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jj-one · 1 year ago

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STRAY KIDS + POSSESSIVENESS ! 🩹 ⋅˚₊ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

pairing: dom!skz x sub!fem!reader, established relationship, husband!changbin bc why not ? genre/tags: smut, angst, fluff (tbh it's only changbin's part), jealousy, exhibitionism, voyeurism, lots of degradation, mentions of crying, marking, manhandling, bondage play, piv, unprotected s*x (do not try this at home kids), public s*x, rough s*x, fingering, nipple play, oral (f & m receiving), t*tty slapping, multiple orgasms, edging, choking, bulge kink, slight breeding kink… am not mentally ok for writing any of this words: 3.4k

**old repost from my deleted blog

BANG CHAN. His patience was a level of no other. The man just watched you flirt with his friend and didn’t mutter a single word. All the while you kept boasting about how good Changbin’s muscles looked and the movement of his biceps were leaving you in complete amusement.

Pissed off doesn’t begin to describe what he’s feeling right now. He clears his throat,

“Are we done y/n? I think it’s time we head home now.”

The tone of his voice was cold, icy like a winter storm.

The lump in your throat was stuck. You knew how much in deep shit you were for this and his silence was the main indicator.

You could feel his piercing eyes on you the whole time.

It wasn’t long before you’d end up in this position. Both arms were locked above your head by his strong hands. The tight grip he kept around your wrists was definitely going to leave some bruising.

“You’re such a dumb slut. Did all this just to get me like this huh?” His cock hitting your walls aggressively as you spasm and shake under him.

“All this to get me to fuck you the like the dumb little cockwhore you are?” He growled, “can Changbin fuck you like this?”

His pace was relentless. His cock stretching you open with each deep thrust. His harsh words cutting into you like a dagger. Your mind was blank, head full of Chan’s cock. You had to answer him though, or else he will stop.

“N-no Chan only y-yours… only you can fuck me like this!”

A smirk creeps up his face from your quavering voice. He leans forward, his lips brush over yours as if almost to kiss you but doesn’t.

“I own you y/n. Only I get to have to you, understood?”

All you feel is his cock slamming into you. The slapping sounds becoming a melody of a beat, your heart was racing a mile a minute.

“Understood.”

LEE KNOW. He hates when you act out in public. The way you tease him and get him riled up, knowing he can’t do anything about it. It gave you sense of power, you had the upper hand— for now.

You were wearing the shortest mini skirt possible, it barely covered your bum and you could feel a cool breeze slip through your crevices. You kept walking in front of him, swaying your little hips side to side, letting him watch you bend down to pick things up as he sneaks a peak under your skirt. The sight of the pink lace thong you wore was enough to make him grab you by the arm and yank you into a public restroom nearby.

Before you know it, you’re being devoured by your boyfriend. Sitting on the counter of the sink whilst he was below you, giving you a gaze that could snatch your soul. His digits sunk into your dripping cunt as he swipes his tongue across your slit. Your skirt was still on but pushed up slightly, your thong was also moved to the side.

“I can’t believe you’d go out like this and expect me not to control myself.” He rises up momentarily.

“You do this on purpose, knowing I don’t want other people looking at you.”

He laps up your juices and coats it with his face, scissoring you open with his fingers.

“Fuck… I wore this for you Minho— w-wanted to look pretty for you.” Your eyes were tightly shut, feeling the euphoria as you were close to your orgasm.

He abruptly pulled his fingers out of you, thrusting your hips in the air now, you whine for stimulation.

“Will you be a good girlfriend for me and cum on my tongue kitten? I want you to scream as loud for me as you can, I don’t care who hears it.” Minho was dead serious. He doesn’t care you both are in a public restroom and there’s people casually walking by. He wants everyone to know you are his.

You nod and agree to be on your best behavior for him. You know he will most likely reward you for this in the end.

“I promise, I’ll be a good girl Minho.”

Feeling your body heat surge as he inched closer to your core, pressing his tongue at your entrance. He tongue fucks you viciously while never breaking his eye contact with you.

Feeling yourself come undone from the surreal pleasure, all you want is to feel your release.

You thrash and moan as you cream on Minho’s tongue, your legs felt like jello when you climax. You let out multiple gasps for air, feeling as though you just ran a marathon.

Minho hasn’t left between your legs yet, his face still in a headlock. He wasn’t quite finished with you just yet.

“You can give me one more, right kitten?”

CHANGBIN. Being a newlywed couple felt like a fairytale dream come true. He felt incredibly lucky to have you as his wife and doesn’t stop reminding you how happy he is. He’d shower you with a beacon of compliments that would melt your heart each and every time.

You went on another vacation right after the honeymoon and it felt like paradise. That was up until a small incident occurred, it happened when you were at the pool with your husband. One of the pool goers at the resort couldn’t keep their eyes off you. You wore a sexy one piece that had cut-out details on the sides to show off your waist but you wore a sheer cover up over it.

Changbin noticed straight away the eyes that were glued to you, the eyes that were glued to his precious wife. He was livid. Almost causing a scene, he went up to the perverted man that was eye fucking you and gave him a piece of his mind. In utter disbelief of what was unfolding in front of you, you go up to Changbin to calm him down and get him to stop before he ends up actually doing something he’ll regret. His face burned crimson from anger but the sound of your voice brought him back to reality.

Things were much better in private now. Much better. Sitting on your husband’s lap in the jacuzzi bathtub felt so relaxing, his hands roamed your naked body as he placed chaste kisses all over you. He stopped at your neck to give it more attention, nibbling on a sensitive spot that made you sink right into his form. Moaning softly whilst his hands prance down to your back.

“I want to shield the rest of the world from you, only I get to gawk at my gorgeous wife.” Changbin says possessively, looking at you once he comes up from your neck.

You nod in agreement, “they can look but can’t touch!”

“No, they can’t even look, all of this is mine, mine, mine.” He plants a kiss to your cheek as his hand creeps down to your core. He prods your hole with a single digit, entering you with ease. You let out a soft moan as you part your lips slightly, bucking your hips forward. He pumps his finger into your wetness as he looks deeply into your eyes, nothing but burning desire in his pupils. He brings his thumb to your clit and rubs it in a steady motion, your swollen nub feeling overstimulated from his touch.

“This is just the beginning my love, I’m not done with you until the sun comes up.” He whispered in your ear as he drags his tongue against your earlobe. In just the jacuzzi alone, he’s made you cum several times from his fingers. Oh how those magical fingers always do wonders on you..

HYUNJIN. The room was pitch black, your vision completely impaired from the blindfold attached to your head. Your hands were bound to each other, behind your back being tied by a thick rope. You had nowhere to go and the room was pure silence, naked and touch starved, you whine for Hyunjin to do something but you were met with no answer. He was standing over you on the bed but you were unaware of any of your surroundings.

The man finally spoke, “This is what happens when you try and make daddy jealous.”

You can feel his hot breath on your neck, the sensation making you crave him even more.

Hyunjin was always the possessive type, was constantly in need of reassurance if he felt his ego was being bruised. This was situation was no different, he needed to remind you that he was the one who owned you.

He brought finger to your perked nipple, gently dragging it across to tease you a bit. A white-hot charge sent through your body as you finally felt his touch. Dripping in a puddle of your own slick from the dirty thoughts racing in your mind, he continues lightly tracing your hardened nipples; eliciting low moans from you.

Your senses were heightened from the way you weren’t able to see anything, any little touch from him making you squeal from shock.

“You like this don’t you?” He says in a condescending tone, he belittles you some more. “So pathetic, look at you. Can’t do anything but take it, so fucking helpless.”

Hyunjin loved seeing how weak you become under him, the power dynamic being completely imbalanced right now. All you could do was moan out for him, practically begging him to do more but you know he’s going to take his time with you.

“Gonna make you squirt all over this bed for me.” He says, “Won’t stop until I have you screaming and begging for mercy, which I will never give you.”

The smirk on his face was devilish, he was conjuring up the perfect plan to ruin you indefinitely.

“Hyunjin, please fuck me… please.” You push your thighs together to feel some friction but Hyunjin gets mad at this action instantly.

He brings a harsh slap to your left tit, making you jump up a bit but your body couldn’t move properly from being tied up. Your legs went back to it’s original position, spread open for him so he can get a glimpse of your dripping cunt.

“Don’t ever tell me what to do, I make the rules now.” He palms your breast and kneads it excessively.

“You are my property.”

HAN. If jealousy was a disease Han would be the first one to catch it. He really loves yet hates the fact that he has such a smoking hot girlfriend that everyone wants. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy dating you but the way some of these other guys would look at you was about to become his villain origin story.

You were so oblivious to anyone who attempted to flirt with you, you only had eyes for your man but it was hard to convince Han otherwise. The pizza delivery guy complimented how pretty you looked and when you handed him the money to pay for the food, you accidentally gave him a ten dollar bill instead of a twenty, he didn’t even care he just smiled and continued talking to you.

That’s when Han knew he had to butt in, he was listening from the couch and he knew he shouldn’t have let you be the one to answer the door. Quickly he comes up to you to wrap his arms behind you, keeping you in a tight hold as the pizza guy looks mortified now.

“You can leave now,” Han says to him in a harsh tone, “We have important business to take care of!”

Slamming the door in his face now, Han comes up from behind you to take the pizza box out of your hands to place it on the table. Soon after, a heavy make out session between you would ensue.

As your naked bodies entangled one another, you feel yourself cinching around his cock from each inch as he slides it in. Your breath instantly coming to a halt as the end of his cock crashed into your cervix. He moves with his ass up in the air as he buries his length deep inside you, the squelching sound of your wet pussy making him see stars.

“Fuck… so fucking tight for me.” Han says sounding pussydrunk off the way you feel around him.

You fall into a frenzy as he pumps his length into you harder, pounding into you like no tomorrow. The bulge of his cock could be seen inside you, moving in and out of you intensely. Grinding your hips to match his pace, you rub your clit to feel more stimulation.

“You’re so fucking hot my God…” He cooed, tiny beads of sweat now forming on the sides of his face. “Your pussy was made for me and me only…”

“Only I can make you feel this good.”

FELIX. He felt sick to his stomach whenever he saw someone else looking at you. The way people would look at you in public when he was with you made him feel beyond disrespected. This is exactly why he doesn’t bring you anywhere because his fragile little ego will be crushed as soon as another person laid their eyes on you. He couldn’t deal with it anymore, he just had to do something about it.

You were at a public park but the park was so big that it was easy to hide and go unseen behind some bushes.

Felix brought you to a secluded area and told you get on your back, you do as he says and he looks at you with the most evil grin on his face.

“I’m going to fuck you so dumb right here, right now.” Felix says in a raspy deep voice, “I will let everyone exactly know who’s bitch you are.”

You gulp once you feel his hands all over you, you wore a black slip dress which drove him absolutely mad.

“Gonna make you pay for getting me worked up like this.” You felt so small when he spoke like this to you, the sticky mess in your panties was only growing as you feel his hands go up your thigh.

“Too stunned to speak sweetheart?” He asks, giving you an alluring yet mischievous smile. You have no idea what this man has for you in store.

“N-no, I can speak-“

“Shut up.” He quickly cuts you off from saying more. “I’m the one talking right now, you sit back and take what I’m going to give you.”

You did exactly as you were told and lay back for him. He quickly unzips his pants and frees his cock from his boxers. You look at the red tip of his angry cock, the sight of his raging erection was enough to make you feel a tingling sensation in your heat. His cock would plunge into you nice and slow but once he bottoms out he’ll quickly pick up his pace, fucking into you menacingly. He brought a hand to your neck and squeezed the shaft of it tightly, you gasp for air as he choked you but it wasn’t unbearable. You close your eyes to the feeling, letting yourself be fully immersed into him. Each thrust he gave you felt like bliss as he roughly held onto your hip, fucking you like a complete maniac.

“Gonna dump all my cum into your slutty little body,” Felix continued,“you’re my fuck toy, only I get to use you.”

SEUNGMIN. Usually something like this would never get to him. However, today was different, very different. Seungmin almost went ballistic when he found out that some guy asked for your number while you were out shopping at the supermarket. He often goes everywhere with you but you were getting off work and went straight to the store to grab some things for dinner. That’s when it happened and you told Seungmin as soon as you got home. You thought he’d just laugh it off but he frowned, disproving of that guy’s actions.

“What a loser,” Seungmin says in an annoyed tone, “when they will learn to just leave you the hell alone?”

He wanted you all to himself, if he could lock you up forever and throw away the key, he probably would. Only letting you out when he tells you you can.

“They can try all they want Minnie but I know I belong to you at the end of the day.” You bring your arms around his neck and lean in to kiss him and he kisses you back passionately.

“Want you to say it for me again, who’s pussy does this belong to?” Seungmin was now relentlessly pumping two fingers in you.

“Y-yours Seungmin… yours!” You could barely get a coherent word out of your mouth.

“And who makes you feel the best?”

He wasn’t letting up on making sure you know that you fully belonged to him. “We can do this all day princess… I’m not going to stop until I’m satisfied.”

This was his fifth time edging you at this point, leaving you on the verge of an orgasm but would pull his fingers out once he notices your chest floating up. He’s being so evil to you right now, as if you it was your fault for what had happened in the supermarket.

“You, only y-you! You’re the best at making me feel so good!” You babble as he rapidly moves his fingers in and out of your gaping hole.

“That’s my good little girl, now keep taking my fingers and I’ll reward you soon okay?”

JEONGIN. “You’re such a filthy slut, you know that?” The motion of needy hips were bucking into you. Your head was kept in place, completely still, on your knees and on the verge of tears from your boyfriend’s words.

You knew why you were in this predicament right now. This was all your fault and you did it all for this exact reason.

You wanted to see Jeongin’s reaction to saying you think Felix was hot. You know he wouldn’t take that comment lightly since that was one of his best friends. You wanted to see how far you could test his limits.

“You wanna fuck my friends huh?” He grabs you by the hair and furrows his eyebrows to regain more focus onto you.

You couldn’t speak, all you could do was shake your head around him as he shoved his cock further down your throat.

“Can’t even talk with your mouth full of cock, what a dumb little whore you are.”

His cock hitting the back of your uvula, causing you to make a gagging noise. Streaks of saliva creep from the sides your mouth, the messy scenery underneath him was a heavenly sight indeed. You moan while sucking his cock, the vibrations making the hairs on the back of his neck rise up. He throws his head back and keeps a tight hold on your hair, gripping you with everything he had. He thrusts his hard length into you viciously, the gurgling noises you were making whilst he fucks your face sounds harmonic to him.

“Shit…think I’m gonna cum soon” he muttered, letting out a groan as he kept pushing your face into his cock. “Yeah… just like that fuck… that’s it.”

A stream of tears came running down your face as you continued. You can feel his veiny cock twitch against your tongue as you felt hot spurts of cum fill you up now. You swallow each and every drop and milk him clean like the good girl you were. Opening your mouth wide to show it was empty he grins viciously and taps his dick against your tongue.

“You’re the biggest fucking slut…” He pants heavily.

“My biggest slut.”

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samsincerely · 4 months ago

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There’s this one streamer who keeps talking about how veilguard has the “cringiest dialogue” and ngl it pisses me off. Idk who she is but she pops up on insta a lot for me and I just get so sick of this idea of pretentiously calling things cringe to discredit it but especially in this context for a few reasons.

I think a better word is perhaps awkward but this implies that it was written awkwardly but I think the writing is very intentional.

The only companions I would say sound awkward at times are Bellara, Taash, and Harding.

Emmrich always sounds composed and well spoken. Makes sense with his experience and confidence.

Davrin sounds a bit harsh at times but purposeful and passionate. He’s also very sure of himself and a man of action.

Neve also sounds thoughtful, intelligent, and sure of herself. She’s a questioner but analytical.

Lucanis is actually quieter but he’s intentional and most of his dialogue reflects his sharp focus on his hyper fixation job.

So why do the other three sometimes come off awkward? Well I think it’s very intentional in the characterization.

Harding is pretty unsure where she fits in with everything. She’s used to being a background character to Inky, Varric, and co but now she’s at the forefront of stopping the apocalypse and she’s got this new dwarf magic that shouldn’t even exist. And she’s a surface dwarf raised around humans. She doesn’t really come into her own until you resolve her personal quest where she really decides who she wants to be and how to honor what got her there.

Taash comes off brutish and rude in some cases. It’s clear that they’re so divided in their identity and insecure about themselves that they lash out at others. Taash says they want to join the team but the decision was made for them by their mother so they act out. Taash has been simultaneously babied and unsupported. Figuring themselves out also shows immense growth in how they interact with people.

And sweet Bellara. Girl lives in the woods and hyper fixates on ancient elven magic and works for at least a week at a time, alone. She doesn’t get much social interaction so while she’s not necessarily insecure she doesn’t second guess herself a lot in social situations because it’s not her expertise like magic and elven culture is. So yeah she should be awkward.

I just think the writing and voice acting of Veilguard shows so much love and respect for different kinds of people. It takes such a positive stance in such a scary time. I love it and haters should just say it’s not for them and move on instead of disparaging.

#i LOVE veilguard #veilguard lovers please interact #datv spoilers #datv #dragon age #datv positive #da fandom critical #emmrich volkarin #davrin #datv davrin #neve gallus #lucanis dellamorte #lace harding #dragon age taash #datv taash #bellara lutare

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viperify · 6 months ago

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Smutmas 2024 | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ʀᴏꜱɪᴇʀ ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

I Appreciate You.

Short summary: After some persuasion, Tom joins you for Christmas dinner. Only then he finds out your parents haven’t exactly treated you well and seizes the opportunity to show you what it means to be truly appreciated.

Warnings: nothing, just fluff (for now…)

A/N: I have entered a bad case of writing block halfway through this, so I cut it short. I AM SORRY. I’ll take a day or two off and write a pt 2☹️

wordcount: 1,6k

Tom and you have been friends for a while – or rather study accomplices, as he would call it. Though lately, you have grown closer. Oddly close, at least if you knew Riddle, who wasn’t one to interact with others unless it served a purpose. You have known that from the beginning, so it never really appeared to you why he would be different towards you exactly – but you weren’t going to complain about someone tutoring you after all – someone who was equally as smart as pretty.

“You forgot pearl dust.” he sighs in disappointment, not looking up as he fidgets with his quill. “Tom it’s been two hours, my head is a mess. Let’s take a break?”

His gaze flicks from his quill to your eyes and stares at you briefly before speaking up. “I don’t take breaks. If you want me to keep being generous enough to help you, you do it my way.”

