#i think you gotta fuck em up sometimes

[gangstalkerbarbie]

OK topical swerve but: punk is inherently about being countercultural, which is why Soviet punks were/post-Soviet punks are a bit obsessed with fascist imagery, and also why so many punks you might politically agree with are ginormous dicks personally.

I think this is an important point to introduce into discussions of the future of a hypothetical solarpunk society — when the fighting is done (and it is fighting), when the raw glory of it fades, how is a new society going to deal with the future it builds? How is it going to be sustainable? When this isn't countercultural anymore but you've built a mainstream society that still values nonconformism for its own sake, where is that going to lead?

I think some of the most important work that can be done is the type of community building that looks forward to the point where life is liveable, and then beyond it, to the next generation. This is a point that people in activist circles often forget about because, for completely understandable reasons, most people with the time to do ecofuturist activism are childless or child free — but any society is going to contain children, you know? It has to.

Is it a sustainable world we're building if we aren't, now, thinking about being able to sustain it, in terms of cultural infrastructure for its maintenance and for the raising of healthy children? In terms of the values we want to instill? All of this is to say that it's natural for sustainable healthy communitybuilding in defiance of the state to be labeled as punk /now/, but think again about what happened to the counterculture in the Soviet Union.

That's not why it collapsed, but it devoted endless needless time to beating on its youth for wanting American jeans and shit, for wanting connection with the world, and, like, what are we doing about our equivalent of our kids wanting jeans? Not that, not like, fucking statist repression, but it often seems to me like people in these circles either are still teens, finger on the pulse of how to talk to teens because they're not in an unavoidable hierarchic position of authority over people afraid of authority yet, or have never met a teenager, ever.

I want to interject to say that mythbuilding and identity construction is integral to any society, and I worry sometimes that strongly identifying living a healthy, sustainable, governmentally unexploited life with punk, with the counterculture, might lead into a repeat of history. And then — your society crumbles, because your kids that the state knows how to get to over the internet are young and dumb and buy into ideologies that subvert you out of spite, because you encouraged them to believe that they have a right to do this.

This is why hippie communes usually last a couple generations at most. The government is not as dumb as people think, and this is why most serious activists in this vein focus on making existing, recognised communities better — but even there, there are limits to the usefulness of anger. Don't plant trees and cook meals for the homeless and elderly and agitate for rail because you hate the state — you'll run out of steam.

Do it because you love your city and you'll fight until your neighbours, in all their smallminded conservatism and traumatic relation with civics and sexism and racism and old pain, have clean water and clean air and clean food.

It takes a particular kind of person to be punk to begin with, and you actually very much don't want to cultivate this type of person in a new society, or even in an activist movement to improve an old one. When things get bad enough, and there is always a bad enough for every kind of such individual, this type of person trashes everything around them because fuck you (the new authority) and then does absolutely nothing to help. They came to the commune or the movement to make coffee with Sock and Moss and to grieve their grievances, ultimately, and to feel part of something. Eventually they either get bitter and useless or run out.

No one asked, but this is why personally I don't identify myself as solar or any punk. Punk identity is transitory and fundamentally relies on there being an enemy to rebel against. I'm not pretentious enough to call myself an activist and I don't count as white enough in the US to be taken seriously as such, but in order to be something approximating an activist, you have to think about what happens after.

We fight now, but the most a warrior generation can ultimately do for the health of the community is eventually to beat their swords mostly to ploughshares. How are we going to make sure the kids maintain what we've built, without threat of harm or coercion? What do we do for the children? Eventually angry defiance has to cool down to calm, assured disobedience that knows what it's doing, or else the movement attracts a critical mass of angry, defiant, compromising people, who can't be trusted and won't be directed and don't even know what they're fighting for. Anger makes you dumb, and we can't afford to be dumb about this now that the forces we're looking at know how to break down societies like we hope to have.

We have to work with the human nature we have, and again, I think that means minimizing adversarial framing. With adversarial framing you have sides instead of communities, and if you have sides...

All of this is to say, we have got to cultivate a hopeful, resilient, disobedient activism grounded in a mature, communitarian civics, where there are no wrong kinds of people, but there is a right civic ethic.

They're very good at this in Detroit, despite everything. I used to volunteer with a guerrilla gardening initiative run by the people who taught me this.

I keep seeing people asking ‘is solarpunk really punk?’ because it’s too happy and optimistic and stuff

and I’m picturing a perfect moment in a solarpunk community — the neighbourhood mayor standing with a shit-eating grin on her face when the cops come and cut them off from city power, and nothing turns off

[luck-of-the-drawings]

EDYN TIDESTRIDER, CHALLENGER OF THE UNDERSEA, RIVAL OF THE DEEP. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOUR BROTHER WAS CHOSEN TO BE A WEAPON OF THE GODS? HOW WILL YOU UNDO WHAT THEY HAVE DONE TO HIM?

[medicinemane]

I don't know, those gifs of Andrew Garfield saying how to him the most terrifying thing is certainty... they resonate with me

The way people go around so damn sure that they're right about things, frankly I think there's very few things more dangerous than not even allowing for the possibility that you're wrong

Like you've just decided that you 100% know best, and from now on any evidence to the contrary is just something to be pushed aside because it's clearly wrong. The harm you'll do isn't real because obviously you wouldn't be doing it if there was harm. You're just right. That's the end of it

No, I agree with Andrew Garfield, I'd much rather stop and reassess over and over, as many times as I need to, to make sure that I'm still doing the right thing

I'll never be anything cause it just doesn't interest me, but if I was going to join a religion I know I'd become Jewish

Thought that since I was little with all the Jewish friends I had at school, and what's more it just seems to fit me best, all the elements of questioning. Hell... it even sounds like if I said "you know, I don't really believe in god", that there's a chance the rabbi might say "funny thing, me neither" (I've heard some don't), but if not that at least "eh, that's fine, why don't you come discuss why with us"

It's just funny the number of times I've related to something someone's saying, and then you find out their Jewish and this ties into that sense of questioning things, and that interview is an example

I agree with him, nothing scarier than being 100% sure you're correct... you can do a lot of bad things once you know for a fact you're right to be doing them

[kamitv]

▷ Body Art

Sypnosis . Suggesting tattoos/piercings in the middle of sex. / Pairings . (Separate) Choso x f!reader, Geto x f!reader, Toji x f!reader, Gojo x f!reader, Sukuna x f!reader / Content . afab!reader, dirty talk, rough sex, oral sex m!receiving, established relationships, unprotected sex, etc. / wc . 6.5k

A/N: I'm in heat. [MDNI]

★ Choso Kamo — back dermals

He kinda just blurts the idea out.

You’d be riding him in reverse, legs spread over his thighs as his cock rests deep inside you, his big hands latched to your hips with his fingers digging into your skin.

Choso’s eyelids are heavy as he loses himself in the tantalizing rock of your hips, dark locks of hair messily splayed down as a few strands stick to the skin of his forehead.

Back and forth and back and forth— you were riding him so slowly and sensually, pussy clenching tightly around his cock and pulling a groan right out the back of his throat.

His head rests back on the headboard of your shared bed, groans leaving his lips every now and then as he doesn’t hesitate to hold his voice back from you.

“Fuck, baby,” Choso moans, “You always ride so fuckin’ good-, shiiit…”

You angle your head back to catch sight of your boyfriend, his facial expression leading you to rotate your hips in a slow circle so you can watch the way his brows push together and his lips part into a sigh.

“Yeahhh, jus’ like that,” He grunts, trying to fight the urge to fuck up into you so soon. Then his eyes narrow at your lower back, specifically the area near where his thumbs are digging into.

He guides your hips a little, letting out a low huff as he watches you ride him so languidly. Then you lean your body forward and arch your back, hands pressing down into the mattress in between the two of your legs as you shift your hips skillfully.

Choso’s thick cock was knocking around your insides as you moved, your cunt squelching sloppily around his shaft with your every movement and making you moan just as much as he was groaning.

Bach and forth, left and right, up just a little before sinking back down so that his tip nudges exactly where you want him.

“Mmmh,” You hum slightly, lips parting a bit as he presses his thumbs into you suddenly, “Cho…”

“Babyy…” He drawls out, mesmerized by your steady movements and pussydrunk already, “Have you uh… mmgh, you’ ever thought ‘bout gettin’ back dermals?”

You sigh heavily, “W-What? Back dermals?” You question as your movement stutters a bit, cunt gripping his cock tighter in surprise.

“Uhuh,” Choso nods in a slight daze, “Y’know… the piercing?” He explains, his voice deep as his eyes never leave your lower back.

“Y-Yeah, I know what you’re talkin’ about b-but-, aah…” You moan as he lifts his hips into you ever so slightly, cockhead pressing into your sweet spot, “Why?”

“‘Cause princess….” Choso smirks and watches your hips roll upward in a circular motion to almost match his movements below you, “Fuuuck they’d look so good on you.”

You turn your head back again, “Think so?”

“Mhmm, shit-, you gotta’ get ‘em baby,” Your boyfriend huffs out as his head tosses back slightly, pulling his lower lip into his mouth for a moment just to grit out a low, “M’gonna cum jus’ thinkin’ about it.”

A smile graces your face for a moment and you increase your pace a little, still ridding him a bit sloppy but dizzying just how he likes, “What’s so… mmh, s-special about them?”

His hands shift a little and slide up to your waist, holding you carefully as you rock your cunt over his cock. “Wanna stare at ‘em while you ride this dick, baby.”

You face forward and moan, “Cho…”

“Hm?” He cracks a smirk. He’s no stranger to the way his words make your body tense up sometimes, “I say somethin’ wrong?” Choso teases.

“N-No but-, hahh… are you serious?” You ask before leaning back, grinding your hips forward, and fucking his cock into you as you move a hand to rub over your clit.

Choso scoffs loudly to make sure you hear, “Does it sound like m’joking?” He asks.

You toss your head back and his eyes trail up to the way you look on top of him, “I dunno…” You whine.

“Aww, you dunno?” He chuckles as he mocks you, “Baby I’m so fuckin’ serious. I’ll pay for it too if you want…“

Letting out a sigh, you purposefully narrow your walls around his dick, earning a moan from him and feeling how he twitches inside you.

“F-Fuck, y’like that, huh?” Choso taunts, “P-Please baby, I’ll spend every fuckin’ penny I have on ya’ just t’see you with that damn piercing.” Hands slipping down to your hips yet again, he tugs your body back a little and his cock knocks somewhere inside you that has you moaning his name.

“Choso… shit-, o-okay… I’ll-,” Your jaw drops as his cock grazes that spot you like yet again, “Hhgnn… I’ll get it,” You whisper desperately.

He doesn’t miss your words at all, “Y-Yeah?” He unintentionally thrusts up into you and your pussy quivers around his dick, “You will? Fuck, I love you. Love you s’much-, shiiiit….”

And then he’s thrusting consistently, making you lose yourself on top of him as Choso envisions that damn piercing on you— oh he can’t wait for you to get them now.

★ Geto Suguru — a tattoo of his name

Well, he just wants everyone to know who you belong to of course. You already moan his name nearly every night so why not get it printed onto your skin?

Geto wonders where he’d want such a thing but one day it just comes to him.

It was early in the morning and the two of you had woken up needier than ever, both of you lying on your sides as he woke you up with a million kisses pressed into your neck.

You grumbled something in your sleep and it made him smile against your skin as he slipped up to your ear just to whisper, “G’mornin’ gorgeous,” His voice was so deep yet soft with you.

A sigh slips past your lips at the sound of his words in your ear and you shift around where you lay, “Suguru…”

“Hmm?” He hums, still against your ear purposefully. One of his hands was latched to your waist, his fingers drawing small circles against you as he felt against you wearing his t-shirt.

You pout and angle your head back to him ever so slightly, “What’d I tell you about doin’ that?”

Geto raises a confused brow, “Doin’ what, baby?” He asks, an innocent little smile pulling at his lips as his hand slips down along your body.

“Talkin’ in my ear when you first wake up…” You huff, turning to face forward again and comfort yourself.

Your boyfriend leans down to your neck and kisses you tenderly, “Mmmh…” He hums against you, still smiling a little, “I don’t remember. Remind me?”

Your body shifts a bit and your ass presses back into his crotch, “Said’ it turns me on,” You explain.

He’s quick to flash a smile and pull away from your neck, “Oh yeah?” Geto taunts, moving his lips back to your ear and kissing the crown of it.

“Mhmm,” You hum tiredly in response.

That hand of his begins to slide around your body and to your stomach, fingers slipping under your (his) shirt and feeling your bare skin.

You sigh as he touches you so softly, knowing exactly where this is going once you feel his heavy cock poking against your ass.

