#i just don’t know what’s going on 😩

[beloveds-embrace]

Hiiii hshsh

So I got this idea on a car ride late at night after going to an extremely loud pub!! Which gave me this idea:33

Poly!141 plus reader

None of them know how to cook because they're used to having premade meals at the messhall or rations on missions! so when reader comes along (they can be part of the task force or they can be civilian), and they cook for them the lads decide that they're theirs now!! :3

I love this idea anon 😩😩

You didn’t think much of it at first, truly.

Cooking had always been second nature to you- something soothing, something tangible in a life filled with chaos. And in the military, chaos was the only constant.

It didn’t take long to realize something alarming, though: none of your teammates knew how to cook.

Not even the basics.

Soap, bless his heart, thought instant noodles counted as a proper meal. Gaz once tried to scramble eggs and somehow set off the smoke alarm. Ghost? The man could survive in the wild for weeks but willingly lived off protein bars and black coffee when left to his own devices. And Price could grill, sure, but anything beyond that? No chance. And it wasn’t as if a grill was always available.

So, you cooked.

Not because they asked. Not because you had to, or were made to feel like you had to. But because the first time you made something decent- just a simple stew, hearty and warm, after a grueling training session- they all looked at you like you had hung the damn moon itself.

Soap groaned after his first bite, tipping his head back in dramatic bliss. “Marry me.”

Gaz, already going for seconds, nodded solemnly. “Seconded. You can’t just cook like this and expect us to let you go.”

Ghost didn’t say anything outright, but the way he cleaned his bowl and then, after a pause, slid it forward for more? Yeah. That spoke volumes.

Price took his time eating, but you caught the way his gaze softened as he watched you. Like he was making a decision.

You didn’t realize what that decision was until the next morning.

You woke up to find all four of them stationed in the kitchen, waiting. Gaz leaned against the fridge, Soap sat on the counter, Ghost loomed in the doorway, and Price stood at the stove like he had any idea what to do with it.

“What,” you mumbled, still groggy. “Are you all doing?”

Price met your eyes, calm and sure. “Waiting on breakfast. If you do wanna make it, that is.”

And that was that.

You should’ve known. Feeding a group of hungry, half-feral soldiers meant claiming them.

And, apparently, it meant they claimed you too.

The first time you all came back from a mission completely wrecked, it happened without thought.

Everyone was exhausted- cut up, bruised, dragging themselves through debrief with only the promise of a hard-earned shower keeping them upright.

You were just as battered. Just as drained. But the moment you stepped into the barracks and saw the half-hearted collection of protein bars and tasteless ration packs sitting on the counter, something inside you rebelled and cracked.

No. Not tonight.

Your body screamed for rest, but you ignored it, rolling up your sleeves and getting to work. It’ll be worth it, you kept telling yourself, and the promise of an actual meal kept you going.

You weren’t alone for long, thougg.

Kyle trudged into the kitchen first, watching with quiet amazement as you moved. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know.” you murmured, but kept going. A warm, fresh meal…

Soap dragged himself in next, blinking at you blearily before rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re an angel, bonnie. A bloody angel.”

Ghost leaned against the doorframe when he came a little later, watching. He didn’t say a word, but when you swayed slightly from exhaustion, he moved- one steady hand pressing against the small of your back, grounding you. He didn’t tell you to stop, or get in your way- just stayed by you, a steady, comforting presence.

Also helped chop the vegetables when you asked.

John didn’t say anything either. But he sat at the table, waiting patiently, eyes tracking every movement like he was memorizing you.

By the time you put the food down- something warm, filling, real- they were too tired to talk, but their gratitude was written in every movement and shone through every appreciative sigh they let out

Soap sighed into his bowl like it was the only thing keeping him alive. “If I die tonight, at least I die happy.”

Gaz nudged your foot under the table, a quiet thank you.

Ghost, ever quiet, simply refilled your plate before his own.

And Price met your eyes across the table, something unreadable yet warm in his expression, before nodding once. “Good work, soldier.”

The second time, it was worse.

The mission had gone sideways, backwards, and right into hell.

It had been long, brutal, pushing all of you to the breaking point. When you finally stepped back onto base, none of you were unscathed- Soap’s knuckles were split, Gaz’s jaw was bruised, Ghost had a gash along his ribs, and Price carried exhaustion like it was part of him.

And you? You were running purely on fumes.

But the moment you made it back to your quarters and saw the way they all moved- silent, weighed down by the kind of tired that settled in your bones- you knew.

Without thinking, you made your way to the kitchen.

Soap’s voice, hoarse with fatigue, followed you. “You don’t have to, lass. You gotta rest-“

“I know.” You croaked out. And you still did it anyways.

The stew took time. Slow, steady, the scent filling the air like something solid. Something safe. It gave you enough time to lay your head down just a little, eyes slipping shut just long enough for you not to pass out.

They didn’t argue.

They didn’t tell you to sit down, to rest, to stop.

Instead, they hovered- Soap setting the table, Gaz nudging a chair toward you every time you leaned too hard against the counter, Ghost watching you in that way he did when words weren’t enough.

Price stood beside you near the stove, his hand brushing your shoulder in quiet appreciation.

And when you finally sat down, they made sure you ate first; Soap nudged the biggest portion toward you. Gaz made sure your glass was full. Price made sure you didn’t lift a finger once the meal was done.

Ghost was the last to move, reaching over to take your wrist, squeezing once. A quiet thank you in the way only he could say it.

That night, none of them let you leave, either.Soap pulled you down onto the couch between him and Ghost, resting his head against yours with a tired sigh, and Simon pulled your legs to rest on top of his thighs.

Gaz, already half-asleep with his back rest against the couch, muttered.” You’re stuck with us now, you know.”

And Price draped a blanket over your shoulders, the weight of it solid and grounding. He patted your head, then his hand slid down to squeeze your shoulder while your eyes slipped shut, drifting off into a much-needed sleep. “That’s how it works.”

[seeyalaterinnovator]

listen. LISTEN. I think the ATJ brainrot is setting in here because this is all I can think about! This is perfection.

Frederich are you KIDDING ME! He is seriously in a whole other dimension the minute he gets to settle between your thighs. The only contentment he finds is when he slides home and holds you there, finally being close as possible to you. PLUS COCKWARMING TILL HES READY TO GO AGAIN. JESUS I am 😩

Also why am I kinda into tangerine being a bit of an asshole?? Like doing it just because he can , like it’s another Tuesday for him meanwhile you are struggling to even keep a single thought in your head. Don’t worry though, he knows this is what you are good for. Woof.

AND DO NOT GET ME STARTED ON KRAVEN!!!! He has to be so possessive but in the best way possible. He knows your body inside and out and he knows your tells. First he notices how your eyes start to glaze over, yet you keep writhing against him. How your moans turn to whimpers that only push him further because you just sound so sweet. I just picture the satisfied smirk on his face after he knows he’s gotten every last bit of pleasure from you and he goes into protective mode of making sure you are well cared for.

IVYYYYYY IM

@whatblogisthis216 has me thinking about which ATJ characters enjoy edging versus overstimulation.