That’s how it goes every single time. You don’t argue against it – you just do what he says. The desperation to become better at Potions is greater than your ego after all and you have also come to notice it is better not to talk back to him. The last time you did, he wouldn’t even speak to you for two weeks after.

Tom clears his throat and you return your focus to the present. “It’s been an unnecessarily long time since you have started staring at me. Focus on your textbook.”

“Right, right! Sorry.” Your cheeks heat up and you repeat the brewing process from the beginning.

After what feels like an eternity, he is satisfied – as much as he could be. Tom obviously is never fully satisfied, always has something to criticize that you didn’t do right, something he says you would need to work on the next time you two meet to study.

There was always going to be a next time.

As you two pack up, you see house elves working on the Christmas decorations just outside the library, putting up a pine tree and some red and golden ornaments. It’s the Thursday before winter break, and you would soon go home to spend the time with your family. They have told you to bring a friend, though all of them have declined so far. You would just go alone. Until – well, you think about Tom.

“Uh, I actually have one more question.” You start, turning to face him. He raises his eyebrows expectantly signalling you to continue. “Soooo, I have been wanting to ask you whether you wanted to join me for Christmas dinner at home. My parents have asked me to bring someone along.”

“We aren’t friends. Besides that, I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

That’s exactly the answer you assumed he’d give, but you weren’t going to give up that easily. Your family has been talking about him often lately, about the Gaunt family, purebloods just like you. All the things they say you don’t understand anyway. It’s been like that since you were born, they always favoured your older brother over you. You have stopped arguing against it.

“Come on, Tom! It’s just a dinner, one evening. I know you don’t usually leave Hogwarts for Christmas break, I just wanted to give you the opportunity to meet my parents. They have been talking about you.”

He contemplates for a moment then. He is aware that his family, at least his mother’s side, has caught people’s attention. Apparently also the Rosiers’. Rosier family, part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. It would only be to his benefit to get to know them personally. And he hated admitting it, but lately - he has found himself strangely intrigued by you. A smart girl, who wouldn’t normally need his tutoring, not if he didn’t tell you to come back every week for another lesson.

“I suppose I will think about it. If I decide for it, I will join you at the train station.”

Your lips curl into a bright smile. “Thank you, Tommy! You are the best.”

He sighs. “How often have I told you to stop calling me that?”

“Sorry, sorry! I am just super excited to introduce you. They have been pestering me with questions about your mother’s family.”

You swear you see a slight spark in his eyes at the mention of his mother, though his usual stern expression returns just a second later. “Have a good evening.” he replies and leaves you behind at the library without saying another word.

There has not been a single sign of Tom when you board the train. Secretly you have hoped he would come and join you, though as soon as you leave the station you find yourself at peace with the fact you’d be going home alone for the break. The scenery shifts as you look out of the window, a thick layer of snow covering the otherwise green Scottish Highlands. You see deer scavenging for any grass they can find, scraping at the frozen ground with their hooves, the nearby hares’ white winter fur blending in perfectly with the scenery.

There aren’t too many students in your wagon, meaning you get to have a compartment all for yourself. Just like normally, your eyes grow tired, voices around you turning into a blur, and you fall asleep.

It wasn’t long until someone clearing their throat, taking a seat next to you woke you again. “So, what’s for dinner?” he asks, and you turn to face him.

Your face lights up at the sight of the person in front of you. “Tom! I am so happy you decided to come along!”

“I suppose it’s a welcome opportunity to connect with another renowned family.” he replies, and you nod, though slightly disappointed. “Of course.”

The rest of the journey, both of you don’t speak much. It’s a weird energy between you, something you don’t quite recognize. You are glad – as glad as you could be, knowing your family awaits you just outside – when the train arrives at your station. Both of you get off, and your mother’s and father’s faces light up at the sight of, not you, but Tom. They greet him first, ask him how the journey has been.

It’s only when you arrive at home that they ask you to help prepare dinner while Tom’s being shown around the manor. Even at dinner they won’t let him be and you wonder whether it was a good decision to bring him home with you.

In a moment of silence, your mother first looks at you, then at him. A smile forms on her face, something you only rarely get to see and you wonder what may be behind it.

“We are so glad you have decided to join us. Our daughter really couldn’t have chosen a better boyfriend.”

Oh.

You feel your heart drop in your chest at her words. They must have misunderstood the situation. Your cheeks heat up and you see Tom’s face changing into one of confusion.

Trying to save the evening, you quickly try to explain. “No it’s- we are not-“

“I am pleased to hear I am meeting your expectations.”

Tom’s words cut you off, and for a moment you aren’t sure whether you have heard him correctly. You blink a few times and shoot him a confused look, and he smiles at you.

Smiles.

You nod quickly, lowering your gaze onto the plate in front of you as you feel your cheeks heat up. For the rest of the evening, you don’t say much, even when you all gather around the Christmas tree. They ask questions about your relationship, which only Tom answers. He sits next to you and as the night progresses, his hand wanders up your lower back, snaking around your waist. You visibly shiver at his touch but decide to play along.

As soon as everyone has excused themselves to bed, you move away a little, escaping his grip. “Tom, I am sorry, they must have completely misunderstood.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize.”

“No really I-“

“Sshhh.” he whispers, his face inching closer to yours then, capturing you in a tender kiss. His hand rests on the back of your head, softly pressing you against him. You inhale deeply as you break apart, your eyes trailing up from his lips to his eyes. It’s only the candles on the Christmas tree that shine a dim light on both of your forms, yet you are able to make out the changed look on his face.

“We shouldn’t.” you murmur, shaking your head.

“I see the way you look at me in the library. And you perfectly know why I want to keep meeting you. Yet both of us are too stubborn to admit it.”

Though you hate to admit it, he’s right.

“I just didn’t think you would like someone like me.”

Tom huffs. “You never acknowledge your worth, and I suspect that is what your parents have taught you. They don’t see your potential. They diminish your achievements. Why do you let them?” he asks, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I have stopped caring a long while ago. You know how it is.”

Tom doesn’t reply after that, though his hand continues running up and down your back soothingly. You stay like this for a while, until he slowly turns his head, facing you.

“I will show them what it means to appreciate you.”

His voice is low and controlled as his face is a mere inch away from yours, his breath warm on your skin.

“I will show you what it means to be appreciated.”

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fanfiction #tom marvolo riddle #slytherin #slytherin boys #harry potter #smutmas 2024 #tom riddle fluff #divider by strangergraphics #dividers by saradika #ᯓᢉ𐭩 ᴍᴀʀ’ꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ✎ᝰ.ᐟ

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fruittt-punchhh · 8 months ago

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attachment

(couldn’t find image source anywhere, if u know pls lmk!!)

Synopsis: Choso was one of your closest friends - you spent so much time together, others said you were ‘attached at the hip’. But when his curiosity blooms, you are the only one that can help quench his thirst for knowledge.

Characters: Choso Kamo x reader (about time)

Content: Minors Do Not Interact! smut, fem! reader, virgin! Choso (so virgin that he lives in a world where he has somehow at the age of twenty something never heard about masturbating or sexual intercourse), college au, link to prn audio, suggestiveness, cursing, mentions of female masturbation, male masturbation, maybe a tiiiiiny bit of voyeurism, pet/affectionate names, big (pretty) dick! Choso, just our sweet lovey boy Cho in his full glory tbh.

Word count: A solid 6k

Notes: AHEM! there is some spicy audio from twitter linked in this post as well as an SFW image at the end. you’ll know when you’ve reached that point, and it will be emphasized like this, accentuated with '*'. if that's not something you're down for, you can totally scroll past. if you arrrre down for that, i think you'll need to be logged into twitter beforehand for the audio. if you're on mobile, I'm not sure if you'll be able to hear the audio as you read (unfortunately), but if you can, you're in for a treat bitch.

More Notes: i finally have some of my own choso smut on this blog wtf. he is my guilty pleasure omg i mean literally who doesn't love him, more specifically him when he's an inexperienced desperate crying mess???? i really hope you enjoy this one, i have def enjoyed writing it. (side note - the songs i pick for these fics sometimes fit the vibe of what i wrote, and other times it's a song i can't get out of my head. both are the case for this one - i listened to this nonstop while writing so pls enjoy if that’s cool with u). there will be future parts, and if you want to be tagged in those and you’re not already, let me know!!! SORRY TO YAP ILY BYE

(I wanted to upload this at like 5p my time for engagement purposes but then I thought about all the bitches (me) that may work from home, read smut on the clock regardless (me), or simply don’t work rn, so I had to give you the goodness now)

“Y/n, c-can I ask you a question? Like.. a personal one?”

You and Choso were seated on the couch, eyes fixated on the rom com on the screen ahead. It was your weekly movie marathon night - the movie you two just finished was an action thriller that was right up Choso’s alley. It was your pick next, and you went with a classic rom com that had a few more spicy scenes than you anticipated. It left the air in the room feeling thick, both of you clearing your throats and glancing throughout the room as if someone’s parents were present.

You and Cho had been close friends for a while, and it helped that you shared a similar schedule this semester. Although he was a cutie, you had no clue if he shared a similar attraction to you. He was so shy, and while the shy emo boy thing has worked on you before, you felt like you’d do nothing but corrupt Choso’s innocent soul if you were to make a move. You let things play out naturally, enjoying the company he brought and your friendship - but if things went in a different direction, you wouldn’t be opposed in the slightest.

“Sure, Cho - what’s up?” You ask, noting the concerned look on his face.

“Have you ever.. done that before?” He asks, motioning to the screen, and your heart aches with how precious he looks. His eyes flick up at you when your hand rests on his shoulder so you can scoot a little closer towards him.

“Well, yeah.. yeah I have. What makes you ask?”

“J-Just the movie, I-I was just curious,” he blurts, trying not to sound as weird as he felt for asking.

“Well, what makes you want to ask me specifically, I mean,” you press, trying to read his expression through his shaggy hair and long lashes.

He blushes, making eye contact with you again before twiddling his thumbs in his lap.

“I just.. I’ve never done any that before, a-and I trust you, ya’ know? I didn’t know if I was weird for not doing that,” he says, his voice becoming shakier by the second.

“Ohmygod, Cho, no of course you’re not weird! Everyone discovers things at their own pace. There’s a whole lot of stuff when it comes to sex, so it can get overwhelming,” you say, rubbing his shoulder with your thumb to help calm his nerves.

Which was really doing the opposite. Your touch was searing hot on his skin and it worried him. He’s been touched plenty of times, even by you - but it felt like you might melt through his skin if you pressed hard enough. It felt that way on his outer thigh, too; your knee resting on his leg accidentally inching closer to the area he felt every blood cell creeping to.

“Y-Yeah, s’overwhelming for sure,” he says, shifting his position slightly further from you.

“I-I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Begin? Do you have someone in mind you want to do stuff with?” You ask, begging he says no. You felt a little weird for hoping, but you would hate for his first experience to be with the wrong person.

More blood rushes to his cheeks when he makes eye contact with you, quickly looking back to the TV when he sees a hopeful look in your eye.

“N-No, definitely not. I just want to learn more, f-for when that time comes,” he says, clearing his throat and hoping you don’t catch on to his half-lie.

Phew.

“Well it’s probably best to start with the basics, yeah? Just the simple stuff, then eventually you kind of.. figure out where to go from there, if that makes sense,” you add, and he responds with a simple nod as he turns to face you again, ready to absorb whatever knowledge you have to share with him.

“So… have you ever touched yourself before?” You ask, trying not to wince at how awkward you felt asking him something so personal. But you had to assess how much he really knew.

He furrows his brows in confusion and lets out a small laugh, “Um, obviously - see?” He asks as he pokes his stomach with his pointer finger, and you remind yourself to keep a straight face. You grab his arm to refocus him and he huffs a breath of half-laughter as he notices how the blood in your fingertips pulse against his wrist.

“No, Cho. I mean like.. down there,” you say, motioning to his crotch area with your finger - he still looks confused.

“You know? To have an orgasm..” you ask, hoping he will pick up on your hints.

“Orgasm?”

You sigh, trying to find the right wording to explain this without sounding belittling.

“So, when I said ‘touching yourself’, I was referring to masturbation. I’m not gonna’ teach you how to do that because a Google search will tell you all you need to know,” and he nods feverishly.

“When you do.. sex stuff - like masturbate, have sex, all of that, usually the goal is to have an orgasm. Not always, but most of the time. I don’t know all the science behind it, but when you repeatedly stimulate the nerves in this area,” you say motioning to your groin, “you can have an orgasm.”

“O-Okay, I understand. Is the orgasm weird? Sounds like it,” he asks and you smile.

“No, no not at all. It feels really good. You know how when you have to sneeze and there’s this big buildup, then bam, you sneeze? And you feel so relieved? It’s kinda’ like that, but a million times better.”

“Better than eating your favorite food? Or watching movies?”

He asks, eager to know more.

And you sigh again, “Well, it’s hard to compare it to stuff like that, but it is really pleasurable. It just makes your body feel good, I guess. It’s hard to explain it through words, but now you know a little more - if you’re interested in that sorta thing.”

“No, I think I understand better now,” he says, thankful for your instruction.

“Oh, and if you do masturbate, when you have an orgasm, some fluid will come out from.. down there. But it’s normal and happens to everyone.”

“Fluid? Even girls?”

“Yes, Cho, even girls. It’s different though for sure. For girls it’s more like clear.. slimey stuff? And for you it’s like a white.. liquid? I’m sorry, I’m so bad at explaining shit,” you laugh, rolling your eyes at how stupid you felt.

“No, y/n you’re doing a great job! I had no clue about any of this stuff. Question.”

“Shoot.”

“What is it called? The fluid,” he says hesitantly, still trying to wrap his mind around how making fluid come out of any body part was a good thing. He feels his crotch grow warmer and, out of embarrassment, shifts his pillow to hide his growing problem.

“Oh, well there’s scientific names for it, but everybody calls it cum,” you say as you will the blush to fade from your cheeks.

“Cum. Like ‘come here’?”

“Y-Yeah, pretty much. Just spelled different.”

“Got it. Another question.”

You nod.

“How do you know when to masturbate?”

You were hoping this was one he wouldn’t ask.

“Well kind of whenever you want to,” and his eyes widen, “Let me rephrase that. It’s kind of like using the restroom, right? Something that you do behind closed doors.”

“Y-Yeah, makes sense. But whenever you want to? How do you know when you want to?”

“Okay,” you start, “you know how people in movies talk about being horny? It basically means you’re.. turned on, you want to have sex, stuff like that. So when you feel that way you could do it if you want. For you it’ll be a little easier to tell.”

“How?”

“You know how when you wake up in the morning and your… area is hard?” You ask and he blushes, turning again to look at the television.

“Yes,” he answers simply.

“Well when it is hard, it doesn’t always mean you’re horny - it can just happen randomly. But whenever you do start to feel that way, usually it’ll get hard. But that doesn’t mean you have to masturbate whenever it is that way, you know? Just if you want to,”

He gulps as he shushes the images in his mind of you waking up in his bed beside him, still trying to understand all the information being thrown at him.

“O-Okay. I-I think that’s good, for now, to start at least. Thank you for telling me all of that,” he says with a smile as he tries to focus his attention to the tv.

“It’s no problem, I promise. You can always ask me questions about anything, you know that right?” You say, wrapping your arm around his shoulders to give him a quick squeeze of reassurance.

“Y-Yeah, of course,” he says, voice cracking as he finishes his statement. There was yet another passionate scene appearing on screen, albeit shrouded by covers and dim lighting. The discussion left him feeling hot all over, and the blood rushing southward had only increased. It didn’t help that you pressed your plush chest into his arm so sweetly when you hugged him. Although he had never seen a woman in that way in person before, he knew that if he had to pick, it’d be you. It always would be.

“Y/n, would you hate me if I had to go home? My tummy hurts for some reason,” he says with a grimace, rubbing his abdomen as he looks at you.

You chuckle, “Oh really? It wouldn’t have anything to do with the three pounds of candy you ate would it?” You ask, pointing to the empty wrappers he had shoved into the plastic sack they came in.

“You’re probably right, hah. I’m sorry, I just feel like I need to lay down,” he admits, wiping the sweat he feels accumulating on the back of his neck.

You shove into his arm, to which he responds with a fake ‘ow’. “Ugh, and right in the middle of my movie? You owe me one, Cho,” you say, sticking your bottom lip out for good measure.

He smiles brightly, crows feet decorating the corners of his eyes. “Duhhhh, we can just reschedule for the weekend. I should be free Saturday night if you wanna’?” He asks.

“I’ll have to check my schedule. Don’t leave much room in my calendar for traitors nowadays.” You say with a dramatic roll of your eyes. He giggles and pushes you back, sticking his tongue out before he gathers his things to go.

You reach up so he can give you your usual bye hug before he continues walking to your door.

“I’ll give you double next time, I-I don’t wanna get you sick,” he yells as he scrambles to unlock the door. You start to get up to demand your hug before you hear the door open with a rushed ‘see ya’ later’ as he shuts it.

He rushes out the door, fumbling for his keys before he sits in his car with a huff. He was throbbing now, but you said it was something to do behind closed doors. To be fair, he was scared to try. What if he didn’t do it right?

He wipes his palms on his pants, turning the key in the ignition before he pulls out of the drive. He had so much to think about - there was no time for music. He drives home in silence, replaying the conversation the two of you had as he tries to will his hardon to go away. But each time he thought about it, it would twitch in response to the images of you in his head.

You watch him leave from your kitchen window. He looked okay, maybe a little feverish. With how sudden it came on, you felt like it had more to do with the conversation you two had than the exuberant amount of candy. You did throw a lot of information on him at once though. You want to text him to get to the bottom of things, but he was notorious for texting you back as he was driving, not wanting to leave you waiting for long. You decide to wait until after the shower you so desperately needed.

You wrap your hair in a towel and throw on your previously laid out pajamas. You fan your face so your moisturizer can dry as you go to grab your phone off the charger. No texts from Choso, surprisingly. He usually always texted you when he got home.

‘just checking in, how you feeling??��’

You can’t even close your phone before a loud ding! echoes in your room.

The ride home was excruciating. Now that he knew there was a way to take care of things, he felt helpless not being able to now. At this point, he still didn’t even really understand how to… ‘stimulate the nerves’ - that could mean anything. The knowledge he had now plays on repeat in his mind as he pulls up to his apartment. He checks his phone - it reads a too-bright 9:33.

He goes inside and immediately lays on the couch, not having the energy to go upstairs just yet. He forced himself to sleep. He knew texting you would make him think of the way you smelled earlier, the way you were so suddenly all over him, how your chest pressed into him when you hugged him like you usually do.