Geto’s low in your ear as his hand slides down past your abdomen, “Feelin’ needy for me now, huh?” He murmurs, fingertips grazing the thin band of your panties.

“Hahh…” His voice alone had you so wet. It was all groggy and low with you yet still soothing just how you know it to be. Which is why you’re uttering a quiet, “Yeah…” In response as he runs his fingers over your panties to tease you.

Geto shifts to kiss under your ear, “Lemme’ check how needy y’are…” He whispers to you, “S’that okay?” You swear his request for consent has you over the edge already.

“Mhm,” You hum hastily in response.

His hands carefully slip under your panties and he quickly runs two thick fingers down and in between your wet folds, “Mmmh, baby… she’s soaked already,” Geto talks low into your ear, feeling how your cunt twitches against his fingertips.

You smile a little and push your hips back against him, “Y-Yeah, I know…. S’your fault,” You huff out as Geto just gathers your slick onto his fingers.

Then he pulls his hand out and brings it up to his mouth, sucking the thin coat of your slick off of his fingers and groaning slightly. “I better take responsibility then, huh?” He suggests before dropping his hand back down.

You’re already on the same page as him so you quickly shift to pull your panties down and then kick them off your legs, “Mhmm.”

Geto smiles at how quick you are as his hand is quick to return to your dripping cunt, fingertips rubbing over your clit teasingly and making him bite his bottom lip as you squirm.

The two of you are no strangers to morning sex. It happens quite often if anything. Sometimes it’s slow and sensual and other times it’s rushed and messy.

Like now for example, as your boyfriend goes from finger fucking you and spewing filth into your ear to kissing and sucking on the side of your neck and teasing you with his words.

“That feels good Sugu,” Is all you’d get to say while his two long fingers drag against your gummy walls, curling deep inside you perfectly.

“Yeah?” Geto would whisper, “Bet my cock would feel better.”

You’d just nod eagerly and mumble out a quiet, “Uhuh,” Before he’s moving already.

Your pussy narrows around his fingers and he groans, thumb rolling over your clit, “You want it? Want my cock inside you, baby?” Geto teases.

You could already feel his dick pressing against your ass, his hips lightly pushing into you every now and then for some friction.

“Please,” You sigh out.

And then he’s moving. Fingers drawing out of your messy cunt and going to tug his sweats down. He had no plans of changing positions either, fucking you sideways was one of his favorite things to do anyway.

Hence why he’s all in your ear, lips brushing over your skin, “Lift ya’ leg up f’me, pretty girl,” Geto instructs, to which you begin to do so and he hooks an arm under your leg, “Yeahh, just like that-,” He grunts as the tip of his cock grazes your wet hole, “Fuck, m’gonna slip right in.”

His words leave him just as he angles his cock into you, quickly stretching you open and causing your eyes to roll back.

“Mmmgh,” You moan, turning your face into the pillow a bit more.

Not that the action helps you escape Geto’s voice because he simply pushes his face forward. He won’t allow you to move your ear away from him, especially not when his every word causes your pussy to squeeze around him.

Whispering, “Feel me in there princess?” To you so softly as he rolls his hips into you, his cock bottoming you out completely and making your jaw drop.

Your folds were spread so lewdly around his girthy cock, length searing against your slick walls and leading him to groan into your ear.

“Yeahhh-,” You answer your boyfriend as best as you can, eyes flickering shut as he draws his hips back and pushes forward slowly, “Fuck you’re so deep.”

“Mhmm,” Geto hums steadily. Then he kisses your neck again and thrusts forward harshly, earning a filthy squelch from your cunt, “Your pussy’s so fuckin’ loud, shit…” He huffs.

You just lay there and pant as he ruts his heavy cock in and out of you, filthy words causing your core to burn with arousal, “Hahh, Sugu…”

“Listen t’her,” He coos, smiling against your ear, “Hear how sloppy she is f’me?”

All you can do is nod, “Mhmm.”

Geto lets out a heavy groan and his hips snap into you— your body would’ve jerked and you probably would’ve fallen over if not for the steel hold he had on your leg.

“Words, baby, wanna hear your voice,” He huffed against you, tone a bit lighter than he intended it to be.

“Yes, Suguru,” You answer correctly, a bit of drool escaping the corner of your mouth as his pace picks up.

Your whiney voice makes his cock ache inside you, tip leaky against your cervix as he knocks into you, “Yeahhhh… fuck, keep sayin’ my name,” Geto encourages.

Your jaw goes a bit slack, “Suguuu…”

“Right here, princess,” A soft pair of lips press against your ear as he fucks deeper into you, “M’right here.”

“Aahhh, mmgh-, S’guru,” You slur out, feeling him thrust almost desperately inside you as if to invoke more cries of his name.

And maybe that was why he got a little rough because then he’s angling his head down to your neck, then your shoulder, kissing you so softly despite the constant clash of his hips against you.

“Y’know…” Geto licks your shoulder before sucking on the exposed area, “My name would look s’pretty right here,” He murmurs.

Your brows twist up a bit, “Hmm?”

“On your shoulder-, fuck…” That curve of his angles somewhere inside you that makes your vision blur for a second, “Could’ stare at it while I fuck you like this.” Geto explains with a sudden smile growing on his face.

“Yeah? Y’want me to get your name tatted on me?” You pant out, lips parting and pretty moans spilling more freely.

“Fuuuuck, please,” Geto begs, nearly cumming at the thought of his name on you.

“Mmh, I’ll think about it Sugu.” You whisper in response. That earns a sloppier thrust of his hips, cock rubbing against your gummy walls widely as your words excite him.

“Yeah? Really?” He asks, excitement embedded into his words.

You nod, “Mhm.”

“Shit,” He nearly whines, “Thank you princess.”

Just as those words leave him, his mouth is moving to mark the area he’s envisioning his name, lips cupping over your shoulder as he sucks on your skin and his cock practically rearranges your insides.

“Uhuh, anythin’ for you Sugu,” You moan, a hand of yours moving to hold onto the nearby bedsheet and brave yourself.

Geto groans deeply against you, the sound coming from deep within, “Fuuuck, don’t say that… y’re gonna make me cum.”

You just flash a slightly-fucked out smile, “Go ahead.”

“Yeahhh, m’about to….” He chuckles, planting one last kiss yo your shoulder, “You’re gettin’ that tat’ later today f’me, okay?”

All you can hum out is a quiet little, “M’kay…” In agreement before he’s fucking his cum into you, whispering your name into your skin as his eyes roll back.

You’re all his and he wants everyone to know that.

★ Toji Fushiguro — nipple piercings

He swears they’d be the sexiest thing on you.

The thought came about as he watched you walk around his apartment with no bra one morning, cock springing up at the slightest imagination of some pretty jewelry poking out against your thin shirt.

Sure, Toji loved your tits just as they were but thinking about nipple piercings on you just makes his head spin.

Which is why when you find yourself bouncing on his cock later that night, his lips are latched to your nipples and he’s messily sucking on them with those lustful green eyes up on your face.

Pussy dripping all over the damn place as you’d already made plenty of messes on him thus far— Toji’s drunk off you and his cock won’t go down even after the numerous orgasms he’s had.

His tongue lulls over your nipple as he suckles it into his mouth, free hand busy groping your other tit messily while he groans against you. Toji’s always had a thing for your tits but today he was more eager for them than normal.

Your jaw was slack and you couldn’t understand what was up with him today, slightly cockdrunk and unable to stop the steady rock of your hips as his cock stretched you open so dizzyingly. Your thighs were a bit sore from how long you’d been on top of him but that wasn’t gonna stop you anytime soon.

Especially not when Toji’s mouth pops off of you and his tongue hands out as he looks at you, “Fuck, y’re goin’ too fuckin’ slow.”

You frown at the man, “Huh? No m’not…”

Toji scoffs and leans back a little, “Yeah y’are,” He huffs, raising a brow at your slow pace, “I know you can fuck me better than this.”

“I can, but I don’t want to,” You explain to the man, confused about how he seems to have lost track of how long you’ve been on his dick, “M’tired, Toji.”

“M’tired Toji,” He mocks patronizingly, “Y’weren’t tired when you crawled on top of me beggin’ for dick.” He huffs out, rolling your perky nipples in between his fingers as you rock your hips back and forth.

“That was three hours ago,” You gasp, cunt gripping onto his shaft as you lift yourself ever so slightly just to ease back down even slower.

Toji shakes his head a little, “Yeah well, don’t stop now.”

Your eyes narrow at your, currently annoying, boyfriend, “And you’re the one that wouldn’t stop touchin’ me today.”

He cocks his head to the side and one of his hands drops, snaking around your body to grab a tight hold on your ass, “Can’t touch my girl now?” Toji scoffs.

“You can but-, mmh!” You hum as he smacks your ass, “Y-You’ve been gropin’ my breasts all day ‘nd they’re gettin’ sore…”

“Can’t help it, doll,” He shrugs so casually as if your tits aren’t covered in hickeys and markings from his rough hands, “Thought about you gettin’ nipple piercings ‘nd now I can’t unsee ‘em.”

Your eyes widen at that. Then you almost laugh, “Oh hell no.”

Toji’s baffled by your response, brows furrowing as your hips come to a stop and your pussy twitches around him, “Excuse me?” He questions.

“You heard me. You can barely keep your hands off me now,” Your eyes roll as you explain yourself, “Why would I get nipple piercings for you?”

Twisting his face up slightly at your cunt sucking the soul out of him despite your lack of movement, “Cause’ they’d be sexy, y’fuckin’ brat.” Toji huffs out.

You scoff, “Well, unless y’re payin’, I’m not gettin’ shit-“

Toji shifts around beneath you, pressing his hips up into you and causing his cock to jerk deeper inside you. Your eyes flicker back because he’s so damn thick and you can never really handle him properly.

“Yes, you are,” He tells you with a slight smile tugging at the corner of his scared lips.

You scoff and roll your eyes, “No m’not.”

Toji, not a big fan of the attitude this has brought on, shakes his head, “Yes the fuck you are,” He tells you.

The two of you glare at one another, as if both of you aren’t equally fucked out and panting after having sex for so long.

Toji carefully leans up and toward you, his face nearing yours before you start leaning back as if to escape him. Then, he wraps one of his big arms around your waist and tugs your torso toward him, your chest pressing into his.

The eye contact was intense and his cock was aching inside you. You try to keep the stare up but he sneaks a hand in between you two and his thumb suddenly flicks over your clit, making you moan and break the eye contact.

“Fuck, you get on my nerves,” You whine as your stern expression sinks into something pleased.

“Mhm,” Toji grunts, “I know. Tha’s why you love me.”

Your upper lip twitches, “Whatever.”

“Don’t whatever me, watch y’fuckin’ mouth,” He warns, face once again nearing yours and his lips brushing over your skin.

There’s a throb in your cunt at his little warning and challenging Toji is something you find yourself enjoying all too much. Which is why you breathe out a simple, “Or what?” To him.

And then he’s flipping you over. His bulky frame looms over yours before he shoves his swollen cock into your sloppy hole, earning a loud moan from you.

“Done’ lost ya’ damn mind, huh?” Toji groans as he quickly starts beating his angry cock into you at a merciless pace, heavy balls smacking against you and harsh thrusts echoing throughout the room.

Your jaw hangs open and you’re pretty sure you came around his dick just now, “Ahh, T-Toji-, fuck,” You flash a fucked out little smile, “Was’ jus’ jokin’….”

His hands are forcing your thighs apart, fingers digging into your flesh as your body had been folded exactly how he wanted you.

“Jokin’ my ass,” He huffs out, thrusts growing heavier and heavier as he fucked you down into the mattress, “First y’told me I can’t touch ya’, then you wouldn’t even consider gettin’ a piercin’ for me and now, you forgot how to fuckin’ talk t’me,” Toji says to you, cockhead pounding into your tight cunt and quickly getting smothered in your release.

“M-M’sorryyy,” You whine, “I-, a-ah, I just…” Your words fall off your tongue as he fucks you stupid, thoughts jumbling and drool slipping out of your mouth.

“You just what? Hm?” Toji huffs, brows pinching together, “Get it out.”

Your eyes just barely meet his and tears coat your gaze, “Like’ fuckin’ with you-, hahh, y’know that, Toji,” You explain in a light whine.

“Yeah?” He almost smiles at you, “Y’like pissin’ me off, huh?”

“Uhuh,” You nod desperately.

He groans, “Why?”

“Like’ the way you fuck me when y’re angry,” You breathe out, body jerking with his constant and unforgiving thrusts.

“Yeah?” His head tips to the side, “Y’like when m’rough with ya’, huh?”

“Mhm,” You hum quietly, eye contact intense once again as he watches how your eyes cross slightly.

“S’that why your pussy’s droolin’ ‘round me right now?” Toji asks, pressing down on your body and feeling your gushy walls slick up his cock so sloppily.

