone of Batman
Tim: ...
Kon: I'm the clone of Superman
Tim:...
Kon: AND WE ARE DATING!
#clone danny#danny is a clone#picture i have of danny in my head is very chill skater boy essentially. slouched in his arm chair in clothes he picked off from the ground#bc he hasnt had time to do laundry lately from all the ghosts. and he still looks incredible bc ofc he does. his hair is two days unwashed#and fluffy from being recently pulled back. he has bags the size of the marianna trench under his eyes and a lazy drawl. he's on video call#with kon and it's like 11 pm CST. Danny's finally figured out the locking controls on the portal door and has done just that for the rest o#the night. so he's talking to Kon and Kon's living for it because sleepy Danny is best Danny. when he has his lip piercing he forms a habit#of tilting it with his teeth or tongue when he's listening. Kon finds it very distracting. he's going to jump his bones mark his words#genderfluid danny FTW btw. he has simply stopped Giving A Fuck about gender ever since he died.#watch him rock up in shiny pink lipgloss and baggy untucked shirts and dirty converse and mascara that makes his eyes pop.#prefers dressing masculine but has no qualms about dressing femininely and mixing the two styles. he uses motor oil** for his hair and it#always has the best volume and shine. **those thirteen-in-one shampoo-conditioner bottles in the men's aisle. he's boyish and its charming#anyways don't let starry write romance she goes nuts over the little working parts and cogs. i love writing romantic tension.#the moment sam convinces him to wear a corset its over for everyone. he's gonna kill em by sheer looks alone. rip to kon LOL#wanted to focus more on kon and danny's romance but i got sidetracked and if this convo continues i'll try and get into it more#a whole lot of rambling in this one folks
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I put so many of my own traits into my drawings and I think it's interesting? Maybe?
#I almost always add pretty visible scars because I'm heavily scarred. I draw Rodya with the nose I do because I have that sort of nose and I#don't like it (But I like it when I draw it on people.) I never draw people with white teeth they're always yellow or at least#have yellowing. I tend to accentuate the appearance of bones on thinner characters because mine show a lot due to. Being fucking anorexic#for 7 yearsekdkfndjdndjf#âŞď¸
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ok. bllk and jealousy rate. how jealous can they get over their gf and what do they do to cope lmao
HOW JEALOUS IS HE? â [BLUE LOCK]
characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, kunigami rensuke, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, oliver aiku content: gn! reader (request says gf but reader is gender neutral) notes: some of these are lowkey toxic, minor spoilers for kunigamiâs character arc, nagi is taller than reader
most jealous: bachira, rin, reoÂ
bachira meguru âś
bachira has many, many insecurities. growing up isolated and without many friends, he is more possessive of those heâs close to, which obviously includes you. he just doesnât want to lose you, which manifests itself in jealousy over anyone he perceives as a threat to your relationship
bachira gets really clingy when heâs jealous. he thinks that inserting himself into the situation, sometimes literally wedging himself between you and the other person. he usually chooses to drape himself over you, nuzzling into your neck and speaking low enough that only you hear, trying his best to divert your attention. third-wheeling is pretty uncomfortable for the other person, especially with the smiling sneer bachiraâs shooting at them, so they make a quick irish exitÂ
itoshi rin âś
an egoist to his very core, rin can get very jealous. while heâs very sure of himself in nearly every other part of his life, he knows that he is not an ideal partner a lot of the time, though heâll never admit it. heâs not the most expressive or the most patient, and heâs sure that there are better partners for you out there.Â
when rinâs jealous, itâs a silent but deadly thing. like when heâs locked in on the ball in a game, his focus you and his âcompetitorâ is unwavering. he stalks over to stand behind you, his chest bumping right up against your back, and he snarls, âwhat the hell do you want, you mediocrity?â usually the other person backs off after seeing rinâs bone-chilling glare but if theyâre bold enough to answer back, rin bares his teeth and is poised to strike. itâs probably best if you diffuse the situation quickly before it gets uglier Â
mikage reo âś
we already know how jealous reo was over nagi so itâs safe to say that heâs definitely very jealous. having been bored with the world and other people for so long, heâs thrilled when you two get together. it makes his very protective of you and he wants to be one of the most, if not the most, special person in your life.Â
reo can go a couple of ways when he feels jealous over someone else but it think his primary response is to tear down the person methodically. he tilts his head a little, looks the person up and down, and notes everything about their appearance â hair, skin, clothes (including brand and cost) and criticizes every little thing. itâs a strategic move in his opinion, using observational skills and knowledge he had given his upbringing to pick apart the other person. he also might make some underhanded comment that includes that he has a black cardÂ
less jealous: isagi, kunigami, saeÂ
isagi yoichi âś
he definitely gets jealous from time to time but he doesnât feel the need to act on it a lot. heâs pretty mature and for the most part level-headed (plus his ability to piece together future events helps him keep his cool a lot). this doesnât mean that he isnât jealousÂ
when isagi is jealous, heâs sulky. he wonât take immediate action and watch from afar, arms crossed and a little pouty. he tries to look as dejected and as âwet-cat patheticâ as possible to make you feel bad and come over to comfort him. when you inevitably do, looping your arm through his and kissing his cheek, he canât help but smirk at the other person like a cat who go the creamÂ
kunigami rensuke âś
i debated where to put kunigami since there are âtwo sidesâ to him â pre- and post-wildcard. pre-wild card kunigami is definitely a lot less bothered; he trusts you 100% and is 100% confident and secure in your relationship and himself. post-wild card kunigami is less chill and more forceful. heâs not a hero anymore but even as he plays a more âvillainousâ role in soccer, he wonât cross that line in your relationship. heâs still very secure in you and himself, but heâs more protective of your relationship. definitely a âi trust you/us but itâs other people iâm worried aboutâ kind of guy
when pre-wild card kunigami got jealous, he wonât act in the moment and will talk to you about it afterwards, in a private setting. open lines of communication were important to him and working out problems like this. post-wildcard kunigami is all stormy looks and intimidation. like rin, he also stands behind you but in less actively aggressive way and more just to be threatening. itâs 95% effective and the 5% of times it doesnât work, kunigami is not above muscling the other person awayÂ
itoshi sae âś
i thought about putting sae in the âmost jealousâ section but i just think that he is someone whose jealousy simmer just beneath his apathetic surface. he sees most other people as beneath him and believes that they are not worthy of speaking to you, let alone hitting on you, but because heâs sees them as so beneath him, he canât be bothered half the time to do anything since theyâre simply not worth it. he gets the most jealous when itâs people who he can potentially view as equals, like other professional athletesÂ
when heâs jealous, sae literally just pretends they donât exist, only talking to you. if the other person tries to interject, he sends them a sideways glare â the only acknowledgment of their existence â and then turns away to continue whatever conversation, suggesting that you both get away from the other person as quickly as possible. if ignoring the person doesnât work, sae doesnât shy away from spewing vitriol at the other person
least jealous: nagi, oliver, michael
nagi seishiro âś
simply put, being jealous is a hassle to nagi. it makes him too hot and too annoyed for him to want to feel it so he suppresses the feeling a lot. nagiâs height is already intimidating enough for most people so they donât approach you when they see you two together but that isnât a deterrent to everyone
when nagi gets jealous, he does one of two things: just gives a thousand-yard stare that freaks people out or he gets whiny and clingy. his stare is eerie and silent, and the lightness of his eyes doesnât help it. he towers over you like some cryptid companion. when he gets whiny and clingy, nagi tugs at your sleeve and asks drily, âcan we go yet? why are you still talking to them?â
oliver aiku âś
sigh⌠oliver is undoubtedly someone who thinks and knows heâs the shit. with so many women and men alike fawning over everything about him, his ego is through the roof. he has very little worry about you leaving him for someone else. honestly, he finds it amusing most of the time when someone attempt to draw you away from him, and letâs it play out a lot for his own entertainment. of course, heâll intervene if itâs making you uncomfortable but he also believes you can handle yourselfÂ
when oliver gets jealous, he acts as casual as possible. heâs friendly towards the other person and but itâs not hard to uncover that itâs all fake, whether itâs from the glint in his eye or the way his smile is stiff and forced. common tells when he gets jealous is that he pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek or he clenches his teeth and inhales softly but sharply. he employs the good old tactic of calling the other person the wrong name and making all kind of underhanded comments that slowly chip at their nerves. (âharuya? haruki? oh! youâre haruto! right, right, you know, theyâve never mentioned you before! crazy, huh?â)Â
michael kaiser âś
kaiser in german literally means âemperor,â and itâs no secret that kaiser views himself as one. similar to sae, he see himself as so above others that heâs not even bothered by other people hitting on you. it displeases him greatly, sure, but these cockroaches will never be able to steal you from him so why should an emperor deal with the plebians? the only time that ever happens is when a peasant is particularly forceful and then, kaiser intervenes
when he gets jealous, kaiser puts on a show. if thereâs one thing about him, heâs a bit of a drama queen. he will absolutely posture and puff out his chest at the offending person, looking down his nose arrogantly and smirking. he makes a big display of wrapping himself around you, gripping firmly at your hips and saying, âliebling, youâre very charitable to entertain this insect, but itâs time to end this ruse.â
#.đĽ Ý Ë kaiijo writes#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#bachira meguru x reader#itoshi rin x reader#mikage reo x reader#bachira x reader#itoshi x reader#rin x reader#reo x reader#isagi yoichi x reader#isagi x reader#kunigami rensuke x reader#kunigami x reader#itoshi sae x reader#sae x reader#nagi seishiro x reader#nagi x reader#oliver aiku x reader#aiku x reader#michael kaiser x reader#kaiser x reader#blue lock headcanons#blue lock scenarios#blue lock imagines
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pairing: werewolf! mingi x hunter! reader (fem)
genre: fluff, romance, smut
summary: you seemingly end up biting off more than you can chew upon discovering that the beast you hunted down for dinner is not what it seems.