Characters: Sergei Kravinoff (Kraven the Hunter), Friedrich Harding (Nosferatu), Tangerine (Bullet Train),and Ives (Tenet) Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Edging, overstimulation, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV, breeding kink, use of restraints, and a lot of other truly questionable sexual things. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Aaron Taylor Johnson Character Masterlist ♡ Masterlist

Let's start with the KING of overstimulation - Kraven!

Sergei’s stamina in the bedroom is both a blessing and a curse because he could literally spend hours between your thighs without breaking a sweat. He likes to start off with his hands and mouth. His heightened sense of smell lets him savor the way your scent changes with your arousal and he wants to be nose-deep in the source. Plus, he enjoys slowly stretching you out, adding a third and fourth finger even as you protest and tell him you couldn’t possibly fit another. But he certainly doesn’t need his hands to make you come, his tongue is talented enough. 

Depending on his mood, he might tie you up or make you wrap your legs around his head, crossing one ankle over the other, your heels pressing firmly into the back of his neck so he can devour you whole. You’ll be trembling, shaking all over with the effort to hold that position. It feels like you’re suffocating him but he’s ravenous, his hands wrapped firmly over the top of your thighs. The sounds he makes while he eats you out are filthy and you can feel yourself dripping down his chin. He’ll easily make you come half a dozen times that way before easing your legs off his shoulders and crawling up your body. 

Once he’s inside you it’s a litany of praise, his mouth roaming over your face and neck. He loves to nip and bite with his sharp teeth, teasing your nipples until they grow hard and sensitive. He could go for hours like this but he knows your body is fragile, only able to give up a certain number of orgasms before you pass out. He’s careful to toe the line, waiting to come himself until he’s pulled every last drop of pleasure from you. 

The aftermath is almost as enjoyable for Sergei as the overstimulation part. He loves how soft and pliant you become. You’re extra clingy too and he gets to indulge in taking care of you. He’ll carry your limp, half-conscious body into a steaming bath, washing you with care. You’ll be cleaned thoroughly, though his hands are gentle when they wash between your legs - he knows how sore you get. 

Once you’re dry and clothed you’ll get some water and fresh fruit before he tucks you beneath the furs in his bed. He’ll whisper something in Russian, most of the words foreign to you except dorogaya, my beloved. The last thing you remember before falling asleep is the sweet kiss he gives you, alongside the promise of breakfast in bed tomorrow.

Friedrich doesn’t have the patience or interest in edging you. Honestly, he doesn't even mean to overstimulate you either, it's just that he gets so lost in your smell and taste that he loses track of time. Can you blame him? When he’s between your thighs each moan and gasp you let out drives him nearly insane. He loves the way your thighs squeeze his head each time you come and how your body trembles the longer he stays down there.

When you thread your fingers through his thick curls and tug on the roots he groans into your cunt. His touch grows rougher and more demanding. He needs you to come again, it’s a near compulsion at this point. Each one tastes sweeter than the last and he drinks from you like a man starved for it, as if every drop is the only thing keeping him alive. He’ll use his fingers to work you open, his thumb circling your clit while he gazes down at your swollen cunt. Watching your face as you come undone is almost as good as tasting you. 

By the time he’s fully satisfied, you’re shaking all over, begging him to stop. Friedrich calms you down with sweetly murmured words, his hand running up and down your side soothingly. He kisses you slow and deep, wanting you to taste yourself on his tongue and understand just why he had to stay down there so long. By this point, you’re so wet that you welcome him inside without any resistance and he slides home with a groan. Despite how hard he is, he doesn’t rush your lovemaking, rolling his hips in an unhurried rhythm, drawing out both of your pleasures. This is the main show after all, the whole reason he had his head buried between your thighs in the first place. He needs to put another baby in your belly. It's all he can think about.

He makes sure you come again when he's inside you. He's a gentleman after all. While he chases his own release he's praising you, talking about how warm you are, how tightly you grip him. How good you've been for him. After, he stays lodged firmly inside, gazing lovingly at you. He just needs to catch his breath and then he'll be ready to go again. Doesn't that sound good, darling?

Tangerine loves edging you simply because he can. You look so pretty when you cry, especially when your tears ruin your makeup. The more debauched you look, the better. Nothing makes him harder than seeing you at his mercy.  He likes to use his fancy silk ties to bind your wrists and ankles to the bed so you’re spread eagle for him. Throughout the whole experience, he remains fully clothed in his three-piece suit while you’re completely naked.

Because he loves to push boundaries, even when you’re absolutely certain you’re at your limit, he’ll keep going until you have to use your safe word. He keeps up a steady stream of chatter throughout, using a mix of praise and dumbification in equal measure. You may act like you don’t enjoy it when he’s mean to you, but the way your cunt squeezes the shit out of his fingers tells a different story. Speaking of which, Tangerine isn’t about to remove his rings for this. He wants you to feel them as he curls them deep inside you. 

When it’s finally time to let you come he wants you to soak his face. After all, he put in all the work and he’s going to get his reward. Then, knowing him, he might shift into overestimation territory just because (and if you happen to pass out on him at this point, when you wake up he’s going to lecture you about falling asleep on him). When it’s finally time to sink to your body he’ll demand just one more orgasm from you as he finds his own end.

After, Tangerine will take a minute to admire what he's done to you. Maybe even snap a photo or two for later when he's gone on a job. Although he’ll clean up your tears and give you a little forehead kiss, that’s as far as he’ll go. He wants you to go to bed with a mess between your thighs. The thought of his cum slowly leaking out of you for the rest of the night makes him hard enough to go again. 

Ives has a purpose for edging you. Maybe it’s punishment for disobeying him or just because he knows you need it. Either way, you’re going to be handcuffed to the bed, sweaty, and begging to come by the time he's done with you. Ives is steady and calm during the whole experience, squeezing your thighs in reassurance while he reminds you that you can and will go another 10 minutes like this. 

And when he’s finally ready to let you come it won’t be with his mouth. You’ll come on his cock or not at all. He’ll sink into you slowly, relishing how you welcome him in with a fluttery little gasp, straining against the handcuffs. You’ve been empty for so long that it’s almost overwhelming to have him fill you up. But he’s not as unaffected as he likes to pretend. You can feel a tremor work through his body as he slowly rocks into you, building to deeper and harder thrusts. By the time you’re coming around him, without ever needing him to touch your clit, the bed is groaning and smacking into the wall.   

After Ives will clean you up with a washcloth and wrap his body around yours, nuzzling into your hair. You’ll fall asleep to him telling you what a good girl you were for him.

♡

Special thanks to @ryebecca and @otaku-girl-ao3 for looking this over.

I'm curious to hear everyone else's thoughts and reasoning. 👀

[starfleetteddybear]

Ah! What a glorious feeling crawling into bed, cup of tea in hand, ready to indulge with some quality fanfiction kindle time. Especially if it’s another rendition of Emmrich and Rook rated R kissing.