It only made matters worse that he dreamed of you - his aching, throbbing problem seemed to be worse now that he refused to take care of it earlier. He rubs his eyes, reaching for his phone to see you texted him about thirty minutes ago.

‘I’m good! Just needed to lay down, sorry I didn’t text you!! I fell asleep when I got back😴🥱’

‘It’s okay bestie!!! Do you feel better now?’

‘Yeah a little bit! Thank you for talking to me earlier’

‘Sorry if it was weird’

‘ohmygooooooddddd dude I told you it wasn’t weird! I’m always down to talk about whatever silly butt’

‘I knowwww🤓I just felt awkward but I didn’t know who else to ask’

‘It’s okay I promise. Do you have any other q’s? Might make you feel less awkward yk’

‘Mayyyybe😟’

‘I’m waiting🙂‍↕️’

Your response made him anxious - he felt like he’d been hard for hours at this point. He knew it had something to do with you, though it was difficult to admit. He had always looked at you fondly, sneaking glances when you weren’t looking, finding reasons to come over, staying up late just to talk on the phone. But he was so new to everything he had no idea on how to take things further, if you even wanted to.

He did want to learn more about you, though - like he always did.

‘do you touch yourself?’

You did not expect him to ask anything like that. He was usually so innocent and coy. It could have been genuine curiosity, although your stomach was telling you something else.

‘ummmmm yes sometimes🤔why’

He did not expect your answer, either. Not that he thought you wouldn’t - you obviously knew enough about it to teach him well. But he also didn’t think you would, maybe he was even hoping you wouldn’t. Knowing that you do made him feel like he could combust.

‘I was just curious!! sorry if that was too far’

He types the message quickly, locking his phone before he headed upstairs. He was determined to learn more - he was so hard at this point it was hurting. He couldn’t keep his mind clear from the lewd depictions of you sprawled out for him so pretty.

He sits into his computer chair quickly, logging onto his desktop before he pulls up an incognito tab. He knew that porn was out there, but he wanted actual educational material.

It’s been only fifteen minutes and he feels like he's discovered an entirely new world. He knows even more than he bargained for and he’s seen enough instructional diagrams to last a lifetime. He feels like he has a decent grasp on how to masturbate and even some ways to please others, when that time comes.

He grabs his phone, worried what your response would be to his prying question.

‘no it’s okay! just didn’t expect you to ask but yeah, it can be a great stress reliever!!’

You send the message, hopeful you didn’t sound to forward.

He receives it and the tent in his pant twitches involuntarily. He puts his phone face down on the desk, taking a breath as he attempts to process what you said.

‘also not to change the subject bc we can still talk about whatever, but i really need help on the calc hw🙏😀’

He was too excited at the thought of you so expertly relieving your stress. He imagines you all red faced, panting and falling apart. How sweet you’d sound gasping and whining his name. The thought has him reaching for the waistband of his lose sweats, his long fingers making his abdomen tense when they move further, brushing the trimmed hairs at his base before they just barely wrap around his shaft. He pulls his sweats over his length, gasping at the dry stimulation. His cock springs forward, smacking loudly on his stomach as he winces. He’s been painfully hard for hours now - his angry tip was drooling precum, smearing it underneath his belly button into his happy trail. He grabs himself again, wrapping somewhat firmly around the base of his cock, careful not to squeeze too hard. The diagrams he studied said too much of a grip wasn’t ideal, but too loose wouldn’t provide enough stimulation.

He pulls his hand up slowly, the skin around his tip enveloping the curves of his cock head snugly before releasing it as he moves his hand downwards back to its original position.

‘f-fuck,’ he whines, already overwhelmed by the new sensation. It’s not like he hasn’t felt something similar before - but the new knowledge of what this was, what it led to, left his breath shaky from the anticipation. He moves again, gripping slightly harder as he brings his hand up further than before, almost entirely to the tip as more spurts of his essence leak from his tip to his fingers.

He continues, slowly increasing his pace. Each stroke elicited a noise from him - a gasp or a grunt, and downright pitiful whines that were ripped from the bottom of his lungs. He had never felt so close to nirvana before and he couldn’t help vocalizing* his pleasure as he struggles to keep a steady pace. He tries to stop his mind from drifting, but the snug grip he has on his length as he repeatedly bucks into his hand sends him to a place where every thought is infiltrated with your essence. The way your hands squeeze his shoulder, how the fat of your hips threatened exposure when you wore your favorite pajama shorts, how you were always so warm, how your hair smelled when he hugged you. He reaches his free hand up into his shirt, resting on his heart as he tries to match the erratic beating rhythm with his strokes. He’s nearly crying now, strangled noises leaving his throat so raw and sharp, voice cracking and heaving as he feels an unfamiliar pull in his groin. He’s whining out pitiful cries of your name now in response to the borderline overstimulation of his pretty, weeping cock. Sweat pools on his body as his hips come entirely off the chair to pump messily into his fist, chasing a release he didn’t know he needed.

You check your phone again, seeing a message that still read as ‘delivered’. Choso was usually so quick to text you back, almost like he left the screen open to your messages only. You were starting to worry that he may actually be sick with his unusually inconsistent communication. The calculus problem you needed help with was staring back at you on your laptop screen, still waiting to be answered.

You open up your discord to see his status as ‘idle’. However, when you open Skype, you see a little green dot showing he was active in the last hour. Might as well call him here if he didn’t have his phone.

Shit. His vision was turning white as he felt every sense in his body ignite before he is lurched back into reality when a familiar chime plays in the background, somehow perceivable over the dull ringing in his ear. The sound is hardly audible behind his pathetic whimpers as he tries to steady his breathing before he answers. He flips his phone over first to see a message from you from a few minutes ago, and he curses a long string of 'fuck, fuck, fuck'.

He answers the call, feeling so stupid for keeping you waiting again. He’s unaware of the state he appears to be in when the webcam turns on, bright desktop light illuminating his red, fucked-out face.

He stutters, still struggling to catch his breath as he wipes the sweat from his brow.

“H- Hi, Hi, y-y/n,” he says, choking out an airy laugh as he puts his head in his hand.

“Were you just -“ you say, putting the pieces together as you take in his image - splotchy, sweat-shined skin, hair stuck slick to his forehead, shaky hands, and bitten, swollen lips. It would explain the inconsistent messaging, the off-kilter questions from earlier, and most importantly, the state he was in now. He was nearly moaning on the call, still too caught up in his obvious state of pleasure.

“I swear, I wasn’t, hah,” he starts, taking a deep breath again as he finds a nearby towel and runs it through his sweaty, disheveled hair, letting out an audible 'fuck' to your surprise - he never cursed in front of you.

“J-Just got back from a run!” He adds with a smile, clearing his throat as he readjusts in his chair.

“I thought you were sick?” You ask, trying to adjust your laptop camera as you sit back into the bed. Choso gasped, barely detected by his webcam mic as your camera twitched downwards in your attempt to reposition. The camera flashed your waist, hugged tightly by your white tank top, which was followed by your full chest, nearly heaving out of the neckline - his breath hitched as he catches a glimpse of your nipples peeking through the thin material. All too quickly the camera is refocused by on your face.

He thought this would make it better for him, having the camera pointed away from your tempting figure. But your clean, soft skin shined so brightly on camera and made him feel like he could melt. He still breathes heavy, trying to find an explanation to your question.

“Yeah, phew - felt like I was getting a fever, wanted to run out the ick, ya’ know?” He says, chuckling nervously after he finishes. He looks down at his gray t shirt, now covered in sweat.

“Gimme’ just a sec’ - gonna change,” he says and you respond with a hesitant ‘okay’. You chose not to tease him although the thought was lingering - he was probably as embarrassed as he’d ever been getting somewhat caught in the act.

He reaches his hand up to his webcam, sliding the privacy shield to your right - only halfway. He doesn’t realize his mistake, his still shaking fingers betraying him. He stands from his desk with a huff, and your hand flies to your mouth as you stifle a gasp. For a brief moment, his pelvis faces the camera before he turns to find a shirt. He’s pulling his sweats up as you’re able to see just a flash of his crotch, light brown hairs decorating his pelvis that come to a head at the end of a sharp, defined ‘v’. In the few seconds, you were able to see a clear outline of his dick pressed firmly into the fabric of his sweats. It looked girthy and he sat so heavy and pretty - the rounded mushroom tip protruding where it rested in the left leg of his pants. There was a darker gray patch near his tip, signaling the problem you’ve suspected him to have since he left your place earlier. He unknowingly continues his show, pulling his ruined shirt over his fluffy hair, flashing his taught abdomen before your very eyes. You could tell he was built under his clothes, and a lot of his time outside of class and hanging out with you was spent in the gym. But the up close viewing on his toned figure was enough to send a heat rushing towards your core as filthy thoughts of him on top of you flash one after the other. He unfortunately turns to find a new shirt, coming back after he finds a white compression tee to smooth over his still damp torso.

He slides the cover left, smiling at the camera with a wave as he announces his return. You clear your throat, trying to refocus your attention to the matter at hand.

“Hey yeah, um - the homework, right. It’s number… 26 on the ‘limits’ assignment,” you explain.

“Read it to me,” he demands, breathing finally stabilized from earlier.

You read the equation, explaining the error you got each time you plugged it into your calculator.

His face lights up, “Oh, yeah! That one was tricky, it’s D though. I’ll explain it in class tomorrow if you want,” he adds, desperate to end the call. While he could look at you eternally, the sensitivity he was experiencing had him nearly ripping the wood from his desk topping with his fingernails.

“Awesome, thank you!” You reply, selecting the correct answer before you minimize the tab, wanting to set the call to full screen for a moment.

“Cho, can I come over tomorrow? I know you said we wouldn’t be able to until Saturday, but I can already tell I’ll be bored tomorrow.”

He’s shocked.

“M-My place? We always go to yours though -,” he answers, glancing around at the state of his room to be met with more of a mess than he remembered.

“Well yeah, but we never go to yours though! Figured it could be fuuunnn,” you add, hoping he doesn’t see right through your real intentions. The intentions you had of ensuring he was taught well, far better than you were able to earlier. You feel as if the dots connected before you - his permanent blushed cheeks he wore so proudly whenever you touched him, the longing look in his eyes as you attempted to explain the basics of self-pleasure, and how frantically he had to leave after said conversation. Even if you were reading into this incorrectly, it would be nothing more than another movie night, which you'd never turn down.

He smiles again, nodding as he says, "You know what? Yeah, yeah that would be fun. Just gotta' tidy up before then," he finishes with a laugh, trying to remind himself that asking you to come over right now might be a step too far.

"Oh you know I don't care Cho, I'll take you however I can get you," you say as you search for the blush you expect to appear - and it does.

"Oh, y/n, he sighs, and the slight desperation in his tone made your stomach drop.

“Um, I know I've already said this today but would you hate me if I got off the call?" He asks, not so subtly seeking your permission. "I need a shower bad, hah," he says, putting emphasis on 'need'.

You give him his sought after permission, waving a quick 'bye' before he does the same, leaving the call with a sigh.

You breathe deeply, closing your laptop screen with a huff as you decide to leave the rest of your homework until later. If you had enough sense, you figured Choso was still sat on the other side of his desktop, fingers reaching into his waistband to finish what he had started earlier. You enjoyed the thought, imaging how sweet he'd sound when he found release for the first time.

You knew you had plans to make a move tomorrow, but you didn't want it to fall on deaf ears. If Cho was anything, it was oblivious, you think, remembering the poke of his tummy from earlier when you asked if he had ever touched himself. Bless his heart.

You stand to your dresser, pilfering through the countless pairs of boring underwear and bras to find the stash you usually kept for special occasions. You pulled out a whopping ten pairs of panties, all adorned with different lace patterns, bows, and varying pretty colors. You find two of your favorites - a lacy white pair with a tiny bow on the waistband that's entirely see-through, and a pastel pink thong covered in little hearts. You make sure to grab the matching bras that were thankfully clean. You lay them on the bed behind to you, snapping a quick picture before you return everything to your drawer.

You search through a lower drawer, pulling out two random pairs of shorts and some shirts to match. You quickly throw two outfits together, taking individual pictures of each before you shove everything back into the drawer. You sit back in the bed, snuggling under the covers as you pull up your messages.

‘[Attachment: 1 Image]’

‘HELLPPP’

‘can’t figure out what to wear for tomorrow❗️’

He breathes deeply, steadying himself as he stands to his feet. He still had to finish what he started, and a shower probably wouldn’t hurt with the mess he felt like he might make. He strips his clothes, leaving them in the floor as he makes his way to the bathroom.

He makes sure to bring his phone with him, ringer on and volume fully up. He had missed too many of your messages tonight, and he’d be damned if he missed another. He sits his phone on the nearby shower shelf, double checking the ringer was on.

The hot water quickly fogs the bathroom mirror as he looks down pitifully at his swollen cock, still hard and desperate as it cries for attention. He pictured your sweet face beneath him on your knees, doing the few things he could now imagine clearly. He knew you were the expert between the two of you, and he needed you to be the one to teach him what real pleasure felt like when it was given by your deft hands. He wouldn’t dare think of how sickly sweet it’d feel to rut into your mouth, how earth-shattering it’d be to bully his length deep into the goddess between your legs.

ding!

He’s pulled out of his trance, grabbing his phone with a smile as he sees your contact name shine brightly on the screen. He reads your message, then reads the incoming three, trying not to pick the image with the shorter bottoms - but he truly can’t help himself.

‘ummmmmm lemme think’

‘definitely the second one, the blue is NICE🙂‍↕️’ he responds, trying to sound like a regular person that was not at all interested in how your curves would sneak out of the bottom of your shorts.

He steps into the shower, shoulders dropping at the relaxing warmth. He hasn’t stopped picturing your face since he’s been home, but you so graciously gave him more eye candy to gawk at with the silly slip of your webcam. The low neckline of your top burned bright in his mind as he reaches his hand down again, wrapping his fingers gently around his width, leaving his thumb pressed softly into the prominent vein on the side. He wanted to try to mimic what he thought your touch would feel like - the brief flashes he got of your pretty hands typing away at your keyboard gave him all the information he needed to work with. He started slowly, dragging his large hand up before he thumbed his dripping slit, whining your name immediately at the contact. He pictures you again with your knee sliding up his thigh, hand firm on his shoulder while you whisper what he wishes were sweet nothings. He continues his soft hold as he strokes himself so sweetly, just like how he imagined you would. The pitiful noises he made earlier are now increasing ten-fold, loud whines echoing in the shower as he chases his release. He didn't realize how close he was already from the previous edging session he just brutally experienced. His cockhead was spitting now, the over-abundance of precum falling in stringy lines to the shower floor. He feels the pull in his groin again, so much quicker than he did last time, and it’s like he knew this was it.

It’s almost like you did, too.

‘ding! ding! ding!’

‘[Attachment: 1 Image]’

‘but you’ve gotta help me pick the full fit Cho🖤’ you send, internally squealing as you put your phone face down on the bed, forcing yourself to not look at the time he reads the message.

He stills his movements slightly, maintaining your his soft grip, reaching with his free hand to his phone, careful not to soak it as he brings it into the shower. The screen recognizes his face instantly, giving him a sneak peek of the lewd images you so graciously sent him as he feels his heartbeat in his ears - his heart rate increases so dramatically, he sees each pump of blood in the outskirts of his field of vision. He pauses for a moment, tightening the grip on his cock before he starts pumping furiously, nearly drunk on the pleasure as he whines breathy cries of your name. He opens the message and his jaw falls open, his pathetic cries of ‘please’ ‘more’ and ‘baby’ reverberating off the shower walls. In a fleeting moment, his balls clench tight to his pelvis and the pressure he felt pooling in his groin now snapped as his hips lurch forward, painting the shower floor white all for you as he tries to stabilize himself by holding onto the wall. He looks down through his almost blacked vision, surprised at the sheer volume of fluid he felt was being ripped from him. He kept cumming even after his hand had stilled, sharp jerks of his cock overstimulating him with each searing hot pump of liquid. He finally finishes with heavy breaths that threaten to turn into cries as he remembers the messages you sent him.

In his daze, he finds his phone wet in his hand as he rushes for his towel, wiping the screen quickly. Your messages still waiting to be answered that were sent a whole… 4 minutes ago.

‘y/n’

‘thank gou’

‘um’

‘areyou really asking me topick?,?’

Thank you? Was he drunk?

‘thank you?’

‘and yes dummy I’m asking you to pick :P’

And his heart quickens again.

‘thank you for sending me that’

‘I likeit a lot’

‘sorrymy pgones wett’

‘the pink one. please.’

He responds, making sure to type the last message clear as day.

‘why is your phone wet you nasty??’ you respond, laughing to yourself at his tangible nervousness that was apparent even via text.

‘showerrrrr’

‘and I don’t even get a pic back? wowww’ you respond, trying to see just how far you could take this before you head to bed for the night. You expect him to respond with a message filled with emojis as he skirts the question.

He finishes his shower quickly, unwilling to ruin his phone in an attempt to take a shower selfie. He steps out and dries off in a hurry, finding a nearby pair of jogging pants as he rushes back to his bedroom, hair dripping cold water down his back.

‘[Attachment: 1 Image]’ *

The warmth between your thighs grows as you selfishly save the image to your camera roll. You expected anything but his forward response - compared to the previous dearth of knowledge of how he looked under his clothes, you felt like he had sent you straight-up pornographic material.

‘you really outdid me, Cho’

‘who knew you were hiding all that?’

‘I’ll have to think of a way to repay you tomorrow 🖤 you’re so good to me’ you dote, knowing his affinity for praise.

He blushes, smiling hungrily as he types his response, wincing at the feeling when his half-hard cock jumped in response to your words.

‘i literally can’t wait’

pt. 2 coming

#fruit punch #fpoc #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #choso smut #choso kamo #jjk choso #choso kamo smut #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso fluff #choso my beloved #my baby

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reds-skull · 8 months ago

Text

The frames of the video from the comic in the previous post. I experimented a lot with this, it was really fun to work with this chunky brush I found. Also the first time I draw the Reaper of Destruction as it was before Lumity!

More comments under the cut+a frame I ended up scrapping!

I'll go by order of appearance, because it's basically a chronological retelling of the events of part 1.

So the first frame is the least fancy because it was the first and I didn't nail down a style for this yet lol. It shows Ghost and Soap's first true meeting, in chapter 1, where Ghost helps Soap when he gets impaled by a rebar.

The second frame jumps to chapter 8, when Ghost first put Soap in Limbo. The triangle around them was a later addition, taken from the next frame. I love this scene, it's so fun to see it drawn out now :)

The third frame was the most important one to nail the style. I painted a whole frame, only to come back to it the next day and restart from almost 0.