w.c: 4.5k (more plot than smut this time hehe)
warnings: needy soft dom! mingi, sub! reader, pet names + praise only (shocking ik), pheromones mentioned, possessiveness, kissing, groping, tit play, spit + drool bc wolf mingi is a messy boy <3, mingi eats out reader like sheâs his last meal đŤśđź, SIZE KINK,,, feral unprotected sex, knotting <333, bulge kink/cum inflation, breeding kink ofc
a/n: ITâS FICTOBER TIME BITCH LETS FUCKING GOOO đŁď¸ i am fashionably late ~ but i have come here to humbly offer you lovestruck werewolf mingi đş <3 this is the softest my fictober stories will get btw lol itâs gonna be depravity from here on out ^^ oh and iâm sorry if this fic seems disjointed in any way,, i have a lot on my mind these days but regardless i hope you enjoy ~~
pssst: thank you so, so much for 5.5k followers !! itâs honestly insane to me and i still canât fathom it hehe but the support and love means so very much to me <333
song rec: say - keshi
fictober 2024
You knew better than to hunt at night, but your rumbling stomach begged to differ. The evening air was frigid, sitting heavily inside your lungs each time you regrettably breathed it in, your hefty pelt only doing so much to keep you safe from the powerful winds that continually blew through the vast forest around you. You pulled the hood of your pelt down for a moment, the familiar sounds of wildlife finally making their way to your now exposed ears, though a freezing breeze made its mark on the soft flesh of your rosy cheeks and nose. You bit into your chapped bottom lip, surveying your surroundings for something youâd be able to feast on once you were back inside the safety of your cabin, thanking the gods for the decent visibility you had from the full moon above.Â
The longer you sat there in silence, your body never growing acclimated to the fierce winter temperatures, you began to fall susceptible to exhaustion, the kind that had sunk its way deep into your bones in the same way your loneliness had for years at a time, feeling so heavy you retired from your once rigid stance and slumped down against the oak tree behind you. A few winks of sleep couldnât possibly hurt you, not when you were quick to rise and fight if need be, your trusty bow and arrow at your side, as well as a pocket knife always sitting in its holster at your hip. You would be up as soon as you had the strength to open up your eyes and go on.Â
You eventually woke up to the sound of howling. It had been so distinctly powerful that it was most likely produced by a large wolf, perhaps the leader of a pack. It was then that the culprit of the noise stalked past a few nearby trees and bushes, its dark shaggy coat leaving it virtually impossible to see due to the way it blended in so seamlessly. Leaving abnormally big paw prints behind in the ground below, it slowly paced back and forth in front of you, still quite a distance away from you, but getting closer and closer with each step it made, its large brown eyes piercing right through yours and seemingly gazing upon your soul, deeply fixated on your presence.Â
It was much larger than any wolf you had seen in your entire lifetime, more akin to a dire wolf, which you had only seen in books, as it had been extinct for hundreds of years before, yet it wasâŚso familiar. Still trapped inside the limbo of the dream you were initially having and your reality, you werenât completely sure if what was happening before you was actually real. Not only that, but you had the sudden urge to be at the mercy of the wolf, even if it meant that youâd end up with your throat between the beautiful creatureâs ragged teeth. However, you werenât going to roll the dice with death, not when youâve seen past loved ones get their lives snuffed out by a predator half the size of the one that was suddenly eagerly making its way towards you.Â
Just before the wolf could reach you, your bow was drawn, the feathered arrow slicing into the cold skin of your cheek as it sailed through the air and lodged itself into the creatureâs shoulder, your eyes shut tight all the while. What you expected to hear were the familiar pained whines of a canine but you instead were exposed to the lower pitched groans of a man, causing you to freeze, your eyes opening back up, now widened like marbles. The last thing you were expecting to see was another human, not when you lived alone in the woods for so long, and especially not a man that was stark naked and cowering in pain, with tears in his glistening eyes, looking at you as though you had betrayed him.Â
You dropped your bow in favor of being at the strange manâs side, surveying his wound, realizing you were so exhausted and hungry, you mustâve simply imagined the wolf. âI-i thoughtâŚâ you whispered, mostly to yourself, your voice trailing off, almost surprised to hear it after not using it for so long.
âIs that your way of saying hello?â The man hissed in pain when you touched the site of his wound, pushing your hand away from the broken shard of wood that was still lodged inside his bare shoulder.Â
âI thought you wereâŚgoing to kill meâŚâ You reached down and tore off a portion of your thick linen blouse, about to wrap it around the manâs wound when you blocked you with his forearm. âI saw a wolfâŚâÂ
âDo I look like a wolf?â he pouted, reaching over to hold his shoulder in pain.Â
âIâm sorry, IââŚPlease, let me help you. I need to apply pressure,â you reasoned, your face contorted with growing regret and concern.Â
Studying your body language, the man cautiously let go of his arm and allowed you to wrap the torn linen around the wound site, biting into his lip all the while, letting out a few pained grunts. âHurtsâŚâÂ
âI know, Iâm almost done, I promiseâŚâ you whispered softly near him, taking a second to share a look with the man, apologizing once again with your softened gaze and upturned brows.Â
Once you were done, he leaned forward slightly into your personal space to study you, his eyes widened once again, this time with curiosity and admiration, already trusting you despite remnants of your arrow still left inside him.Â
You bit into your lip, letting out a small breath, which turned into condensation as soon as it left your mouth. âI didnât think anyone else lived in this forestâŚWhere did you come from?â
Afraid that you would find his true identity to be far too much for you to handle, he thought it would be better to hide it. âSome would call me a nomadâŚIâm here, there, everywhere, really.âÂ
You nodded at his words, noticing once again that he lacked clothes when you were finally able to pull your attention away from his hypnotizing likeness, never having been drawn to someone like this before. It was then that you averted your eyes with diligence, your once cold cheeks growing warmer the more he stared at you. It took all your strength to return his gaze for just a moment. âDo nomads usually wander around the woods without proper clothing?âÂ
âWellââ The werewolfâs vision went dark for a second, as your pelt was thrown onto him. He pulled it down just enough to continue admiring the human he had been watching from a distance for so long, blowing a few strands of dark shaggy hair out of his sight. âIâm Mingi, by the way. Whatâs your name?âÂ
âY-Y/N,â you answered sheepishly, not sure why the strange man was so keenly interested in you, especially after you just shot him with an arrow.Â
âY/N,â he repeated lovingly, enjoying the way it sounded, slowly sitting up until little white dots began to dance around his vision. âI donât feel so good.â When Mingi fell forward into your arms, he couldnât help but smile. You smelled so pretty, just like he had imagined. Warm like cinnamon, smoky like the fire you always kept burning inside your cabin, sweet like flowers in a garden he would roll around in when no one was around. You smelled like home.Â
-
It took most of your strength helping the injured man back to your cabin, immediately laying him down in your bed and pulling your warm blankets up over him. To beat the freezing temperature inside your cabin, you quickly tossed a few pieces of wood in the fireplace and lit it up. You stayed crouched near the controlled flames for a little while to make sure the fire stayed alive, until your company let out a soft groan of pain. Now at his side, you pulled the pelt from his shoulders and frowned at the extent of the damage you caused, tears pricking at your eyes. âYouâre still bleeding, MingiâŚIâm so sorryâŚI need to stitch you up.â
Just as you stood up, Mingi reached up to hold onto the corner of your torn blouse, blinking hazily up at you, a few beads of sweat cascading along his straining neck. âPlease, donât worry about me, love. Youâre the one who needs rest.âÂ
âNonsense.â You shook your head, pulling away to find your sewing kit, your cheeks hot to the touch. Once you found it inside one of your drawers, along with a sleep shirt that had belonged to a previous loved one, you returned to Mingiâs side. âNow, stay still, okay?âÂ
âIâll do whatever you need from me.â Mingi slowly sat up and rested his back against the headboard, watching with interest as you expertly sewed his wound closed, quite fond of the way you took care of him, and of how close you were to him, your hand resting on his chest for stability as you worked. Before you could pull your hand away from his body, he placed his over yours, unintentionally allowing you to feel his rapid heartbeat. âThank you for this. Anyone else wouldâve left me for the wolves.â
Biting into your lip, you couldnât help but take into account the way his hand completely enveloped yours, truly forgetting just how important physical touch and connection with others was until this very moment, now that his warm skin was pressing into yours. âI-itâs nothing, reallyâŚâ
âNo, itâs not just nothing,â Mingi pouted, slowly bringing your hand up against his cheek to gently nuzzle into it. He couldnât believe he had gotten this close to you, the special human he had been head over paws for ever since he had seen you for the first time. âItâs everything. You saved me.âÂ
It was almost as if this stranger had escaped one of the novels you read over and over, seeming too good to be true. âIt was the least I could do after I hurt youâŚâÂ
It was when Mingi began to look at you for too long, with that unwavering longing in his eyes, that you cleared your throat and stood up, announcing, âI think Iâll make us some nice, warm soup. How does that sound?âÂ
It took everything in Mingi not to let out a few celebratory howls, instead nodding his head eagerly, his shaggy brown hair bouncing. âIâve always wanted to try your food. I can smell it from outside sometimes and it always makes my stomach rumble.âÂ
You began to expertly chop up vegetables, stopping mid slice when you digested Mingiâs interesting choice of words. âSo you know of me?âÂ
âI-i do,â he nodded shyly, despite your back being turned away from him.
âHave you been watching me, Mingi?â you asked after a few more minutes of silence, your knife now slicing into the last few potatoes you had pulled from your garden before winter began.Â
ââŚ.Admiring you,â he gently corrected, knowing his big fluffy ears would be splayed out in embarrassment if they were there.Â
Just as you began to pour the cut up vegetables into the pot of boiling broth, you blushed and jolted suddenly from the implications of the handsome strangerâs words. Your elbow knocked into the side of your cleaver, causing it to slip off the edge of the wood counter. Before you could blink, Mingi had already caught the handle of the cleaver, slowly standing up by your side, officially displaying the sheer size difference between the two of you.Â
âI didnât mean to scare you, loveâŚâ Mingi set the cleaver back down onto the counter, reaching over to touch your hand with a gentleness you hadnât experienced before.Â
The speed and quickness of Mingiâs reaction was incomprehensible; you were still reeling from it. Now he stood beside you, his size and stature more akin to a beast in human form than a simple man. Not only that, but the hand that was overlapping yours felt hot to the touch, like Mingi had a furnace burning away inside of him. You had heard stories of shapeshifters that lived in dense forests much like the one you called home. They had been around for centuries, living amongst themselves, never interacting with humans, able to take the form of beasts at will. You glanced out your window, peering up at the bright orb looming over you. It was a full moon, after all â but did myths like that really exist in the real world?Â
âMingiâŚare youâŚ?â Your words began to die inside your mouth as soon as the puzzle pieces began to fall into place inside your mind. You couldnât deny the connection you felt with Mingi, knowing that your total isolation played a part in your desire to let him in. It clouded your mind. You were growing so tired, you almost didnât seem to mind if he wasnât strictly human.Â
Mingi smiled softly down at you, one of his canine teeth poking out past his plump lips, leaning himself down a bit to shorten the distance between you. He waited eagerly for you to finish your question, tilting his head to the side, having to blow his hair out of the way.Â
âAre you hungry?â you finally asked, lowering the flame on the stove so that the soup could settle now that it was ready to serve.Â
Mingiâs lips formed a silent âoâ, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He thought you mightâve been on the same page about your mutual attraction, but he was beginning to suspect that his obsession with you was one sided. Itâs not like you had imprinted on him; it was the other way around. Silly wolf.Â
Before Mingi could cry about it, he tasted something so delicious, he couldnât help but let out an enthusiastic âmmm!â. You had slipped a soup spoon into his open mouth, allowing him to try the first homemade meal heâs ever had in his life, one that you had made for the both of you to share together within the sanctity of your cabin, away from the bitter isolation of the forest. He was a silly wolf, after all, because this, this was love.Â
âGood?â you gauged softly, your eyebrows upturned with sheepish anticipation.Â
âGood! Ahhh~â Mingi licked his lips and opened up again, savoring the warm, comforting feeling inside his stomach once you fed him another bite. âIâve never had something this delicious before.âÂ
âOh, stop,â you blushed, pouring some soup into a bowl and handing it to Mingi, shocked to see him bring it up to his mouth and gulp it down. âOh, you werenât lyingâŚwere you?âÂ
Mingiâs brown eyes were round, shiny like marbles, filled with unwavering sincerity. âEverything tastes better when youâre with the one you loveâŚâÂ
You almost choked on your own soup, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. âD-did I hear that rightâŚ?âÂ
Mingi was a romantic at heart. He couldnât help it, especially when the moon was so big and bright, glowing with everlasting light. She was reminding him to be brave. âY/N, do you believe in love at first sight?âÂ
Your heart thumped away inside your chest, a steady reminder that you were alive, and not alone for the first time in a long time. âI think I mightâŚIs that crazy?âÂ
Mingi brought his hand up to his face to hide the way it scrunched up with pure joy, his cheeks rosy and full of warmth. âIf it is, then I must be too.âÂ
âWhereâŚhave you been all this time? Iâve been waitingâŚfor someone like youâŚâ You slowly reached up to pull his hand down, bringing it to your own face, pressing your cold cheek into his large palm. âFor someone to keep me warm.âÂ
He had been there all this time; you just hadnât seen him yet. But now, you would see all of him. Without thinking, Mingi brought his other hand to your face, gently cupping your cheeks and bringing himself down so that he could press his lips onto yours. It took everything in him to pull away just enough to whisper, âIâm here now. Is thatâŚbetter?âÂ
For the first time, you felt like you could let your guard down, not be the lonely, hardened hunter you had to be. Now that you were safe, you could take a rest. âBetter,â you whispered back, wrapping your arms around Mingiâs neck just in time to lay against his chest, losing the strength to stay awake.Â
-
You woke up to the sensation of something intensely warm wrapped around you from behind, someoneâs lips idly pressed to the nape of your neck, what felt like fluffy ears twitching near your hair, the soft fur tickling your exposed skin. The air around you was hot and heavy like you were stuck inside an oven, an enticing aroma of spiced cinnamon and woody musk clouding your senses. Your eyelids fluttered open, first noticing two strong arms locked around your middle, realizing Mingi was holding you close to him, his heated chest pressing into your back.Â
Overcome by the memories of earlier, the forgotten intimacy of being touched and held by someone, the intense pheromones you were practically doused in, and the want, the need to be truly seen by Mingi, despite having just met a few hours ago, you attempted to turn around to face him, only to have him tighten his grip just enough to keep you still. âM-mingi, I want to look at youâŚIâm not mad, I justâ��
âDo you know what youâre getting into, love?â he whispered in a gravelly voice into your ear, sounding like he had just woken up out of a deep sleep, sending a rush of goosebumps across your skin with just his words. âIâm notâŚwhat you think I am.âÂ
You sheepishly pushed back against Mingi, hearing him let out a soft groan, knowing he was just as satisfied with the way your body felt against his. âI already know, MingiâŚI trust you. Iâm not scared.â You felt his grip loosen up around your waist, opting to cement his hands around your waist.