Everyday I wake up to like 30 emails from ao3 of all these great fics updating and …I feel like that meme where Sabrina is eating all that food she can’t decide which first. It’s such a great problem to have! I thought I’d just take a minute to share a selection of stories I have on my radar and am absolutely loving! Maybe others will find a new favorite? 🤩

Gotta catch up with some amazing works:

@nerdanel01 has put out new chapters for their stories featuring Agnes and Emmrich. So excited to check those out! What a treat waiting for me. You created such a slow burn yearning. 😩 It’s such a high I haven’t come down from still.

@tethrawke I gotta finish that last little bit of your story Hope Dream featuring Hawke and Varric. 🔥🔥🔥🔥🙌

@crackinglamb Gotta get caught up on your story The Turning Tide. The way you write about Iron Bull…I… He wasn’t even on my radar! You did so well! I’m hooked! 🪝

@emmg Literally I’ve loved everything you have ever written. Seriously, you could have your Rook and Emmrich fucking in a cardboard box and you’d find a way to make it inspired and sexy. Honestly, I think about you and @eavangeek on the same wavelength because you both just take an interesting premise and turn it into something absolutely amazing. Like Rumpelstiltskin turning straw into gold. 💕

@farore05 I am loving your story Amaretto Sour. And I can’t WAIT for how you get rid of Johanna. Hate that woman (in your story) with a fiery passion already and we just met her. 🤬

@heylittleriotact I heard people are dying to get in here is such an interesting premise. I didn’t even know I would enjoy a modern au of Emmrich but…👀👀👀👀 You have my attention. As if you didn’t already from the other stories you put out already.

@livingmeetthedead I absolutely love the way you are writing Emmrich’s pov in your story Quietus. It’s so unique and not many people are doing that! I don’t think I could write his pov very well…I might try at some point but I think you do such a good job at it! Honestly, I’d say the way you are doing it is inspired. 🥰 You’re doing amazing sweetie!

@andthekitchensinkao3 “If the notion appeals, Pari… I’m going to put my face between your legs and eat you like a ripe peach. And that’s only the beginning of the things I want to do with you.”OMG Somebody call the coroner (heylittleriotact) because I’m dead. 😵 so freaking 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

@tired-truffle I know you just wrote that one shot about King Alistair and his queen warden but… 👀 God I loved it so freaking much. I hope you do more because you captured his voice and personality perfect in “Ball and Chain.”

@sabine79 You have been feeding us so good with Arsenic and Myrrh I literally can’t keep up. 🙌💕 NOT a complaint. I feel bad I have fallen so far behind. Forgive me because I love how you got your two “rooks” going on and I love how you have both a Lucanis/Rook situation and a Emmrich/Rook situation going on.

@templarkicker Your story “Once When You Walked Beside Me” has me in a chokehold. They were together and then BROKE UP before DAV? And then they are getting back to get her from lovers to strangers to lovers again? 😩🙌🔥

@sunny374940 I have so enjoyed getting to read your stories. Please keep sharing and posting them with us. What a delight to get a new update to my inbox from you. I loved how you took your Rook/Emmrich on their honeymoon recently. And the babywearing? So freaking cute!!!🥰 and I love you have your own original work going on too, “Damn Sky Wales.”

@woundedsoul12 Rook’s letter to Emmrich after Tearstone Island? Broke my heart! 😭 Seriously, great job with the angst. I’ve loved all your other dragon age stories too!

And a special shout out to @redheadsramblings because you are such a supportive sweetie. Everytime I (virtually) turn around you are there. And I see you all over tumblr and ao3 too! Absolute sweetheart. 💚

[verdicloud]

alonzostrap ideas

what!!! am i finally making an alonzostrap post for once??? no freakin way…

this is my first post about them so it seems like i don’t ship them a lot, but ohohhh, i ship them a lot.

the fact that alonzo is meant to be an unsure cat, who hides his insecurities by putting up a front and acting vain and overconfident, is part of what made him my all-time favourite cat in the show. and munkustrap, especially gruberstrap, just has this really safe and soothing aura to him. like whenever michael gruber sings, it just feels like a big brother comforting you. their complimentary personalities combined with their close relationship and BOOM it’s one of my (two) favourite ships.

i have this idea that alonzo is actually really, like really terrified of lightning and thunderstorms and electricity and stuff (it’s why mistoffelees only uses lightning powers subtly around alonzo). no one is really sure why…. maybe he witnessed his mom get electrocuted or something and that’s how he was orphaned? maybe it’s just an irrational fear? either way, he obviously hates his phobia and doesn’t want anyone to know.

and he’s even more scared of macavity because… yk.

the whole ⚡️⚡️ thing. (and that’s why he was hesitant to hands-on fight macavity only until munkustrap was badly hurt. alonzo my man you are so brave for standing up to him like that <3 even tho u got ur ass kicked)

a little story-time based on this idea: when alonzo was still a stray who wasn’t part of the tribe yet, he took shelter under a trashed bench in the junkyard during a heavy thunderstorm. munkustrap, who had met alonzo but never managed to gain his trust, was worried about him. he knew where alonzo would be, so he led his owners there (much to their confusion at first), and they found him curled up and terrified out of his wits. they gladly took him in and dried him up.

although quite startled and angry at first, alonzo eventually calmed down and warmed up to them with munkustrap’s insistent comfort. they cuddled all night long in a peaceful slumber, with munk’s long fluffy fur as alonzo’s blanket. munkustrap slept quite well that night in satisfaction that he finally got alonzo to let his guard down. and for once in his life, alonzo didn’t flinch or shudder every time he heard the sound of booming thunder.

after that, munkustrap’s owners helped repurpose the old bench to turn it into a comfortable den for the two cats.

URRRHHHHH THEY’RE IN LOVE 😩😩💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

GUYS THE FACT THAT BEFORE “THE OLD GUMBIE CAT”, ALL THE CATS ARE THE ONES TO GO UP TO MUNK AND GREET HIM, BUT ALONZO IS THE ONLY ONE THAT MUNK GOES TO INSTEAD.

beautiful. just beautiful.

[kathlare]

fast times

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: In the middle of a busy day at the McLaren motorhome, Lando Norris stumbles upon Amelie Dayman’s latest music video release. What starts as a casual watch quickly turns into something else entirely as he realizes just how much has changed—and how much hasn’t.

Wordcount: 1.6 k

Warnings: kinda mature content

full masterlist // request over here!