This is the original third frame

They both show the same event - chapter 21, the second time Soap is thrown into Limbo. The difference is, one shows a more literal image of what happened, and the other is more symbolic.

And by now I think you know how much I love symbolism lol

What also bothered me with the scraped painting is that the composition isn't central, and the entire pose, while more dynamic, isn't fitting the mural feel the rest has.

There's an even earlier version of the scrapped painting, with Soap's face, but nowhere else there are faces in these series, so I went wild with it and covered it with flames. He had them behind him already, as the description of this scene in the fic says Soap had a helo of fire behind him.

(also hated how Limbo's victims looked in the scrapped version like... ew lol)

There wasn't a real reason to add the circles around Soap. I just wanted to lean more heavily into the mural style. But I took that circle motif to the end, after that, and added it to Ghost as well, hence the triangle.

Soap has one skeletal hand, and one palm. That one is on purpose, to show he's hanging in between life and death.

The fourth frame is pretty self-explanatory, it shows the part in chapter 21 where Soap gets the dark marks on his forearm. If the colors look weird in that one, it's because I messed with them so much I couldn't tell if they look good anymore on not

The fifth frame shows another favorite moment of mine, the moment Ghost gets his marks, the white tear tracks, when he finally notices Soap fighting in the void.

The sixth frame is my favorite of the bunch. Soap and Ghost, the triangle and circle combined. The moment they killed Graves, Ghost in full control of his subjects, Soap with his sword of white fire and army of burning moths. They look so scary in this one I love them

The seventh frame shows Void and Destruction. Void was straight forward, I've drawn it a few times before, but I had to make a more detailed design for Destruction, and I only had the very first sketches I made for Revenant AU to go off of, as well as Lumity's design. Idk why I designed Lumity before Destruction, but that's how it is. I wanted Destruction melting, like it can't handle its own heat.

The eighth frame is of Void and Destruction combining. In the fic they had in-between states, it didn't look like this, but for the sake of the video I thought it'd be nicer to have a clear frame of them combining.

The ninth and last frame is of our beloved Lumity. Their design is a little more detailed than the drawing I made a while back. This frame is also the only one that interacts with the foreground, aka Makarov. I think he was jump-scared, don't know how much that comes across.

Damn I had a lot to write. Well, when given the opportunity to ramble...

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod ghost #cod soap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #revenant au #cod fanart #...fanart of my own au for the most part but oh well #ty for reading whoever did <3

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drdemonprince · 2 months ago

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Hi Devon !

I just listened to your newest YouTube reading of your Substack and it made me realize that I have a different understanding than you of Sizhen’s gender framework, or perhaps am still developing my understanding of it.

You describe yourself in the piece as, through failing to join the Power gender, a Faggot-Subaltern. Other writings of yours describe experiencing some social privilege of having been perceived as masculine, and we both agree that our transmisogyny-exempt status renders us by average safer than our TMA siblings. In my understanding of Sizhen’s framework, this would render you closer to the Not-Power gender category, making transition something of a lateral move: away from Some misogyny but towards transphobia. Or, rather, in different gender categories depending on the power systems that be: given some power in comparison to TMA folks, recognized socially at times as an ally to other Not-Power folks against the subaltern of the transfem, but an otherwise marginalized category that is used as a threat to those within the cisgender hierarchy. Perhaps this perspective of conditionality is not the purpose of the framework; I’d like to hear what you think.

This also made me think about other scenarios where marginalized gendered folks engage in respectability politics - transmeds, transandrobros, and the like. Would you describe them as claiming Not-Power status against a Faggot-Subaltern for profit, safety, and success? Or is their ultimate failure in doing so a sign that they are in fact Faggot-Subaltern?

Thanks for reading !

I would say that the 'Not-Power' category is, predominately in our society, the category that cis women are relegated to and enjoy certain privileges within, and my trans masculinity doesn't slot me into that category so much as expel me from it. I was in not-Power when I was moving through the world as more or less a cishet woman. As a man, I'm theoretically aligning myself with the Power category, and my masculine qualities often afford me a lot of the privileges that come with being in the Power category, at least relative to those around me (I have always worked in fields filled with women, queer people, and men of color, and so I can access the privileges of white manhood relative to them). However, I'm also someone people yell "faggot" at on the street who cannot pass as a straight man for more than a thirty second interaction. And it's abundantly clear in how other men and cis women relate to me that I'm faggotized, as the sizhen system post talks about. If you're in the faggot subaltern, you pretty well know it, and I know it immediately in the way other men physically relate to me. It's a mix of condescending feminization, dehumanization, and imparsability that's very distinct. (it's hot as fuck when it's some big burly masc guy throwing my over his shoulder and dragging me home at the gay bar, and even kind of cute when it's a straight man in line at the walgreens smelling my hair, but not so cute when i'm alone on a train platform at night and a crowd of drunk Cubs fans is approaching.)

I am notably LESS safe in a lot of straight spaces now than i ever was as a cis woman, because I'm not in Not-Power, I'm in Faggot Subaltern, and everybody can see it a mile away. I stand out as not belonging and not following the rules of either pre-determined gender category ("powerful" men and 'not-powerful" women) and there is a looming threat that comes with this, and that's what defines being in the faggot subaltern. as you can see i dont see this stuff as fully categorical, but rather contextual. depending on the situation i have both privilege and a lot of vulnerability, and that's true of a lot of feminine gay men.

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redtsundere-writes · 5 months ago

Text

Date 4. Running

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Soldier!Reader

Beginning. 🡨 Previous | Next 🡪

Summary: You just want to help Ghost to stop harming himself… These aren't dates, okay?

Word Count: 3756 words.

TW: MDNI. +18. Self-harm. Smut. Possessiveness and Jealousy.

“Holy shit,” you huffed, dropping the weights after a deadlift. Out of all the exercises, you hated lifting weights. It was always an uncomfortable experience not being one of the strongest on the team, but you still had to include it in your training. More than strength, it improved your grip, which is sometimes all it takes to save a life.

Your headphones played your favorite song as you massaged your finger joints in a short break. The gym was packed with soldiers, but you could still spot Soap approaching you with his typical contagious energy. Even though he had given you a bad feeling when you met him a year ago, you now considered him a good coworker. You paused the music as you realized he wanted to talk to you as usual.

“Are you done with your routine?” Soap asked you with that suggestive tone that characterized him, you no longer knew if it was on purpose or if he really talks like that.

“I’m done after some reps, why?”

“I was just thinking about you… And me… Some cardio.” Soap raised an eyebrow, emphasizing the last word.

“In your bed or mine?” You played along, already used to his attempts to sleep with you.

“Mine. I don’t want to bother LT.” Soap answered with a mischievous smile, humping the air and making bed sounds. You rolled your eyes and pushed him to shut up.

“Wait for me outside,” you said with a smile.

Soap laughed, but he listened to you. This was already part of your daily routine. You would train separately and then go out for a run around the base as a final cardio. You shook your head at his attempt at flirting as you took the bandages off your hands. Even though you had already rejected him on several occasions, the guy was still trying to win you over. You thought that was kind of adorable.

Ghost had watched the entire interaction like a curious hawk from across the gym, where he was doing backstroke on one of the machines. He tightened his grip on the rope that connected to the weights as he watched you fix your hair in front of the mirror before following his coworker. Why did you care about your appearance out of nowhere? Did you even like Soap? He knew how the saying went: Behind every joke there is some true. Price, who was nearby, saw how the lieutenant stopped in the middle of the exercise to focus on you. Today he was in the mood to tease the lieutenant.

“I’m glad those two are getting along now,” Price commented, bringing Ghost out of his thoughts.

“Ah… Yes,” he replied dryly, clearing his throat. “Interesting answer,” the captain thought.

“They work very well together, too,” Price pressed on the wound.

Ghost remained silent. You really could work with anyone, as you were excellent at teamwork. Even though you weren't as strong as the rest of the men on the 141, you had great reflexes and worked better under pressure. In your time on the task force, you had gotten into the swing of things pretty well. However, that didn't mean he'd like to see you flirt so blatantly with MacTavish.

“You like her, don't you?” Price concluded at his silence.

Ghost's eyes widened as he realized his own feelings. After spending the whole year together as your supervisor, the fact that you cared about him, that he felt at peace when you were alone, or that he loved the way you made tea, wasn't because of something platonic. It was because of something more. From that to him admitting it, that was a different story.

“Nothing to see, Captain,” Ghost replied reluctantly, leaving the machine to go to the weight area he had recently abandoned.

Price couldn’t help but giggle as soon as he left. He had seen this a thousand times in the military. Two lovebirds ignoring their feelings in the name of “professionalism.” Price knew the consequences of having accepted you into the 141st. He knew his men, many looked at you with interested eyes as you were one of the few women on the base, but Ghost’s eyes shone more. If he didn’t do something soon, this was going to get interesting.

Ghost moved his foot anxiously. He tried to fall asleep, but his knuckles itched to be destroyed again. It had been almost a month since he had last taken out his resentment on a punching bag. His foot moved harder, to the point that it shook the bunk a little.

“Psst.”

Ghost opened his eyes and saw your head peeking out of the bunk bed like a little bat hanging from a tree branch.

“One of those nights?” You whispered. Ghost just nodded.

You both left the building. It was one of those classic nights in England, cold and full of mystery. The clouds were so heavy that there weren’t any stars in sight. The mist infiltrated the air. You closed your hoodie and put on your hod. Ghost, like a good Brit, was only wearing a gray shirt as if it were a quiet summer night.

“Well, cleaning doesn’t work in the long term and eating out of anxiety isn’t the best option either.” You sighed, disappointed that your first attempts to get Ghost to stop self-harming had partially failed. “I was reading about self-harm and experts say…”

You couldn’t see it, but Ghost was smiling under his balaclava as you explained what you had researched on the subject. It was nice to see you giving your best effort to help him, even if it negatively affected your routine. That smile faded as guilt settled over his chest. You should be asleep under the warmth of your butterfly blanket, not awake in the middle of the cold morning. You didn't deserve to have such an incompetent supervisor like him.

“So I thought: What's the closest thing to destroying your fingers but without causing physical pain? Running. That will tire your body out so you can sleep easily,” you explained proudly, warming up your muscles.

It was worth a try. Ghost just had to find a way for him to avoid self-harm without depending on you and running seemed like a good idea. After stretching, Ghost started jogging and you followed behind him. You sometimes envied his physique. He had everything you didn't, the ideal body of a soldier. Tall, wide, strong, a big butt. He was good at everything too. Spying, interrogation, hand-to-hand combat, use of firearms of all calibers. You shook your head to focus again on following his burly back. You were still a bit tired from running all over the base with Soap earlier that day, but you were sure you could keep up with him if you took it easy.

It had started out well. You both jogged through the empty streets, following the white streetlights. The cold seeped into your lungs. You both quickened your pace once your bodies got used to the activity. Right, left, right, left in a loop. A small drop of water landed on your head. You stopped and held out your hand, sure enough, it was about to start raining. You should have checked the weather forecast before you left.

“Hey, Ghost, I think we should head back,” you said, but it seemed like he didn’t hear you as he kept running. “Ghost?” You called out to him again, confused as you watched him walk away at a faster pace than you were going.

The drops began to fall slowly, a countdown before the deluge. You had nothing to protect you from the rain. If you didn't go back, the chances of getting sick were high. The lieutenant kept running on his own. Something was wrong, you could feel it. You ran after him when your intuition told you to go back to base, but you would never leave a soldier behind. Your legs hurt, but you had to get him back to the dorms.

“Ghost!”

“Simon!” His father shouted at him.

He was barely 12 years old, that age. A complicated stage for anyone. His emotions were on the tightrope, his mind was in chaos, and he wanted to jerk off all day like any teenager. Simon was an ordinary boy with tastes and dreams, only he had a terrible father.

A violent drunk, a stinky smoker and a man stressed after the death of his wife. He was obsessed with his children being strong and big, so he beat them often and forced them to do dangerous challenges like kissing snakes to build their character. Being the oldest, Simon was the one who received the most beatings, but he was also the one who had to beat his father to exhaustion. He would do anything to survive in his own home.

He was 12 years old when his father decided to take him to a concert of the band where he used to play, Bone Lickers. He had blocked out most of that night, but he remembers the multicolored lights, the disgusting smell of alcoholic vomit, and feeling his eardrums about to burst for the first time. He was alone in the middle of the audience. While everyone was dancing like idiots, hitting each other in the mosh pit, or singing the lyrics until their vocal cords were destroyed, Simon was lost in the artistic disaster.

That was when Simon made the worst decision of his life: to look for his father. He opened a door and surprise! His father was fucking a prostitute who was more dead than alive due to an overdose. If a tree falls in the middle of the forest, but no one hears it, did the tree really fall? He still didn't know the answer, but he was sure that the prostitute was real when she fell dead at his feet. The screams of his furious father faded into the background while his mind still tried to understand that he had a corpse in front of him. It took him years to realize that the first death he saw in his life had been caused by his father.

“Simon!” That was the only warning he needed to know he had to escape.

The rain suddenly enveloped him as he left the compound. He ran through the streets, but he had no destination. His father shouted his name over and over again in an attempt to stop him, but he would never stop voluntarily. His breathing was labored, his breath hot against the cold Manchester weather and his steps were wet but fast. His legs were beginning to tire as he ran through the paved streets of his city.

In search of shelter, he entered an unknown street. Terrible mistake. It was a dead end. Before he could change course, his father, drunk and drugged, was already on his way. His heart pumped panic in his veins with each step backward. The man he didn't know every time he drank shouted incoherent threats at him because of the effects of everything he had consumed that night.

“Simon!” His father shouted in anger as he grabbed him by the shirt. Simon closed his eyes as soon as the fist was about to hit his face.

“Ghost!” You screamed when you finally caught him.

Ghost opened his eyes suddenly as he came out of the trance. The heavy rain, the white lanterns of the base, you holding him tightly by the arm and his soaked shirt. Realizing that he had returned to his senses, you pulled him towards the nearest warehouse. It was being remodeled, so it was open. As soon as they crossed the door, you forced him to sit on the floor.

“You are safe. You are at the Task Force 141 base, Lieutenant Simon Riley. You just suffered from a flashback,” you explained as you kneeled in front of him, taking his face to connect eyes to make sure he heard you loud and clear while both of you shivered from the cold.

You had seen this before, you just didn’t know how to face it at the time. Fear, anger, the desire to escape a memory that haunts you all your life. You had already lived this in different ways throughout your life, but this time you knew what to do. You wouldn't allow yourself to lose someone to PTSD again.

“Breathe with me,” you asked him to help him catch his breath, but he had other plans.

Ghost took off his shirt. You froze at the unexpected action. Unlike the fact that you had already seen half a base shirtless at the gym, this was the first time you saw the half-naked lieutenant. His broad shoulders, his perfectly sculpted biceps were bigger than your head and his pecs… for a second you thought they were bigger than yours. Your eyes expanded more and more as you continued to admire the reliefs on his skin from the combat wounds and stretch marks. You came back to reality as Ghost tried to unzip your hoodie.

“Wait, wait! What are you doing?!” You exclaimed as you covered your chest.

“You're going to get sick if you stay in wet clothes,” Ghost replied.

“We can go back to the dorms!” You argued with blushing cheeks.

“The dorms are at least 5 kilometers away. You’re going to get pneumonia before we get back. You’re not used to this weather.” And with that, Ghost unzipped your hoodie.

He knew it was a terrible idea, but it was what he had to do if he wanted to protect you from the cold. After all, it was his fault you were in this situation. Your gray t-shirt clung to your curves like a latex glove. The worst part? Not wearing a bra, your cold nipples felt like they wanted to break through the fabric. “Shit…” he thought. He was about to take off your shirt, but you stopped him.

“Close your eyes,” you whispered with some shyness.

Ghost nodded before pulling you against his body, sitting you on his wide lap. He took your shirt by the edges and closed his eyes. He pulled the wet fabric slowly to prevent his fingers from rubbing against your damp skin, but it was practically impossible. He held his breath to not let out a moan, evidence of his excitement at feeling you in such an intimate way. He hugged you tightly to increase the heat between your bodies. Heat rose to your flushed cheeks at being in this uncomfortable situation with your supervisor.

Simon took advantage of your head being on his neck to take off the balaclava, heavy from all the water it had absorbed. He ran his fingers through his wet hair. He needed a haircut already, but he always forgot to wear the mask. You froze up, but not because of the cold, but because of the discomfort of the situation. You put your arms in front of you in an attempt to put as much distance between you as possible, but if you really needed to warm up, you should be chest to chest. Simon raised his legs so you were as close to him as possible and pressed your back so you would break down the wall between you.

Simon quickly realized that this had been a terrible idea. Both of them half naked, completely alone in the early morning, the rain giving a romantic touch to the whole thing. He soon realized that the blood wasn't just reaching his cheeks. You lifted your head as soon as you felt a lump in your crotch.

“Tell me it’s a gun,” you pleaded, not having the courage to look him in the face.

“I wish that too,” he whispered to you embarrassed.

“Lieutenant…” You groaned.

“Please don't call me that now,” he begged.

“Does it turn you on to be called by your rank?” You mocked with a mischievous smirk.

But the moment you faced him, the smile fell. It was the first time you saw your superior's face. You wanted to make fun of the situation to downplay the fact that your tits were on top of his, but seeing him only made you blush even more. His uncut blonde hair fell unruly over his forehead, his honey eyes were framed by his dark circles, his nose was strong, the short beard didn't look bad on him at all, and his jaw was as sharp as your knives. “Holy shit! He's handsome!” you thought.

“Wow…” you sighed, baffled.

“Don't say shite. It's just a physiological response. I'm a man, leave me alone.” Simon pushed your head back into his neck so you wouldn't look at him. Unconsciously, you settled into his lap to be more comfortable in the new position. He moaned under his breath and grabbed your hips tightly so you wouldn't move anymore. “Stay still, or it'll be worse for both of us.” He growled in your ear.

“Are you threatening me?” You arched a curious eyebrow, moving your hips forward to rebel against his grip.

“If you keep moving, you’re just going to make me cum in my pants. And, trust me, you don’t want that.” Ghost stifled a growl of pleasure.

“Don’t feel bad. It’s just a physiological response.” You used his words against him.

“Cum in my pants is just the beginning. Then I’m going to tease you until we fuck ‘til we’re exhausted. After that we won’t be able to stop until someone catches us because you’ll be screaming my name.” He promised you.

“And the bad part?” You asked with a certain mocking tone.

“I warned you.” Simon pulled you by the neck to face you.