All you can do is pant and nod in response, “Uhuhhh…”

“Use ya’ fuckin’ words. Y’had so much shit t’say before so don’t stop now,” Your boyfriend scoffs at you, glaring at your teary eyes as he fucks you through yet another orgasm.

Your legs and your lower lips were quivering, tears pricking the corner of your eyes, “Y-Yeahh-, yes Toji.”

“Mmhmm, that’s what the fuck I thought. Now,” His face inclines down to yours, “You gonna get that piercin’ f’me or not?”

“I am,” You whisper.

His lips graze yours and his cock twitches, “You are?”

“Yeahhh,” You hum against him.

Then he’s nodding slightly and grunting a quiet, “Good.” Into your mouth, tongue pushing in afterward as he swallows up your moans.

★ Gojo Satoru — a tongue piercing

Gojo can barely handle your mouth as is sometimes but when he earlier passed by a body artistry place, spotting some lady getting her tongue pierced— he couldn’t help but wonder if you’d be down to get one.

And then later that day the thought returns to his mind as he watches your pretty pink tongue swirl around the tip of his hard cock.

“Hey babyy I have a question,” Gojo smiles down at you innocently, legs spread nice and wide for you as you suck on his flushed pink tip.

Your eyes bat up at your boyfriend, lips popping off of him before you let out a sigh, “Hm?” You hum, hands moving to jerk him off slowly.

His cock was smothered in saliva and precum, a messy mix that you stroked against him in quick pulls and earned a heavy pant from him.

“You ever uh,” His eyes narrow at your hand sliding up and down his lengthy dick, “E-Ever thought about gettin’ a tongue piercing?”

You smile at his question before sticking your tongue out and moving to tap the tip of his cock on it. Gojo stifles a moan as you tease him and his body twitches when you lather his cockhead up with spit.

“No,” You whisper, tilting your head as you then roll your tongue around him again, “Why?”

“Cause… I just uhm,” Gojo’s thoughts stutter for a second as you maintain casual eye contact and wrap your lips around his dick, sucking on only his tip whilst your hand handles the rest.

He goes quiet for a moment, safe for the slight groans leaving his lips, as he watches you. You blink a few times trying to get him to continue what he was saying but when Gojo just stares at you sucking him off, you remove your mouth from him.

“You just uhm….?” You question teasingly, smiling up at him.

He sighs, “Sorry, I uh, I think it’d feel-, look nice on you,” Gojo explains, nearly slipping up and revealing why he really wanted you to get that piercing.

You tilt your head a little before kissing his tip, “You think it’d look nice on me, huh?”

Gojo nods his head, “Yeahh…”

“Sure you don’t want me to get a tongue piercing for any other reason,” You ask as your head angles to the side and your tongue lulls out of your mouth to lather him up with more salvia.

His brows push together at the sight of you teasing him so messily— enamored by your sloppy mouth and how much you taunt him.

“Y-Yeah m’sure,” Gojo hums, “I mean…. What uh-,” You start taking him into your mouth again, suckling more inches down into your throat, “W-What other reason would I ha-, hahh, have?” He stutters.

“Mmmh,” You hum against him before moving your hand, taking his cock all the way down your throat and licking the underside of his shaft.

“S-Shit,” Gojo hisses, “Guess it’s hard f’you to talk when you’ve got a throat full of cock, huh?” He says in almost one breath, bringing a heavy hand to the top of your head and patting you lightly.

Your lips simmer against his base as you keep him deep in your throat for a moment, your gaze still locked on his and giving the man chills at how good you’d become at such a thing.

Gojo starts moving a bit— extending his leg for a second just to bring it back into place moments later, leaning back just to lean forward again, abs tensing… You had him all jittery and he forgot how to keep still.

“How long are y’gonna k-keep me in your throat like that? Fuck-, you’re gonna make me cum,” He huffs out with fully tensed brows, hips shifting slightly.

You slowly pull your mouth up and off of his cock, a thick string of saliva hanging from your tongue as you do so. “Toru, you can barely handle my tongue as is…” You say softly.

Gojo scoffs, “Tha’s not true.”

Your hand starts slipping up and down his cock again, the messy shlick sound following your movements and making you grin, “You already came in my mouth twice.”

“S-So?” He huffs, rosy lower lip poking out into a pout.

You giggle, “It’s barely been fifteen minutes.”

“Okay well, s’not my fault you know what you’re doin’,” Gojo results in saying. He had no other argument for you, not after being sucked off so good by you— of course he came in the first five minutes, you know all his sensitive spots.

Smiling up at your boyfriend, you angle his tip toward your mouth again and your lips graze him as you speak low in a whisper, “But it is your fault though,” You tease, “You’re the one who spent night after night fucking my throat so I could get used to you…”

“Shut up,” Gojo huffs out as he turns to the side.

Opening your mouth and taking your hands off of him completely, your palms press down into the floor and your back arches a bit as you lean forward, “Shut me up, c’mon.”

Gojo grumbles something under his breath before he moves to stand up, his hand angling your head a bit so you can comfortably look up at him.

“Promise you’ll get that piecing f’me,” Gojo says as he tips his head to the side.

You nod, “S’long as you put another load in my mouth, yeah.”

Oh he nearly came at that sentence alone. His dirty talk had rubbed off on you significantly and he loved every second of it, smiling down at you as he nods and pushes his cock into your mouth.

“Fuck, your mouth’s gettin’ filthier than mine,“ Gojo comments as his hips ease forward.

You suck him in with no problem, his dick slipping down into your mouth perfectly as you soon close your throat around his lengthy cock, making him grunt in surprise.

“S’tight,” He huffs, “Jus’ imagine this with some metal on your tongue, pretty,” Gojo starts smiling to himself at the thought, working up a steady pace as he thrusts in and out of your mouth.

You purposefully flatten your tongue on his cock as he pulls out and spit messily collects at his tip, to which he moans as you slurp it off of him and whirl your tongue around.

Tipping his head back slightly, “Yeahhhh,” Gojo gasps, spreading his legs a bit as he starts rutting into your mouth, “And hey… maybe I’ll get a matchin’ one so you can feel good too.”

You whine around him at the thought and your thighs are quick to press together. The motion doesn’t go unnoticed and Gojo chuckles.

“Y’want that, baby? Wanna get matchin’ piercings?” He suggests with a toothy grin on his face.

You nod, eyes pleading and mouth full of him, humming a quick, “Mhmm,” Against him as you do so.

His dick twitches inside you and he heaves out a heavy breath, “Alright, let’s go right after this then.”

★ Ryomen Sukuna — a spine tattoo

If he has a body full of tattoos, why can’t you? And what better place for one to be than trailing down your spine?

Naturally, this thought comes about in the man’s head while he’s got your face pressed down into the mattress, ass up in the air for him and his cock shoved all too deep inside your overstimulated pussy.

If he’s not staring at your ass while he fucks you from behind then Sukuna’s always staring at that spine of yours.

The way it curves into that perfect arch for him— he can’t help but wonder what dark ink would look like trailing along the area. Thoughts of how he’d trace his fingers along a tattoo if it were there come to his mind and he smiles at how he’d probably end up tuning out your cries just because he’s too focused on reading your tattoo.

And he just knows he’d tease you about it, pretending not to know what the tattoo signifies and asking you questions about it just to hear your broken explanations.

Sukuna did enjoy forcing you to talk during sex anyway so, a tattoo would be the perfect topic of conversation. But first, he has to convince-, order you to get one.

“S’kunaa,” Your muffled voice would hit his ears so suddenly, his hands latched onto your hips so tightly that he was leaving marks.

The man hadn’t realized how lost in his thoughts he was, having nearly fucked you down into the bed completely. “What?” Sukuna huffs out in response to the meek call of his name.

You pant and pant into the sheets, drool collected so messily below your face as your wet lashes flutter open, “Y-You stopped, hnngh… t-talking,” You breathe out, catching him slightly off guard.

Sukuna smirks at you, his lovely fiancée, “Did I?” He coos, cock still stretching you open and stuffing you nice and full despite his sudden lack of words.

He’s always talkative during sex, whether he likes to admit that or not— he’d tease you non-stop, dirty talk you until you physically couldn’t take it anymore, and became nothing more than a squirting mess on his throbbing cock.

“Uhuh…” You mumbles out, fingers curling into the bedsheets as you sniffle lightly.

Of course he’d already fucked you to tears. When did he not?

“S’that a problem?” Sukuna asks as he leans over a bit, quickly finding your hand and placing his much larger one on top of it, fingers intertwining slightly as he presses your hand further down.

“N-No… but… mmh,” You moan as his hips slow against you, rolling his fat cock deep inside your cunt and making your words leave in a mere whisper, “I like hearin’ you…”

Sukuna weighs his body into you a bit more, thick tip throbbing against your cervix, “Hm? Speak up.” He orders, despite hearing you just fine.

“I l-like hearin’ your voice ‘Kuna,” You breathe out, lifting your head slightly off of the mattress and angling it so that you could meet his fiery gaze.

“Yeah?” He asks, that wide and sexy smile of his taking over his sweaty features.

Your heart just swells at the sight and you nod thoughtlessly, “Uhuh.”

Sukuna resists the faint urge to press his lips into your messy wet ones, his eyes narrowing at the sight of them open and practically inviting him in. “Why?” He questions.

“C-Cause’ you… hahhh,” You pant as he leans up again, hand leaving yours and moving to your ass, “Your words are so-, mmh!” A hum escapes you as he slaps your ass harshly, leaving yet another mark on you, and smiling down at the sight.

Your cunt was stretched lewdly around his base, sucking every inch of him so deliciously that he could hardly take his eyes away from the sight, “So what? Get it out, c’mon,” Sukuna encouraged, thrusting his hips forward just to watch the way your body jerks and then bounces back onto him.

“Filthy.” You gasp, back arching impossibly further and pussy taking him in deeper.

“Well,” Sukuna scoffs, “How can they not be. Pussy’s back here talkin’ dirty t’me so I talk back,” He explains casually as his rough pace with you returns, “What’s the problem?”

Your jaw drops a bit and your eyes flicker to the back of your skull, “N-Nothing-, ah, m-mmgh….” You moan in between your words as his thrusting distracts you from speaking properly, “I like it.”

He smiles at that, “Yeah? Y’like it? Like it when I tell you how this pussy gets so fuckin’ sloppy f’me?” Sukuna huffs out instantly, your cunt squelching around him so obscenely that it makes him groan.

Your mess was all over the damn place— coating his thighs, your thighs, the bed below-, just everywhere. “Uhuh…” You babble out in response, dropping your head back down into the bed.

“…How she cries f’me, sucks me in deep, and takes my cock so well,” Sukuna continues, his every word coming out with that low raspy pitched voice of his that just makes your stomach flip and churn in arousal.

“Fuu-uck,” You whimper amid his heavy pounding, cockhead unforgiving inside you as he never once slows.

Your body naturally tries pulling away from him and you attempt to crawl away ever so slightly just for a moment's rest.

“Stop that, don’t run from me now,” Sukuna hums before leaning all the way down to your ear, “Thought’ you liked it when I talked t’you?” He whispers, feeling how your walls grip onto him so suddenly due to how close he’d gotten.

You pout, “Y-You’re too close-, fuck.” You explain to him.

That earns a scoff, “Tell me somethin’, slut of mine…”

“H-Hm?” You hum oh so obediently.

Sukuna’s lips press into your ear and a hand snakes under your body, fingers pinching your clit as he questions you, “Who’s pussy is this?”

“Fuck-, I-, ahh… Kuna…” You whine, legs attempting to close on him for a moment, “S’yours ‘Kuna.”

His veiny cock twitches inside you at your response and he grunts against you, “Right, so who the fuck are you to tell me I’m too close, huh?” Sukuna asks, thrusts picking up in speed and practically knocking the air out of your lungs.

All you could do was gasp out a little, “I-“ Only to be cut off seconds later.

“Cock has you actin’ stupid it seems,” Sukuna growls into your ear, leaning away afterward and moving both hands to the arch of your back and pressing you down.

“M’sorry.” You gasp, “S’kuna-, p-please, m’sorry,” Your mouth hangs open as desperate pleas and apologies pour out of your mouth.

Sukuna ignores you at first, fingers digging into your skin as he fucks his dick in and out of you. Cock splitting you open over and over and over until you’re crying for him again, grunts and slight groans leaving his throat as he does so.

It’s only when your legs are quivering for the nth time that night that he smiles to himself “It’s okay, you’ll make it up t’me,” Sukuna finally tells you.

Your brows push together and you look back over your shoulder, “H-Huh?”

His eyes meet yours, “You’re gonna get a tattoo f’me.”