February 25th, 2022 - Barcelona, Spain

liked by schecoperez, emiliamernes, and others

ameliedayman: fast times song/video are out now ❤️‍🔥

i’m always told how fast life goes and to make sure i really live it to the absolute fullest and appreciate the moment I’m presently in, cause we don’t get any rewrites- so i wrote this to remind myself of that and hopefully this song makes you feel that way too.

too many people to thank that help my silly little visions come to life!! so i put them in this scroll

go stream go watch go go go fast fast fast

View all 1,382 comments

madisonbeer: fast fast fast but why does time slow down when I’m staring at u? 🤨 → ameliedayman: @madisonbeer girl be so serious rn 😭

fan1: BLONDE AMELIE SUPREMACY IS BACKKK 🔥🔥🔥 → fan2: @fan1 we won but at what cost 😭 brunetties stay losing

fan3: "fast times" ?? nah cause i’ve been stuck on this post for 3 hours 😭

shawnmendes: this song is actually insane. proud of u always 🤍 → fan13: @shawnmendes SHAWN??? OH WE REALLY IN THE 2014 TIMELINE HUH

stelladayman: so this is what ur hair actually looks like huh?? wild. → ameliedayman: @stelladayman i KNOW u didn’t just expose me like that 😭

jackdayman: i’ve only ever known brunette amelie. who is this stranger. → ameliedayman: @jackdayman don’t be dramatic omg 😩

fan14: the fact that this is just the beginning of the wicked era… we’re so not ready 😭 → fan15: @fan14 nope. we’re DONE. i already feel overwhelmed 😵‍💫

fan9: SHES SO BLONDE. SHES SO HOT. SHES SO TALENTED. HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE GOD’S FAVORITE???

fan5: brunettes just took a major L… but I’m lowkey okay with it 😩 → fan6: @fan5 she didn’t just go blonde, she returned home 🫡

fan7: nah cause she just casually changed her whole identity and dropped a BANGER?? 😭🔥 → fan8: @fan7 glinda era is gonna be dangerous i fear 😳

taylorswift: my pop princess era queen!!! this is a BANGER 👑🔥 → ameliedayman: @taylorswift ur the reason i write songs so. crying now.

florencepugh: the song? the video? the hair? the serve is too strong 😵‍💫 → ameliedayman: @florencepugh ur approval is all i ever needed 😭

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

The McLaren motorhome in Barcelona was buzzing with activity as the team prepared for another round of testing. Engineers were going over data, mechanics were discussing car setup, and drivers were in and out of briefings. Lando had just finished a long debrief with his engineers, his body still thrumming with adrenaline from his last stint in the car.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head before grabbing his phone. His group chat with Max and a few other friends had been popping off for the last ten minutes, all of them sending the same link over and over again.

Bro, have you seen this??? No fucking way she did that Holy shit, blonde suits her TOO much

Lando furrowed his brows, clicking on the link. It redirected him to YouTube. The thumbnail alone was enough to knock the air out of his lungs.

Amelie Dayman - "Fast Times" (Official Music Video)

He felt his stomach flip. This was her debut music video. He knew she had been working on her music for years, but he hadn’t actually paid attention to when her first song would drop.

And fuck. She looked stunning. Even in just the thumbnail, she looked unfairly good. Her big green eyes, her lips slightly parted, that undeniable presence she always had on screen. Lando swallowed and tapped play.

The video started with Amelie as a brunette—her hair just the way he remembered it, cascading over her shoulders, looking effortlessly beautiful. The opening shot was cinematic, her sitting in the driver's seat of a car, sunglasses perched on her nose. The song kicked in, upbeat and confident, her voice dripping with charm.

Lando barely registered the lyrics, too caught up in the visuals. And then—

Blonde.

His grip on the phone tightened as Amelie appeared again, but this time her hair was golden, flowing in loose waves, framing her face like she had stepped straight out of a dream. His jaw slackened, heart stuttering in his chest.

What the fuck.

She looked insane. Like, painfully, achingly beautiful. His brain short-circuited trying to process it.

Lando felt heat creep up his neck, his pulse pounding in his ears. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, pressing his lips together as the music video continued. Every shot of her blonde, confident, untouchable—it did something to him.

His mouth felt dry. His palms were clammy against his phone.

She had always been beautiful—he knew that. He had been obsessed with her back when she was brunette, back when she was his. But this?

This was something else entirely.

She looked unreal. Ethereal. And so fucking hot.

Lando sucked in a sharp breath, shifting in his seat. His racing suit suddenly felt way too tight, the fabric pressing against his body in all the wrong ways. He had to blink a few times, drag a hand down his face to try and snap himself out of it.

But the video just kept going.

There was a scene where Amelie was leaning against a car, twirling a lollipop between her fingers, lips slightly pursed in a way that made his mind spiral. Another where she walked through a hallway, her hips swaying, her confidence radiating off the screen. And the final shot? She tilted her head, staring straight into the camera, lips curling into the smallest, cockiest smirk—like she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

—Fucking hell,— he muttered under his breath, adjusting himself in his seat.

This was bad.

Lando didn’t know how long he sat there, phone still in his hand, screen frozen on the last frame of the video. His heart was beating way too fast. His head was spinning. His lower stomach felt tight, hot, needy in a way that he really didn’t need right now.

He swallowed, clearing his throat, trying to will the feeling away. But it wasn’t going anywhere.

He needed to do something about it.

With one last glance around the motorhome, making sure no one was paying him any attention, he pushed himself up from his chair and made his way to his driver's room. His legs felt heavy, stiff, as he walked down the hallway. He barely registered the greetings from the team members he passed, only nodding in response before slipping inside and locking the door behind him.

His chest rose and fell in deep breaths as he leaned against the door for a second, squeezing his eyes shut.

This was insane. He shouldn’t be reacting like this.

Amelie wasn’t his anymore.

But fuck, she had to know what she was doing. She had to know how good she looked.

With a low groan, he pushed off the door and ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.

Yeah. He was gonna need a few minutes.

[saturngalore]

i hate that i have become of those cc creators that post cc only once in awhile and nothing else…i was an edit simblr first before anything💔💔💔

[askthisfishprince]

✨Hey guys! Just wanted to come on here and thank you soooo much for all the messages! I really didn’t think this blog was going to get any engagement lol So it really means a lot lol

That being said I apologize for not being able to get to everyone’s questions as quickly as I would like to! I’m unfortunately a boring adult with other priorities at times 😔 But I do read all of them! And I plan to answer as many as I can!

If you guys could let me know if you wouldn’t mind less “cleaned up” replies, please let me know! It unfortunately takes a lot of time to reply in full colored pieces, and I would be able to get to more questions if I replied with sketches! So please let me know if that’s something you guys would be cool with! I just don’t want anyone feeling bummed out if I can’t color in a whole comic for an answer 😔 Anyways! Thank you so much again! This dumb fish guy doesn’t deserve more attention but ive been in deep since 2013 so please keep asking him questions so i have an excuse to draw him 24/7 lol ✨

[wasteland-wrecker]

Sometimes I wonder if you just start a new fallout game and make an avatar and then go

“Damn…this would do numbers on Tumblr”

AND IT ALWAYS DOES BECAUSE YOURE SO COOL???

Love your blog, love your art, love your characters!!

Ahah, I actually don’t ☺️ I only go: damn… is this character a not so good looking but still somehow attractive man another man would hypothetically like to taste? 🤔

But yeah, if they do numbers on Tumblr I’m even happier lol

Ocs are what gives me life honestly, whether they are completely original or from a specific fandom. The “problem” of completely original characters is that you might have to explain to others the world they live in, while ocs from existing media are easier to empathize with because you know exactly where they come from. ASDFGHJK NOBODY ASKED-

ANYWAY THANK YOU SO MUCH 😭😭😭

Kisses from both Rico and Toby at the same time 💋💋💋

[whereismyhat5678]

I was gonna do this. You know I was.