His lips were now pressing directly onto the shell of your ear, making you shiver. âDo you know what I am, Y/N? Do you wish to see?âÂ
âI doâŚâÂ
It was then that Mingi climbed on top of you, his broad naked body keeping the glowing orange light of the fire from reaching you, the pelt you had offered him earlier falling into a pile on the side of the bed. Filled with a sense of lustful wonder, you studied Mingi, your half-closed eyes trailing along his tan skin, noticing how his wound had already healed completely, unable to ignore the arousing addition of his elongated canine teeth and the way his tongue ran across them. âYouâre aâŚwerewolfâŚâ
Mingiâs fluffy wolf ears twitched slightly, listening closely to the way your breath hitched. âMost would be scared of me, but youâŚyou like this.âÂ
You swallowed harshly, still finding it very difficult to breathe in the air around you, Mingiâs dominating presence further encouraging you to submit. âWill you eat me?âÂ
Mingi let out a small puff of air through his nose, the corners of his mouth curling up into an amused smile, lowering himself further onto you, knowing his heavy cock was pressing into your heat through your linen trousers. His lips ghosted along your jaw, the bushy end of his tail gliding back and forth along one of your ankles, replicating the light strokes of a paintbrush. âOnly in the way that would have you begging for more.â The small moan that escaped your throat didnât go unnoticed by Mingi. He nosed at your neck, resisting the urge to lick and bite at it. âThough, i wonât do anything without your permission, love.â
You cupped your hands around his heated face, your insides feeling as if they had been set ablaze. âDo with me what you will, Mingi. I insist.âÂ
When Mingiâs lips parted, you pressed yours onto them with a fervor you didnât realize you possessed. The kiss grew more and more intense, the two of you holding onto one another as though you were afraid it all would end too soon, taking turns licking into each otherâs willing mouths, breathing in each otherâs air when you grew dizzy.Â
Growing frustrated with the lack of skin on skin contact, Mingi pushed his large hands up past the hem of your woolen top and slid it off of you, admiring the soft curves of your exposed breasts, before his desperation kicked in and he nuzzled his face against them, sighing onto your skin. âBeautifulâŚâ He dragged his tongue up in between your tits, grabbing one while he sucked desperately on the other, a low growl erupting from his throat.Â
âMingi,â you moaned out, your back arching, only encouraging him to see what other pretty noises he could get you to make, gasping when his sharp teeth teased your sensitive nipples.Â
He licked over them to ease the sudden bout of pain, unable to keep himself from sucking one of them into his mouth, apologizing with his upturned eyebrows and his big, round eyes.Â
You simply couldnât take it anymore. You needed him to make a mess of your aching cunt, feeling your wetness stick to the thin linen material of your pants as you kicked them off. âMingi, more, please, need moreâŚâÂ
The werewolf knew what you needed when your fingers slid into his soft hair, leaving kisses along your bare body as he moved down south, getting himself comfortable between your spread thighs. âYou want me to eat you up, yeah?â He spread your pussy open with his thumbs, nosing at it to inhale your flowery scent, quite aware that it bumped into your clit when he gave your slit an experimental lick, just enough to collect your essence on his tongue. âMy beloved needs me to ravage her?âÂ
âYes, pleaâoh, my god,â you reacted whinily, your thighs involuntarily pressing into the sides of his head just as he dove in, which he grabbed onto, pushing them up and out of his way, his lips and tongue already working in tandem to drive you to a place of pleasure youâve never been before.Â
Mingi devoured your cunt in true animalistic fashion, licking and slurping up your juices as soon as it spilled out of you, just to spit it it back onto your slit and drink it all down, eventually plugging you up with his large tongue to feel you throb, unable to keep himself from fucking you with it until you began to cry out his name in between unintelligible words, your fingers tugging on his hair.
So good, itâs so good, nnnghh, iâmââ You cut yourself off once your impending orgasm took over your body, barely able to register Mingi rubbing soft circles into your shaking thighs and leaving kisses across your inner thigh and on your sensitive clit. You were finally brought back to earth when Mingiâs arousal coated tongue slipped into your mouth, his heated body pressing heavily into yours, gasping into his mouth as soon as Mingi began to desperately rut against you, doing your best to swallow his drool. It was when he whimpered that you broke the desperate kiss, asking softly, âWhat is it, dear? Tell me what you need.âÂ
âNeed you, need to be inside you,â Mingi exhaled against your jaw, letting out a few shaky breaths, unable to keep himself from sinking his claws into your sheets, clearly at his limit. âCan IâŚ? Please?âÂ
âHave your way with me, Mingi,â you granted his wish, welcoming him with open arms, just as he folded you up into a mating press and began to pound himself into you.
Mingi knew that such an intimate position would almost guarantee that you would home his pups after the very first knot. It drove him crazy. He couldnât help but fuck into you as hard and fast as he could, emitting a animalistic grunt or growl with each thrust he made into your dripping cunt, a few drops of drool escaping past his plump lips and landing on your flushed, sweat-ridden face. âYouâre mine now, love. My mate. Iâm going to breed you.âÂ
âYâoursâŚ!â you could barely enunciate, not when he kept punching the air out of your petite body when his oversized one came in contact with yours, his heavy cock continually slipping back into your willing hole with so much ease, it was clear that you were made for him.
âMine. My pretty little mate, all for me.â It was then that Mingi bit down into your neck, hard enough that he could leave his mark on you, a white hot streak of pleasure shooting through your spine as he did so.Â
It felt so good, you couldâve swore you were already cumming, dragging your nails down his broad back, your eyes disappearing underneath your fluttering eyelashes. The werewolf didnât seem to get tired, no matter how many times you came undone, his large hands still tugging on your hips, forcefully guiding you back onto his cock as though you were a simple doll, at least until you felt a new sensation, something stretching you open even further. âHaaah, itâs so bigâŚâ Â
âThatâs my knot, love. Will you take it, Y/N?â he panted into your ear, licking and nibbling at it as his husky voice finally penetrated your hazy mind.
âYes, give it to me, please, MinâŚâ
He hummed against your skin, running his hands along the soft edges of your heated body. âIâll breed you fullâŚso full of my cum, youâll be carrying my pups by the next full moon.âÂ
Something about what Mingi said altered the state of your mind on a primal level, your thighs automatically hooking around the werewolfâs waist, your arms around his neck to hold him impossibly close. You wouldnât be alone anymore. You had a âmate,â like Mingi had lovingly coined the phrase. You would be his, and he was yours, and something so simple made you feel safe.Â
âYes, please.âÂ
It wasnât the heavy knot that stretched you wide and locked you in that brought tears to your eyes, but the sudden, hot, seemingly endless rush of cum that flooded your womb that made you cry. Mingi rubbed gentle circles over the small pouch that joined the prominent bulge his cock made inside your abdomen. âYou did so well, love, so good for me,â he cooed at you, giving your cheek a few loving licks. âYou were made for me.âÂ
âI was just thinking that,â you sighed softly, running your fingers through his matted, sweaty hair, loving how it felt to have him still stay inside you, keeping all his love from pouring out. It just felt right. Being here with Mingi felt right, like you had always been waiting for him to fall into your life.Â
âThatâs because youâre my other half.â He pressed a kiss to your forehead, before resting his against yours. âIt was destined.âÂ
âFor me to shoot you with an arrow?â you joked, reaching up to gently play with one of his furry ears.Â
Mingi nuzzled into your touch, wanting to stay with you in that moment, that warm bed, that cozy little cabin that kept you both safe for as long as he could. âI would get shot a million times over, if it meant that I could meet you again.âÂ
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The 141 finding out you've never had sex.
Just casually drinking, playing cards. A joke causes it to slip out.
body electric: the virgin edition
Gaz, the instigator, mutters something about not having been fucked in ages. this springs up a sudden surge of comradery, because, yeah. neither have they.
Soap's devote Catholicism (i like to imagine) leaves little room for flippant intimacy. he tries to be a good boy. key word, of course, being: tries. but the last serious relationship was years ago. back when he was grunt. he's pent up. abstinence, yeah? he holds it tight in his hand. but the thing about fists is that they're often mistaken for anger. Soap's a realist masquerading as an optimist. he knows whoever falls into his jowls next will be a MacTavish by the time he's through with them. and commitment. well. his comes at a price. a hefty one.