“What?” You gasp at his sudden revelation, realizing that’s probably what had him distracted earlier on.

Sukuna shifts to trail his nail down your spine, “Riiiight along here,” He explains, his soft touch giving you chills.

Excitement coats your gaze and he doesn’t miss that light glint in your eyes as you gasp, “R-Really?”

“Yeahhh,” Sukuna can’t help but smile mischievously, finding you oh so pretty with your face all fucked out, “How’s that sound?” He asks. Though, you and he both know you’d get that tattoo no matter what.

“Sounds good.” You huff out in one breath, earning a sloppy thrust of his hips, tip dripping along your walls the more he thinks about it.

“It better,” Sukuna says before moving his hand to your jaw and lifting your face to him, “Now, tell me you love me,” He whispers.

He always did this when he was about to cum, rarely ever saying it back to you but still enjoying the way you tell him such an affectionate claim anyway.

“I love you ‘Kuna,” You whine out to your fiancé, whose dick throbs inside you at your words.

Sukuna’s lips near yours and his other arm wrap around your body, holding you close to him, “Such a good girl f’me, say it again,” He whispers.

“I love you.” You moan, watching how his brows tense and feeling him cum inside you seconds after that claim leaves your lips.And instead of saying it back, he finally presses his lips into yours, mumbling something about how you’re all his and how you’re so good for him.

[ghoulphile]

run rabbit run | c.h/the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 869 ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; rough, mildly dubious consent (kinda?), dom!coop, bareback, cum play, degradation kink, biting, pet names (bunny), man-handling, doggystyle, drabble, coop's gotta fuck you full so the ferals can't smell you ➥ summary | "the drabble thing HNNNGH think about coop calling you bunny from the start bc he clocked that you were always a down for it and you not getting it until he after you fuck for the first time" ➥ notes | do not look @ me rn 🫣 i feel like i've exposed myself too much lol masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️

He found the rabbit among endless dunes of rock and rubble; a frightened, jumpy little beast that required a firm hand to tame, and an even steadier one to control.

And while it would’ve been easier to dump ‘em at Super Duper Mart -- get his caps worth, pounds of flesh for vials of chem -- he took a shine. Now, what exactly it is about you that captured his attention so thoroughly, he can’t be sure (though he could hazard a few guesses).

What he does know is this: if it wasn’t for him, you’d have been killed a million times over by raiders, fiends, and ferals alike. Always finding your way into trouble as soon as his back is turned.

Like now.

So if he’s a little rough with you, it’s only because he had to haul ass half-way across the flooded district when he heard you scream.

Nevermind the hard lurch of his heart, the sensation of his stomach droppin’ to his feet. You were supposed to be safe, holed up in the building he cleared yesterday.

Surprise, surprise; you decided to go poking where you shouldn’t, and now he’s gotta rescue your dumb ass. Skidded around a bombed out building only to find you fighting off a small pack of ferals, their rotted hands scratching at your arms and their teeth gnashing at your face.

Goddamn it.

Same shit, different day.

“What did I fuckin’ say?” he snarls, chapped lips pressed tight against your ear as sharp hip bones rut into the softness of your ass. “You’re dumber than shit sometimes.”

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t - hhahh, slow down - didn’t mean to cause trouble.” Your hands scramble for purchase, nail beds aching from how hard you’re digging at the dirt.

Shoved onto the ground, pants sagging around your thighs as a stray rock digs into your cheek, scraping up the tender skin. “Won’t do it again, I promise.”

The Ghoul snorts, delivers a stinging nip to the tip of your ear. Your reedy whine soothes some of the agitation but he’s still bristling, aggression threaded through with tendrils of panic he refuses to acknowledge.

“I highly doubt that.”

You hiccup, knees spreading wide as your back dips - trying to get away, to get closer.

The fat head of his cock keeps hitting your cervix with every stroke, little fissions of pain kissed pleasure racketing up your spine as he stretches you past your limits and fucks you open.

Your gummy walls swollen and raw from the constant friction of his shaft, the rad burns scraping your insides up. Clit aching and so wet you’re dripping, a damp patch of earth beneath you.

“No, promise I’ll be good!” You pant, the scent of sunbaked soil and stagnant water heavy in your nose. “Please, please, please.”

Everything aches, limbs sore from your tussle and pride bruised as sweat dapples your brow, sticks the fine baby hairs to the back of your neck.

A hand clamps down on your hip so hard bones grind, yanking you back into every punishing thrust. Heavy balls smack against your clit on the in-stroke, stoking the embers of your desire. Your toes curl in your boots.

“I’ll believe it when I see it, bunny.” The Ghoul grabs your elbow with his free hand, tugging you up into his chest so his chin hooks over your shoulder, breath puffing along the side of your cheek. “You just don’ know when ta learn. So I’m gonna have’ta teach you. An’ I’ll do it as many times as it takes, you hear?”

You sniffle, nuzzling the back of your head against his face. “I mean it,” you say. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know there’d be any ferals around. Was just trying to find some more food.”

Groaning, his hips kick forward in a softer grind, still so deep you feel him in your stomach - pussy filled to the brim with cock - but not as harsh as before. As close as you’ll get to an apology until he’s done.

“This is your fault - you got ‘em all riled. Now, we gotta make you smell like me so take your punishment like a good bunny 'fore I decide ta eat you instead.”

And you do, letting him rut into you until he’s satisfied, aching and so swollen by the end of it that he has to bully his way in with every thrust, your pussy clamping down and milking him for all he’s worth.

When he finally does pump you full, you’re dumb and dripping. Limp limbed and sagging into the ground - only held up by the cage of his arms. Thighs shaking and clit pulsing in time with your heartbeat as he wrings every last bit of pleasure out of you.

“Sometimes,” he says, sitting back on his heels to watch as his cum oozes out of you in a sticky rush, dripping down your folds, “I think dumb bunnies like you are only good fer one thing.”

You whine when his thumb whispers over your clit, caressing your folds as he gathers up his spend. Gently fucks it back into you with shallow thrusts of his fingers. 

“But that’s all right, I like ‘em a lil dumb.”

[kimoralov3]

a/n: i have never written something so scandalous blame @arkofblake and @ivysprophecy

“good evening, mama.” jj says as he flops onto your bed, causing your notebooks to go flying.

“jj, come on! i was trying to study.” you say as you gather up all your materials. 

jj scoffs, grabbing them from you and tossing them onto the floor. “who studies these days? i have something a lot more fun in mind.” he says as he pushes you down to lay flat on the bed. you laugh at that, your hands coming to rest on his sides.

“alright alright, but i gotta tell you something first.” you say as jj presses searing hot kisses down your neck. he hums out an incoherent response, signaling for you to continue so he could continue his mission to mark you in any place possible. “i got my nipples pierced today.” 

jj halts his movements, pulling back to look at you. “you did what now?”

you smile up at him, sitting up and leaning your weight on your forearms. “i got my nipples pierced. wanna see ‘em?”

“what kind of question is that? of fucking course i wanna see ‘em.” he says, leaning back more as he watches you take off your shirt. an involuntary groan leaves his mouth as your chest comes into view, his eyes immediately drawn to the metal bars going through your nipples. he reaches out to touch them, but you quickly smack his hand away.

“don’t touch them! they’re sore.” you say scoldingly, giggling at the exaggerated pout on his face. 

“they’re one of my favorite things about you, mama. how am i meant to keep my hands off you?” he whines as his hands rub down your side, the coldness of his rings sending shivers down your spine. 

“i don’t know, but i’m sure you’ll get plenty of practice over the next nine months.” you say as you smile up at him. jj’s eyes practically bug out of the sockets, a hand coming up to his chest as if he had been wounded. 

“what do you mean nine months?” he said, causing you to throw your head back in laughter.

“they take about nine months to heal; sometimes longer in some cases.” you explain as you trace shapes on his side. his pout deepens as he slouches.

“so i can’t touch them at all?” he asks again, his head hanging when you shake your head. “you’re killing me, mama.”

“yeah yeah, i know. but think about it this way; you’ll be able to play with them as much as you want once they’re all healed up.” you say as you push his hair out of his face.

this seems to brighten his mood a bit as he lifts his head, pulling you against him with a smirk. “yeah, i guess you’re right. guess we’ll just have to have fun the old fashioned way, hm?” he asks as he starts peppering kisses to your neck once more.

[macfrog]

san angelo | one shot

what happens when joel miller meets his star-crossed lover?

big love to @mrsmando and @5oh5 for cheering me on with this one, and @bageldaddy for being my eyes, my ears, and - only sometimes - my brain.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader summary: it's the summer of two thousand eight. after two weeks following his little brother cross-country on the back of a harley, joel follows him through the doors of a dive bar - where fate delivers him to you. warnings: story is inserted into canon, so cordyceps outbreak happens, sarah dies (off-page), joel dissociates, doomed love, lots of mention of fate, alcohol consumption, reader is a smoker, cursing, drunken one-night stand, oral sex, unprotected piv, joel's cock is massive, a lot of angst, a lot of fluff, a lil smut to tie it all together. enjoy! word count: 9.8k

moodboard | main masterlist | playlist [in case you wanna vibe in sad] | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🤍

Palm lines.

It’s the first thing he thinks as soon as she stops moving in his arms. The second her little whimpers cease, the moment her chest stops heaving and her eyes glaze over. Suddenly, Joel’s little girl weighs more than he can bear.

Palm lines. And he has no fucking idea why.

He closes his eyes and there you are. The whir of the ceiling fan, the tinkling of bracelets loose on your wrist. You have sorta earth hands, you told him. Or, well – they could be water, if you look at ‘em this way. I don’t really know. I’m still learning.

You told him that air hands were long, spindly. And Sarah was always a lanky kid – tallest on the soccer team, head and shoulders above the other girls by the third grade. Her hands, he thinks, must be air. They must be.

Her fingers are still twisted around his right now. Lifeless, slippery with the blood still wet and quickly cooling.

Joel cradles her, squeezing so hard that he wonders whether he might be able to fuse their bodies together. Lock them in some white-knuckle grip so that he never has to let go of her – never has to leave this hill covered in dirt and blood.

His palms are ruined; a maroon river carving its way down his heart line, dirt deep in the groove of his life line. Why does he even fucking remember what they’re called?

Why the fuck are you what he’s thinking about, right now?

“Tommy,” he says, opening his eyes again. “We gotta…we gotta get to…”

She’s limp, draped over his thighs as though she’s nothing more than a stretch of crimson curtain. He looks down at her and begs her to come back, begs her to open her eyes and look up at him again.

But the night is passing and she’s still not breathing. Dawn is breaking and Joel’s daughter is dead.

He sucks in a shattered breath. “…to San Angelo, Tommy.”

The younger Miller stuffs his gun into the back of his jeans and paces over, soles coated thick in shit and grass. “I hear you, Joel.”

“You ain’t listenin’ to me, I –”

“I’m listenin’ fine, Joel.” Tommy hooks his hands under his niece’s arms. “Now, help me lift her. We can’t…” his voice strains, fighting the death grip his brother has on the girl, “…we can’t leave her here.”

Joel’s frozen to the spot; sinking further and further into the earth. Staring at his open hands, the stains like rust on his palms. He says to San Angelo again, and Tommy snaps.

“Jesus, Joel, enough! I’ve heard enough goddamn it! I see your hands, now – we gotta fuckin’ bury Sarah.”

Your fate line, your nail tickled, and Joel held his hand steady, It can change, if something big is coming.

Somethin’ big? he asked. A little younger, a lot more naïve. Still a healthy dose of belief in the world, an echo of the god-fearing faith that raised him.

His hand felt so light, cradled in two of yours. He half hoped he’d never have to let go – just lie there with you forever. Your legs tangled with his, the sheets disturbed; the room injected with amber from the streetlights outside.

You nodded. A big shift, or something.

And he scoffed. He actually scoffed, right there and then. Incredulous. The hell kinda big shift is comin’ our way? he asked, laughing.

You just smiled back, shrugging. You were so fucking casual, that whole night. It would’ve unnerved him, if he hadn’t been so swept off by the sparkle in your eye, the glowing cherry of your cigarette.

Guess we just gotta wait ‘n see.

It’s August thirtieth, two thousand eight.

Almost five thousand miles on the back of a Harley, and Joel just wants to go home.

He arches his aching back, palms flat against the crests of his hips, and blinks in the light from the food mart in front of him. Twenty-six, he thinks to himself, only twenty-fuckin’-six.

It’s ninety degrees out. An uncomfortable heat, for a man who feels ten years older than he really is. For a man who hasn’t had a decent shower in almost two weeks. For a man who’s spent the last six hours tailing the brake lights of his little brother’s bike.

The sweat gathers sticky between his shoulder blades, prickles along the nape of his neck. There’s dust spattered down his bare arms and buried in the grooves of his knuckles.