Simon didn't want to waste any more time. He kissed you rough and suddenly, moving his calloused hands over your naked torso. He defined all your healed wounds with the tips of his fingers, reading your history in the military. Smiling when he touched one that reminded him of a mission you had had together. His lips danced slowly but roughly over yours. You tilted your head to one side to deepen the kiss.

If a year ago someone had told you that you would end up making out with your lieutenant in an empty warehouse at 3 in the morning, you would have punched them in the face. You weren't one of those who slept with their coworkers. It was unprofessional, and you knew you wouldn't get far with them. If you wanted to kill the heat, you preferred to masturbate in your bed than get involved with anyone. But Ghost… He was different. He treated you, touched you, talked to you like no one else. You envied his body, his skills, and his mind because he wanted them to be only yours, whether they could realistically be yours was another matter.

Simon growled against your lips every time you moved your hips on his erect cock under his pants. He had imagined the situation many times on those nights where he needed that release, but it was just that, his imagination. This was going far beyond the limits he always had with you, but it was so much better. He held you firmly by the ass to guide you where he wanted you to take him. He leaned you back a little to take one of your tits into his mouth. Slowly, thirstily, he moved his tongue around the areola to tempt you. He sucked on your nipple, taking possession of you and the little noises that escaped your lips.

Simon mentally sang the national anthem. He knew it wouldn't last long after a long hiatus of casual relationships that he only had for fun, since the vast majority of women he knew weren't interested in having a relationship with a guy they would almost never see. Just having you on top of him, he already felt himself cumming. The rhythm of your hips moving against the wet fabric was too addictive to hold out for long. He had held out for too long. If he was like this in this peculiar situation, he didn't want to imagine what it would be like if he had you in his bed, under him, having the whole night to yourself.

“You had it very hidden, lieutenant.” You gently bit his earlobe.

“This is nothing, doll.” He mumbled, almost annoyed at not holding out any longer.

You moaned incoherently and flatteringly in his ear. Your hand was in his wet hair so he wouldn't have the nerve to pull away so soon. Simon kissed, licked, bit every part of your body while his fat cock tempted your crotch, although you knew perfectly well that he wasn't going to give you more because Simon was silent, that meant he was focused, too busy, trying not to cum to hold out one more minute. He looked adorable with his cheeks embarrassed.

“Shit…” Finally, he took a breath as he let the thick, warm liquid spilled over his lap.

“5 minutes, not bad,” you teased him.

The rain had stopped and you had regained your body heat. You carefully separated yourself from him to get dressed again. Simon felt embarrassed, pathetic, not a man. He reached for his balaclava to hide his embarrassment, but was surprised when you snatched it from his hands. You wrung out the fabric like you had done with your shirt and put it on, struggling to place it correctly over your eyes. A smile escaped his lips when he saw you wearing it, it was the closest thing to you putting on his clothes.

“We should go back before everyone wakes up,” you advised him before offering him your hand to help him up.

Ghost was a damn soldier who could do anything he set his mind to, on the other hand, Simon… he only survives as he can. The mask helped him become that man he always wants to be. A giant facade to hide that he was actually smaller than they thought. And there you were, the first to see through his brick wall and still act like nothing happened. Was he terrified that you would know the truth? Of course, but he trusted you. He didn’t know if this experience made you anything more than coworkers or friends, but it seemed time would tell.

“You’re right, I’m tired.” Finally, he took your hand to go back the way they had come.

Masterlist.

Next 🡪

Thanks for reading! <3

#call of duty ghost #ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #soap x reader #cod #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare

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gojoest · 5 months ago

Note

nerdtoru! will forever be my favorite. i’d like to think reader teases him (nicely) for his ‘secretive’ (not really) glances at them and seeing his like on their social media post. but i also like to think he feels warm and fuzzy because he feels noticed by someone who cares about him.

idk you have me thinking about this man every second for the way you write about him

yesss!! reader does tease him about it eventually when they start interacting after the accidental like! he has the cutest reactions too and ppl are absolutely stunned to see him make those faces. the cocky little genius getting all shy and nervous around someone but also smile so softly bc he’s really happy with where things are starting to head! everyone’s like “did you just see that? he can smile like that?” all bc when he turned to look at reader (again) in the lecture hall but this time they were already staring at him as if purposely, head slightly tilted, waving and mouthing a simple “hi” …. of course, he was caught off guard, embarrassed, so he turned around quickly, attempting to keep his calm while fixing his glasses but his shoulders were visibly tense — which is unusual for him bc he’s always so relaxed and confident — his face was burning hot, his heart was beating fast, his palms were sweaty and everything, yet he looked like he was about to start giggling to himself any moment now … truly a sight.

tbh reader noticed him a long time ago too, on orientation day just like he did. but they both thought they were out of each other’s leagues…. reader was like “i could never score a hot nerd like him…” while he thought he wasn’t exactly the type of guy they’d ever like to hang out with, romantically. and just to be clear, he is pretty confident, both about his brains and his looks. he can charm and sway ppl if he wants to, many are crushing on him hard in fact bc he’s just really really cool, but in some twisted way he seems to be struggling when it comes to the person that he has a crush on…

nerdtoru is living rent free in my head and i am so pleased to know you enjoy my little thoughts on him, thank you! 🥹🤍

#[ ai—mail ]#nerdtoru

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kedreeva · 3 months ago

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Spicer???

Yeah Randy Spicer from Spicer Ornamental Birds. He's been a complete DICK in every interaction I've ever had, and EVERY time I talk to someone who brings him up, they test the waters to see what I think, and then are relieved to find out it is not just them he was a major twat to.

Around... at least 5 years ago, maybe closer to 7 (I'm not sure of the exact date, but it was not super recent), he took over as president of the Michigan Bird and Game Breeder's Association (there was some kind of dust up with the last president and finances, but obviously I don't know the full story there, just what the current president let on), and his wife took on one of the other roles (I think she's Secretary now, I don't know that she started there), which included taking on the facebook page for the association.

And this Association, which has been around as an Association since like the 80s officially, started to almost immediately fail at... everything.

You have to understand, I've gone to these swaps since I was 18, that's 20 years of going to these swaps at this point, and when I started going, they were HUGE. Tons of people showed up, the aisles were PACKED with people, there was a huge variety of birds and game animals. They had raffles every swap, advertising, the people running it would walk around and chat with vendors and people showing up and make sure everyone knew where the next swap was, etc. It was, as far as I could tell, thriving.

And then this guy takes over, and all communication stops. The facebook page started only making ONE post per year, with the dates for the shows, and sometimes not even in time for the first swap. The website stopped updating in 2021, and hadn't been updating in a timely fashion for a couple years before that. The raffles stopped. The Association merch that used to be at a table at swaps disappeared. The shows got smaller and smaller, the aisles between vendor rows grew sparse. Until last year, I went to one of the swaps that's traditionally been pretty big.... and there were SEVEN vendors (including me), and maybe 10-15 people showed up. This is an event that normally has 30+ vendors and hundreds of people.

That was the point where I tried to contact the association, but the "email" listed for them was just Spicer's email, so I was totally ignored. So at the next swap, when they came to collect the table fee, I asked if anyone had gotten my email, and the guy fetched the Association president- but it was NOT Spicer. It was a little old lady named Kim, and she was perfectly happy to accept help in redoing their website, and start talking about how to improve the association.

And during our talks, it became clear that Spicer had been purposely attempting to drive the association into the ground. He'd actually outright said to someone that he wanted to destroy the association and take the money they had for various costs and give it to 4H instead. He's still the VP because they hadn't had the ability to vote him out, especially since they had no one to take his place (because, dying association).

So, I gave her contact info for people I new that would be willing to step in as needed, and I redid the website, and I've got a LAUNDRY list of things the association needs to be doing to stay active and help its community. At the end of April, at the next swap, they'll be having their first annual meeting (which they were supposed to have in January...), which will hopefully include a vote to kick Spicer (and his wife) out, and vote in new board members.

And I am (if all goes well) going to be there to see it go down. Where's the quote about living long enough to see your enemies fall? It really is the sweetest.

#personal #asks #mbgba drama #I'm stalled out on the website stuff because I can't do the shit until this fucker gets out #and they give me info/permission to keep going #I'm chomping at the bit to get more stuff/rewards for being a member

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mylasteverlution · 2 years ago

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Disco Elysium has a lot of fascinating fictional technology but I have been rotating the radiocomputer in my mind for months now. From what I can gather, they operate in a way very similar to modern cloud computing. It doesn't seem like the mainframes we interact with have any processing capability. Instead, they use antennas to process "on air":

SOONA, THE PROGRAMMER - "Alright, well... All radiocomputers perform operations up on air, so in order to gain more processing power you need to invest in a *good antenna*."

The only information we get about what "on air" really means is from the same conversation with Soona:

YOU - "Wait, what's 'on air'?" SOONA, THE PROGRAMMER - "On the *front*. The unified front of radiowaves, licensed and controlled by Lintel in the East-Insulindic region." SOONA, THE PROGRAMMER - "It's all around us," she waves her hand, "that's what 'on air' means."

The nonspecific language used here really invokes cloud computing to me. I think there are two main possibilities for how this could work, one being much more likely than the other.

The more likely answer is that information is sent to and from the in-game equivalent of data centers, which would host massive computers with processing capabilities. I'm not sure what their processors would look like, but they'd almost certainly be analog (the lost Feld tape computers are most likely the in-game equivalent of early digital computers).

The significantly less likely (but more interesting) answer is that in-game radio waves are somehow capable of processing information on their own. I have no idea how this would work, and as far as I know there's no real-world analog. But it's clear the world of Disco Elysium has some crazy things happening with radio waves (see how they interact with the pale), so I'm not ruling it out entirely.

The filament memories are like hard drives, but my guess is they would function more similarly to an optical disc (CDs, DVDs), which use patterns in the disc to encode information that's read using lasers or light. The filaments glow inside the mainframe, so it's not a huge leap to assume they're read using light.

The amount of thought put into radiocomputers is so fascinating. As far as I can tell, their version of the internet has been wireless from the get-go, which makes perfect sense! Antennas and other wireless radio technologies would have to be pretty damn powerful to communicate across and force dimensions on the pale. And you have to assume huge amounts of government money has gone into funding their research and development for those purposes. The technology of radiocomputers is so tailored to the world of Disco Elysium, and it's been a lot of fun trying to untangle how exactly they would work.

#i would loooove to hear other people's thoughts on this!! i tried to find conversations abt it and didn't come up with much #also if anyone wants me to elaborate on the feld tape computer thing lmk... its a long post so i didn't want to go into more detail #but i do have Thoughts about it #cyan.txt #disco elysium #disco elysium meta #soona the programmer

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robinfrinjs · 3 months ago

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Formula E and Infosys have launched an AI Powered stats center - and it's.. laughable at best.

TLDR: It sucks, Generative AI Sucks, Fuck FE. I've described it a little more down below.

Obviously this is to show case their new partnership with Infosys as described in this part of the press release:

This initiative marks a significant step forward in Infosys’ three-year partnership with Formula E. The Stats Centre will provide fans with interactive access to stellar performances of drivers and teams, their key milestones, and compelling narratives through its Key Stats and Insights platform. It engages users by showcasing the stats of drivers and teams across past seasons, using a trending bubble chat format that prompts engaging curated questions. This feature makes complex data easily digestible and fosters a deeper connection between fans and the all-electric sport.

It's a whole lot of bullshit for a pretty flawed platform (which is to be expected when using Generative AI). I would say I'm disappointed with Formula E but I guess I'm not really surprised.

Most of this platform could've been made by a real person - and already exists made by a real person on the Formula E website. (Driver stats & biographies etc.)

When entering the website this is what you're faced with

A relatively nice overview of stats that might as well have been on the actual Formula E website. A weird thing though is that you can only view the top 3 in both championships - why not showcase both?

It's glaringly obvious AI was used for this though - like thank you for telling us but we knew; exhibit:

And this:

Now I'm not claiming to be someone great at writing, because I'm not but this is glaringly bad sentence structure wise. The first sentence could easily be misinterpreted as Miami having been on the FE calendar since the first season and never having left since. Now the second sentence makes it clear FE is returning but there's nothing specifying since when it's returning.

Moving on to the second page, it's a little confusing cuz it shows different things loading it each time (for me)

But on the We think you'll like they show a few driver and team bios. Only - these bios are really bad. I could point out mistakes in all of them probably but one of the first ones I saw is this one in Jev's biography

They call it a World Championship title while when Jev won his titles the series did not have World Championship status.

Also on part of the Buemi driver bio: it keeps differentiating between E-Prix and ePrix

You can't choose which driver's biography you want to read every time you refresh it shows different drivers but it keeps cycling through the same set (i tried to get Robin, impossible). You can choose to follow drivers though but that only gives you a recap of a driver's last race.

Pascal's & Sam's for example

it picks some key points but it's hard to actually really gain any knowledge from it imo. And it just comes with random facts in between that don't really aid the recap. "His average speed was 129.69km/h." When? During the first race? during the second race? On one lap?

Moving on:

The last one is an AI companion, it has a few sets of questions which change whenever you reload the page. This is one of the questions, which already has a spelling mistake and it's generally just a weird question the way it's phrased.

You can't ask any questions yourself - which kind of defeats the purpose imo. The questions are set so constantly seemingly generating the answers is also weird. The answers are just general AI slop, not worth your time.

#racing #formula e #i have many opinions all are bad

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yourwinchesterbros · 2 years ago

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THE TWO OF US

Paring – Joel Miller x Fem reader / 10.3K Words

Summary – You find Joel taking care of you yet again, but not in the way you want. Tonight, you decide to address it.

A/N - I couldn’t stop thinking about this, so I decided to write it. Inspired by Episode 3 of the last of us, takes place in the clearing that Joel and Ellie settle in for the night but this time, it’s Joel and you.

Warnings – Minors, do not interact. This fic is 18+ only

The filthiest thing I’ve written so far, and I put all the blame on Joel Miller. He makes me absolutely feral!

Smut with little plot. Poor girl gets edged for way too long, teasing, masturbation for both, daddy kink, pet names - pretty girl, brat, sweetheart etc. (Joel calls reader whore once) Dirty talk, thigh riding, reader humps her sleeping bag, cursing, soft/dom Joel. Mentions of murder, blood, and wounds and weapons – knives, gun. (Reader has a small cut). Joel is in his fifties; readers age is not specified but absolutely over the age of 20. Please Let me know if I’ve missed anything! Enjoy!

“We’re stopping here f’ the night.”

Joel accelerates the Chevy S-10 ranger off the familiar pavement and onto the rough prairie towards the forest line. The uneven earth below you causes the truck to wobble, you grip the handle mounted above you to stay steady.

The sun is on its way to set and reveal the sky she has in mind for this evening. You hope it’s another blue and pink one, when the clouds blend it becomes a milky mauve and it’s Joel's favourite kind of sunset. Which naturally, and secretly, is the very reason why it’s become your favourite too.

You roll down the passenger window with the manual hand crank, wincing at the sore residing across your collarbone. A souvenir from earlier endeavors. Well, early as in this very morning.

When you and Joel came across what seemed like a stationed FEDRA stop, relief washed over when it was revealed to be just a band of yahoos. You quickly learned they were as nervous as you. Ironically enough, that’s an advantage, as your travelling partner was unlike the lot of you all. Joel possesses a different mindset than others. A different perspective that was always so solidified. Certain.

As the air in the environment shifted, it became hostile. This was a group with no good intentions. Not for the two of you anyhow. Yet you saw the fear grow in their eyes when Joel charged, surging forward, letting survival take over. The thing is, Joel also has a different sense of fear. Such as fear of getting off track while trying to find his brother, among a fear of running out of coffee and most impending, the fear of getting old. That one makes you laugh.

Therefore, when the two of you approached the group of three men and a lady, fear didn’t have a seat at Joel's table. So, your morning kerfuffle was exactly that – a mere kerfuffle that ended with 3 dead and one spared with a worn-out map. She won’t make it far though. Not on her own.

You initially tried to kill her yourself. An opportunity that was seconds away when you were straddling her chest, your knife hovered above her sternum, promising a fatal strike but you were viciously flung off by Joel with a quick “We don’t kill women” as he returned to bludgeon some poor guy’s face. The woman however had survival rules of her own. Taught by the men she traveled with; her version of death didn’t discriminate.

She was quick to retrieve her blade you’d tossed moments ago. Before you knew it, she was on top of you faster than you could gather yourself. She now had the high ground, the advantage and with no one to stop her, she swung the sharp steel across your skin with purpose. She aimed for your neck, but thankfully you were faster, your reactions saved you and you were rewarded a swift cut to the collarbone instead. You had reached for her jaw, throwing her off balance as you shoved her face upwards. Joel had then come to your rescue, pulling her to the side by her neck before putting the fear of God into her.

It could’ve been worse for you, but a part of you was relieved as you didn’t have to encounter the grief that weighs on one’s soul when they take a life. You’ve never killed before, but that doesn’t mean you won't. You’ve accepted the fact that it’s only a matter of time, but it’s an event you’re not eager to attend.

As much as you reamed out Joel for letting her go, for letting you nearly die at her hands, you really only chastised to keep hearing his apologies in that low southern drawl. It was a record you could keep on replay for all eternity. Joel saying sorry? What a sound.

With a tender touch, you press against the damp blue material covering your wound. It had stopped bleeding a while ago, but a bit had still seeped through. Joel had given you some gauze which clung to the wound tightly as the blood hardened, like a scab. You figure it’ll have to be changed soon.

You gaze out the window, appreciating the cool breeze whistling across your features. You can smell the soil underneath the green grass as the truck tires roll over them.

To your surprise Joel continues past the trees, into the forest itself. A sliver of anxiety burst in your chest.

“We’re not camping by the tree line?” You question as your eyes frantically scour each gap between the lush evergreen trees.

“Not safe enough” he barely utters to you as he himself scans the earthy environment. “Less chance for surprises deep in here”.

“Mmmkay …” you hum, feeling a wave of sadness as you realize watching golden hour wouldn’t be in the cards tonight. Nature in this area is overgrown, and rich. The trees are abundant, dense, and evade the sky above you.

With a light squeal, the truck comes to a halt, and when the engine dies you know this is home for the night.

You pull out of the passenger seat and groan as you stretch your body, raising your hands above your head.

“Today was a long one hey? How many hours were we on the road?” You question as you glance around your new surroundings.

“You should know, you’re the one who told me you were gunna start observin’ more” He raises a brow, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he unlocked the tailgate. “Guess it’s hard t’ count when you’re nappin’ half the ride.”

“Okay let’s not get carried away there, I don’t plan on being on your level of analysis, Miller.” You smirk at him as you help him unload the sleeping bags and the worn-out Coleman’s barbeque.