Ghost prefers casual flings where he doesn't have to take any clothes off. unzips his trousers, frees his cock, and then tries to pretend he's a real, flesh and blood, human. to feel something, anything, except a vacuum between hollow bones. but his tastes are peculiar. on the side of unhinged. he hasn't found the perfect body yet satiate himself with.
Price. well. with his bloody hands, he thinks he'd rather not dirty the same people he swears to protect. and divorcing at the age of 30 does that to a man, maybe. his role as a captain (an excuse in retrospect) also keeps him from unleashing his wants. the very same ones that are probably best under lock and key, anyway. it's just for the best, really. something he ought to do because the moment he has another chance to sink his teeth into someone's neck, he'll tear them apart. break them into pieces.
despite bringing it up, Gaz knows the real reason he's single is because he's pushy. he wants. so he takes. and then takes some more. more. more. until his gullet is full of the person he's obsessed with. carrying them around in his breast pocket everywhere he goes. the perfect mate. the one he can shower with unfettered affection. a deluge, in all honesty. one with the ideation to drown. biblical floods. trapped beneath him. he likes it more than he should, but. singedom, then, he supposes.
and then you roll the dice. admit, sheepishly, that, technically, you have them all beat. zero is always lesser than five, ten, twenty. but it's this misstepâzero, neverâthat catches their attention.
suddenly, you're not surrounded by kin but a pack of wolves. all hungry in their own ways, all starving. it just makes sense to quench their hunger with you, doesn't it? friend, ally. pretty little thing. so sweet for them. and perfectly mouldable. putty they shape to their hearts desire. the perfect mate.
Soap grips his rosary. the sign of the cross, heavenly Father and Holy Spirit, digging into his palm like the burn of a baptism. what's devotion if not pain? he cuts himself on the gold. offers blood of the sacrament to whoever might be listening, and leans in, sniffing.
Price's knuckles are white. he leans back, hidden in shadows. all you can see is spark of burning orange from his cigar as he takes mouthful after mouthful of smoke, contemplating. assessing.
"that so?" he doesn't even need to look at his Lieutenant to know that the man has gone still. too bad for you, it's not from shock.
Ghost barely holds himself back. keeps tight in his seat. fists clenching. unclenching. he has a good enough read on the people around him to see the unfiltered desire ripping across their face. scorching. but to bite, with his mouthful of jagged, seraded teeth; ones meant to rip, break, tear, would ruin you. permanently. unequivocally. andâ
"wanna give it a go?" all eyes turn to Gaz, electric in his seat. eyes smouldering umbre. "i mean, you trust us the most, don't you?" us. it's stunning, he thinks, the way Gaz can weave tapestry in the air like this with just his words. one tangled like shibari binds. "and we care for you a lot. we'll be gentle. it's up to you, of course, butâ"
Soap's bloody hand disappears under the table. you gasp. "yer askin' fer it, ain't ye? beggin' so pretty fer it."
"n-no, iâ"
"mind your manners." Price. his voice is chiselled into char, authoritative; low. a lulling command spoken in a breath of smoke. "and don't lie, love. or i'll have to take you over my knee."
the tension is thick. Soap's arm moves, slow. deliberate. Ghost has clench his jaw to avoid bearing his teeth. snarling.
Gaz cuts it with a knife. hews compliance into your skin with a fine needle point. "it's okay. we'll take such good care'a you. make you feel so good."
your submission is a heavy thing. oppressive. the shallow dip of your chin, the blistering heat simmering under your flesh, burning right, is the prettiest fuckin' thing he's ever seen. he does clench his jaw this time. tight, tight. tight
until something pops.
"okay." you yield. head bowed. beautifully submissive.
when he looks around, catches the predatory crackle in the air. his hackles raise. immediate. instinctual. and ah, right.
it's easy to forget he's surrounded by a wild pack of stray dogs. starving ones, too.
#141 x reader#my grandpa is going into town and im going w hin so i wrote this on the way sorry for the mistakes
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The villains are utterly confused.
They remember the first robin. They remember how bloodthirsty the little gremlin was, how he appeared out of the darkness with a âHIYA FOLKSâ that gave people near heart attacks with PTSD so bad they flinched everytime they walked into a dark corner. They remember his grin, baring few too many teeth with a glint in his eyes whenever the bat wasnât around to curb him. They remember the death stare, the brooding that made no one doubt this was the Batâs son. They remember how a punch would land a lot harder than it was supposed to, or the screaming that followed. Oh they remembered him alright.
The second one thank the stars was better. The second robin was giggly. He would hop around town, offering his help to everyone who needed it. Sure he was rough with abusers but hell no one cared about them. Matter of fact, the villains were glad because those assholes deserved no sympathy. They remember his puns, his wonder, his innocence and his spark. They remembered his laughter, his concern - the kind that only comes from one whoâs been on the streets. This one was better, and the villains thanked their lucky stars. They remembered him alright.
But now, as the years passed and new characters emerged, the crime city saw the rise of two characters - a sunshine happy nightwing and a ready to kill red hood. And naturally, from their experiences in the past, the villains ended up making an honest mistake that ruined the two vigilantesâ reputation:
The villains assumed the first robin was Red Hood and the other was Nightwing. And BY GOD Gotham has not seen unhinged chaos like this.
SCENE 1
Red Hood *drawing his pistol* : Please, reach for your weapon. Iâm itching for an excuse for my intrusive thoughts to become extrusive.
Two-Face: You dare mock me little bird?! Well.. I may not have my weapon.. but I have something I know youâd like..
Red Hood: Oh yeah?Whatâs that?
Two-Face: TAKE THIS! *slams button and coconuts start falling from the sky, all cracking and spilling as they hit the ground*
Red Hood:
Two-Face:
Red Hood: .. the fuck was that supposed to do?
Two-Face: .. HOW ARE YOU STILL STANDING?! YOU HATE COCONUTS ROBIN!!
Red Hood: The fuck- .. wait did you call me robin?
Two-Face *grins* : Yea.. robin. The first one. Thought I didnât notice?
Red Hood: The first one? Does this *gestures vaguely to himself and his weapons* seem like something the first robin would do?
Two-Face:
Goon 1: I mean.. yeah
Red Hood: What! The first robin was nice!
Goon 2 *guffawing*: I beg your fucking pardon??
Two-Face: .. you took my coin and attached a magnet beneath it so everytime I flipped it it wouldnât stop spinning. Do you know how long that took me to figure out?? Do you know how insane it drove me?? Joker had to help me out of pity. OUT. OF. PITY.
Red Hood:
Goon 1: ..Also you did steal some of our bones
Red Hood: hedidfuckingwhatnow-
SCENE 2
Nightwing: Hey there buddy! You look frostyl!
Dr. Freeze: Aha! You are too late to stop me robin!
Nightwing: .. robin?
Dr. Freeze: why yes! Donât act coy, I know itâs you there. Now that weâve got that clear.. I was wondering if you remembered all those years ago when you gave me a source for electricity to power a hospital keeping my Nora?
Nightwing:
Dr. Freeze: well you werenât careful enough and never told me how much I could take from it.. so I used it to power so many of my inventions that came after
Nightwing *remembering when Jason was robin and every damn time he came to visit Wayne Manor his room would always run out power and the countless cold showers in freezing winters he had to take because of it*: .. oh? Well, sorry to break your bubble, but that wasnât me Elsa.
Dr. Freeze: no? You joke around, make puns and Iâm supposed to believe itâs NOT you?. The first one brooded like there was no tomorrow. He pissed me off so bad once I overheard him saying his favourite ice cream flavour and I made sure it wouldnât be available in Gotham for YEARS. Youâre not as bad as the first one. Iâd remember if you were him.
Nightwing:
Nightwing *firing up his escrima sticks to maximum voltage*: Oh let me jog your memory then :)
#batman#dick grayson#nightwing#jason todd#red hood#tim drake#batfam#bruce wayne#damian wayne#headcanons#dr freeze#robin!dick grayson#robin!dick#robin!jason todd#robin!jason#joker#batbrothers#batfam headcanons#two face#Harvey sent
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deadfall | enemy!j.m. x f!reader
masterlist | notifs blog | on palestine
pairing: dadâs enemy!joel miller x f!reader summary: joel miller, rival raiders with your father, is the last person you expect to save you from the group that captured you. heâs also the last person you expect to sleep with. [post outbreak] warnings: (mdni) canon typical violence (stalkers, mentions of death), porn with plot, game or tv joel, reader born before the outbreak, reader has a present/loving father figure (HAH), alternate universe â joel never went to boston, implied age gap but how big is up to you, self indulgent humor, quicksand, explicit smut, reader is a biiiit of a peeping tom, close proximity, only one bed, (brief) accidental somnophilia so dubcon, dry humping, degradation, humiliation, mirror sex, unprotected piv (heâs snipped dw), doggy style, manhandling (he fucks you in a headlock), mild breath play & choking, brief hair pulling (reader has hair!), scratching/biting, brief orgasm denial, hatefuck [no use of y/n] word count: 9.5k author's note: pwplot! a joeloverture first. also my first foray into somno! and post!ob joel! lots of firsts here. special thanks to @joelsdagger for taking a glimpse at this for me (and for being the PIONEER that forged joel fucking in a headlock) and @lovesickonmybed for being the best sounding board ever. i hope y'all like this one, i sure do.
There are no infected in the swamp â not this far out. They prefer the slant of buildings or the maw of split pavement. Blood-bloated leeches and black-trunked cypresses arenât their domain.
You canât say you blame them. One day in, and youâre already sick of this shit.
A few gnats have flown up your nostrils as you wade through the ankle-deep sludge. Mist curls at the edges of your vision. Your feet keep slipping on the slime covered stones that are half-submerged in the deep. Sweat crystallizes on your nape as your toe catches on a downed branch.
Before you faceplant in the sludge below, a burly hand snags your collar and hauls you up. âYou always this much of a klutz?â Itâs the first few words heâs said to you in hours.
A scowl buckles your lips. You shove Joel Millerâs arm off your back, splashing up scummy water as you step over the branch this time. You say nothing â donât even dignify him with a passing glance.
âYouâre a real peach, ainât ya?â Joel says. When he takes his next step, water splashes at the backs of your calves. âSave your ass and this is the thanks I get.â
Joel Miller doesnât want thanks. Up until he accidentally burnt his thumb with boiling hot coffee yesterday, youâd been convinced he didnât feel anything at all. As long as his pulse is woven between bullets and stab wounds, he doesnât give a damn what happens to those around him. His heart, much like the rest of the people at the end of the world, is calcified. Only beating out of necessity.
Youâre silent as you footslog forward. The slurp of mud stretches between your shoe and the ground. Your pack jostles against your back. The ache in your bones has proven to be a better company than Joel â at least that is tolerable.
A deadfall lays flat ahead, a tree with cambered branches that droop with moss. Joel cups a hand over his eyes to block out the sun and squints past.
You go to walk past him, around the deadfall.
âNuh uh,â Joel tugs you back by the scruff. You grunt. ââS deeper out there. Iâd sure like to see you get swallowed up by a gator, but that doesnât work for me, kid.â
It sure works for you. If you see one of their bumpy snouts protruding out of the water, youâre using him as bait.