He’s tired. He’s tired, he’s dirty, and goddamn, he wishes he was back home.

He holds a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun, the yellow sky melting to a purple haze. Squinting, he follows the soar of two swallows overhead, looping through the sky, until he’s rubbing the image from his eyes with the back of his wrist.

He’s gotta remember to call Sarah before she goes to bed.

The door opens with the tinkle of a brass bell older and rustier than Joel feels. A swaggering figure splits the glow from the store in two – a figure with a pack of Marlboros in one hand and an already half-empty bottle of water in the other.

Tommy holds them both out to Joel, who swipes the water with a scowl.

“Ain’t killed you yet, brother,” Tommy scoffs, stuffing the cigarettes into his back pocket. He swings a frayed-denim leg over the seat of his Harley.

Joel drains the bottle, panting as he crushes the plastic in one fist. “Damn near tryin’,” he mutters, tossing it in the trash. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip.

“Where are we?” Tommy asks. He glances over his shoulder, staring from the cracked roads to the telephone wires overhead. A Syclone pulls into the lot; a dehydrated squeal as it rolls to a halt.

“San Angelo,” Joel says. “Only a few more hours to go.” He settles on his own bike, pulling his leather jacket over his shoulders. “We passed a Super 8 coming into town, if you feel like restin’ up. Or – we leave now, be home around midnight.”

Tommy chuckles. “What’s the rush? We ain’t gotta be anywhere anytime soon.”

And Joel agrees – for the most part.

His mom is watching Sarah while they’re gone, and he reckons she’s hardly missing him. Too smart for her own good, Joel’s realizing: plotting and scheming her way into staying up past her bedtime, drinking Pepsi at dinner, watching Curtis and Viper – and swearing that her dad lets her do it all, too.

But, still. He misses his kid.

It’s the most they’ve ever been apart – time or distance. The longest he hasn’t had her climbing up his back or hanging off his arm. The least he’s been called Dad since he was eighteen years old.

He just…misses his kid.

He sighs, drumming his fingers on the body of the bike. “Tommy, I gotta get back home to Sarah.”

“Look,” Tommy says, and Joel knows that the argument is lost already, “By the time we got back, she’d be asleep anyways. Let’s leave in the morning – first thing, I swear – and we’ll be home in time for breakfast. Deal?”

They stare at one another, a stand-off in the parking lot. Both waiting for the other to break. The swallows gather on the roof of the store, basking in the weak wash of flickering fluorescents.

“Come on, brother,” Tommy pleads, “It’s one more night.” He lifts his helmet, punching it over his mop of shaggy hair, and kicks the bike to life.

Joel growls to himself, watching it drift over to the side of the road.

He considers heading to the Super 8 alone, grabbing a room only to shower and get some food, then hitting the road and leaving his little brother in the dust. Waiting for him to stumble through the door tomorrow morning – tired, groggy, probably hungover – while Joel, fresh as a daisy, drizzles syrup over Sarah’s pancakes and pours her orange juice.

He’s a pragmatic man. He’s a grown-up. Scares away the ghosts and ghouls and monsters of his daughter’s nightmares. Shushes her back to sleep in the crook of his arm, tiptoes as lightly as he can out of her room so as not to wake her.

Things like God, like the universe, things like horoscopes and laws of attraction…for the most part, Joel can do without them. Has done his whole life.

But then – the glow of indigo overhead, and the mysterious shadows lurking behind the buildings. The birdsong tittering in his ears, the twinkle of the sun in Tommy’s helmet – something distant in the dusty sphere.

Something, someone, winking at him from far away.

Something a little heavier than the breeze nudges at his spine, and Joel’s arms lift – fitting his own helmet over his head. He swings the heel of his boot into his kickstand and revs the bike, Harley roaring as it joins Tommy’s out on the boulevard.

Murphy’s is a small, green bar on the corner of an intersection. All peeled paint lettering and buzzing fluorescents – the y burnt out and pulsing.

Joel doesn’t think Tommy picked it for any reason other than the huge Lone Star mural on the side of the goddamn building, the way he tosses his thumb to it as they park up. A squint smirk on his face, muttering something like ‘s good to be home, big brother, as they hook helmets over handlebars.

Tommy leads Joel inside, their boots tacky on the wooden floor. Walls paneled by aged frames and sun-bleached photographs; air hanging thick with a smell like vinegar. The babble of slurred conversation is pierced by the sharp crack of pool balls breaking.

Metal-plate belt buckles snaked through strained jeans; low eyes which shift to size-up the two strangers. They all turn back to their fingerprinted glasses when Joel and Tommy settle into an empty booth.

It feels hotter in here than it is outside, stuffier. A thick humidity which clings to Joel’s bones, humming like the string lights draped from beams above his head.

Tommy reclines between the creaking leather cushion and the wall. He pokes at a yellowing poster of some Western, hums to himself, and then looks across the table.

Joel’s eyes loop once around the room before they meet his brother’s. “What?” he asks.

“First round is yours, old man.”

“Oh, is it, now?” He cocks an eyebrow. “Thought this was your idea?”

A weedy grin stretches across Tommy’s lips. He needs to fucking shave, Joel thinks. Whiskers poking from around his small mouth like pine needles. “’s my birthday trip,” he reasons.

And can Joel argue with that? Does he have the fucking energy? Will it get him out of here and back to Austin any quicker?

“Goddamn it,” he grumbles. He pushes himself to his feet, heels of his palms against the tacky wood.

He wanders over to the bar, tugging on the front of his tee to unstick it from his damp chest. Slots in beside an ivory cowboy hat with a pair of jeaned legs. The man fixes his bolo tie and watches Joel’s hand as he flags the bartender down.

And then he feels it.

You.

Then he feels you.

First, the weight of you – crashing some into his back. He shunts forward from the suddenness of it, knocking his ribs against the bar, and lifts a hand to brace himself on the ledge.

And then – heat, like an iron. Like every hair and freckle on your skin is branded into his the second you come into contact with him. A feeling like the roll of a wave against his spine, a hand hooked around his forearm when he begins to turn.

“Shit,” you hiss, steadying yourself on the curve of his shoulder. You glance down at your feet, clicking between your black boots. “I’m sorry, that was…that was my bad.”

“’s alright,” Joel says instantly. He holds his arm still until you let go and he sidesteps – though only a little. He watches, dumbstruck, as you rest your elbows on the bar and lean forward. His eyes linger on your back, trailing the crisscross straps wrapped tight over your spine.

You squint up at the menu pinned above shelves of crystal bottles. Your eyes move back and forth across the chalkboard, slowly descending until they’re meeting his in the speckled mirror opposite – a sweet smile growing on your lips.

It runs like whiskey through Joel’s veins: warm and dangerous.

And the way his head spins, the way the world blurs for a moment into one swipe of color around you; the way your cooing laugh echoes between his ears long after he’s heard it –

Joel’s already intoxicated.

He’s still staring when you pull back and motion to the bar. “You can go first, by the way,” you say, waving a hand. “I wasn’t cuttin’ in line. Just trying to read the drinks.”

“I’ll wait,” he replies, remembering how to be polite, how to be charming. Old cogs long out of use jerking to life inside him again. “Can’t read any of ‘em, either, anyways.”

It draws from you that same little laugh, a puff of air from your nostrils. You nod, biting your bottom lip.

He’s quickly forgetting why he’s stood in this room, why he’s in this city. He’d probably forget his own fucking name if you asked him right now what it was.

“’nother drink, darlin’?” a low voice interrupts, and you’re turning away.

Joel’s eyes follow you – a moth chasing something golden and radiant – as you face the wiggle of a snow-white mustache poking from beneath the brim of that ivory cowboy hat.

You shake your head, lifting two fingers with a bill slipped between them. “I’m good, thanks, George. Maybe next round.” You wave to the kid behind the bar – some name that Joel’s too fucking mindless to hear. Too distracted by the glint in your eye, the sparkle of your crescent moon earrings in the light.

If only he knew this feeling. If only he could put a name to it. As familiar as the sun and yet, brand new like dawn. His stomach swirls in a fleet of butterflies – as though he’s fifteen again, bumping elbows with his high school crush.

You nudge him, thumb pointing in the direction of the bartender.

Joel shakes his head. “Ladies first,” he says, heart skipping when you hold his stare.

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head, “Told you I ain’t jumping in.”

He asks the guy for two beers, barely taking his eyes off you. “Alright,” he leans in, lowering his voice, “Then let me buy you a drink. Make up for gettin’ in your way just then.”

You prop your chin on your knuckles, grinning as you push your twenty around the wooden bar top, dodging pooled rings of alcohol like it’s an arcade game. “I don’t do that,” you say, eyes tracing the slick trail left by the bill.

“Do what?”

“Accept drinks from strange men in bars.”

His tongue presses against the back of his teeth, the taste of humor honey-sweet. “Yeah? ‘n how long have you known…” he nods to the – what is he, sixty? Sixty-five? – year-old on your right, “…George?”

Your gaze lifts, eyes wide. Apparently as impressed by Joel’s confidence as he is himself. “We’re actually in a very serious relationship. Marriage proposal imminent.”

“Damn,” he mutters as the bartender reappears with two Coors, “And here I thought I had half a chance.”

You hum to yourself, studying him. Looking from his jaw across the span of his shoulders, his wide-knuckled hands and then back to his lips. Curious and wary, judging the strange animal stood before you.

And he knows he’s weathered from the weeks on the road, and all the years before that. Dirt under his nails and the light sheen of sun on his forehead. The flecks of gray through his thick, brown beard.

You take a deep breath, eyes twinkling, and tell him, “I’m here with my friend.”

“Ain’t that lucky?” Joel glances at Tommy. “I’m here with my brother.”

You look across to the dirty blond, sat tilting a glass candle in his hand. “He single?”

Joel nods. “Is she?”

You nod.

“Alright. You wanna come sit with us?”

Your smirk answers his question. You take the beers, rings clinking off the glass. “Rum,” you call over your shoulder, wandering off, “I drink rum.”

Joel’s gaze lowers to the sway of your hips. “Rum it is,” he says, turning back to the bar.

“So…a cross-country bike trip, and you wound up in San Angelo?”

You’re on your fourth drink, the first one Joel hasn’t paid for – and he only allowed it because it’s a Diet Coke (and maybe you got to the bar first, held his wrists with one hand so he couldn’t stop you from slapping your own money down).

“Yep,” Joel replies, pinching the lime from his drink and dropping it onto a napkin. “Just passin’ through. Shower, sleep, then head on home.”

“Where’s that, then? Home?”

“Austin.”

“Austin,” you pout, “Nice.”

Joel smirks, licking citrus from his fingertips. “Is it?”

“I’ve never been to Austin,” Brooke chirps, fiddling with the umbrella in her piña colada. She twirls the paper canopy and glances up to Tommy.

He snaps out of his slack-jawed gaze when he realizes what she’s implying. “Oh – yeah, well…” his head wobbles as he stutters, “…you two ever come down that way, we’d be happy to, uh…show ya ‘round, huh, Joel?”

Joel doesn’t reply, staring back at his brother with the same amused expression you are.

You’ve been an inch apart all evening – doused in the dive bar darkness, the shrouded conversations and muffled TV static. The tip of your nose and curve of your shoulders lit only by the luminous signs dotting the walls.

Tommy and Brooke are already deep in conversation again about the best car Tommy ever owned. Joel watches as your eyes flit between the pair, entertained by the way they trip over each other’s sentences. Your cheeks lift when Brooke lays a hand over Tommy’s, and he squeezes her fingers back.

Where did you come from? Joel’s thinking. He takes a swig of his whiskey, feeling your eyes on him. As he lowers his glass, you lift yours. When he turns in his seat towards you, you’re already facing him, back against the wainscotting. He smiles, and so do you.

Every movement feels choreographed, some merry dance only you two know. You’re in your own little world.

Where did you come from, again, and where have you been my entire fucking life?

“So, what about you?” Joel asks instead, swallowing – all warm-bellied and brave. “You grow up here?”

You shake your head, taking another sip. “Nope. Just liked it enough to hang up my coat for a few months. I grew up in Phoenix.”

“You travel a lot?”

“I’ve been around. This is the longest I’ve stayed in one place since I was a kid.”

He thinks of home: of Austin and its silver-snake river, burnt-orange jerseys and the pleated bunting lining Sixth Street. He thinks of late nights on lawn chairs, nursing a beer and shooting the shit with his brother. Keeping their voices lower than the buzz of the cicadas, looking more at the dusky sky than at each other.

“You don’t ever get tired of it?” Joel asks. “Of moving around so much?”

You scoff, breath clouding the inside of your glass. “Three weeks on a motorcycle starting to get to you, huh?”