With a thud of the bags against the ground he turns to you.

“What’d I say ‘bout usin’ my last name?” His brows are drawn tightly now. His brown eyes dark like char, focus on yours. He places one of his hands, palm side down against the body of the truck, the other gripping his hip.

You raise your own hands in surrender as he scoffs with a shake of his head but continues unpacking. It’s something you tend to poke and prod him with from time to time. But only from time to time. Well, in the short time that you’ve known him anyway.

For some reason, it really does tick Joel off when you say his surname but that’s precisely why you enjoy using it when he least expects it. Because if he knows it’s coming, he won’t let it slide and you’re left talking to yourself for the remainder of the day, sometimes two. So, you use it when you want to be momentarily scolded, but you say it as if it’s an accident. A habit not quite beaten out of the inner brat in you.

You hear him mumbling to himself again as he splays the sleeping bags out, readying the grill for whatever canned goods are left. Sounds something like “You’re gunna learn one f’ these days” but you pay no further attention as you skip to the driver’s side of the truck, leaning into the center console to grab the cheap lantern. You won’t need it yet, but darkness tends to creep in much faster when you’re in the woods. You want it close by as you’ve not been granted access to firearms. No matter how many times you’ve pleaded Joel, it wasn’t up for discussion. Therefore, you’re left with your trusty blade and ‘works half-of-the-time’ lantern.

Joel heats up two cans, one possessing creamed corn and the other, ravioli. You prefer corn, but you don’t miss the smile that briefly dances in Joel’s eyes when he gets to take the ravioli for himself. Another mental note you’ve made about Joel. He likes his Chef Boyardee.

As the night crawls on, Joel summons you over with a sharp whistle to the tailgate where he’s standing.

“Hey, c’mere,” he pats the hard plastic of the trunk.

“Joel, I just got comfy. I’m finally warm in my little cocoon,” you pause as you wait for his mercy. None was served as he snaps his middle finger against his thumb to you again, motioning the truck with his forefinger as he continues unzipping a little red bag with the other.

“Get over here,” he demands but not in a mean way, his voice was softer than before.

“You’re not the boss of me,” you whisper under your breath as you make your way over to him, shuffling the sleeping bag off your feet.

“Heard that,” he grunts.

“Good,” you chirp back as you stand next to him.

“Up” he says, once again motioning his forefinger upwards to the tailgate.

With a roll of your eyes, you turn your back to the truck and hoist your bottom from beneath you up onto the bench. You sit there quietly, swaying your legs while watching Joel prod through the medical bandages and wipes with his large fingers in that small, little bag. A ping of jealousy rises in your chest as you wished you could have his fingers explore your –

“Quit thinkin ’so loud,” Joel interrupts your thoughts as he tears open a small white package between his teeth. An action that makes you bite your bottom lip involuntarily.

It’s no secret you struggle around Joel. Maybe it’s the long-term effects of the apocalypse, causing so many to lose the common sense of touch with one another. Creating incredibly touch-starved individuals, especially you.

Maybe it’s because you’ve never really been properly touched by a man, and you think Joel would know how, you think of it far too often. Or maybe it’s simply because a man like Joel emits sexuality with his entire being. It’s like he releases a pheromone that makes those around him go feral for his manhood. At least that’s how you feel anyways.

Your eyes tend to linger longer than you’d like when you watch Joel grip his rifle, his strong hand cupping the neck of the gun. The way his fingers trace lightly on the trigger, teasing the bullet inside to erupt. The way he narrows his sight into the scope, his breath held before exhaling in the most sensual way. The way his broad shoulders rise and fall before he makes his kill. Hell, you could watch this man paint and still be in a pool of your own arousal.

Maybe it’s just because Joel is the most masculine man you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, becoming partners with, in the coworker sense of course. He possesses the knowledge, the experience, the determination, the patience, and strength… of survival. But you’ve always wondered if those same factors come into play when he likes to…play.

Joel has always noticed when you’re thinking, the way you zone out on his lips or his large fingers. Your eyelids become hooded as he watches the filthy gears turn inside your mind. It’s something you do without even realizing and he fucking loves it. It makes his heartbeat fonder; his ego grow bigger and without fail, each time, it makes his cock twitch in his jeans. Which is the final action that brings him back to reality to snap your dirty little naïve mind out of it.

He understands the effect he has on women, how they would stare at him back at the QZ. Crawl to him with need, begging to be put out of their misery. It’s a quality he doesn’t mind as it makes it easy to find release but when it comes to you, he scolds himself for ever letting his mind drift into those delicious, curious, devilish thoughts. Your innocence is a hidden treasure in this corrupt world, and Joel simply won’t corrupt that too.

He recognizes the way you stray close to him as if he's shelter. The way you look at him with wide eyes when he senses danger, how you shuffle so tight into him, because you know he’ll protect you. And he will. He quietly prides himself in being your gatekeeper. How you give him complete control over your life, a feeling he’s only ever had once before.

He pictures you as a small ornament made of thin glass. So precious, yet so fragile and it sits so nicely in his roughed up, deadly, deleterious hands. He could shatter it so easily. Let the pieces fall at his feet and walk away before the fear of failure seeps in, had he done that in the start, his feelings would be protected.

But the problem is, he’s gotten attached to his little ornament. Therefore, he’ll watch every move he makes, to be sure not to flinch and accidently crack it. He dreads the weight that comes with the stiffness of protecting you, how it makes his body and mind ache, but he knew. He knew the moment he took you out of the QZ and into the unknown, that he would ache till the day he takes his last breath. He made his choice that very night, that he's responsible for you. He just didn’t realize how much he would care. How much you’ve impacted him. How much of you has molded into him and the things he recognizes in you that you’ve gained from him. His little ornament, he vows to keep safe because the eternal hell that comes with defeat, he simply won’t go through again.

He stares down at you, looking at your eyes still trained on his mouth that has just ripped open the white plastic. He wondered if it reminded you of the memories that creeped into his. If you've ever seen one before. A type of rubber that used to sit in his wallet pre apocalypse when he travelled to seedy bars.

“Take your shirt off” You snap your eyes from his lips to meet his brown ones. They’re still dark from the “Miller” comment you made earlier but this time there’s a twinkle you can’t quite read.

“You, y- you want me to take it off?” You speak so softly but in such a needy way Joel has to forcefully repress the groan that’s stuck in his throat. Instead, he smirks at you.

“Need t’ see the cut”. You blush at his words, feeling silly for assuming he’d want anything otherwise. God you were so lost in your train of thoughts, you’d briefly forgotten what you were sitting here for.

Joel catches sight of your blush by the low light of the lantern sitting next to the med bag. He knows he can’t give into you, or let himself ponder on you for too long, but that doesn't mean he can’t have a little fun teasing you.

You grab the hem of your sweater, peeling it up and over your head, leaving you in your white tank top. One that had been stained from dirt and blood, but you’ve washed it in rivers in between travels. The stains never come out, no matter how hard you try.

You hear his breath hitch as you pluck the sweater off, bundling it to your side and it only fuels the ache in between your legs that much more.

You slip in and out of your trance, feeling so vulnerable yet powerful in the hands of Joel. Waiting for his next move. You watch his eyes examine your cut, as he chews on the inside on his cheek.

“S’not too bad, but could get infected, especially when we’re out here,” he explains, opening the wet cloth that was inside the package and before he brings it to your wound, he raises a finger lightly over your shoulder.

“Just... gunna move this out f’ the way” his voice velvet as he softly shifts your tank strap away from your wound to the edge of your shoulder, enough for it to fall down your arm on its own. The motion of it all raising a shiver up your tailbone. You then see his eyes grow heavy, his tongue dipping out to wet his bottom lip.

The touch of his calloused fingers against your skin, the way the strap falls from his grasp, how his eyes briefly drop to your chest before seeing the red blotches form across his neck, all these things have your buds growing hard against the fabric of your shirt.

You groan when he removes the old gauze and finally applies the alcohol-soaked cloth against your cut. The sting somehow adding to your arousal. You can’t help but let a small pornographic moan slip from your lips resulting in a hiss from Joel.

“Jesus” He mutters, more to himself than you. His other hand palms his crotch to briefly adjust the growing hard on beneath the zipper. He thought he was subtle in the dark, but you still saw, and it drove you wild.

His touch shocks you as his hand gently grips your neck, holding you still as he dabs your sore some more. You see the wrinkles forming on his forehead as he bends down, leaning in close to inspect the cut further. You could roll your eyes in pure ecstasy just from the way he has you in his grasp. The way his head is ducked down beneath yours, so closely to your chest, you can nearly feel his hot breath kissing your nipples.

You feel your dignity slipping away. You want nothing more than to submit to him, let him take what he wants. You’ve seen the signs, surely, he’s thought about it too.

His big thumb lightly caresses your sensitive skin as he focuses on wiping up the rest of the smeared mess that stained your collar bone. In between his shuffling, you spread your legs open some more, hoping he’ll come closer.

You peer down, watching his eyes flicker to yours, a warning resides within them. He knows what you’re doing, and he isn’t going to take bait. He’s in trouble enough as it is. You bite down on your lip, trying to suppress the guttural want inside you. But your mouth falls agape when his glare falls back to your neck, tracing slowly back to your wound before looking down lower to your breasts poking through your thin shirt. He inhales deeply through his nose, his eyes closing as if he’s praying for restraint. You hope none delivers.

In one motion, he regathers himself in such a Joel manner, you know he’s done playing. He tosses the crimson-stained wet fabric back into the red bag, zipping it up in such aggression you thought it might just break.

“Just keep it covered, should heal fine,” He orders, not once looking your way.

“Joel” you mewl to him, your hands having a mind of their own as they reach for his jacket.

“No” he says bluntly, his eyes on the med kit. He’s trying to be cold, but you can hear the quiver that laces his voice.

He tosses the bag further into the trunk, he jaws clenching so hard you think his teeth might shatter.

“Joel” you cry again softly, biting your lip. Your arousal is becoming unbearable, downright painful. At this point, you can care less about how pathetic you sound. You just need relief, but this time from him.

“I said no,” He growls, “It’s bedtime.”

Joel then, in one movement reaches one arm under yours, supporting your back and the other hand gripping your waist.

You clutch the collar of his jacket, panting feverishly, your heart racing from his touch. His head had leaned down close enough, you thought he might just kiss you.

But then you realize what's really happening as he picks you up off the tailgate and plants you on your feet to the ground. You don’t miss the way his hand lingers before letting you go.

“I’ve got first watch, get into your sleepin’ bag,” He commands as he picks up his rifle, slinging it over his shoulder.

“I’m not tired” you whine, desperation seeping out of your pores.

“M’ don’t care, we have a long day tomorrow n’ you need rest, so get rested.” His voice is strained as his teeth grit at the end of his sentence. He putters around, putting the lantern next to your bag, closing the lid to the barbeque, not once looking in your direction.

And you know why. He’s trying to hide his desire from you, the evidence sticking out in his jeans. Trying to distract himself from the utter temptation that hangs in the air. Trying to be the good guy that is strictly business and most days his virtuous behavior warms you, but tonight it’s pissing you right off.

“I can’t sleep like this Joel, I, I- I’m uncomfortable” you whimper, your arms at your side as you admit defeat.

“That’s enough” he spits your name “M’ not saying it again.”

Your perk up when he turns, striding towards you but it’s quickly followed by a groan when he passes you to go to the truck. He grabs your sweater, before slamming up the tailgate with force. The sexual frustration radiant in his demeanor.

You watch him come closer; his knuckles white from gripping the fabric of your top. Your breath catches when you meet his eyes, his glare so intense you think you might become a meal, you hope you will.

He raises his fist to your chest; you look down at the blue material.

“Put this on, it’ll protect your wound. I’m checking the perimeters then I’ll be back” he says lowly, peering down at you without tilting his head. When he does this, it makes you feel incredibly small, more than you normally feel around him. Which you like. You frown at his back as he strides away, towards the trees.

“Joel, please” you whine again. “I – I need – “ Tears begin pricking at your eyes, you’ve never felt this needy in your life, and all you want is Joel. He’s the only one that can help.

He stands still, before turning his head to the side, his knee popping out in his stance. He stays that way for a moment before you hear him sigh loudly. He turns to face you, hand gripping his jaw as his eyes scans your figure, weeping in front of him.

“Sweetheart, I know what you need,” His nickname shocks and spurs you on all at the same time.

“Do what you need to do, I’m goin’ to do rounds, I’ll be back when you’re done okay?” His tone shifts from frustrated to understanding, his face somber but riddled with want. You glance down at his jeans, his bulge sticking out so loudly. You feel yourself start salivating.

“Can’t you do it Joel?” You mewl “Help me feel better?”

This time he groans, one so low and gravelly you think you might cum right there.

“Baby girl I can’t” his palm rests on his forehead before he runs his thick fingers through his salt and pepper locks.

“You know I can’t” His voice is getting rougher in between his pants. “I need you to crawl into bed and touch yourself, okay? I know you can do it” He points his index at your sleeping bag and with a sigh he walks off before you can say anything else.

And just like that he disappears into the darkness. You know he won’t stray far, but enough to grant you privacy. You groan to yourself, hoping it wasn’t going to end like this, but it is progress. You had touched yourself before, but always in secret. In worry Joel might get upset or confused, or worse - mad as to why you would need to relieve yourself around him. You always feared he’d find you weak or pathetic if he caught you, so you always waited until he was on patrol in the dark, or settled in his own room in whatever housing the two of you would find.

The fact that Joel now knows, and understands, and is urging you to, is incredibly sexy.

You grab the slippery material and bring it over, near to his that lay empty. You slid yourself in and with shaky hands, undo the buttons and zipper to your confining jeans before snaking your hand down to your soaked cotton panties. You sigh at the touch, savoring in the instant relief that comes with it.

With slow, messy circles, you rub the outside of your panties against your core as you think about Joel's strong hands lifting you off the tailgate. The way his chest was pressed against your breasts, the way his hands lingered on you. Your breathing quickens as you start rubbing circles harder and quicker, cupping your swollen clit. More tears begin to form in the corners of your eyes when you begin to think this isn’t going to work. Not when you know he’s around. Not when he’s the very reason you’re dripping down your thighs in the first place. Not when you need him.

In an act of desperation, you kick off your sneakers, toss them on the grass with two thuds and strip your jeans completely off. Your cocoon becomes so humid with the heat from your arousal that you end up crawling out of it before bunching it up enough to straddle the material, grinding against it. You whine as the friction brings more relief than your fingers as you start humping your sleep bag. The cool breeze against your dewy skin feels like a kiss from mother nature herself. You feel yourself grow closer to your climax as you begin to furiously hump more, your knees against the earth, your thighs spread wide. You know how ridiculous you must look, but you couldn’t give a shit. You need relief in order to have some clarity again.

Then you hear it. The unmistakable clink of his belt buckle coming undone. The teeth of his zipper groaning apart before he lowers his jeans. You listen as you slow your pace, riding the edge of your summit, teasing yourself. You hear him spit into the palm of his hand before you imagine him gripping his length. When he finally groans, you know he’s fisting himself.

You smirk and decide to have fun with this. As you stop your pace all together, you peel off your blue sweater once again, leaving you in the same white revealing tank top. You know he’s somewhere in the darkness behind you, but you aren’t sure if he knows you know, yet.

You hike your panties up higher, the band hugging your hips and exposing more of your plush cheeks spilling out from the cotton material. You hear him grunt again.

As you start grinding slowly, you snake one hand up to your chest and pinch your bud, rolling it between your two fingers, eliciting a moan from you.

“Fuck”

He’s getting louder, still muttering to himself as he watches you from behind a cedar tree. With his rifle still slung on his shoulder, he fists his cock, his other hand wide against the trunk to brace himself.

His eyes have gotten adjusted to the darkness, so when he returned quietly to the base you guys share, he saw you touching yourself in your sleeping bag underneath the moonlight.

He had debated on rubbing one out while checking the perimeters, but his mind wouldn’t let him. He knew he had to come back to you. He knew you would be relieving yourself like the good girl you are because you always listen to him, always do what you’re told.

But when he saw the frantic and frustrated way you slipped your pants off and bunched your bag to start humping, he knew he needed to watch. He needed to see the way you make yourself cum.

“Joel” You moan out as you continue your pace, your hips bouncing as you hump.

He groans again, his southern drawl slipping out like honey “Oh… fuck yeah baby girl, that’s it” You could hear his fist becoming more frantic against himself.

You decide to put on a show, grinding your hips in the most sensual way. Your pants getting breathier, your whines higher.

Joel was in a trance; he was fixated on you. Watching your every move, stroking himself to your pace. The view of your ass, the way your shirt slightly rises revealing the beautiful curve of your back, your hair swaying with your hips, you’re like a goddess in the woods. All he could picture was laying beneath you, letting you grind yourself on his mouth, tasting your juices, making you cum all over his face.

God, he wants you. He wants to show you he can be more than just your protector. He can help you, treat you so well, but he knows it would be so wrong. To some degree he’s taking advantage of you. You don’t know any better, not when you’re overwhelmed with all these kinds of needs. Hell, he’s overwhelmed himself but he’s also a lot older than you. He knows how to suppress it, how to will the feelings away and concentrate. But you, you’re not experienced. You need to make yourself cum in order to feel sane again. Once you’re this far deep into lust, it’s primal. It’s a need, not a want. He can’t blame you for caving into your desires yet him on the other hand, he’ll be held accountable by the devil himself.

But if there was ever a time where Joel was losing control with the fine line between right and wrong, it was now.

He continues his strokes, obsessing over how naughty you really are. He’s never seen you like this before. “C’mon baby, you can do it” He whispers.

You couldn’t stop yourself from what happened next.

“Joel?” You call out softly. All sounds cease.

“Yea?” He finally responds, after a long, quiet pause.

“Please” You beg “Please I need you.”

You curse yourself as you hear him zipping himself back up, suddenly feeling embarrassed as you’re still sitting in the state you are.

You peek over your shoulder to see him approaching you, buckling his belt. His jaw ticking as he stares at your ass. His bulge seems to be growing bigger.

You prepare for the worst. For him to cuss you out or tell you that you missed your chance. Had you left it alone, the two of you would have finished and he would have returned a little later to make it seem as if he wasn’t there at all.

But you just couldn’t do that, could you?

“Get in the truck”. He growls, his boots drowning in the material of your sleeping bag. You look up at him, to him looking down at you. You couldn’t make out his face as the light of the moon is directly behind him.

“W-Why... a a-are we leaving?” You whisper, suddenly afraid you royally fucked up.

“Are you talkin’ back to me?” His voice is sharp. Deep. Serious. Unreadable.