You donât say that, though. Just hitch your foot up over one of the branches in the tree and start to haul yourself up. Itâs a nagging ordeal â full of hissing through your teeth and feeling wood tear small cuts into your skin. Your hand tangles in an unoccupied spiderweb before you toss yourself through the other side of the bramble. Water sluices around you as you right yourself, rubbing a bead of blood from one of your knuckles.
Joelâs quick to follow, even quicker to take front again. Youâve learned he likes being ahead of you â unless youâre climbing a ledge or a fallen oak.
The hours wear on. You refuse to be the first to call it for the day. Even when you get stinging salt water into your open cuts, you grin and bear it. When the sun lounges on the chaise of the tree-sketch horizon, he drops his pack on an island of mulch thatâs nestled in a grove of dead vegetation.Â
You slump down next to him, rifling through your pack for a bite of jerky. Joelâs knees pop. He grunts as he slips down into the dirt and unrolls his sleeping bag. He rolls over, facing away from you. Hand wrapped around his gun like itâs a lover.Â
When you do the same, itâs with a barbed insult on your tongue thatâs better left unspoken.
At the end of the world, everything is ruleless. But you grew up with exactly one rule: donât talk about Joel Miller.
You hadnât been expecting him to kill you.
The Cockroaches, the lesser raider group in Northeast Texas, had captured you. Apparently your dad had some unpaid debts, and in taking you as leverage, theyâd intended to get close to him. All they got were bullets in their heads.
Youâd sighed in relief when the hatch to your basement confinement had finally opened. A spillage of sun sliced down through the opening, and you were expecting the familiar warmth of your father, an apology, and reassurance that he wouldnât let them take you again.
Instead, you got Joel. With his hulking gun, broad figure that blocked out the sun, and the scowl that would be the last thing youâd ever see.
You had fumbled against the post you were tied to, feet scrabbling against the floor. Youâd winced away when he raised his knife. âDonâtââ
âŚAnd cut into your restraints.
Youâd rubbed the chafing from your wrists and stared at him, nebulous and delirious. âGet the fuck away from me,â youâd croaked.
âThey touch you?â heâd asked. Youâd shaken your head. âHurt ya?â Another shake.
âGood. Now get up and get ready to haul ass.â He turned around, but not before throwing his knife to the ground next to you. The clatter it made against the concrete made your ears ring.
You grabbed the knife.
âWhy are you helping me?â you ask him. Theyâre the only words youâve spoken since youâd seen him in the cellar.Â
âI ainât,â he says. His voice is gruff. Sandpapery.Â
âLooks like helping,â you say, nodding at the pack heâd given you. Heâd come out prepared. To get you.
âYour daddy ainât the only one with debts,â he says.
You stop, booted feet sinking into the mud. Shit. âSo thatâs what this is. You take me away just to hand me off to some other shitty group?â
âYeah,â he says with a shrug. He turns around, already mid-stride.
You yank his knife out of your pocket and dive at him.
âHey, hey, fuck â you little brat,â he spats. He goes off balance before he twists around. You corral him against a tree, leg hitching around his waist as you knee at his thighs, aiming for his crotch. His spittle sprays your cheek as he grunts. His fist wraps around your hand, and the knife splats into the mud. His booted heel slips and he goes sliding back as he shoves you away, hard. You cough as you slam into a tree trunk. The knot that swells out of the bark digs into your head. You drag a branch up off the ground, pushing yourself off the tree as you heft it.
Before you grab it, he slaps you. Hard. Your head goes spinning as you stumble back into the muck. He jams his boot down against your chest, mud smearing across your tank top. âI gotta tie you up, or you gonna fuckinâ listen to me?â
You reach up to grab his ankle, and he just stomps harder against your chest. You wheeze, flopping back in the sludge. âB-bastard,â you hiss.
âYeah, yeah, shut the hell up. âS your dadâs shitty group Iâm talkinâ about.â
You give him an incredulous look.
âYour old man ainât the only one with a coupla debts under his belt.â
âYouâre shitting me,â you say. Voice squished in your throat from his tread against your chest.
He shakes his head and finally lets his boot up. You suck in a breath, another cough rattling your ribcage. âQuit being all uppity and pickinâ fights ya canât win if you wanna learn, dumbass.â
âWhy didnât he just come get me himself?â you grit out as you lean back against a log. You use it to lift yourself, legs feeling gelatinous from being shoved about.
âYou didnât see? Cockroach shot âim in the leg.â Your lips tremble, but you straighten them. âHeâs fine.â
You scowl. âAnd you didnât tell me this sooner?â You march forward. Your arms cross solidly over your chest.
âFigured you wouldnât take it well.â He looks you up and down. âAnd I was right.â
You curse under your breath. Dip to grab your knife. Toss it in your hand while you think. You donât flinch when it slightly nicks your thumb â itâs hardly a poke with all of the scraping youâve been doing through undergrowth â but Joel smirks.Â
He sees you as juvenile. The product of a world that you havenât earned the right to be in, always cowering behind your dadâs back.Â
Youâll prove him wrong.
âHow far are we from the nearest city?â you ask. You want to go home. Your arms ache not just from swinging at your side or lifting you up toppled trees, but to wrap around your father. Your bones protest at the thought of being in your skin. Your tank top sticks to your flesh with mud and the parasites that squirm in it.
âIâm not a goddamn fortune teller,â Joel says. âYour guess is as good as mine.â
âThen we better get moving.â You readjust your pack and jostle him as you march on.
Three days later, and thereâs no end in sight to the swamp. Whatever towns youâve encountered are home to only a derelict gas station and ransacked mom-and-pop stores. Theyâre no place for pit stops.
You (reluctantly) stay close to Joel, who youâre lucky to hear so much as a murmur out of. Most of the time, heâs redirecting you, tugging you out of the way of half-decade old hunterâs traps or reminding you not to go too far.
âThe world isnât gonna end if I step out of your imaginary line, Joel,â you say. You test your foot on the side of the bank youâre walking on. Nothing happens.
âKiââ Joel says, brows crunched up.
âSee? Fine.â You press more of your weight into the ground. He reaches for you, but your body tilts.
Your foot is sinking.
âYouâre a fuckinâ pain in my ass,â Joel says. He pinches his nose bridge. âShoulda left ya down there.â
You glare at him, bending yourself at the waist so you can try to wiggle yourself with your upper body strength. Your free knee is propped up on the squishy ground. You grunt, palms slipping against the oily, grass-filled mud. âI got it,â you rasp out as he crouches in front of you.
âUh huh,â he says, frowning pointedly.
âI got it.â You slap his hand away and thresh your leg in the sand. It barely even wiggles. âFuck.â You strain your leg, huffing and puffing. Dirt fixes itself under your nails.
Joel wraps his arms under your shoulders and you flail in protest. âI said I can handle it!â Instead of listening to you, he tugs at you like pulling a toy from a dog. You keep windmilling your arms.
âQuit thrashinâ!â Joel yells. âAny harder and youâre gonna drag me in with you.â
Your face is too close to his. Too close for the uncomfortable heat. His humid breath fans against your sweat-slippery cheek as he groans. Your foot loosens. You prop your calf up on his thigh as he wrests you out of the quicksand. Youâre chest-to-chest with him as you tip over the muck, dropping flat against him. âMmph.â
Joel shoves you off of him, and you fall on your ass in the mud. By all odds, your boot has remained strapped to your foot. Heâs already up and moving when he says, âJesus Christ, you are just like your fuckinâ dad.â
The mud still caked into your shirt has started to flake by the time you reach a city called Monroe. Just off of I-20, you and Joel trek further into what you imagine mustâve been a medium-sized city during its heyday.
Youâre bone-weary. Your back keeps popping with every step with how you keep having to sleep on the ground. Youâd be thankful for even a mattress of moss â but luckily, you wonât have to settle. Sunset is nearing, which means you can see the blue water (imagine that, blue water) tainted pink and orange below. Houses and the city clocktower reflect into the gentle pull and ebb of the tide.
Joel nods at a half-bent blue roadway sign. âYMCA up ahead,â he says. He wipes the sweat off his brow and clutches his gun closer to his side. âStay close.â
You keep your hand around the grip of your knife, following him into the city.
Itâs quiet as you navigate through a labyrinth of abandoned, rust-gutted cars. At one point, you manage to slip ahead of him, and he allows it for long enough (fifteen seconds) that you opt to take a shortcut through a parking garage. You climb over the edge and dip inside, feet scraping over roots that have grown between concrete slabs. The shade is a brief respite from the scorching sun, but the humidity still wrings the sweat from your pores.
Joel slips ahead of you again, taking long, dragging strides that look as exhausted as you feel. Four days of hiking through swamp and gunk and slapping mosquitoes against your skin has made you grateful to just be walking on solid ground again. Joel steps past a busted, sticker-covered van.
A streak flickers against the dark canopy of the garage. âInfected!â you shout, but Joel falls back on his ass.
His gun flies out of his hand and skids across the concrete. He grunts, shuffling backward, but the stalkerâs already on him, its mouth sewn partially shut by fungi. It croaks and slashes at him, blind left eye battering and twitching. Joel throws a hooked punch, but the stalker takes the opportunity to grapple him, snarling in his face.
Heâs going to get bit.
You launch forward, knife in-hand. You fling yourself into a tumble with the stalker, legs strewn over Joelâs. Adrenaline plummets through your body. You stomp on its shin and it shrieks. The knife almost slips from your grip as you start to stab blindly. You thrust the blade up through its eye socket.
The thing cackles and caws, its vocal chords clacking with mold and rot. Rusted blood trickles from its nose and down your wrist as you twist the blade further until you meet bone and then whatever is left of a brain is beyond it. You cringe as you drag the knife out and wipe it across your pants. It slumps back in a mound and then falls over.
Your chest heaves as you look between Joel and the stalker. His hands are scraped up as he grabs his gun.
You extend him a hand. He seems to think about it for a second before latching onto you and letting you help him up. He grunts in acknowledgment. âCâmon,â he says. âLetâs get cleaned up.â
This YMCA in particular isnât like the others youâve stopped at with your dad. Instead of glass windows and tin roofs, itâs brick and mortar. You and Joel climb in through the window, and you almost sob in relief when you see at least a dozen oversized yoga mats. Thatâs a suitable homemade mattress, you think.Â
Thereâs a basketball court whose court has been warped and fossilized by the leaks in the roof. A peek of sunset dives in through a hole, lighting up the western side of the room. You expect the pool room to still smell of chlorine. Itâs a little weird when it doesnât even though the poolâs been drained for years, you imagine. From there, you two reach the showers.
Before you let yourself get excited, Joel fiddles with the knobs. Water sprays out of it. âStill hot,â he says, absorbed in the droplets that are spraying his hand. He turns it off.
âFuck it,â you say, tearing your tank top over your head.
âWoah, woah, woah,â Joel says, turning to face the wall.