He breathes a laugh, loose again. The cicadas fade from his ears.

Your head tilts in a shrug. “I don’t know. I guess the universe keeps on surprising me.”

Joel doesn’t do this. At least, he hasn’t done this since he was a teenager – crate of beer under his arm and a chest full of courage. He’s long forgotten the feeling of heat blooming in his cheeks, the twitch of his heart anytime you look at him.

But fuck, if there isn’t something about you. Something in the way you move, the way you look at him. Something in the way you play with your straw, knocking ice cubes around and chewing on the plastic once you’ve drained the glass.

Something – though it’s a little too early and Joel’s a little too tipsy to tell just what. He tries to remember that he’s pragmatic. A grown-up. He chases away the monsters in his daughter’s –

“Oh, shit,” Joel says suddenly, scrambling to pull his cell from his pocket. It’s nine thirty. He was supposed to – “I forgot…”

A miserable tone from his Motorola cuts him short. The screen flashes an empty battery before fading to black. He jams a thumb into the keypad a couple more times, cursing at the winking symbol.

“Someone you gotta call?” you ask.

He meets your eye and winces. “Yeah, I’m…I said I’d call an hour ago.”

“You wanna use mine?” You twist around, fishing in your purse for your own. “We can go outside.”

“No, no, it’s…it’s alright, I’m sure she won’t mind, she –”

You shake your head. “Shut up. Come on, let’s go. I could use some fresh air, anyways. Be back in a minute,” you tell Brooke – who nods and turns straight back to Tommy.

Joel extends his hand to help you out of the booth, then follows you to the door. The cool air tugs every nerve in his body to attention, pin-sharp when he steps out of that lazy heat. Under the emerald glow of the Murphy’s sign, he settles his glass on a window ledge. “Next round’s on me, alright?”

You roll your eyes, pushing the phone against his chest. “Just call, Joel.”

One last apologetic glance, and then he’s dialing. He makes to wander along the curb, the tone already pulsing in his ear, when he notices –

“You ain’t brought a jacket?”

You’re sitting on the ledge, clutching your elbows. Swatting midges from the light you’re bathed in, charms on your bracelets jingling. “Hm?”

He tuts. “A jacket. Here.” He shrugs his own off, sitting it around your frame. It’s warm from the bar and from Joel’s body heat, and you sink into it – letting the dark leather drown you as you rummage through your purse again.

“Nice,” Joel’s eyes narrow, “Fresh air.”

You hum into your hands, flicking your lighter. The cigarette trembles when you murmur, “We all got our skeletons, I guess.”

He turns on his heel when a familiar voice picks up.

“Hey, hey, M–Yeah, sorry it’s late…Yeah, we got held up. My phone died, so I’m using…Is she still–? Can I–? Oh, Sarah. Hi, baby.”

His little girl begins chattering down the line immediately, telling Joel everything she’s been up to since they last spoke this morning.

“…and then, Emily thought I was one of the Armadillos – I don’t even know how, ‘cause they play in red, remember Dad? – but she did, and she slide tackled me so bad that Coach Thomson had to sub in Akari for me so I could ice my ankle. Grandma was kinda mad about it, but she took me to Burger King after to cheer me up, and…”

Joel wanders back and forth, smiling to himself and scuffing the heel of his boot along the concrete – barely able to squeeze more than two words between her chirping. It’s all, Yeah, baby? and Wow, sweetheart; all uhuhs and mhms until she finally quietens, excitement plateauing again.

“Alright, well. You know what time it is, right?”

“Yeah,” Sarah groans. She knows it all too well.

Bedtime.

“…But you didn’t call when you said you would, Daddy, and it’s Saturday, it’s –”

“I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry. Just…somethin’ came up. But I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Where’s Uncle Tommy? Can I talk to him?”

Joel turns to face the bar. “He, uh…I’m not with him right now, sweetheart. I’ll tell him you asked after him, though.”

Sarah concedes, and then begins asking questions Joel knows she’s only asking to stay on the line a little longer – to stay awake a little later. But still, he answers each one – humoring her and, at the same time, letting himself listen to her voice just a little more before he has to let her go.

He thinks of scooping her up in the morning; thinks of being slumped on the couch after dinner with her head on his stomach – fast asleep with whatever movie she chose droning on in the background.

Despite the thousands of miles and close to two weeks between them – she makes him feel closer to home. She always does.

When Sarah asks where he is, he glances your way. Clocks your flat expression, the half-burnt cigarette hanging from your fingers.

You flick ash to the ground. Eyes unreadable beneath low brows, a tiny crease between them that Joel’s only just seeing for the first time.

“Uh…” he clears his throat, “…just a little – a little north of you, baby. Home first thing, I promise.”

He tells her he loves her and she says it back, and he tells her to sleep well and she says that back, too. And then he’s hanging up – Alright, see you soon, bye, Sarah, bye-bye, byebyebye – and pressing his thumb into the red button.

He wanders back over to you – ears flat like a guilty dog, though he isn’t quite sure why. He mumbles a quiet thanks as he passes the phone back, then stuffs his hands in his pockets.

You lean back, ankles crossed, studying him. Swirling what’s left of the cigarette in your fingers – the smoke lifting like a winding snake to the dark sky. “So,” you pout, “What are you doing flirting with me, if you got a wife and kid back home?”

His jaw ticks, a hand coming up to scratch his beard. “I don’t have a wife,” he says.

You stare blankly, filter back against your lips. “Okay, then – a girlfriend. Does she know you’re out tonight with us?”

He shakes his head. “No wife, no girlfriend. I don’t have an anything.”

“But you have a kid.”

Joel nods once, tongue in his cheek. “Uhuh.”

And then the penny seems to drop. A small oh; your jaw slack and eyes wide. The cigarette smolders between your fingers. “Fuck,” you whisper, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“No, hey,” Joel steps closer, “You didn’t know. It’s alright.”

He straightens the jacket on your shoulders. When you finally look at each other again, you snort.

“Sorry,” you repeat, shaking your head. “Is she okay? Your daughter – is she…?”

“Sarah,” Joel says. “She’s…she’s fine. Thanks.”

You look down, stubbing your cigarette against the brick. Voice quiet, you ask, “Her mom’s not around anymore?”

Relief settles in his chest: you’re softening to him again.

Joel slots onto the ledge at your side. Shoulder to shoulder. He reaches behind and lifts his drink. “Not since she was a year old.”

Your mouth pulls in a wince. “Jesus. That’s rough.”

He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t have to – you’re not asking him to explain – and he doesn’t want to, either.

You’re not stupid – you’ve seen enough of the world to hear what he’s really saying. The darkest, dustiest corners of it – all the places no one ever wants to look.

You don’t seem disturbed, barely even moved by the reality that…well, shit happens. People leave, families break; a two-car driveway is suddenly taken up by just a pick-up truck and a little pink bike with tassels.

He figures you get it. You don’t need to know how can that be? – you just…know that it can.

“So, uh…” you look up at him again, “…my apartment is, like, five minutes away if you wanna…you know. You can charge your phone, can shower – if it’s bugging you that much.”

Joel’s eyebrows lift. “Oh, really?”

You simper, eyes thin. “Really.”

“Charge my phone ‘n shower?” He stands, palm flat against the wall above your head, and leans in. His face is inches from yours.

You look up, mirroring his expression. “Yes,” your voice curls in a half-truth, “What’s the big deal?”

“What a goddamn line,” Joel says, smirking. “How long you been sittin’ on that one for?”

His blood thrums faster, harder, louder in his veins when you stand up, hands on your hips.

“It’s not a line, I’m serious –”

“I didn’t take you as the type, baby, I really didn’t – but if that’s how you wanna play this, then –”

He feels you before he sees you moving, like he’s stood at that bar all over again. Your hands on his jaw, your chest pressed to his. Your lips – soft as satin, with a tinge of sweet rum and smoke – against his.

Joel barely misses a beat. He closes his eyes and lifts a hand to the back of your head, kissing you back. It’s dizzying, the taste and feel of you so close; the wet of your tongue on his. The little scratches of your nails in his beard, the moans caught in your throat.

Dizzying – and fucking perfect.

You break apart and lean in to each other, catching your breath. Joel’s hands slip beneath the heavy leather of his jacket onto your waist.

“Unless…” you whisper, pulling away from him, “…you don’t want to. In which case, I’ll just…” You twirl back towards the door, batting your eyelashes.

Joel smiles. He catches your wrist and reels you back into his body. “I want to,” he breathes, kissing you again. “I want to.”

“Let’s go.”

You make it to your apartment door, fumbling with your keys – and Joel’s hands are glued to your waist.

You miss the lock over and over as he kisses your neck, grazing the skin with his teeth. Anything to satiate the hunger quickly taking over, the tightening in his jeans.

He pulls you against his hips – rough denim grinding into the curve of your ass. He can smell your flowery perfume, a strange melding of peony and menthol sharp in his nostrils.

It’s the hungriest he’s ever felt, he thinks – a starved animal pinning his prey to her flecked apartment door. He pauses, bottom lip damp against your neck; breathing a liquor-laced laugh over your skin.

You jam the key into the lock. The door finally shunts open and you spill inside, dragging Joel with you.

Your place is dark. Angled strips of streetlight thrown high up the bare walls and across the ceiling, splintered by tilted shades. The spill of a blanket draped over an empty couch; a pair of sneakers left on the rug. Joel’s knees brush by a houseplant guarding the door – heavy leaves which pfft when they sway out of his way.

It’s half-decorated. Temporary. Caught somewhere between home and away. Little fragments pieced together into something the shape of home: a mosaic vase that scatters light across the surface of the coffee table; a beaded curtain pinned around the closet doorway.

Like you’re a little magpie, collecting trinkets of silver and gold until your nest feels like yours. Bags dropped long enough to keep a Monstera plant alive, not to put nails in the wall for the frames propped against the skirting board.

You shrug Joel’s jacket off, dropping it over the back of the couch. When you spin back around to him, he lifts your chin with two fingers and presses his lips to yours. You lead him down the hallway, tumbling into your room.

He follows you over to your bed, collapsing onto a tousled mess of sheets with his hips between yours. The hem of your dress rides up your thighs, bunching around your hips and revealing a flash of pink lace underneath.

The world around him seems to sober up for a second, sharpens into focus. It begins to seep in: the realization that he has you – some girl he met no more than two hours ago in a bar – pinned to your mattress. A slick gathering in your underwear and a weight building in his.

Right now, he should be sinking into squealing bedsprings in a Super 8. Bathing in the flicker of a television set twenty years too old. He should be showered and rested – ready to head home at sunrise, if not sooner.

But then something led him to you, and – well.

There’s no fucking helping him now, is there?

Joel’s fingers hook around your panties. He pulls down, leaving a trail of kisses along your bare leg, until that same pink lace is dripping from your ankle.

His eyes flash up to yours, love-drunk and sparkling. He pushes your knees apart, watching your velvet folds open for him, and – oh, he thinks, staring at the glistening arousal smeared around your cunt. Such a slick little mess for him already.

“Goddamn, darlin’,” he licks his lips, “She’s so pretty.”

You hum, hands lowering. Your fingers separate, spreading your pussy for him. Your middle finger swirls around your clit, dips along your seam. And the n, silky and shining, you lift your hand again and slip your fingers into your mouth.

“Tastes even better than she looks,” you murmur, dappling your fingertip along your bottom lip.

Joel growls. He pushes down on your thighs, ignoring your little yelp, and drags the tip of his tongue through your slit.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp, back arching. Your fingers knot in his hair, twisting and tightening. “Shitshitshit.”

“Mhm,” he hums against you, tongue pushing inside.

Fuck, you’re just so perfect: so soft and warm and fucking dripping for him. He laps at your sweet center, wet already spreading all over his mouth and beard.

A dampness blooms in his boxers. He’s throbbing, fucking aching the longer he goes untouched. He grinds against the mattress, denim rough against his solid erection.

He lifts his chin, panting – satisfied by the way you squirm under the weight of him. “You like that, huh?” he asks, a sodden kiss to your mound. “Fuckin’ love it.”

He spits a thick bead of saliva, watching it dribble down your folds to your ass. His tongue swipes it back up, circling your clit, all slippery and swollen.

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan, tugging on his hair. Your legs spasm, hips lifting.

He loves the sound of his name when you say it. Broken in two, a lilt to it as it rolls from your tongue and down his spine. Like it’s yours as much as it is his, now.

He sucks hard on your clit, his tongue flicking. And he can tell you’re close; can feel your hips starting to lose rhythm, see your back desperately arching higher and higher.

Joel groans, pushing up to hover over you. He cups between your legs, dabbing two thick fingers at your entrance, and pushes in.