You shook your head as submission rolls over you effortlessly. He hikes his jeans by pinching the denim near his crotch before squatting down to your level. His breath right next to your ear. You stare forward into the darkness as goosebumps rise all over your skin. You feel so vulnerable with Joel right behind you but just as excited. You flinch as soon as he speaks.

“If you want my help, then do what I say” he says in a low rumble. You pause, holding your breath.

“Think you can manage that?” He questions, his tone unrecognizable as he turns his head to inhale the scent of your hair. You shiver, nodding once more. Your heart rate picks up speed, thudding loudly.

“Then, get up and get in the truck.” He orders you slowly. Almost as if he’s trying to stop the words from coming out.

Your eyes widen at his demand, a jolt of electricity soaring through your chest straight to your abdomen. With a careful shuffle, you stand on your feet and start towards the truck.

In any other scenario, this feeling would make you shrink. It’s the way you can feel his eyes on you, the thud of his boots echoing behind your naked ones in the grass. But you love every second of it. You feel your confidence flourishing as you realize he needs this just as much as you do. If not more. You begin to walk straighter, hips swaying wider, a pep in your step as you feel the power shift ever so slightly into your control.

“Someone’s gettin’ cocky” Joel states behind you. His palm gripping his crotch as he watches you.

“I sure hope I get some” You grin to yourself, feeling proud at your remark.

Joel stops in his steps; he can’t believe your dirty mouth. Sure, you’ve been foul around him before, but never sexually and the very fact ignites something dark within him. He proceeds forward, eyeing you down as you wait near the truck with that shit-eating grin on your face.

She’s in for it now.

“You think you’re funny?” He questions while approaching you. His large frame nearly swallowing you whole.

“Uh huh and I think you love it” You retort in your most sultry tone. The words hit him like a freight train, his cock bobbing in his jeans.

With a tut he leans into you “So ya’ think y’can toy with me?”

You can’t repress it, you’re beaming. You like the way Joel challenges you.

“I think it’d be better if I was yours, Miller” You reach out to grip his cock through his jeans.

He separates instantly, his face loss of all expression. The muscle in his jaw flexes as his eyes lock on yours.

“I think your attitude needs fucking fixin’” Your jaw drops at his profanity. Joel never speaks like this.

“You say that name one more time and so god help me,” He scowls “acting like a fuckin’ brat, tryin’ to rile me up” His eyes now black.

“Think that’ll end well f’ ya?” He questions, one brow raised.

You swallow, unsure if you took it too far.

“Well, you’re lucky, cus’ I enjoy turning brats into good girls... s’ you ready to learn some manners?” He mocks as he grips your mouth, which was still gaping.

“Start with closing that up until I say so, s’not lady like.” He pushes your chin up, your jaw closes with a click of your teeth.

You scoff in disbelief, pulling your chin out of his hand yet you’re incredibly turned on. You watch him in curiosity as he opens the passenger door for you, his face now as hard as his cock. You wait, wanting to test his patience just a little.

You see his chest heave; his teeth grind together before he grips the door harder.

“Guess there won’t be any lessons tonight after all...real shame too, was gunna make that pretty pussy cream all over me” He shrugs, about to close the door.

“No! I’m sorry Joel, I’m going!” You jump into the seat with such speed it makes Joel smirk, but his jaw goes slack the second he sees the wet spot that had formed on your cotton panties as you crawl in.

He groans at the sight. But if he was going to stay true to his vows, you’d have to keep your panties on or else he may damn himself beyond saving. He only has so much self control.

You rub your thighs together in anticipation as you watch him slowly stride his way to the other side of the truck. Your breath quickens as his door swings open; your fingers shake with sheer excitement.

He starts unzipping his camel-colored jacket before shuffling in. With a toss, his jacket lands in the back seat as he closes the door with a thud.

You listen to him groan softly as he settles into the seat, before reaching down between his legs to pull on the bar to slide the chair back as far as it can go. You find yourself already scrambling onto your knees.

“Needy girl” he tuts “already so excited f’ me”. He locks eyes with you, a mischievous smile grows across his face as he takes his time positioning his legs.

He then reaches to the side of the seat to lean the backrest down, but not too far. This allows him to manspread while he rests his aching broad back at the same time.

With a deep inhale through his nostrils, he looks at you with now hooded eyes.

“Need you to listen closely now” His raises one index in the air. “I’m gunna help you alright?”

You whimper a “Mhm!”

“But there are rules. Rules you need to follow.” You roll your eyes at his comment, which is returned with a scowl across his face. You mouth a brief ‘sorry’ before motioning him to continue, your desires reaching a boiling point.

“You’re not takin’ anything off and you’re not touchin’ me anywhere unless I allow it” He glares sternly.

“Yes, okay Joel” you usher, wanting to be in his touch before he changes his mind.

“Shouldn’t even be doing this, but I understand you’re having a hard time. Fuck, the state of our lives I can’t imagine the stress you feel, especially when you’re so young”. You squeeze your thighs, clenching around nothing as you wish he would get off the foreseeable guilt train.

“So that’s why I’m going to help you, understand?”

You nod furiously.

“Repeat it” He spits.

“I understand” You reply obediently.

With a quiet pause, Joel scans your features, his eyes trailing your desperate figure.

“C’mere” He pats his thigh with his large, calloused hand.

You obey, slowly crawling over to straddle his lap.

“Mmm” His chest rumbles. “She does listen”.

His eyes are closed as you position yourself over one thick denim covered thigh, your right knee brushing up against his crotch. He hisses at the touch, letting his head fall back into the headrest.

You raise your hands to rest at the nape of his neck, suddenly feeling sheepish as you’re not sure exactly what to do. You bite your lip, too nervous to start. You realize just how exposed you feel when you're up to him this closely.

He opens his eyes to meet yours, sighing at how beautiful you look when you’re aching but more so at the fact that you’re visually embarrassed, and he loves it.

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me now. You were acting all brave just minutes ago.” He coos.

You blush at his words, starting to feel silly. But you need him to encourage you. You like it.

He swiftly smacks your ass and bounces his knee once – motioning you to get going.

“Joel” You whisper at the infliction, lowering your head to rest in his neck, repositioning yourself against him, closer. Just the contact of your hot core on him, makes your arousal pain even more. And the way he smells, you tuck your nose further in, inhaling the scent of his earthy musk, is intoxicating.

“C’mon baby girl. You can do it, I got you” He finally raises his hands from his sides to grip your hips as his own roll up into you, you follow once with yours. “You need to cum, so you can sleep tonight, trust me I know”. You begin to slowly roll your hips, falling right back into the state of pleasure.

“J-just like that sweetheart, keep going”. His voice becomes raspy.

You hang off his words as you start grinding, moaning at his fingertips digging deeper into your soft skin. Your buds harden at the friction of your wet clothed cunt being rubbed against his jeans. You can’t believe this, the fact that Joel himself is sat beneath you, cooing you to finish yourself off on him.

Your pants become whines as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten with each hump against him.

“That’s it, good girl. You’re gunna make a mess on me aren't ya?” He growls as he stares at your lips. Your cheeks burn at his comment. The embarrassment seeping back into you. You can hardly look at him.

“You keep those eyes on me sweetheart”. He orders, one hand pinching your chin, forcing you to see him, you still look anywhere but.

He can read you like an open book. He see’s right through you. Hell, most of the time he can predict the things you’ll say. He knows you just need some encouragement, some reassurance that it’s okay to be nervous but that you can trust him.

He ceases, waiting for those wide doe eyes to meet his and when they do, he can’t help but grin.

“Why?” You begin to question.

“Tell me you want this” he whispers, the words hang in the silence.

“I want this.” You grip the back of his neck tighter. “I just feel… dumb. I’m not sure how to do this”. You mumble.

“Sure y’ do” his words surprise you and when you look at him, the confusion is clear on your face.

“I just watched you do it when you were all by yourself, humping your bag, tryin’ to make that ache go away” He murmurs as one of his hands brush a stray hair behind your ear. You shudder at the touch.

“That’s all you have to do with me sweetheart, just use my thigh and make yourself feel good”. He urges you as he begins motioning your hips once more, you watch his face as you take over, following the sensation as it builds again.

“There y’ go, nothing to be shy ‘bout pretty girl, y’ just need my help ain’t that right?”

You bob your head yes as your pace begins to quicken.

“That’s my sweet girl, take what you need, s’ just the two of us” He coos as he helps you continue grinding.

You throw your head back at his praise, which Joel saw as his opportunity to fist your hair and hold you bare for him as he trails your neck with wet kisses. A risky move, but he tells himself it’s only to help you. And fuck does it ever spur you on.

His teeth graze against your sensitive flesh and your grinding becomes rougher, more desperate. Your whines turn to moans as you feel your cunt drip through the fabric, your climax just strokes away.

“Stop” He orders, and you do.

Did you do something wrong?

He releases your hair slowly, inhaling deeply through his nose, his jaw ticking once more. He looks down at his lap, admiring your white panties.

“Slide back” He mumbles as he pushes your hips. “I need t’ see”. You ease back, your mind drunk off his sudden dominance.

With a moan, he stares at your clothed pussy, admiring the wet slick between your folds. Your pussy lips so swollen, he could see it throb. He breaks away looking up, closing his eyes as if he’s trying to compose himself. Not a second later, he looks back at you again, back to your pooling core, his jaw goes slack as you already seem wetter, your damp stain somehow bigger.

“Look at that.” He gently inches your thighs apart with his massive hands, causing you to throb more.

“You see what you’re doin’ pretty girl?” His southern drawl spurs on another wave of ecstasy to rush through you as you watch his reaction.

He fists your hair once more, turning your head down to face his lap, you yelp in surprise but not because it hurts.

“Look”. He roughly pulls your head in place to view the dark, wet spot you’re making on his jeans.

“Have you been walkin’ around all wet in your panties this whole time?” he cranes his neck to meet your gaze as you look at the mess you’ve caused, mouth agape. His face hardens when he sees yours.

“What I’d fuckin’ say about hanging your mouth open like a whore?” he growls as he squeezes your chin and cheeks with his free hand.

He holds you like that for a beat, one hand twisted in your hair, the other gripping your face restraining you from any movement. You gasp loudly when your cheeks are released from his tight hold, yet your hair is still intertwined in his fist as he forces you to look at your arousal again.

“That tight pussy droolin’ for me?” He questions sharply.

You finally murmur a yes while clenching your mouth shut as you blink slowly, drunk off being edged for so long.

“Yeah, I thought so” he says raggedly as if he’s been waiting for that very response. He lets you free as you lean back wanting to display yourself more. He sighs contentedly at the sight.

It’s become clear to you why Joel was so adamant about staying away. He’s primal in nature, but you had no idea he was this feral in lust. You smirk as you feel you’ve uncovered his dirty secret, his hidden persona. It makes you wonder how long he’s wanted you like this. If he was afraid of you seeing this side of him. And for some reason, that only makes you want him that much more.

“Touch yourself for me, just a little rub.” He rests further back against the seat, watching you and those dirty gears running at an all time high.

You comply, running your hand down his chest as you snake your fingers against the white wet cotton, rubbing slow circles over your clit, moaning at the sensation.

“Good girl” He praises. You can feel your wetness pooling through your panties as you continue rubbing yourself, your orgasm dangerously close. Your mouth drops again forming an “O” which elicits another groan from Joel as he watches you. “Yea, that’s the only time you’re allowed to look like that” He growls.

“I’m – I’m close Joel” You pant as he stares you down.

“That’s enough” You whine when he grabs your hand away from your core, bringing your fingers up to his face.

“Yea, I fuckin’ knew it” He groans, inhaling your fingers deeply, eyes closed. “I know you’re dripping in your little panties when I smell this scent off you” He smears your fingers roughly around his mouth and nose, still breathing you in. You watch in awe, the way he’s completely consumed by you.

“Hard t’ focus when you’re parading that little ass around me, reeking like this, just beggin’ to be filled up, you rub yourself like this around me at night?” He asks, voice hoarse.

Your cheeks burn again, but you nod once anyhow.

“My dirty, dirty girl. You’re just full of secrets, aren't yah”. He pants. “Fuckin’ knew you were wanting my cock. You just needed someone to make that ache go away, huh?”

You whine as you nod more, feeling so heard, so seen. “Yes Joel, yes” All you want is to feel him fill you up. Hit that spot that you can’t ever reach. You succumb to him, hoping he might just fuck you and you won’t have to get off like this. You want all of him. To discover more of who Joel is. Help him, just like he’s helping you.

“And you’re still treating me so good, listenin’ to what I say, even when I’ve been neglecting my poor baby” He drawls lazily as he pulls you back into place, and with another bounce of his knee, you resume your vicious pace chasing your orgasm. The way your perky breasts jiggle in your tank causing him to bounce his knee more, absorbing the view of you bobbing up and down with tears welling in your eyes.

You reach one hand down, to grip his hard on, wanting to feel his thickness again, hoping he might let you see it.

“No.” His hand wraps around your wrist in an instance. A grip so cruel, you swear there’ll be bruises when he lets go.

“Why not?” You cry, your hips still rolling.

“Boundaries, sweetheart. You can’t touch me there.” He smirks devilishly. He knows this is torture for you.

You whimper, your eyes falling to his lips. You want to make contact with those the most.

“Knock it off. I see the way you’re starin’. You’re not kissin’ me either.” His smile is now gone, yet his eyes sparkle. You swear he’s getting off by restricting your contact with him. He knows how badly you want it.

You rest your hands tightly around his neck again, the disappointment visible on your features.

“Don’t look at me like that, fuck, you have no idea what you do to me”.

You pout more, relishing in the way he’s weakening for you.

“Tell you what” he drawls, slowing your pace. His fingers at some point had slipped into the band of your panties as he held your hips.

“Because you’ve been such a good girl f’me , I’ll let you kiss here” He raises an index to his scruffy cheek “And here” as he points to the other side.

You can’t help the smile that grows on your face as you lean forward gently, placing a soft, agonizingly slow, peck to cheek, your nose brushing lightly against his skin. You test his limits as you get close to his lips as you make your way to the other side. You swear you feel him inch forward ever so slightly before falling back.

“God, you’re just a sweet lil thang aren’t yah” he groans at your light, edging touches.

You pull back, feeling powerful at just how wrecked he looks. You bite your lower lip, continuing slow rolls.

You decide to do it again.

“Oh fuck, baby that’s enough” He moans as you place yet another teasingly slow kiss to his cheek, but close to the edge of his lips. He pulls his face away, turning to the side. He’s completely fucked out. His eyes heavy with pure want. God and this is just from kissing him.

Then something snaps in him as he grips your ass and makes you rub on him harder and lets your knee make more contact with his bulge.

“Yeah – yeah that feels really good” You mewl.

He turns his face back to yours, staring you down. His grip is getting harder, almost painful but you don’t care.

“Keep going” He rasps. “Don’t stop, I know you’re close.”

“Uh huh” You moan “You’re gunna make me cum Da- J- Joel” Your eyes widen at the fact you almost slipped, but it doesn’t go unnoticed.

His eyes go dark as he clutches your ass tighter, leaning his face into yours.

“What was that sweetheart?” He whispers with his teeth grit, his nose grazing the side of your cheek.

You whine as he helps you continue your pace, pushing you back and forth on his thigh.

His hand snakes up, gripping your cheeks between his thumb and index. “You fuckin’ answer me when ‘m talking to you” He spits lowly.

“It feels really good!” You squeal as he starts to slow your rhythm.

“What else?”

Your hooded eyes connect with his, your cheeky grin making his cock twitch more.

“Tell me” He orders.

You pull yourself into his neck before whimpering into his ear.

“It feels good … Daddy”.

His groan is guttural as he squeezes your ass cheeks together.

“My dirty girl, you need your Daddy to help you huh?” He pulls you closer, your knee making full contact against his throbbing cock.

You nod your head furiously as your brows knit, you know you’re about to cum.

“Tell me why I’m your Daddy” he orders, his brows rising and falling.

You start to babble “Because you protect me” you barely get the words out, you’re so wrecked.

“I do, don’t I?” His voice drops an octave, while analyzing your face.

“And you’d kill for me” you moan.

“I have,” He pulls you down hard into him and holds you there, while grinding his crotch into you. “Killed for you”.

His eyes scour you frantically. Like there is so much he wants to do with you. Endless thoughts running through his mind of all the ways he could ruin you.

“Take your fuckin’ shirt off” he says rushed, as if this moment could get ripped away from him.

You obey, reaching the hem, and pulling it off in one swift motion. You toss it behind you onto the dash.

“That’s right” He spanks your ass hard.

“Go” He grits, and you grind down, your tits bouncing just inches from his face. He moves his hands off you and puts them down at his sides. As if to physically restrain himself from touching you.

“Fucking perfect, like a god damn picture” he watches your breasts as you’re nearing your climax again.

“M’ can’t let anyone hurt my special girl.” His expression turns hard as he feels his possessive side creep up. The men he murdered this morning were an exact representation of what he’ll do for you. Without question. He knew he was going to feel the blade sink in their flesh the second one laid eyes on you, the intention loud in his irises.

“I never wanna be apart from you Joel, you make me feel safe” Your confession comes out before you can stop it.

“I know baby, I know but fuck I love to hear it” He could listen to your sweet voice all day.

“Take your pants off, please” You beg but it sounds more like a squeal.

“No” He barely whispers.

“Please, Daddy please please, I wanna cum on you, it hurts!” You cry.

“Jesus Christ” His hands go to his belt, anxiously unbuckling, as you continue to mewl hovering above him.

“Always so fuckin’ needy” He pulls his jeans down his thighs before grabbing you and pulling you down aggressively onto him, his boxers the only thing confining his cock. "That's all you get" He spits.

“Wait” You reposition yourself, now straddling his lap. One knee on either side of his hips as you grind your wet, hot clothed cunt onto his massive, throbbing cock.

The moan that comes out of you is straight pornographic.

You suddenly lurch forward, before realizing he reclined the seat back further, almost laying flat.

“Put those fuckin’ tits on my face baby” He commands desperately.

You place your knees higher up on the cushioned seat. You pull yourself upwards to smother his face with your breasts. Joel's rough hands are still by his sides, he knows he’ll lose all sense of control if he gets any closer. No, it has to be your move.

“Yeah, Yeah, Joel please” You moan as he begins to softly kiss your breasts.

“You need more baby?” He gasps, his voice strained with want.

“Tell Daddy y’ need more, you need more help, I have to help” He consoles himself as he begins to suckle your buds, licking long strips wherever he can. It’s animalistic. You run your fingers through his salt and pepper locks as you essentially motorboat his face.