âYou arenât the one whoâs covered in mud!â
âYeah, youâre right, I ainât the one who went jumpinâ into quicksand. I also ainât the one who deserved an ass whooping.â
You glare at his shoulder blades as you unzip your jeans, fumbling out of them. Theyâre nearly crunchy with the amount of mud youâve been traipsing through. âThey did charity drives at these things, right?â You never really went to any YMCAs before the world went to shit. âMaybe theyâve got clean clothes.â
âMaybe,â Joel says. âMaybe you shoulda thought about that before you turned this place into a strip club.â You roll your eyes and hook your bra on the shower curtain, followed by your panties.
âI didnât know you were a prude, Miller,â you say.
He bristles at the accusation. âMaybe I should get an eyeful. Being âround you is like wishinâ the Lord would strike me down.â
You laugh. Joel made you laugh. First (and only) time, probably.Â
âYeah, right, youâd get struck down for something a whole lot worse before he started getting mad at you for peeping.â
You fiddle with the shower curtain and step in. Thereâs old body wash in an automatic dispenser on the wall. It doesnât work, but itâs easy to wrangle open and squeeze the pouch into your hand. The grout is odd under your bare feet, but quickly becomes familiar as you twist the lever. Water spits down at you, and a satisfied sound leaves you. âFuuuck,â you sigh. âThis is nice.â
Joel clears his throat. âIâm gonna go look for clothes. And deodorant.â
âYou should shower too,â you say instead.
You can almost hear the face he makes.
âGod, donât be so much of a Holy Joe, Joel. Itâs practical. This water isnât going to last that damn long, and I am not taking a cold shower when the hot stuff is all right here.â
âYouâre a real pain in the ass,â he says like he hasnât already told you.
Eventually, you hear his belt unbuckle.
He strips down a lot quicker than you. Habit, maybe, you think. His jeans slump against the floor, and then heâs in the shower. You hear the other faucet come on as the water warms against your skin. You sigh, lathering yourself with the Dollar General body wash. It forms iridescent bubbles along your body, and it smells faintly like artificial strawberries. You wonder if it ever used to smell stronger than this.
Thereâs a slit in Joelâs shower that exists between the curtain and the wall. You should look away, but you shouldnât have plunged your foot into quicksand, either. Thereâs many things you shouldnât do that you take it upon yourself to do anyway.
So you watch the dirty water cascade down his sharp, scarred shoulder. You eye how the gnarl of his bone adjusts as he lathers himself with soapsuds. He stretches to get his hair and his bicep tenses with the movement. Heâs built, and built well. From years of survival, trekking through swamps not so different from these, and aiming guns in places he wanted to and places he didnât. The way the sun flits through the rectangular windows makes him look golden.
You imagine how itâd feel to walk up behind him, to massage the knots out of his sore muscles. You donât even notice it, but your hands are traveling your own body now, fingertips going to pluck at your pebbled nipples. Heâd been rough when tussling with you in the swamp. Would he be rough with you in bed, too? In your mind, you run soft, open-mouthed kisses down his back, reaching your hand between his legs to wrap around hisâ
A clanging noise stops your hand in its tracks. You drop it limp at your side. A wave of revulsion crawls like insects up your back.
âShit!â Joel says, fumbling around in his shower stall.
The plastic body wash dispenser goes sliding out under the curtain, foamy with soapsuds.
You canât help it. You snort. And eventually, your snort becomes full-fledged laughter, breaking the seam of your lips as you lean against the wall of the shower.
âShut up,â he says, but you hear the tinge of a chuckle embedded between his vowels. You hear his half-huff of laughter before you force yourself to stop giggling.
You two stay under the shower streams until the water runs cold and bitter and all of the mud that had banded around your limbs is congealed in the drain.Â
You leave the showers first, roaming around until you find a discarded cardboard box thatâs brimming with clothes in your size. Thereâs jeans that should do well in the elements and another tank top suited for the crushing heat.Â
When youâre dressed, you call out to Joel that youâll be in the yoga room. You spend the down time arranging the yoga mats into two separate mattresses. Joelâs feet will hang off a bit, but you imagine itâll be better than sleeping on the floor.
Footsteps scrape from the doorway, and your head snaps up.
Joel Miller cleans up nice, it seems. Heâs kept his boots, but apart from that, looks like a completely different person; his jeans now hug his hips tighter, his raggedy tee from earlier has been replaced with a form-fitting ribbed tank top. Any traces of mud, sweat, or gunk have been washed off his skin and down the drain. His hair hangs in wet stripes, sticking to his crinkled forehead.
You havenât realized youâve zone out until heâs waving a calloused hand in front of your face. âHey, peach, anyone home?â
You clear your throat and replace it with a scowl. âDonât call me that.â Itâs deflection, and you know it. You think he knows it, too.
He gives you a funny look. âUh huh,â he says. He taps his fingers along his hip bone. âWell, what the fuck are ya doinâ?â
You furrow your brows at him. âSetting up campâŚ?â
âThis is a shit camp to set up,â he says. âStalkers in the parking garage, city I ainât ever been in before? No, we need a vantage point.â
âAnd I assume you have one in mind?â you ask.
âYeah, I do. âS a hotel, âlil further into town. Got three floors, we probably can block the stairwell from the inside to keep any raiders out.â
You nod and heft your backpack over your shoulder. Itâs bulging from the extra clothes youâd stuffed into the bottom, and your arms are sore from the wrangling youâd given it after the collar of one of your new shirts jammed the zipper.Â
Joel turns to stand guard at the door while you collect your stuff. You canât seem to focus much on that, though, not with his ass practically at your eye level. The tighter denim definitely does him favors. You swallow the newfound lump in your throat and stuff your water flash into the side of your pack.
It has to be the lack of human connection. Itâs been two weeks since youâve seen anyone other than your captors, and the majority of this week since youâve seen anyone other than Joel. Joel, who with every word, breath, movement, flinch, gets a rise out of you. Joel, who stirs the pot with you at every chance he gets. Joel, who almost certainly looks at you and sees a reflection of your father whom he hates.
Heâd said so, early on.
This isnât only one-sided. Itâs a living, breathing disaster.
ââS a hotelâ my ass, Joel, this place looks like a loaf of moldy bread.â
Joel insists on staying on the third floor. Says that the second floor is âtoo lowâ and that being on the third floor poses a good choke point for any raiders or infected who might stumble upon your camp. He wants to âbottleneckâ any intruders, whatever the fuck that means.
The issue with the third floor? Thereâs mold. Everywhere. In the days after the outbreak, a leak mustâve happened somewhere in the pipes that bled through the ceiling and all over the top floor. None of the rooms youâve checked have been left unscathed so far. Itâs embedded into the rugs, the walls, the ceiling, all of it. At least itâs a good deterrent for the people that pass through. The infected, however? You have a feeling theyâd be just at home.
âWould you shut the fuck up?â he says through his teeth. He pinches his nose bridge â he does that a lot, or maybe you just stress him out a lot â and glares at you.
âNo, Joel. Iâm fucking exhausted,â you hiss. âIâve been roughing it with you all week, all you do is give me shit. The only thing this voyage of ours has taught me is that my dad has perfectly ample reason to hate your guts.â Youâre closer to him now, knocking him back with your fist to your chest.
âQuit beinâ cute,â he scowls. âIâm the only reason your ass isnât eyeball-deep in quicksand.â
âYeah, and youâd be stalker food without me. So I guess weâre even, arenât we, Joel?â You shove past him. âIâm just a way for you to pay off your stupid âdebtsâ anyway,â you mutter under your breath. He wasnât protecting you, pulling you out of that damn pit. He was saving his own skin.
The hotel room door at the end of the hallway is slightly ajar. You lift your knife just in case, and step inside.Â
Itâs lacking the mold that the rest of the rooms have. People have definitely stayed in here before, what with the rumpled blankets left on the bed and a flashlight situated upright on the dresser. The thick layer of dust on the flashlight tells you that they never came back.
The room itself is satisfactory enough. Beige, almost green walls, close in at all sides. A cloudy mirror is hung by the window. Moonlight stipples the room. Thereâs a busted, corded phone on the nightstand thatâs propped up on a Bible, a shattered nightlight, and a small table. You toss your pack onto the quilted bedspread and collapse onto the mattress. For an old, creaking thing with a busted spring or two, itâs still the most comfortable thing you think youâve ever felt in your life. You sigh in relief and nuzzle into the pillow.
Joel clears his throat from the doorway.
âFind your own room, dipshit,â you say, nudging your pack off your bed with your knee. It thunks against the floor.
âI donât think so.â He crosses his arms.
âIâm not sharing with you. You snore.â
âI donât snore.â
âYou do.â
You donât have to look up to know heâs doing that thing where he pinches his nose bridge again. âYouâre a fuckinâ piece âa work, kid, you know that?â You hear his pack drop against the ground. He drags a chair across the room and you cringe at how it squeals against the floor until he jams it under the doorknob. Then, the mattress dips.
You look at him sideways. âGet off my bed.â
ââYourâ bed? You just discovered it two seconds ago.â
âFinders keepers.â
âWell Iâm takinâ it from you. Losers weepers.â
You grit your teeth so hard you hear the bone scraping bone in your ears.Â
âThatâs now how this worksââ
âWeâre even now. You donât wanna owe me one, and I sure as hell donât wanna owe you one. So roll your ass over, act like an adult, and go to bed.â
You grouse under your breath, but with Joel, you have to pick and choose your battles. So you roll back over and wiggle yourself under the quilt, tucking your face into the musty pillow underneath you.
You sit in silence for a couple of minutes, staring at how the moon spills milky light along the alabaster ceiling. Then, you roll over again, stretching out the knicks in your back. Despite being the comfiest youâve been in days, youâre feeling restless. You know Joel wouldnât hurt you in any substantial way â youâre a bargaining chip to him. Nothing less, and certainly not anything more.
In spite of that, you find yourself drifting off with your face to him.
When Joel first wakes up, he thinks a clickerâs gnawing at his leg
Blinking the crust from his eyes, he realizes nothingâs gnawing on him at all.Â
Rather, itâs you.
In your sleep, youâve thrown your leg over his thigh. Your crotch is angled up against the bulk of his leg, a furnace that sears him through his jeans. Your head has dipped, forehead overheated and angled against the crux of his neck. If it were just that, heâd roll you over (maybe hard enough for you to crash on the floor) and hog the blankets for himself.
But youâre thrusting your fucking hips into him, letting out sleepy little whimpers while you fuck yourself on his leg. That explains why youâve been acting dumber than a box of rocks. He oughta tan your hide for this. Bitching at him all week and really, you just need to get dicked down. Ironic, ainât it.
He should still shove you off the bed. Call you a whore and leave you to rub your pussy raw in the bathroom instead of on his leg.
You give a particularly hard thrust, a keening little sound catching in the netting of your teeth. He swears youâre soaking through the denim.
He bites his tongue. The moonlight accentuates your closed eyes, your lashes fan out across your cheeks, thereâs a cute little pinch in your lips as you unwittingly try to muffle the sounds coming out of you.
He canât help himself. He raises his knuckles to your cheek and taps, taps, taps at the bone until your eyes startle open.
When you first wake up, you think youâre dying.