(Also random fact, ever since I favored Kaufmo I kind of realized I have a VERY strong love for characters with dots for eyes. Like Gustavo, Dj from Total Drama Island, Toad from Super Mario (and the movie made me fucking LOVE HIM), Winnie the Pooh (when I was younger I adored this fucker and I still do) AND THE LIST GOES TO things I don’t even play/watch but characters who have the dotted eyes WIN ME OVER, like Billy from Billy and Mandy and that one bear (Riz?) from Beastars like- HOLY SHIT I HAVE A LIST-)

[lunaticamic]

it’s incredible how hateful and obsessed with sainz are every comments on a big motorsport page on facebook… when the post even remotely mentions him the comments are like “oh yes because his obsession is only leclerc!!” “no top team wants him because his entourage is horrible!!” “oh he’s got a big ego and it’s not a team player. he races for himself only” and others alike…… he’s really rotating in your head. you middle aged italian men would do numbers as twitter fangirls‼️

[hobbithoes]

Gonna start posting again soon fr , it’s just hard to manage my time , venting in the tags incomingggg ✈️

[lesbianlenas]

ever since i discovered thrifting clothes online it is now a weakness of mine i’m like oh i can get this nice shirt for an affordable price? and then i have gotten 5 shirts at an affordable price and spent $80 😔✌️

[insert-game]

feeling Bad and worried about my job and the future

[howtotrainyouragents]

I thought I was over it but apparently not: WHY DID THEY CHANGE THE ANIMATION 😩😩😩

[ghostlovesbaguettes]

YESS!!! OKAY WHAT THE FUCK I DID NOT KNOW THAT WAS SMTH I LIKED…. 😏😏😏

you’re just like… fucking awesome. and like super cool.

no cause why do I have ABSOLUTELY NO CLUE how to play ANY of those card games. she’s so real only knowing go fish (that’s all I actually know)

Bite Me

You learn two things on a particularly boring patrol shift - Joel loves to bite and you love to be bitten (5.3k)

Tags - 18+, smut, bite kink, lots and lots of biting, spitting, joel eats you out from behind because he's just in that kind of mood, brief ass eating, anything one can do with their mouth joel does to you, unprotected piv, creampie, not? gentle? sex, little dubcon bc joel is a maniac, little bit of blood, one (1) dad joke, skin tone is not described but bites and bruises in reader's skin are mentioned. Fic help - @noxturnalpascal for editing and @endlessthxxghts and @beefrobeefcal for encouraging this!! i love you all! A/N - thanks for your patience! I’m working on bigger things that are out of my comfort zone so enjoy this snack sized fic until dinner’s ready. I wrote this with my heart but most importantly my pussy, I hope that translates.

You and Joel are on patrol together at your usual post, an old two story house about an hour’s ride outside of Jackson. It’s early July, which usually means there’s more activity to keep an eye on as the summer warms; raiders, infected, strangers and the like. But not lately - there haven’t been any major threats, nothing to make your patrol shifts daunting like they usually are. It’s just been quiet and peaceful.

Boring.

So. Fucking Boring.

You’ve picked through everything in this house several times over and never found much. There’s no food or tools or anything useful, but there’s not even anything particularly interesting either. No paintings on the walls, no photo albums of old families to flip through as you like to do. There’s no books in the house either, apart from a few damaged by water and with torn pages, rendering them unreadable. 

Joel used to get on your case about this, gruffly telling you to ‘Quit fuckin’ around’ and ‘Should be payin’ attention to your surroundings, not snoopin’ through shit that ain’t there’. But eventually, he got bored too. The surroundings never change, not much to really pay attention to, even for Joel. 

There was one time Joel didn’t yell at you as you wandered off, and when you came back upstairs you found him sitting on a couch in the room with a big window, hunched over a coffee table, picking up and laying down playing cards. Solitaire. 

You leaned over the back of the couch and tapped him on the shoulder, “Aren’t we supposed to be keeping watch?” you asked, teasing.

Joel turned over his shoulder and glanced at you, then turned back to his cards and continued playing. “Smartass,” he mumbled. “You gonna rat on me?”

 “No. As long as you know you’re a hypocrite,”  you replied before rounding the side of the old couch and sitting next to him. You watched him as he flipped through the deck a couple times over, then he sighed in defeat. “Did you lose?”

“Yup,” he answered, gathering the cards and shuffling them a couple of times. “You’re losin’ next, though. You’re gonna play with me.”

“I don’t know any card games.”

Joel looked at you incredulously, “Bullshit,”  he said. A deck of cards was one of the most valuable things one could own post-apocalypse. Endless games for solo play and small groups of people alike. Not much else to do to pass the time, but then again, people stay busy in Jackson.

“Oh wait - yeah, I do know one. I know Go Fish. Do you wanna play that one?”

“Pass,” he answered. “I’d rather play nothin’ at all if that’s our only game. You know Crazy 8’s, don’t you? Gin Rummy?” 

“Nope.”

“I’m gonna rectify that, then. C’mere.”

Joel taught you three games that night. The first being War, because it’s easy and luck based - something for you to dip your toes into. The next was Crazy 8’s and then finally, Gin Rummy. 

You weren’t lying when you told Joel you didn’t know any card games, but only because you could never learn. You didn’t like the pressure of learning in groups, didn’t like the vague instructions being shouted at you. Euchre was particularly awful to learn, you were holding back tears trying to get through that game. But Joel taught you differently, he was gentle and patient and calm with an open hand of cards. He’d play fairly and wouldn’t take advantage of your inexperience. His patience paid off - after some time, he had a consistent opponent for card games and your patrols together became a lot less boring. Now Joel never has to play another lonely game of solitaire again. You play with him just about every shift now, when it’s quiet and there’s nothing going on. Your favorite games to play are Crazy 8’s and War, not much strategy involved in those but Joel enjoys them anyway. 

After taking your usual spots together on the couch, Joel reaches into a pocket of his backpack, the one on the inside that fits his deck of cards like a glove. “Fuck,” he whispers under his breath. 

“What’s the matter?”

“No cards,” he murmurs, feeling around through his items and coming up empty. “Must’ve left ‘em at Tommy’s.” Tommy and Maria recently hosted a game night and invited a couple of people, Joel being one of them. And then Joel brought you along to be his partner in group games. Playing with him one on one made you feel special, but you liked that he took you along as his date of-sorts. He shot you secret little winks from across the table before clearing his throat and furrowing his eyebrows as he examined his hand. 

“Oh,” you say. “So I guess we’re actually patrolling tonight, then.”

“‘Bout time,” Joel replies with a soft chuckle. “Maybe somethin’ of interest will happen, finally.”

“Oh god, don’t say that. I really hope not.”

“Yeah,” Joel agrees, “Me neither.”

It’s nice to watch the sunset through the big window, very relaxing and beautiful. As the light disappears, the color in the room begins to fade and looks like television in black and white. Joel looks like one of those old-timey movie stars, he has the face for it. He stares out the window and twists the end of his mustache and you think that could play the criminally handsome villain. All dark and mysterious, with his sharp nose and inky eyes. 

“Whatcha’ lookin’ at?”