Your pussy draws him in knuckle-deep. Your chest lifts, the loose neckline of your dress exposing more and more. You grab your breast, pinching your nipple – a roll of pebbled flesh between your fingertips.

He lowers his lips to your ear – watching as you toy with yourself. “Come on, baby,” he grits his teeth, “Give me one. Let me feel this pretty cunt.”

Your head rolls back into the pillow; a high sob as your orgasm crests. Clamping tight around him; a warm flood down his fingers.

Joel kisses you as you come. You look so pretty, he thinks, with ecstasy behind your eyes and his fingers between your legs.

Christ, he wants to be inside you so badly. Wants to feel your cunt do all this around his cock instead.

The blood rushes between his hips.

His fingers slip in and out, bringing you back around. Joel’s lips are on your neck, murmuring, “Good girl, that’s my girl,” as you resurface.

Your eyes open again – glossy, glazed with the aftershock of your high. “Fuck,” you breathe, playing with the hem of his shirt.

He pulls his fingers out and sucks them clean. Whips the tee over his head in one motion; another kiss tucked under your chin as you peel your dress from your body. He tosses it to the floor.

Still dazed, your body still trembling, you ask, “Do you have a condom?” All dreamy and distant, your hands trailing along his belt.

Joel pauses. Tilts his head, frowning. “I’m on a road trip with my brother, baby – the hell would I bring condoms for?”

You roll your eyes, sighing. It’s the cutest thing Joel thinks he’s ever seen. You thread the belt through the loops of his jeans. “In case you meet a really cool girl at a bar and wanna take her home, maybe?”

He lifts his eyebrows, impressed. He slips his salty tongue over yours again.

You moan at the taste. “It’s just I’m…I’m all out.”

His belt drops to the floor; buckle clinking against hardwood.

“Well, shit,” Joel whispers.

It’s not exactly a scenario he predicted, setting off from Austin. Meeting you wasn’t on the bucket list for the trip. It’s another three, four, probably five things to add to the list of shit he doesn’t do, shouldn’t do, wouldn’t fucking do if it hadn’t been for you.

No, Joel thinks, groaning as you palm the solid shape of him – he didn’t bring a goddamn condom. Jesus, the most he has in his pockets right now is fifteen bucks and a stick of gum.

You unzip his pants, shrugging the denim loose. “We can just do it…without,” you offer.

Joel stares down at you. “You sure?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Just pull out, right?”

“Just pull out…” he echoes. Your hands are cold on his heated skin, but he’s not about to fucking stop you.

You tug his underwear down with his jeans, following the darkening hair from his navel down. Another quiet pull out passes your lips – your voice dissolving when you spot the thick base of his dick.

Joel’s shaft springs free, heavy against the inside of his thigh.

“Holy shit.” You push yourself up on your elbows, eyes flooding black.

His tongue runs along the bottom of his teeth. He thrusts forward into your hand, a glassy drop of precome dribbling from his slit.

Your thumb swipes across his flushed tip, fingers wrapping around his width. You roll his balls in your other palm, massaging and squeezing just the right amount.

“Easy, easy,” Joel whispers. Too much, too soon. He can’t come yet, not until he feels your fluttering cunt around his cock.

Instead, you reach up – snaking an arm around his neck. You pull him back down, his naked body flush against yours, and hike a knee over his hip.

He grinds into you, his cock nudging between your legs. They fall apart for him – pliant and keen, like petals unfolding. He covers himself in your slick, his tip catching below your clit.

“Pl-ease,” you whine, scratching at his shoulders.

Joel nips at your damp neck. “Please, what?” he taunts.

Your breath is hot against his cheek – a stifling request which curls up in the shell of his ear. “F-fuck me.”

And his hips roll into yours.

“Jesus f…” your face buries into his chest, “…you’re…you’re so fucking big, Joel, I can’t –”

He nudges between your walls, groaning into your skin. You’re even tighter around his cock, even cozier. “I know,” he pants, “I know. Take it, baby, know you can take it.”

You stretch around him, opening up the deeper he pushes. “Fuckfuckfuck,” you pant, the thick hair at his base finally brushing against your clit. “Fuck, Joel.”

“Look at me,” he taps your jaw, “Hey. Look at me. Breathe.”

You exhale, hot and shaky across his lips.

“Good, that’s good.” Joel nods. He holds you by the waist, lets you adjust to his size.

He pulls back, your cunt clamping around him. Halfway out, and then in again. Feeling you open up, inch by inch, until he builds a steady rhythm.

“Jesus, baby, she’s so…” he moans, “…she’s so goddamn tight.”

You drape an arm over his shoulders, a hissing pain where your nails dig into his skin. Yelping each time he bottoms out, your leaking cunt wrapped snug around him. “So – goddamn – big,” you whine, a ruined smile on your lips.

He slams his body into yours again, watching the way your tits bounce. Nipples hard, skin tacky and shining with sweat. Your pussy pinches, and he starts to unravel.

Fuck the road trip, Joel thinks, fuck all of it. This is where he should be: in the middle of your bed, burrowed deep between your legs. This is the only place he wants to fucking be, right now.

So he fucks you harder; the headboard hammering against the wall. A fistful of the pillow, his knuckles whitening. He guides his cock when he slips out – a filthy sound as your clutch sucks him back in.

“Fuck,” he growls, gripping your hips so hard he worries he might bruise you. His thrusts become sloppy – quick and desperate.

“So close,” you gasp. You’re squeezing him so tight that he sees stars. “I’m gonna – I’m…”

Perfect, Joel thinks, watching you bloom. You’re so fucking perfect.

He coaxes you through it. Slows enough to feel you come around his cock, your warmth as it gushes all over him. “That’s it, baby, I got you. Shit, you’re gonna make me come.”

He pulls out just in time to coat your stomach; a throaty groan as he comes. He pumps his shaft, covering from your sternum to the plush of your tummy. It dribbles down your waist, spurts between your breasts.

He collapses over you, pressing his forehead to yours. His dick, soaked and softening, smears the ejaculate across your skin.

You giggle, leaving sticky kisses along his beard.

“You okay?” he asks, breathless.

You nod, and his tongue dabs at the inside of your lips. You taste like sex and sweat – sweet and salt.

Joel shifts to the edge of the bed. He feels you follow, your lips featherlight on the curve of his shoulder.

You make to stand – going to clean yourself up, he reckons, your tummy dripping with his semen – and he locks a hand around your bare thigh.

“Stay,” he says, voice low and rough – sex still smoldering. “Let me get you a towel.”

You smile, resting your chin on his shoulder. Your fingers link around the other side of his waist. “I’ll get it. Just relax.”

And for a minute or two, you stay like that. Hooked onto one another, tired eyes closing over, breathing in rhythm. Your cheek on his shoulder, your knee brushing against his tummy.

It’s simple; quiet and still. Joel feels like half a person – the other half tracing her chipped nails along his bare thigh. Eyelashes fluttering, teeth holding back a grin that she thinks might give her away.

Eventually, you move. Shimmy yourself down the mattress, swipe a crinkled tee from the ottoman – and slink off to the bathroom.

Joel lies back against the headboard, body sticky hot. He watches the shadow of your figure stretch across the open door. His eyes drift upwards to the looping ceiling fan – only half as dizzying as the sound of your humming in the next room.

And just when he starts to think he might be fucking missing you, you reappear in the doorway. Leant against the frame, some worn band tee hanging from your shoulders. Arms crossed; smiling back at him.

A rush of words floods to the tip of his tongue. You look beautiful. Your makeup’s smudged, chains of your necklace twisted; your shirt is frayed and splotched with faded stains – and you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

He holds his arms out and you prance over.

You crawl over his figure, kissing your way up to his lips, and then turn in his lap. Cradled against his broad chest, your head nuzzling into the dark threads of hair between his pecs. You clasp one of his hands in two of yours.

“Offer’s still there for a shower, if you want it,” you whisper, kissing the pads of his fingers.

Joel tilts his head, mumbling against your temple, “Will you be in there with me?”

You answer something shaped like a tease, just as sharp with wit – but he’s too busy watching your nails trace his open palm. Too distracted by the sweet scent of your skin: a fresh burst of fruit, singed with the edge of tobacco.

“What do you do for work?” you ask.

He makes some sort of sleepy sound – a grunt, a hm? into your skull. “Oh, uh – I’m a contractor,” he says.

Your chin lifts. “That why your palms are all…?” Your thumb strokes light as lace against his worn skin.

“Probably,” Joel admits. He draws shapes on your thigh with his free hand.

“Do you sand the wood with your bare hands, or somethin’?”

Joel scoffs. “Alright, alright. You liked my hands plenty, twenty minutes ago.”

Your cheeks lift, a low hum caught in your throat. You angle your head to let his lips trail along your shoulder, pressing into the hinge of your jaw. A dark nail following the landscape of Joel’s skin – each score and divot, the callused pads at the bottom of each finger.

“You have sorta…earth hands, I think.”

It sits in the air for a few seconds before Joel turns to you. “What?”

“Earth hands. Or, well – I guess they could be water, if you look at ‘em this way.” You open up his hand, fingers stretched. “I don’t really know. I’m still learning.”

He looks down at you. Feels the now-steady pulse of your heart on his sternum. “Learnin’…hands?”

You snort. “Palm reading, Joel.”

His brows draw tight. He licks the inside of his whiskey-stained cheek. “You’re into all that hippie sh…stuff?”

You knock your knuckles against his chest, still staring at his hands. The hills and their valleys, the ravine-like lines; the worn skin and hatch marks.

“Let’s see…Your heart line,” you whisper – more to yourself than Joel, but he’s listening all the same. “It’s pretty deep, which means the relationships you’ve had have been…important. But it’s kinda…it tails off right here, see? It’s broken. So…I guess they didn’t end too good.”

Joel raises an eyebrow – playful, encouraging your timid smile. Keep figuring me out, he thinks, stoking the curious flame behind your eyes. “Alright,” he says, “Now tell me something you didn’t already know about me.”

You gawk, holding his wrist up. “You don’t see that? The way it breaks up? I’m not bullshitting you, Joel, it’s –”

“Naw, I see it,” he nods, squinting a little at his palm, “Just – tell me more. What’s all these other lines mean?”

“Well,” you adjust between his hips, “you got your life line right here. Short, which means –”

“Don’t tell me that part.”

“No,” you roll your eyes, “It just means you’re independent. You never needed much from anyone. And it runs past this mount – these are called mounts – right here. Venus: all to do with love and sexuality.”

Joel holds your open palm next to his, comparing them. He takes less than a second’s look, lines his lips to your ear and says, “Seem like a pretty good match to me.”

You wriggle when he tickles your ribcage, trying to twist out of his grasp. You’re laughing again – the same laugh he’s been hearing all damn night. The same giggle that’s had his stomach somersaulting since he first heard it.

The room seems to light with it, this glow he feels from you – as if you’re the sun. Spent and still half-drunk; lazing with a stranger in the middle of her bed. Tracing the lines and scars on his palm, telling him how logical and grounded he’s supposed to be.

As if the world orbits around you – everything you touch turning to molten gold. And for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, Joel looks at you and wonders: Where the hell did you come from?

You hold your hand against his, folding your fingers perfectly together. The evidence of your night flaking from Joel’s knuckles; sweat still simmering on the nape of his neck.

He hasn’t done this for years. Hasn’t felt this gentle aftermath. It’s usually a rush, a hastened zip and clink of his pants. An awkward dance, plucking clothes from the bedroom floor and pacing back to his truck.

It’s never like this. Talking and laughing, holding and kissing. Questions about his parents and yours; his biggest dream as a kid, or the time you broke your arm falling out of a tree.

He tells you stories about growing up with Tommy; tells you Sarah’s favorite flavor of cake. He tells you about the time they tried to make it for a school bake sale, forgot to turn the oven off, and almost burned the damn kitchen down.

You snicker and tell him that never would’ve happened if you were there.

Yeah, well, Joel smiles, I wish you were.

He notices you’re drifting off, despite your slurred protests and your weak grip on his wrist. He pulls you under the covers, curving his body around yours, praying that the quickening drum of his heartbeat won’t wake you.

His nose nuzzles into the curve of your skull, his hands link in front of your tummy. And he wonders whether his body was made with yours in mind.

He glances out at the sky – light starting to bleed from the horizon – and wills the turn of the sun to slow. Only a little; just let him stay here a little while longer.

Just a little while.

Dawn forces her way in eventually – more unwelcome than ever before.

There’s a throb between his temples which swells to life when the light floods past his pupils. “Jesus Christ,” he grumbles, face turning back into the pillow. He gives you a gentle squeeze and then pushes up from the mattress.

You roll to the middle of the bed, still sound asleep. The sun spills golden all over the valleys and crests of your body. The bedsheets carve pathways up to your hips, dipping at your waist.