Thereâs a shortness of breath in your lungs. You feel like youâre being burned alive, your skin hot to the touch. Youâre mummified in the crusty, flaky hotel sheets. Each intake of breath is musty and clings to your nostrils. Youâre throbbing. Between the legs and elsewhere. Confusion puckers your brows. Thereâs slick between your legs â and Joelâs leg between your legs.
You tear away from him, making a disgruntled noise as the sheets tangle around your legs. His hand is raised to your face. Thereâs a moment where all you register is the judgmental squint in his dark eyes.
âWhat the fuckâ you pervert,â you hiss, slapping him across the chest. A queasiness squiggles in your stomach as you inch your way back.
âOh, no, peach. That was all you,â he drawls. He wraps his thick hand around your hipbone and pulls you back. You kick him in the shin, but thereâs no real force behind it.
âY-youâre lying,â you snarl. But a brief look at his lap tells you heâs not. Heâs barely touting a semi, yet youâve got the entire Mississippi River in your YMCA-issued panties.
Joel shakes his head at you. ââS why you been actinâ up, you little shit? Just needed to get fucked?â He grips your hip so hard that it stings and hauls you against him. You tell yourself that the moan you let out is more of a hiss.
âI donâtâ youâre making shit up, old man,â you say, squirming in his grip. You canât help the way your hips sway at the tease of friction his knee gives you. You feel lightheaded, a freshly kindled bonfire.
âAm I?â Another squeeze to your hip. âDonât look like it.â He notches his knee tighter against your swollen cunt, and your head dips forward as you bite into your lower lip. âLookâs like Iâve got a âlil slut more worked up than a hornetsâ nest that spent all night rubbing her needy fuckinâ pussy on my leg.â
You squeeze your eyes shut and whine.
âJusâ say the word, peach. Iâll do ya real good. Make that ache go away.â He rubs his thumb in a circle along your skin. The calloused pad of his thumb slips underneath the hem of your tank top, a lit match dragging along your skin.
âI donât think you have it in you, Miller,â you say. But your voice gives you away. Itâs breathy, coarsened by your sleep-stained, lust-stained rasp.
âYeah? Well I didnât think you had it in you to be humpinâ this âold manâsâ leg, but ya learn something new everyday.â He doesnât grind his knee into your cunt â more so wedges it up. Pain blurs a watercolor line with pleasure as your back arches. His hand drifts from your midriff to your thigh, arm hooking around it so he can heft you up against his thigh proper. You grunt as you end up chest to chest with him. Your hips rock into his, guided by the North Star of his hands clutching at your hips. âCan feel ya,â he says. âDrippinâ all over me.â
You grind your teeth, digging your fingers into his shoulders. He groans as your nails claw at the skin there. âShut the fuck up so I can pretend youâre someone else.â
He chuckles. âYou can play pretend all you want, but Iâm the one youâre soaking, ainât I?â
You make an aggravated sound. Your left hand drags down his arm, leaving angry red tracks in their wake. Before he can gripe about it, you slap your right hand over his mouth. His eyes flare. Eye for an eye, his teeth sink into the flesh of your palm. You hiss at the sting. It only makes you pump your hips against him faster. The friction of your shorts and panties against the bulk of his leg and the wrinkle of his denim jeans makes your clit twitch against him.
Your flesh stretches as you tug it from his teeth. Your hand plants itself in his hair instead, dragging his head to the side. His eyes flutter, lidded and dark. âDonât act like you donât damn near cream yourself when I talk to you like this. You like being told what a nasty. Fuckinâ. Slut. You are. Donât look at me like that. You are. Been cruisinâ for a bruisinâ this whole time â just didnât know you were after a pussy beating instead of a real one.â
Your eyes roll back. Your hips roll more languidly, only jerking when Joel gives a particularly brutal tug at your waist. You let out a pathetic moan into his neck. You nip at the skin there, tongue laving over the scars and blemishes heâs collected over the years. He reaches down and grabs a handful of your ass, groaning. âToo pretty to be actinâ a fool, baby.â
You dig your teeth into his neck, hard enough to leave cavernous bite marks in your wake. Your tongue digs through the craters your teeth left behind, saliva pulling from your lips to his skin. He smacks your ass hard enough for your hips to jerk, and you almost glare at him as you separate from your throat. Instead, your eyes squeeze shut.
âDonât wanna look at me, do ya peach? Mmmm, well thasâ okay.â He fists his hand in the roots of your hair and tugs your head to the side. You hear Joel groping at the nightstand in the dark, and then the flashlight ticks on.
Your eyes blink open to yourself reflected in desilvered glass. Mirror rot surrounds your luminescent face, but most of all, you can see your hips and how they rock shallowly into Joelâs leg. âWatch yourself fuckinâ yourself stupid on my leg,â he croons in your ear. When you go still, his thumbs press hard into your skin. You stare at him. âYou already fucked yourself stupid or somethinâ? âS a simple instruction, sweet cheeks.â
âThatâs dumb, Joelââ you sneer, going to look away.
He jerks your head back to where he had it and rocks his leg into your clit. You watch your face contort around a ragged moan. Pleasure thrashes through your system. âCâmon, youâre a dirty girl. Watch how pathetic you look while you get yourself off. Pretend Iâm your pillow if you have to, but it ainât gonna change how Iâm the one gettinâ you off like this.â
Your thighs clamp around his. He smirks at you in the mirror. Your knee grazes his bulge, and a breathy moan loosens from his lips. âTwo way street, Miller,â you say. But youâre weak â and so, so wet.
You give your hips a languid roll, watching yourself in the mirror. Youâre a mess, mouth parted, eyes lidded, skin slick with sweat. Your hips shudder and start against him as you start to properly buck yourself against the meat of his thigh. With the shelves of your teeth, you try to smother the depraved noises coming out of you. Joel rolls his eyes.
âGonna wake the fuckinâ dead with all that whining of yours.â Mid-moan, Joel shoves two fingers into your mouth and pries your jaw open. His fingers are bulky and ridged with callouses against your tongue. His thumb presses a dent into your jaw. ââS okay, baby. I like âem loud.â
âI like you shutting the fuck up,â you say around a mouthful of his knuckles. You canât help it. You bite at his fingers, not hard enough to hurt, but definitely hard enough to sting. He hisses and presses down on your tongue. You make a sputtering noise.
âYou were sayinâ?â he asks, tensing his thigh. You whimper against his fingertips. He tightens his grip on your hair, and in the mirror, you see yourself bared raw for him to see in all ways but the physical. You rut into his leg with increasing need.
âMmmph, Joelââ you say around his fingers.Â
âOh, now youâre moaning my name? What was it I said? Cruisinâ for a bruisinâ, peach.â
Wetness leaks down the insides of your thighs. Your swollen clit hitches on a wrinkle in his jeans. Youâre shaking, thighs trembling where theyâre wrapped around him. Your fingers grapple for purchase and find some anchored in his hair, tugging wildly. You eye yourself in that damn mirror, the way your chest is slotted against his, how your hips pitch into his over and over again in your pursuit of release.
âAsk for it, baby.â Joel grinds his leg up into your cunt. âYou wanna come on me, you gotta ask for it.â
You shake your head wildly. You arenât a beggar â especially not for Joel Miller. Youâd rather throw yourself back into quicksand. Jump in front of a clicker. Step on an alligator.
Joel pouts mockingly at you. âStubborn for a slut whoâs willinâ to spread it open all hours âa the day.â You rub your knee into his bulge, tenting his jeans, in hopes that itâll be a suitable distraction. He groans, knee jerking. His thigh rams against you, and your back arches. You see your brows pucker in your reflection, your hips undulating against him.
âF-fuck,â you whine out, bouncing against him.
âYou wanna come, donât you, peach?â You nod frantically. âWanna soak me, huh?â At that, you grit your teeth and snarl at him. You do you do you do. But you donât want to admit it.
You squirm on his leg, desperately rocking into him. You dig your feet into the creaking mattress, fisting your hands into the fabric of his shirt. Tremors wrack your body as you work yourself on him. Your cunt flutters, and you almost taste your orgasm.
Joel tosses you off of him.
âYou son of aââ you shriek, thrashing and out of breath. Your clit throbs and your hole twitches at the stolen promise of release. You bounce on the mattress, sprawled on your back and twitching.
âI told ya,â he says. âGotta ask for it.â
âIâm not asking you for shit, assholeââ
âYeah, yeah, youâll change your tune when I stuff your right full.â He grabs you by the back of your shirt and coaxes you into spinning around. He yanks you onto all fours, forehead meeting the mattress.
You back your hips up as he reaches around your shorts for the button. The zipper squeals as it comes down and he shuffles them down your legs. He nudges your knees apart. You can feel his bulge, insistent and pressed against the back of your thigh. He grips the inside of your thigh, fingers sliding through the slick thatâs there.
âShit, baby,â he groans. âNo wonder you were humpinâ me. Just needing someone to take away that ache, donât you? Jusâ a horny girl wanting to go cock dumb.â His fingers graze over your clit, barely even a brush, and you let out a mangled sound into the comforter. âSee? So desperate and sensitive. Youâre cute when youâre not a pain in the ass.â
âThat makes one of us,â you say.
Joel snorts. âSheâs got jokes.â He rubs a circle into your clit, and then another, and all you can do is rock your hips into his hand. Impatient, you brace yourself on your elbow so you can reach behind him and fumble with his belt buckle. Joel laughs under his breath, working at the zipper while you undo the buckle. It chimes as his belt falls loose and his pants slump on his hips. You work the button open.Â
You wriggle your hand into his briefs and pull him out, giving him a series of quick pumps. Joel grunts. âJust like that, peach. Fuck, yeah, you know what youâre doinâ.â
He teases the tips of his fingers at your entrance. Razor sharp want slices up the insides of your warm thighs as you clench and drip more of your wetness along his hand. âIâll throw you a bone,â Joel says. Then, with no warning, he slips a finger into your warmth and curls it just right. You claw against the sheets, whimpering.
âNasty thing.â He hooks his finger and you fully mewl. Heat rushes into your cheeks. âBarely gotta do anythinâ to get you writhing and wanting.â
Warm tears brim at your eyes from the heady, deadly mix of arousal and hatred. Your cunt tightens around his finger, and without warning, he pushes another one in, twisting and hooking them brutally inside of you.
Your fingers fist in the sheets, temple pressed into the mattress. You can see the cocksure look on his face in the mirror, the way his forearm flexes with each thrust into you. âFuck me already,â you spit. You know itâll hurt if he fucks you without really preparing you. You want it to hurt. You want it to ache like the tread of his boot stamped on your chest. You want it to sting and simmer like the cuts that the wetlands left in a collage across your arms and legs. You want him to split you open and leave you flayed by your own pleasure.