“You’re my special girl” He spills in a drawl. “Never gunna let anyone touch you.”

You can’t wait any longer, you sit back down on his bulge, wishing it was freed to split you in half but this will have to do. So, you grind, hunting your orgasm down once again, absorbing, engraining this picture of Joel in your mind forever.

And fuck, the way he talks to you, you’re lost in a trance, chasing after your high as you stare into his face. His eyes, his smile lines, the scar across his bridge, the way he looks down at his lap as he watches you, his jaw going slack. He’s perfect.

“Fuck I can smell you baby girl, your sweet pussy is beggin’ to come all over me” He growls “C’mon give it to me”. You take his permission and allow yourself to play on that teetering edge, right on the cusp of your much awaited orgasm.

“S’ okay baby girl, I got you, I got you”. He slumps back further, eyes trained on your clothed pussy grinding on his hard on with such desperation. He feels his own coming on as you rub against him.

“Not such a brat now huh? Not when I’m taking care of you” he says as his tired eyes scan your figure. You cry out at his words.

“You’re okay, you’re okay, S’ gunna feel better baby, gunna make that ache go away” He drawls out.

“Fuck, fuck” He mumbles, his eyes so hooded, you could have thought they were closed. All color drains from his face as he continues watching your motions. He can see wet, shiny strings appear from your panties, catching onto his boxers before they break apart from sliding back and forth. He can feel how absolutely soaked you are, that spot seeping through the fabric onto his skin underneath.

“That’s it pretty girl, right on daddy’s cock, right there”. His words fall out.

“I’m cum-I’m cumm-Daddy- oh yeah, Joel, Joel!” You scream.

You squeal as your orgasm comes rippling through, your thighs tightening around him as he feels your cunt pool through your panties all over him, your mouth hangs open as you ride out the waves of sensation.

“Jesus Christ”. He groans at the sight of you.

You rest your head against his heaving chest, riding out the stars that clouded your head.

The two of you sit there for a moment, collecting your breaths before he nudges you to the side.

“Wait here” he mumbles, exiting the truck. You watch him through the rear window, straining your eyes to see him in the dark. You think you see him readjusting his crotch again before he leans down, grabbing both sleeping bags and the lantern.

You’re still dizzy from finishing on Joel's lap, your mind trying to comprehend what had just happened. You never thought you’d see the day where Joel would touch you or look at you in any way other than ‘Cargo’.

The breeze from outside whirls into the truck as you sit there waiting for him. He opens the back door, laying down the sleeping bags on top of one another across the bench.

“What’re you doing?” You murmur, cupping the back seat with your hands, watching him with sleepy eyes.

“Don’t want you sleepin' outside tonight” He responds, glancing at your tired gaze.

“C’mon” He waves you over. You scootch over to the driver seat and let your legs dangle out the door. He meets you there, one of his massive hands held out to grab yours, helping you to your feet and pulling you in front of him, guiding you to the back door. You let go of his touch to crawl to your revised sleeping quarters.

You slip in between the two bags, which Joel had unzipped. Laying one down, the other as a blanket on top. He also folded up his jacket as a pillow, which made you smile. You watch him tuck the fabric under your feet, making sure all parts of you are covered. He finds your jeans and your shirt and puts them aside for when you’d dress in the morning. Your sneakers on the ground beside the truck.

You can’t stop the warm glow growing inside you as you watch this man take care of you in such a way that seems so… domestic. It makes you wonder about him pre break out, and what he was like living in a house, working an 8-5 job, making dinners and probably having cold ones in the evening on a patio.

He closes the driver door before returning to you.

“Are you coming to bed?” You whisper with heavy eyes.

“No” he chuckles lightly “M’ wide awake now, gunna keep watch, we really do have a long day tomorrow so get some sleep alright?” He looks at you as one of his arms draped over the heavy truck door, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He looks proud, which you would roll your eyes at, but you’re far too tired.

“Joel” You whisper, bringing his attention back to you as he was looking over his shoulder, scanning the night.

“Mhm?”

“I still wanna repay the favor y’know” you mumble, your eyes closed, already drifting off.

He chuckles again; the sound brings a grin to your face.

“Not necessary, couldn’t stop myself from cumin' while watching you”. He sighs heavily, muttering to himself “like a goddamn teenager”.

You giggle at the comment. Which Joel couldn’t help but grin too, you didn’t see though.

“Goodnight Miller” You barely hear the words yourself as you fall into a deep slumber.

“Night sweetheart”.

#joel miller #tlof #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #reader x joel miller #the last of us #the two of us #daddy joel #pedro pascal #pedro is daddy

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canonizzyhours · 1 year ago

Note

I'm a professional screenwriter. I know nobody reading this has any reason to believe that, and I work pretty hard to keep my fandom activity separate from my professional identity, so I'm not going to offer any proof that would doxx me here, believe me or don't. But it's true and I don't just mean I'm trying to get hired as a screenwriter, I mean I am pretty well established in the industry and I've worked on some stuff big enough you've probably heard of it. I've also been active in OFMD fandom for about two years now, since nearly the beginning.

The canyon really freaks me out because seeing it up close makes me worried I've drastically underestimated audiences' empathy gap around characters of color and tendency to sympathize with and excuse the actions of white characters. I've always tried to be conscious about that sort of thing in my work but now that I'm seeing the whole process up close it's so much worse than I always thought.

I think a lot about what I would have done during season 1 of OFMD, if I were in the writers' room and I'd wanted to make sure it would be clear to the audience that Izzy was Ed's abuser and wasn't acting out of secretly sympathetic motives and we're supposed to be genuinely horrified by his actions. I'm in writers' rooms workshopping issues like this all the time. I know the kinds of suggestions I'd make.

Like, if we were worried that the audience would think Izzy's hostility toward Stede was about class instead of homophobia, I might have suggested we make sure Izzy's dialogue never has any reference to Stede's class at all, and that we might do a subplot in one episode where Izzy is equally hostile toward Lucius, since Lucius clearly isn't rich but is extremely gay. But that already happened, and it didn't help.

If I wanted to make sure the audience understood that Izzy is bossing the crew around and screaming at everyone to work harder because he's a petty little bully on a power trip and not because the work actually needs to get done, I might have suggested a scene where Izzy deliberately makes a mess on purpose just so he can order the crew to clean it up. But that already happened, and it didn't help.

If I wanted to make it clear that Izzy has always been awful toward everyone around him -- especially his colleagues of color -- since long before the show started, I might have suggested we repeatedly emphasize throughout the season that while Fang is willing to work with him, he doesn't like or respect Izzy and this is because Izzy has always treated Fang very badly. Have him pull on Fang's beard for no reason and have Fang explicitly say he hates that but knows it wouldn't help to complain. Have Fang tell strangers jokes about times Izzy humiliated himself in public. Have a scene where everybody unanimously VOTES TO MURDER IZZY and someone explicitly stops to ask Fang if he's cool with this and Fang explicitly says yes this is absolutely fine with me and then he actively participates in the murder plan while smiling. But all of that happened and I still see the canyon insisting that Izzy was a much nicer person before the events of s2 when he wasn't under so much stress and has always been liked and respected by the PoC around him, including specifically Fang!

If I were worried that the audience might take seriously the idea that Izzy is motivated by "loyalty to your captain" -- well, honestly I don't think it ever would have occurred to me to worry about that, since he says that in a scene where he's in the middle betraying his captain and I'd probably assume people are capable of picking that up and understanding that when someone says they're abusing you for your own good you should not believe them. But if someone else insisted we address the concern, suggestions I'd make would include: make sure some of the first interactions we see between Ed and Izzy involve Izzy complaining about how he doesn't want to do the job Ed just gave him, then half-assing the mission and lying to Ed's face about it. Show Izzy deliberately undermining Ed to the crew by telling them he's half-insane, then insist to Ed that he's the only one keeping the crew loyal when they're worried about his judgment. But they did that stuff and we still have people thinking Izzy's central motivation throughout season 1 is selfless devotion to Ed.

The show did every single thing I would have suggested, and none of it worked. So what does it say about all the stuff I've already worked on, whenever I've written a scene where a white guy was being a dick to characters of color? Have I just been embarrassingly naive this whole time? Have I undermined my own work by not getting this?

You can't control audience reactions, I know that, that's part of what's great about art, you have to let go and accept that people will interpret things in ways you never intended, I get it. But if it's THIS impossible to choose words that will create the kind of feelings you meant to, what's the point? Is it even possible to write about the kind of abusive relationship Ed and Izzy have, where the white guy thinks he's entitled to control a brown man's life "for his own good" and that the brown guy is obligated to be grateful and reciprocate his "love" and not have a huge group of people creating elaborate justifications for the white guy? What else could they have done? What else can I do, when I'm writing about characters of color? I'm seriously asking. If anybody reading this has advice I want to hear it. What could I do?

#408.

#ofmd #izzy hands #edward teach #fang #lucius spriggs #fandom critical #canonizzyhours

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auspicioustidings · 8 months ago

Text

Kinktober Day 26

This is a reworked version of the original day 26 taking into account feedback.

Moniker: Mace Risk Level: High. Mace is a permanent resident of the Kennel. Brief: Cervix-bullying, degredation Safeword: Refer to first brief. Mace may push limits now he has you to himself. Ghost will be right outside - Price

You took a deep breath outside of the door and steeled yourself. Bastard had you in a pretty little summer dress, no underwear. The fabric was exceedingly rippable and you suspected that was on purpose. Cervix-bullying didn’t sound like something that was going to be fully pleasant, but then when he had fucked you with his fist you hadn’t thought that could possibly feel good and you came anyway.

Ok, you could do this, was Mace really so fucking scary? If anything he was just annoying around the Kennel. You didn’t think you had been around one another outwith this room without bickering. You pushed the door open, letting it close behind you while you took in the room. Not that there was anything to take in, it was entirely bare, just concrete floor and walls and one very large, fully dressed man.

“Mace.”

“Sweet thing.”

After a beat you leapt into action, twisting around and grabbing the door handle to get the fuck back out. He laughed and in two large steps was on you, grabbing your arm and ripping you back from the door before throwing you to the ground. It fucking hurt and you could feel that the dress was covering sweet fuck all with how you were sprawled. Fucking asshole.

“Wanker!”

“Nah not today, don’t use my hand when there’s a perfectly good pussy” he said, crouching next to you and trailing a finger up your bare leg. “Perfectly good may be a stretch hm? Hear you’ve been getting your little cunt wrecked by whoever asks. Fucking loose slut.”

“If I’m such a loose slut then why do you want me?” you shot back, maybe a little too smug about the very clear outline of hard cock pressing against the fabric of his trousers.

“Maybe I don’t and you’re just a convenient hole” he mused, the rest of his fingers joining the first as he squeezed your upper thigh hard, clearly enjoying the spill of fat around his digits and the little pained winch you gave.

“Or maybe you do and you fought to get another day with me before my contract is up.”

You held his eyes, not willing to submit as fully to him as you did for the likes of Price. A little because you were pretty sure Mace had no interest in a sweet submissive either, he wanted some bite. It was something you had learned during your interactions with him outside of the play room. Even in his interactions with others you saw it. He would wind Soap up something awful, annoy Gaz until the usually laid back man was about ready to get into a fight. You didn’t miss that he seemed to take such a particular interest in those Ghost was close to.

But mostly it was because you weren’t an idiot. There were very few people in this place for which full submission wasn’t a very dangerous concept.

“Punched König’s lights out sweet thing, he’s nursing a fractured jaw.”

You tried not to react to that, but by the glimmer of dark delight in his eyes you had failed and given away how that made your heart race and your cunt clench. Had they really fought for today? The idea of two of the biggest monsters here violently trying to assert a claim for your time shouldn’t have been hot, and yet you were pretty sure you were leaving a wet spot on the flimsy fabric of your dress.

“Must have been a cheap shot.”

“Aww, you defending your daddy? Or were you his momma? Hard to keep track with that one.”

His big body was looming over you, getting closer as his hand squeezed once more before starting to climb up between your leg.

“You jealous?”

“No need, doubt you get this sloppy wet for him. Nah, this is all for me isn’t it?”

His hand cupped your pussy, his middle finger dipping in to test just how wet you were. Wasn’t like you could do much about how soaked your cunt was. Mace was just… fuck he was so dripping with danger and your stupid brain had been so wildly traumatised by war that it took the alarm bells and turned them into arousal. Had it always been that way, or had weeks being the play thing of soldiers created that reaction in you?

“Maybe it’s not and you’re just a convenient cock.”

He barked a laugh and then manhandled you onto your knees, shoving your face down onto the floor as he unbuckled his belt to fish out his cock with absolutely no ceremony. He only tapped his already leaking tip on your hole once in warning before he crammed himself inside you.

Both of you moaned. You forgot how fucking good he felt, how heavy his scarred cock was inside of you.

“You got a silky pussy sweet thing, doubt anyone here could afford it if it wasn’t the military paying. Fucking luxurious, bet Ghost would hate to see his princess stuffed full of my spunk. Gonna fucking ruin it.”

Jesus the floor was uncomfortable, already the scrape of concrete had torn one of the straps of your dress, your tit uncomfortably close to escaping the pathetic bodice and being shredded to pieces with no barrier between skin and ground. And yet it felt right with him to have the constant edge of potential pain, the terror of mutilation being a breath away while your cunt took a pounding that it was craving.

“Ruin my pussy? You’re barely even fucking me” you taunted between pants.

“Not your pussy I’m gonna dirty up and ruin, this cock in going straight into your fucking womb you stupid bitch. I’m going to turn you inside out” he growled.

He wrestled your hips where he wanted them, your back screaming from how it was bent. From experience you knew when he was bringing out the degradation you were about to get your guts rearranged, so you tried to brace yourself. You joined your back in screaming soon after, a strangled yelp leaving you when he thrust back in and this angle sent him so much deeper.

“You feel that slut?”

“Oh my God, holy fuck” you choked, because you did.

His tip was hitting your cervix and it felt insane, like the sharp pain and teeth grinding discomfort of smacking your funny bone off of a hard surface. You tried to drag your body forward a little, one of your nails snapping as it clawed at the floor. He wouldn’t let you budge, completely overpowering you and using your body like a fleshlight.

“She can’t hold up against me for ever sweet thing, open up. Let me the fuck in” he cooed, hammering you sensitive spongy flesh.

Logically you knew that wasn’t possible, but the threat of it was sinking into you like a guillotine sinking through the back of your neck. Could he really punch through? You’d fucking die, he’d rip your womb apart and then he’d dump his cum on the wreckage.

“N-no, Mace fuck! Ah, that hurts” you cried.

It did. You pussy tried to ignore the sharp bite of pain every time he smashed against your cervix and focus on how good the stretch was, but it was too much. The scrape of your exposed skin on the concrete floor added to the pain and it was becoming miserable despite how you tried to push through and enjoy it.

“Quit whining, this is what a hole is for” he grunted, removing a hand from your waist to wrench on of your arms in position to have your hand at your pussy before he put his hand back on your waist to keep fucking you.

You tried to play with your clit, tried to get enough pleasure for the pain to start feeling good. It wasn’t working, but none the less your pussy was clenching around him only in an attempt to get his cock out rather than suck it further in. His laughed moan told you all you needed to know about how it felt for him.

“Mace please” you begged. “It’s too much.”

As much as you knew he’d rather keep going just how you were, you were also more or less warning him that you were going to need to safeword if he didn’t change it up. You nearly sobbed with relief when he pulled out.

“Such a fucking spoiled little princess” he spat while he stood and then hoisted you up to your feet and bullied you against on of the walls, spinning you so your hands were planted and your ass was up, your throbbing hole on display for him.

You screeched when he pounded back into you, trying to wriggle to make things more comfortable and being punished for it with a brutal smack on your ass. He forced your hips back where the angle meant he was bruising your already screaming cervix.

“Not doing everything for you, get your hand on your useless cunt already.”

You didn’t think it would do much good, but this time playing with your clit did feel better. The scrape of concrete was gone now, your knees aching but not being actively split open anymore. The one hand bracing you against the wall hurt, but it was nowhere near as bad as being on the floor had been.

It was hard to focus in on the bundle of nerves giving you pleasure when his cock was busy giving you unreal pain, but you were almost deliriously determined to cum. It felt like a fight with him, like he wanted to make a point that your pleasure was secondary. God it was basically just like how you bickered, constantly trying to come out on top.

You had to be rough with yourself, your fingers furiously rubbing your rapidly swelling clit. It was like a neck and neck race you thought, you just trying to keep a minuscule lead over the pain and trying to cross the finish line before it could claim victory.

“Fuck you” you hissed at him as you fought to cum.

“You’re softening up sweet thing, I can fucking feel it.”

He sounded out of it and you mostly ignored his rambling, violently embracing the orgasm that smacked into you with brutal force. It wasn’t pleasure, not with how your pussy was trying to milk and eject his cock at the same time, but it was a viciously satisfying victory.

Or it was until you actually felt his tip push a little further than should have been possible. Blinding white pain shot through you body at only the barest hint of a stretch of your cervix. You were going to throw up. Oh God.

Terror flooded through you as he frantically tried to use his cock like a battering ram.

“Fuck fuck I’m going to fucking get inside. You’re going to open, holy fuck!”

“Red! Red!” you screamed.

There was shouting and then you were empty and crumpled on the ground shivering and crying. Fingers were between your legs and there was yelling but you were disorientated from that blast of pain and the shock of him genuinely nearly breaking you.

“I don’t think so. She looks swollen and sore, but nothing inside is torn up. The scrapes and bruising everywhere else should be ok.”

Price, that was Price’s deep rumbling voice.

“Calm the fuck down!”

“Fuck off!”

That was Ghost and Mace and you looked over to the racket, finding Ghost trying to wrestle Mace into submission to get him to calm down. You caught his eyes for a moment and saw something dark and vulnerable there.

Him and Nikto were two sides of the same coin you thought. Nikto wanted so desperately to prove a connection with visible marks on the outside, blood smeared on skin, his brand burned into flesh. For Mace he needed an invisible claim on the inside. His cum inside your womb, deeper than anyone else would ever go.

You didn’t think either of them would ever be able to leave the Kennel. But they could be tempered, they could be given enough to soothe the violent possessiveness that drove them without letting it get too far. A tattoo or a scar for Nikto maybe, a plug for Mace to keep all of his cum inside your body for as long as he needed or your open mouth willing to take his spit and cum and blood.

You broke eye contact and burrowed your face into Price’s warm chest, willing your brain to switch off and let him coddle you.

If you let your thoughts keep spinning out about how you were sure you could make them happy, you were going to wind up asking to stay.

#mhairi'skinktober

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