Oops. Busted. “Nothing,” you lie. You don’t catch Joel’s smirk as you excuse yourself to go look through the house for the millionth time. Maybe there’s something to do around here that you’ve not seen before. Or a book, you’ll read anything - an instruction manual to a vacuum cleaner or a Cuisinart food processor even. Anything. 

But there’s nothing new, nothing’s changed. Your fingerprints on cabinets and drawers from months and months before still sit in the dust. This place is fair and squarely empty. You sigh deeply before you return to Joel upstairs. “I’m bored,” you whine in his direction.

“Hi bored, I’m Joel.”

You could make waves with the power of your eye roll. “Are you sure you don’t have your cards?”

Joel rifles through his belongings once more and sighs. “Nope. Definitely at Tommy’s. God bless it.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “We’ll live.”

You don’t know that you will live, though. Death by boredom feels more likely. The minutes pass, but they feel like hours in the deafening silence. Joel makes no effort at conversation, which is very true to himself. He’s not much of a talker anyway, but leave it to Joel to sit in silence when even light smalltalk would make a world of difference in making this a less boring night. 

Some minutes pass and you’re starting to get fidgety. You crack the knuckles in your hand, one by one by one which garners a look from Joel. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he murmurs. 

You pick at your nails next, trying to even out some jagged and split edges. Joel looks at you again, glaring as you pick and pick. He fucking hates that sound. His chemistry teacher in high school used to pick at her fingernails during tests and it always made this awful, high pitched click, which was especially grating in the silence. The noise drives him crazy, like nails on a chalkboard. “I’d appreciate it if you’d quit pickin’ at your nails, hon, that noise makes my teeth hurt.”

“What do you mean, ‘makes your teeth hurt’?” you ask, still picking at your nails. You’ve almost got that one hangnail.

“Gives me the heebie jeebies, I don’t know–” Click. You got the nail. Joel shivers while gritting his teeth and groaning. “Knock it off,” he hisses.  

“Okay, sorry,” you say. “I’m done.”

“Thank you.”

Peace and quiet once more. Joel’s bored too, but he doesn’t mind the insipidity of the evening as much as you do. He likes having the time to reflect, to slow down and collect his thoughts. He’s thinking about his day off tomorrow, what he’s gonna do. Probably harvest some vegetables from his garden, do a load of laundry and–

Click.

“What’d I just ask?”

You freeze where you’re at, the nail of one of your thumbs picking at the other, you’re caught red handed. “Shit. Sorry, Joel.” 

“Uh-huh. Sit on your hands,” he commands. 

“What?”

“You heard me. Sit on ‘em.” You roll your eyes as you wedge both of your hands under your thighs just like Joel asked and he nods in approval. “There. F’you can sit still for twenty minutes, you can have your hand privileges back.”

“You can’t take away my hand privileges, Joel. They’re hands. They’re attached to me.”

“I can, indeed. If ya do it again, you’re losin’ a finger.”

A baseless threat, but you know Joel means business so you do your best to sit still. Surely he doesn’t actually expect you to not move at all. You’re allowed to adjust, move yourself into a more comfortable position so you do, and then you feel the corner of your nail get stuck on a thread of your jeans. You pull your hand from under yourself to examine it, feel the irregularity. You’re trying to ignore it but you just can’t. 

Pick pick pick.

Joel turns to your direction and in a swift movement, grabs both of your hands in his and squeezes, shaking you gently. “Enough,” he fumes, frustration in his voice. He loosens his grip slightly and you pull your hands away before you really do lose a finger, you fear that his threat did in fact hold water. “Hey,” Joel says, his voice softened. “That’s somethin’ we could do.”

“What’s something we can do?”

“Slap jack,” he answers plainly, nodding his head like he’s waiting for you to tell him you understand. You don’t. 

“What’s slap jack?” 

“You don’t know slap jack?” he asks. You shake your head, no. “You don’t know much, do you?”

“Hey,” you complain. Rude. 

“Relax, I’m teasin’,” he says, “You know you’re a smartass. Now give me your hands.” Cautiously, you extend your hands towards Joel and he takes them gently in his own, “Flatten ‘em,” he says, “Like this.” maneuvering your hands into place so that your palms are facing the ground. He places his hands underneath yours, his palms facing the ceiling. “Ready?”

“I guess?”

Bam. Joel flips his hands on top of yours and slaps the back of your hands. “Joel!” you shriek. “That hurt.” 

“Well don’t let me hit you, then,” he smirks. “That’s the game. You gotta move your hands before I getcha.”

You giggle. And Joel really didn’t hit you hard, you were just startled. The prospect of the game excites you. “Again,” you say. 

You lay your hands out flat, Joel holds his underneath yours. He uses his fingers to tease your palms, tapping and tracing along your skin. Smack. Back in the same position once more, with your hands on top of Joel’s. He doesn’t tease this time, just smacks you again. A third time you lay your palms on his, and he teases again - fingers creeping on your skin, tickling and thrilling you. With every minor movement of Joel’s hands, you pull your hands back. “You’re flinchin’ an awful lot,” he teases. “S’usually against the rules, but I’m bein’ nice.”

“You’re gonna hit me!” 

Joel shakes his head. “I’m not gonna hit you, sweetheart. Why would I do that?” Smack. You gasp and rub the backs of your hands, smiling at Joel with an open mouth. He beat you again. “You’re terrible at this,” he says.

“It’s my turn,” you decide, laying your hands out with your palms facing up. Joel places his hands on top of yours just like how the game goes. You flip your hands to slap his and hit nothing but air. He’s too quick. Settling back into place, you try again and Joel pulls away too quickly for you to slap him. It’s the same thing over and over again until you decide you're done playing. Offense and defense, you never win, only lose.

“You’re a sore loser, you know that? Card games too, you do not like to lose, do you?”

“I don’t - you’re just–”

“Just what?”

You’re not answering that. You know what the answer is, that he’s too good at these games and you’re not but you don’t need to tell him that, inflate his ego even more. “I wanna pick a game.”

“Be my guest. One that you can win, right?” You couldn’t slap Joel’s hands but you’re sure you could slap that stupid shit-eating grin off right off of his face right now. You just take Joel’s left hand and offer him yours. “What game’s this?”

You’re retaliating. He didn’t hit you hard at any point, but you’re gonna get him back. There’s not really a name for this game, it’s just something you used to  play when you were a teenager. It’s on par with those other stupid teenager games, truth or dare and spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven.

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s the biting game.”

“Biting?” Joel looks at you incredulously.

“Yeah, biting. I bite your hand, you bite mine. See who can take it.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very nice game,” Joel says.

“Well it’s fitting then, because you’re not a very nice man.”

Joel smirks,  “No, ‘spose I’m not.”

“So, do you wanna play?”

You don’t even let him answer before bringing his hand to your mouth,  fitting your teeth over the fleshy part of it - right in between his thumb and forefinger, where his unique bullseye tattoo sits. Joel follows suit, placing his teeth over your hand and letting them rest there. You feel the heat from his mouth, the softness of his lips. His teeth are blunt, threatening to sink into you and tickling your skin as he waits for the game to begin. “Ready?” you ask, your voice muffled by his hand. Joel nods, his big brown eyes sparkling in the low light. “Okay.” 