âAlright, alright,â he says as he pulls his fingers out of you. He gives your clit a light slap that makes you squeal. You almost black out when you see him bring his slick-stained fingers to his mouth and suck. âYeah, taste as sweet as a peach, dontcha sugar? Such a tasty little cunt for such a smart-mouthed brat.â
You could cry with how bad you want hiâ no, his cock.Â
âGonna hurt, baby. But you want it to, donât you? Wanna feel me all up in here.â He roams his free hand across your stomach, then back around to your ass where he tugs you back. Thereâs the smack of flesh as your hips meet each other, the whimper between your netted teeth as he nestles his cock between your slippery folds. You nod, head slinging forward. âDonât gotta tell me. I know ya do. Girl like you, always such a smartass. Yeah, you want it rough.â His voice is gruff, lust-addled. âAct stupid all you want, peach. I got you all figured out.â
He slots his head against your hole and you let out a strangled noise into the mattress. Your vision swims as he pushes into you, thumbs dug into your ass cheeks so he can watch how you take him. You mewl, back arching into and away from him at the same time. Your body canât decide where to go. If it wants to be further, or as close as possible to him. Joal groans as he sinks into you.
âTight as a fuckinâ hose pipe, peach,â he says. He reaches around to give your flick your clit â a move that makes your entire body spasm.Â
âSo about as small as your dick, then?â Itâs bullshit â you know it, and he knows it. Heâs not even fully inside of you, but the difference is startling. Heâs stuffing you to the brim, leaving you to scrabble and claw against the sheets.
He slams into you, a blatant disregard of your comfort. You feel his balls smack against your clit, and hear the same thigh youâd been humping slot against your own. A ragged cry rips from your throat. âJoel,â you whimper, hips trying to writhe against the bed. âJoel, fuckââ
âFeels pretty big now, donât it?â You whine, petulant, but it breaks off into a moan as he pulls back and then punches back into you.
All you can do is take it, take it, take it as he bashes your swollen cunt with his fat cock. You gasp raggedly, each snap of his hip bringing pleasure-pain tears to your eyes. Joelâs nails dig into the meat of your ass and yank you back on him. The sting is renewed, then, as he props his leg up on the bed and pounds into you. You whimper, helpless to his whims.
Between one thrust and the next, the bite in your cunt turns into a thrum of pleasure. A persistent swarm of heat and your own slick leaking down his cock. âLike I said,â Joel grunts as he fucks you. âA nasty fuckinâ slut with a sloppy âlil cunt.â
You whine, squeezing around him. Your head spins. âFuck,â he spits.
âJoel, please, please, pleââ
âQuit begginâ, it ainât ladylike.â You prop yourself up on your elbow and reach behind him, tugging his wrist away from your ass so you can slip his hand between your thighs. His pistoning into you falters. âWhatâd I say?â Joel grunts. His knees adjust over the backs of your calves to hold you down.
âKeep touching me,â you whine. âPlease, you asked me to ask for it, so Iâm fucking asking for it.â
âTold you to ask permission, not cry at me like a kicked puppy,â he says. âI call the shots here. Like it or not.â He goes to yank his hand away from your clit, but you yank at his knuckle.
Joel scowls, and so fast you might get vertigo, his other armâs bicep locks around your neck and heaves you back against his chest. You sputter, drool pooling in your mouth. Your hands briefly tug at his arm, but fall limp when he says, âOh, shut the fuck up, I ainât gonna kill ya. Gotta keep you on your toes, peach.â
You arguably shouldnât. But you trust him. Enough to keep you alive, at least.
With another thrust into the warm vise of your cunt, your bodyâs running hotter than an engine and twice as fast. He squeezes tight enough that your air is in short supply, and with it, everything is amplified. Pleasure crinkles through your body like crumpled aluminum foil, serrated and clinging to you. The crook of his elbow is warm, and you canât help your head lolling back to give him a look thatâs purely salacious. He tips his head down at you and smirks.
âYeah, thatâs my hungry little cockwhore,â he says. With his free hand, he tugs your hair. You seize around him, struggling for what to hang onto. You let out a rasping, strangled moan. With your head tipped back, you can see the tilt to his lips as he moans, feel his scruff scraping at your forehead. âTakinâ it like you were made for it. Shit.â
Joel moans as you clamp down around him again.
Tears might be sliding down your cheeks â you donât know. Youâre too trapped in this, in this moment, in the feeling of his cock slamming into your throbbing, aching cunt. âMmph,â you whine low in your throat as he fucks up into you. Heâs damn near bruising your cervix. Each thrust makes your cunt flitter around him.Â
âYou look good like this,â Joel grunts against your ear, using the leverage of his propped-up leg to bounce you on his cock. âAll quiet ân sweet ân whorish. Goddamn, never thought a slut could feel this fuckinâ tight.â
Your eyes slip shut, vision spotting behind your eyelids. He keeps forcing himself into you. Making room. Making a mark that youâll never forget he carved into you.
Your body is limp as he gets himself off, his hand moving from your hair. He gropes at your tits, flicking your nipple in a way that draws a sloping moan out of you. He slides it down your side, each callous bumping against your skin until he reaches your clit. You nod wildly, and he chuckles into the shell of your ear. âYou think youâve earned it? All youâve been doing is whininâ like a little bitch, baby.â He taps his fingers against your clit, once, twice, mounting the tautness of the tension drawn tight like elastic through your body. You gasp down air as he ever so slightly loosens his grip around your neck. He keeps thrusting into you, jerking tiny moans out of you as he does.
Your legs tremble. Your brain feels like mush. You wring his cock with each strain of your pussy. âI donât want you,â you gasp out between thrusts. âI want you for what you can â fuck â give me. So I guess⌠that makes⌠us even. Doesnât it?â Joelâs finger stills where it hovers over your clit, and you almost donât notice the falter in his hips with how subtle it is.
âYeah,â Joel pants. âGuess it does, peach.â
He presses his thumb down on your clit and the whole world makes sense.
You cry out as your juices soak his cock, dripping down his balls and thighs. âJoel, Joel, Joel, Joel,â you chant in between moans. Heâs holding you up now by the underside of one of your arms, his fingers toying with your nipples. Each touch sends laser hot electricity between your legs.
He slams up into you again and you shriek. âFuck, youâre a mess,â Joel says. âAll stuffed full âa me⌠yeah, thatâs how youâre sâposed to be. Sprayinâ your pussy juices all over me while I ram my cock into this drippy little hole.â
You whine, clit twitching against his finger. Tears burn at the edges of your eyes like fire on parchment. âI wanna come,â you whisper, voice tinged with need. âPlease, Joel. Iââ
âWho do you want to make you come?â he asks as he rolls his hips up into you. An undulating pace that makes you want to scream.
The curdling pleasure in your stomach brims, stews, steeps. Youâre drowning in it, in the fire lashing through your body. Fire that he lit and stoked and now, only he can put out. âYou, Joel!â you cry out. âYou! I want you to make me come, please, I need it, I want t-â
âI got you, peach,â he says. He mashes the pad of his thumb against your swollen nub, rubbing circles, circles, circles. You scream this time, head slumping against him. âThrobbinâ for it,â he growls out. âAll swollen and whininâ like youâre in heat. You needed this. Needed me.â
âI needed you,â you nod, exhaling. You think youâd agree to anything he said right now. âFuck,â you wail. Your hands anchor themselves on his forearm.
âDonât fight it, baby, donât fight it,â he coos. Your nails scratch angry red tracks down his burly arms. âCome on me, see if it gives you an attitude adjustment.â
To your chagrin, that does it.
Your orgasm shatters you. Youâre fragile as it tears through your body, tying knots around your racing heart and making your legs quiver. You feel yourself gush around Joelâs cock, gasping for air as your lungs empty. Your cunt flutters around him as pleasured tears spill from the corners of your eyes. Everythingâs hot and melting, your arousal dripping out of you in droves. Joel rubs at your clit through it, coaxing in your ear, âThatâs it, theeeeere it is. Shit, baby, Iâm cominââ squeezinâ me so damn goodââ
Joel twitches inside of you, and you whine at his absence when he pulls out just in time. With a throaty, reverberating groan, he sprays the small of your back with his cum. You gasp as it splashes against you, your chest heaving against his hand.Â
You sit in the silence, high off of the come down, panting in delirium.Â
Joel clears his throat. âYou alright, peach?â
âYou donât have to pretend to like me now that weâve had sex, Joel,â you say. âI get it. We fucked. We got it out of our systems. Hooray. Do you want me to pop some confetti poppers?â
âI was being courteous, goddamn,â he grunts as he stands up. You watch as he tugs his jeans back up. âClearly ainât nobody ever treated you gentlemanly before.â
âSays the man who got off on choking me out.â
He shoots back, âThe feeling was mutual, if I remember five minutes ago correctly. I ainât that old.â He buckles his belt up. As he redresses, you toss your own shorts off to the side. Heâs already been in your whole pussy â youâd rather not sleep in the denim shorts.
When youâre done, you give him a look.
He pinches his nose bridge and sighs through his teeth. âWe oughta hit the hay. Long day ahead. And you should be too exhausted by now to be wakinâ me up again.â
You clench your fists at your side. âFine.â
You reach for his flashlight and turn it off.
Reunion Tower is the first building you see.
Dallas. Home sweet home, for better or worse.
The skyline slowly eases up and out of the treeline as you and Joel meander up the car-cluttered I-20. Remnants from a life thatâs long gone, all but skeletons with the organs of another time.
You and Joel have scarcely talked. Mostly, itâs just him pointing out directions. But he does other things. He helps you through wreckage or rubble instead of leaving you to muscle through on your own. He gives you part of his rations. He tosses you a magazine he finds in a store. He keeps watch.
You had meant what you said. You fucked. That was that. He was still the man your father told ghost stories about. The thoughtless killer. The unforgiving bullet to a skull. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of peoplesâ deliverance to the afterlife. The man whoâd betrayed your father all those years ago, a story of which you only know the vague specifics of.
Maybe youâll ask him while heâs on bedrest from that bullet wound. (Or maybe youâll just ask him. Heâs not the sort of man to stay down for long.)
Regardless, as you two cross the exit a couple blocks from your dadâs base, you ask him, âDo you think he sent people after me?â
âMaybe,â Joel says. âProbably went up to Oklahoma instead. Louisiana ainât famous for beinâ easy hikinâ material. Shocker that them Cockroaches brought you all the way out there.â
You nod and kick a rock with the toe of your shoe. âYou think your groupâs doing good on their own?â
âWho fuckinâ knows,â Joel says. âLeft Tommy in charge of the place, Iâll be lucky if it ainât burned down by now.â
âWell, youâve got a whole new world ahead of you. Free of debts and all. Maybe my dad will finally get off your ass. Could skip town, if you wanted.â
Joelâs feet drag on the concrete. You watch him out of the corner of your eye as he scratches the back of his neck. âThere were never any debts, peach,â he says.
Your brows furrow as you stop in your tracks. âThe fuck do yââ
âGot you of my own volition,â he says. âYour dad and I might be on shit terms, but that donât mean I donât care about him. IâŚâ He pauses. âI know what itâs like to lose people.â
âEveryone does,â you say.
âYeah,â Joel nods. He turns to make eye contact with you. âEveryone does. But I donât exactly wanna go about losinâ you,â he says.
âThatâs a bold claim, Miller,â you say.
âYouâre good company. Even if youâre a shitass.â He pats you on the shoulder. His hand slides down your arm to your hand, and he gives it a squeeze before letting it drop. âNow câmon. Letâs get you home.â
#vetty's words đ˘đ¸#joel miller smut#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller/reader#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#deadfall fic
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