 You bite Joel, holding his gaze. His skin is salty and warm. Joel bites with you and you’re both rather tentative at first, biting the other gently. You take the initiative to bite him harder, “Mm,” he mumbles, surprised by the pain yet won’t go further.  

“That's all you got?”

Joel raises his eyebrows at your challenge. He squeezes his eyes shut as he bites down, hard. In turn, you squeal and pull back, and Joel releases your hand in an instant. You shake your hand and rub the mark he left, laughing. “Motherfucker,” you gasp.

Joel turns on a lantern on the coffee table and takes your hand back to inspect it. “You okay?” he asks, tracing the marks in your skin. “You don’t have much of a pain tolerance.”

“It’s a sensitive spot,” you reply. 

He makes an amused sort of expression at that, still rubbing your hand as he nods in response. The closeness in proximity, the peculiar intimacy of the game you and Joel have just played - it feels like something in the atmosphere changes, charged, the way the air feels before a storm. 

Joel breaks the silence, “Bet you’re sensitive like that everywhere,” he whispers. “Should grow some thicker skin.”

“Joel–”

He takes your hand again, this time skipping that fleshy spot on your palm and instead bringing your wrist to his mouth. His mustache is prickly on your skin. Joel bites your wrist, and you can’t help but let out a little gasp, even though he’s gentle just like before. He increases pressure until you’re yelping again, but this time he doesn’t let you go. He watches you squirm, catching your lip in your own teeth as you writhe in pain. You exhale in relief when he loosens his bite, then shiver as he drags his teeth along your forearm and bites you there next, then moves up to your bicep. Each bite is harder than the last, including when he pulls the collar of your top away and bites your neck. The skin is tender and thin and it hurts, really fucking hurts as you whine in pain. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes,” you gasp. 

Joel soothes the bite mark with his tongue which startles you perhaps more than his teeth did. “You can take it,” he whispers against your skin before searching for another part of your neck to bite. He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilts it to the side, allowing himself access to you. You feel him open his mouth and bite down, but this time it feels good. Joel notices your reaction, feeling the vibration of your moan with his mouth against your neck. “You liked that,” he says, it’s not a question. 

You’re at a loss for words. Breathing heavily, you pant, “Fu - Joel…”

“It’s okay. You can admit it.” Joel likes it too - all that flesh between his teeth. The marks of his teeth he leaves in your skin, the bruising that surrounds them - it’s his artwork, unable to be replicated. Nobody else has his teeth and nobody else has your skin. He’s not broken skin yet but he imagines the faint taste of your blood on his tongue, tangy and metallic mixed with the sweetness of your skin. Fuck, he could eat you whole. Make you hurt, oh, he’ll make you fucking hurt. He softly bites your earlobe next, “Feels good to hurt sometimes,” he purrs in your ear. The heat of his breath sends a shiver down your spine. “So I’m gonna keep bitin’, then. And you’re not gonna quit on me like last time. Are you?”

Despite the pain, the way it sort of intimidates you, you find yourself complying, nodding. You feel his mustache before his lips, his lips before his teeth, and finally his tongue, hot and wet. It’s unlike anything you’ve experienced - salacious and erotic, frightening and tormenting, all at the same time.  You feel Joel everywhere, in places he’s not even bitten or kissed or touched yet. God, you hope he touches you there.  

Joel pushes your shirt up your body, his fingers brushing over you as he reaches behind you to unclip your bra. He pushes the straps off your shoulders, you watch as the undergarment falls into your lap. Joel taps your jaw twice, “Tilt your head back for me,” he instructs. He nips at your neck and collarbones before gently pushing you down on the couch, pulling your pants and underwear down in one movement before situating himself between your legs. You’re laid out for him, bare. His canvas to paint as he pleases. With darkened eyes, Joel pores over your body - he’ll hurt you here, pleasure you there, tease you somewhere else - the horizon is endless. 

He begins with kisses down the column of your throat, cascading down your sternum. He moves over to one of your breasts and you know it’s coming, but it startles you anyway. He bites hard on such a sensitive part of you, “Shhh,” he coos, quieting you. With a strong, masculine hand on your other breast, he finds your nipple and flicks it, drags his thumb over it until it pebbles beneath his touch, effectively soothing your cries of pain and turning them into noises of pleasure. 

“Joel,” you whine. “Fuck, Joel.”

“You’re doin’ good,” he tells you. “Doin’ just fine.”

You gasp when you feel his teeth around your hardened nipple, threatening to clamp down. He bites you gently, oh so gently, just enough to secure the bud in place for him to roll between his teeth. He brings his tongue into play then, swiping it over your nipple and circling it. After repeating the action with your other breast, his head travels lower, lower. Biting at whatever he pleases, kissing when he feels like it. He bites your hips - a sharp pain, and then your thighs - dull. 

You can’t help yourself as your fingers find your sex, already so wet. You circle your clit a couple of times before Joel pulls your hand away, biting and sucking your arousal off your fingers. He replaces your fingers with his own, pushing two of his thick fingers inside you as he bites and nips at your thighs, sucking at your skin as well. His teeth, his fingers, all where you need Joel the very most - it all feels so good, so intense, you don’t quite know where pain ends and pleasure begins as he works his fingers inside you.You don’t know if he’ll bite you hard or soft, a small bite or a big mouthful of your flesh and you can only imagine the marks he’s made on your skin. He alternates between biting, sucking, kissing, licking you, using his tongue and lips and teeth to drive you wild, have you writhing and melting under him.

 Joel pulls his fingers from your core and brings them to your mouth, pushing them past your lips. “Suck,” he says, and you do, tasting the tanginess of your own arousal on your tongue. Joel takes your hips in his strong hands and flips you over on your stomach, then sits back on his knees. You hear the quiet rustling of his clothes, that discernable sound of his zipper being undone before his clothes are tossed on the ground. He bends one of your legs and leans over you to kiss and nip at your ankle, then the other, biting up your calves. He traces his tongue over the backs of your knees before he bites you gingerly, the action has you gasping and moaning. Joel chuckles against your skin. “Knew you were sensitive,” he murmurs. He kisses his way up your thighs, kisses your ass cheeks and bites where they meet your thigh. “Up, lift up, sweetheart,” he speaks softly, urging you to lift your hips. He finds his pile of clothes and bunches them beneath your hips, propping you up for him. 

Joel parts your lips with his thumbs, spreading your sick folds for easier access. You feel his hot breath on your heat and you’re nervous, anticipating that blunt feeling of his teeth on your most sensitive place, but it never comes. Instead, his nose - aquiline and perfect, tracing up your clit, your flesh until he finds your hole, his nose buried in your most private place. He spreads your cheeks and spits between them, the saliva drips down, down. He traces you with his tongue, circling clockwise, then counter. “Fuck,” you whimper, pushing your hips back into his face as your nerves tingle. He kisses the sensitive area before traveling lower, his lips finally meeting you where you need them most. “Oh god,” you whine. 

Joel dips his tongue into you, humming in pleasure as he does - he fucking loves it, the heat of your cunt and your sweet arousal soaking his face, and he knows that hours later he’ll still be able to smell you. He pumps his tongue in and out, delving into you. He drags the muscle through your folds, all wet and sticky with your slick before he finds your clit to lick and suck at that sensitive part of you. 

He eats you voraciously like he loves it, passionate and determined as he savors you. The way Joel’s lips wrap around your clit, his nose in the space he just fucked, on his knees - this is what he’s meant for, what you’re meant for too. It’s obsession. He’s all fingertips bruising into your skin under his crushing hold, his tongue a relentless assault on your sex. You feel his salt and peppery scruff scratching your inner thighs and rubbing you raw. In the coming days you'll still feel him, skin burning as the hot water of your shower runs down your legs. You love it now, and you’ll love it then. 

You’re moaning, babbling Joel’s name, begging him but you don’t know what for - For him to make you come and then to stop, because it’s too much. Begging him for more and less, the push and pull of it all. Joel smirks against your cunt, proud of the delirium he’s brought you to using just his mouth. His grip is still ironclad despite all of your grinding and wriggling, trying to right yourself like an insect on its back. He listens intently to your body and all the different noises you’re making, broken moans and those sticky, obscene sounds of your cunt being sucked and licked and lapped. When your thighs begin to twitch, your breaths become sharp and unsteady with your impending release, he doubles down on his efforts until you’re coming all over him, soaking him wet. 

You’re a mess of hazy thoughts, barely aware as he’s pulling your hips back, pushing your chest down. With one hand, he rubs soothing circles on your lower back as he holds the other in front of his face and spits into it before wrapping his palm around his cock, throbbing and angry. He pumps himself a couple of times, the leaking tip rubbing against your ass. When he’s ready, he reaches for your neck with the hand previously rubbing your backside and forces you up. He bites your ear first, then fits the head of his cock into your entrance. 

Joel offers no warning before burying himself into you inch by inch, splitting you in two. You whine as he fills you up, stretches and hurts you so nicely, he bites you harder the deeper he pushes into you. He doesn’t take time to let you get used to the ache, he knows you’ve come to love the pain he gives to you, because that’s what he’s made you do. Joel pulls out of you all the way and pushes himself right back in, harder and faster than before. “Know it hurts,” he says with your earlobe between his teeth, “But you gotta take all of it.”

Joel fucks you quickly at first, having already found the right pace and the right angle to make you squirm in pleasure. He wraps his arm around your torso and nudges your head to the side so he can bite into your neck again. You’re flush against his torso. He fucks you steadily - in, out, in, out. You keen into the sensation, losing yourself in it all - he’s hot and clammy behind you, his tuft of unruly pubic hair rubbing against you. You reach behind yourself and touch the side of Joel’s face where his graying curls are muttered against his skin, dampened with his sweat. Joel turns his head and bites into the fleshy part of your thumb. He’s a mess of curses and praises, telling you what a good girl you are between heavy breaths and sharp inhales, whispering fuck and Christ, sweetheart. 

Without a warning, he pulls out of you and falls back on the couch, grabs you roughly by your arm and sits you on top of him. You’re face to face with him now, staring into his dark, hungry eyes as he pulls you down on his cock, fucking you apart. He eyes you up and down, and then his lips curl into a crooked smile. “Look at you,” he whispers, tilting your head down to look at your body. “You’re all marked up, sweetheart. What a goddamn mess. Tried to tell ya this wasn’t a nice game.” 

He’s right. You look down to see your breasts covered in bites and dark bruises, the marks dotting your torso in the dim light. Some are swollen and angry, others not quite so. You see a bruise on your shoulder and think about what you can’t see, the bites on your neck and collarbones. “Let’s count ‘em together,” he purrs in a low tone. He fucks up into you, “One,” he grunts, “Two, three. Four. Jesus, sweetheart, you’re fuckin’ covered. But I ain’t done with you yet.”

Joel pulls you close to him, your chest against his as he thrusts into you. He brings his teeth to that place where your shoulder meets your neck and bites hard, harder than he has before. It hurts, truly fucking hurts and you cry out loudly, a choked sob escaping your throat. He’s broken skin. “Quit squirmin’, be still f’me. Breathe through it,” he instructs, finally tasting your coppery blood on his tongue. With each thrust he moans against you and his teeth sink deeper and deeper, but it feels worse than it is. You won’t scar, but he’ll be lucky if you do. “You’re doin’ so good. Know it’s a lot, I know. I know…”

He licks over the damage and brings his thumb to your clit as he does, pushing you back to examine your face. He wipes away the tears he expected you’d cry as he paints tight, steady circles into your clit, knowing it won’t be hard to bring you to the edge. He reaches up, pulls you close to his face and kisses you gently, tangling his tongue with your own in a way that makes you dizzy. “I gotcha,” he says, “Come for me.” 

You’re right fucking there, aching for release as he rounds your clit with his thumb and rolls his hips into yours. Your breaths are shallow, your moans are broken and you’re squirming - so fucking close. Joel seems to know just what you need: he sinks his teeth into your plump, swollen bottom lip as he works you with those tight, steadied circles, all the while he fucks you deeply. And then you’re there, and god is it intense, the pleasure and pain. You taste your own blood as you come, breaking into pieces in Joel’s arms as powerful waves pleasure wash over you, rough and unrelenting like the sea during a storm.

Joel comes undone with you, loudly, with grunts and groans and other noises of pleasure. With wild thrusts, he paints your insides with his hot come before he slows to a still. You climb off of him and his come spills out of you and onto the old upholstery of the couch. Joel’s breathing heavily next to you, and when he catches his breath he looks at you with relaxed eyes, eyes that go wide when he looks at what he’s done to you. “Fuck,” he mumbles, pulling his shirt from under you and wetting it with water from his canteen. You catch your reflection in the mirror and see some of the bruises and bites he’s left on you, then you look down at the rest of your body. This time, with the light in front of you, you can see it all. Marks on your wrists, your arms, your chest and your hips and your thighs. You smile. He’s added so much color to you, his very own temporary tattoos. “I don’t know what came over me,” he says. He dabs the wet shirt over your bloodied lips and then your neck, his big dark eyes full of worry as he holds one of your hands. He rests it loosely on top of yours, sort of like that game from before. He doesn’t notice you begin to wriggle yours from beneath his. “Gotta get back and clean you up, bandage you and–”

SMACK. You hit his hand, hard. Joel looks flummoxed. 

“Got you.”

When he realizes the game you’re playing, he rolls his eyes and smiles. “Nice one, smartass.” Joel lifts the shirt and examines the bite on your neck a little closer. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you too bad?”

You shake your head no. “I got you,” you repeat, smirking.

“Yeah, whatever. You got me.”

If you enjoyed, please reblog <3 i would appreciate an ask too, just tell me something good <3

[thirsty-4-ghouls]

No one has been more convincing about encouraging me to play fallout new Vegas than the queer people in my phone. Literally every straight man I know in real life could not be half as convincing as the autistic queer people on this website