Last night, there was something so mystical about you – so otherworldly. Joel felt himself drawn towards you like a compass needle shooting north, the second he felt your weight crash against his spine.

A figure behind a cloud of smoke, like the mountaintops disappearing into a thick mist. And now, blood drained of alcohol, you’re just you.

Your shirt is twisted around your shoulders. Your lips puffy, mumbling to yourself in your doze. Makeup smudged like chalk under your eyes, and still – just as beautiful. Just as radiant as you were ten hours ago.

Joel rubs his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed. He blinks down at his bare feet, the morning sharpening into focus. As he lifts his phone from the nightstand, the cable drops – hitting the wooden floor with a snap.

He pauses, shoulders hunched. Hears you stir over his shoulder, and turns around.

The earth of your body shifts beneath cotton hills, clouds of sleep clearing from behind your eyes. “Hey,” you whisper, voice pretty and broken.

A little bird in the palm of his hand – that magpie curled up in her nest of gems and trinkets.

“Hey.” He leans down and kisses your cheek. “Sorry, darlin’, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You wrap your arms around his wrist, tugging. “Are…are you…leaving?”

Joel feels a pang in his chest, and he doesn’t know why. He takes a deep breath. Your scent fills his lungs and steadies his heart. “I…” he sniffs, “…I gotta go home, baby.”

You give a slow and heavy nod. “S-Sarah…”

He strokes your head with his thumb. “Yeah. Shh, go back to sleep. It’s still early.”

He glances at his phone – it’s just after six. He knows Tommy will be waiting for him, parked outside the Super 8 and wondering where the hell Joel is. He knows Sarah will be, too – sat by the living room window, listening for the rumble of their bikes.

And still, he thinks – How do I fucking leave you? Leave this?

He shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought. He has a kid waiting for him back home; soccer practice, packed lunches, homework and bedtime stories. He has work to do, bills to pay, a roof to keep over their heads. It’s all waiting in Austin, two hundred miles away.

As though you can see the question flipping in his mind, you pull him closer. A weak finger in the palm of his hand, drawing circles. Your bleary gaze meets his, and you whisper, “In the next life.”

Joel smiles. Twelve hours ago, he’d have laughed at the idea of it. Now, he’s not so sure. He kisses your knuckles, muttering, “Promise.”

Another wave of sleep washes over you, and you’re gone again.

Joel pushes himself from the bed, reaching for his clothes. His back twinges as he stretches, pulling his T-shirt over his shoulders. He steps into his jeans; pinches his belt between two fingers and lifts it from the floor.

He leans over and tilts your shades the opposite way, dulling your bedroom. He unplugs the charger, neatly winds the cord, and sits it on your nightstand. He fixes his side of the sheets: folds them over the mattress, tucks them in at your back.

With a deep breath, he makes for the door.

His jaw turns, eyes still low. Your dress is in a heap at the foot of the bed; a tube of lip gloss lying next to it. He looks up, following the landscape of sheets – the slope from your ankle to your hip. Your hunched shoulders, your cheek smushed into the pillow.

If he looks too long, he’ll never leave.

The image burns golden into his eyes. He hopes for half a heartbeat that you’ll wake again and pull him back into bed. Kiss him all over, whisper something sharp and sweet in his ear. Touch him and graze him and wrap yourself around him – anchoring him right here and now.

But you don’t.

And Joel slips out of the room.

Jackson stirs to life over his shoulder.

A white lump in the snow-covered valley, the settlement seems so far away now. Tommy sets off up ahead, leading the way to the outpost. The blizzard is picking up – it almost swallows the silhouette of him whole.

Joel had tried to warn him: the weather would be too bad to see five feet in front of them, never mind any infected. But Tommy argued with the same determination that dragged the pair of them into that dive bar thirty years ago, and Joel didn’t have half the energy nor the will to argue back.

He’s thinking about you. He always is.

Your searing gaze over the rim of your glass; the weight of you against his chest. The tickling of your nail on his palm, severing each line and changing him forever. You and your palm lines.

You were just learning to read them. Joel didn’t know a thing about any of it, and he told you so. You took his hand in yours and said, Here. Let me see.

He runs a thumb down his fate line, swaying in time with his horse. And he shakes his head with a little smile – he still remembers which one is fate and which is heart.

He still remembers all of it. He has earth hands. All salt and soil and solid as stone. His earth hands have gotten him this far, right? Twenty-five years and he’s still here. Gray and grown; stiff joints and sewn-up scars.

His head line has channeled more strangers’ blood than Joel can count. Mounts that’ve stopped breath in the throat of any man who crossed him. He doesn’t think you’d recognize his hands anymore, if your fingertips traced over them again. Broken and bruised and bloody.

And he doesn’t think he’d want you to – doesn’t want you to meet the shadow of the man you knew back then. He’d prefer you remember that same brown-eyed, soft-touched stranger with enough charm and naivety to survive anything. No need for bone-breaking fists or bloodstained hands.

Where are you, he wonders?

The answer knots deep in his stomach: the same old rope twisting into the same old shape. A fist of anger, of guilt. Some terrible cocktail of both, spilling poison through his veins.

He’s terrified to wonder what might’ve happened if he had ever made it back there. What he might’ve found in your apartment – what he might not.

Where would you have gone, that day? Would you have fled, or would you have stayed?

You were smart, he knows that much. He saw the cogs of your mind turning right in front of him, standing opposite each other in that bar. Barely thirty seconds in and he could’ve sworn you had him all figured out.

But – oh, Jesus, you were kind. Open and willing to help a stranger with a dead phone and a tired smile. Would that kindness still glow as bright against the flicker of a world on fire?

A lone hawk swoops down before him, shooting straight between the pines. Joel slips his glove back over his freezing hand.

He thinks about you every day. Every fucking day, and it never eases. Never loosens. It keeps him up some nights – the truth he’s too afraid to look square in the face.

You live now in the back of his mind like a little ghost. His little ghost – still floating around that dusty city; the warm light of life and innocence still bright in your eyes.

Tommy glances over his shoulder. He gestures ahead as if to say, Would you take a look at this goddamn storm?

And Yeah, Joel thinks, I’m lookin’, brother.

All he wants is to go home. Jackson, Austin, the bedroom of your apartment in San Angelo. Just let me go back.

He blinks, and the snow melts to cracked asphalt under a lilac sunset. Tommy’s holding handlebars instead of reins. The horses’ hot puffs of breath darken to clouds of smoke, choking from the exhaust pipes of the Harleys.

You’re somewhere on the other side of town, waiting for him in the faint glow of a jukebox. Sipping what’s left of your rum and Coke, fishing a twenty from your purse for the next round.

Just let me go back home.

He tugs on his horse’s reins and pulls off after his brother.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

feeling pretty low today, so i’m turning to these two old men for a little comfort

nsfw under the cut, fem!reader

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Stan likes to call you:

sweetheart, honeybun, doll face and on occasion baby girl. when he’s feeling extra bold? princess — always with that unmistakable smirk

calls you “my good luck charm" if you help him out in the Shack, especially when he’s trying to swindle a tourist and you flash a pretty smile.

✦ “c’mere, darlin’. can’t let a fine gal like you walk around without her prince.”

✦ “ah, y’know, you’re the only reason I don’t go completely nuts in this crazy town. sometimes, doll, I think yer my only sane thought all day.” said so casually as if it’s not gonna hit you right in the heart

✦ if you get hurt (even the tiniest scratch), he’s going into dad mode: “who do I gotta knock some sense into, huh?” even if you’ll tell him it was just a clumsy accident, he’ll grumble, “well, now I’m the one hurt. bein’ all worried like that. you’re killin’ me, kid.” 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Ford likes to call you:

“dearest” when he’s feeling soft, sweetheart, darling, honey, baby

he’ll whisper “love” against your temple when he thinks you’re drifting to sleep, his voice quiet and reverent like it’s sacred to him

starlight – Ford’s been out in those other dimensions, faced down monsters and madness, but he says he’s never found anything so bright, so grounding. “c’mere, starlight, I’m not finished admiring you.”

༄ “don’t laugh, but. . . I’d chase you across universes, even if it took me another thirty years. no dimension is worth exploring without you by my side.”

༄ if you’re reading one of his journals, Ford’ll slide up behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he murmurs, “curious, are we? so, what do you think of my work?”

༄ he’s not a show-off, not by any means, but catch him fixing up a machine? he’ll lift his gaze to you, smiling. “I could teach you, you know. but you’d have to be a very attentive student.”

༄ oh, if Ford wrote about you in his journal, you know it’d be scrawled between notes on trans-dimensional theories and arcane symbols, the ink smudged in places where he hesitated, where his pen hovered just so before he let himself write the truth

“Strange anomalies detected….. not in the temporal or metaphysical sense, but in a far more personal dimension. Subject exhibits an inexplicable gravitational pull, distinct from any gravitational force I've previously documented. When I observe her, I feel an uncharacteristic deviation in my thought patterns, an accelerated heartbeat not caused by heightened blood pressure or adrenaline, but by… attraction. Confounding. She’s somehow eclipsing the most rational parts of my mind.”

And, because Ford’s words can’t capture the whole of it, there’d be tiny sketches of you, like half-finished thoughts.

nsfw

what Stan says during sex:

“Damn, honey, you’re makin’ an old man feel young again. Don’t stop.”

“You’re makin’ me wanna be a better man, but not right now, baby, not right now.”  

“Mmm, there it is— yeahh, keep doin’ that. . . feels so good, darlin’, you got no idea.”

“Makin’ all these pretty noises, huh? Lemme hear ‘em, baby. Don’t hold back on me.”

“You’re somethin’ else, y’know that? I’m gonna be thinkin’ ‘bout that pussy all week.”  

“Fuckin’ hell, don’t know if I’m gonna last much longer with you doin’ that.”  

“Look at ya, so needy for me, beggin’ to be filled. You got me so riled up, I can barely think— ah, f-fuck. . .”

 Ford:

“Ohh— sweetheart, you feel even better than I imagined, i’ve waited for this.”  

“I need you so much it scares me.”  

“You’re brilliant, utterly captivating. . . yesyesyes, keep moving like that, please.”  

“Tell me exactly what you want, darlin, I need to hear you say it.”  

“I never thought I’d feel this way again; you’ve woken something in me.”  

“God, I can’t— can’t believe you’re letting me have you. I need you so much, it hurts.”

“Mmm, god, yes. . . yes, you’re mine, all mine. . . can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

“O-oh god, you feel so tight around me, sweetheart, I can’t-can’t hold back!”

“Please, oh, please— just, just like that, don’t stop, keep. . . keep going. . .”

“I can’t help myself; I need you. I want to feel you around me.”

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re like this. I can’t take my eyes off you.”

“Oh gosh, I need you to take me deeper. Please, baby.”

“Tell me how good it feels; I want to hear it.”

“You feel incredible. I could stay buried inside you forever.”

[2knightt]

HII!! could you write the gang with a reader that has an rbf and seems really intimidating/unapproachable but is a sweetheart? they arent very talkative and seem very cold but their love language is acts of service/gift giving & sorta quality time?? <33

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ pretty as a vine, sweet as a grape. ⋄ 𓍯

…REQUESTED: you never judge a book by it’s cover. especially when it comes to y/n!

tags/warnings: people being judgy asf/spreading rumours, gang defending reader with their soul, reader is a softie i fear, reader is kinda shy, probably stupid:3c, steve threatening a manLMFAO

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ READER IS SO ME CODED HELLO also if two-bits part sounds stupid it ‘s because i’m high rn and even if can admit it’s a little iffy

—

dallas winston

thought of you as someone to be threatened by at first ngl

he heard of this scary, mean mugged, tuff looking girl and went ‘mh. an enemy🐺😒’

he went up to you one day, acting all tuff and shit just for you to look him up and down and nervously wave

look, he may not be the smartest cookie but he can see someone shy a mile away. and when he seen you wave, he felt like such an ass LMFAO

did he show it? no. obviously.

this is dallas. he’s an asshole.

“little miss tough girl, huh?”

“…pardon?”

that teasing from him DID continue until you walked away because dallas is the type to never back down, even when he’s wrong

expect for the next time you met him!!!!

he was actually asking you your name, where you’re from, etc, etc!!!

turning a new leaf dare i say…

and everything after that was history! cutest scary looking couple ever!

HE THINKS IT’S SOOO FUNNY THAT PEOPLE ARE SCARED OF YOU LMFAOOO

he plays into it sm if someone brings it up bro

“y/n? like..scary y/n?”

“yeah, like scary y/n. and i’ll get ‘er on ya if you keep talkin’ ‘bout her.”

“oh!😰”

he thinks it’s so silly to see you look really pissed off when he isn’t around just to greet you and see your whole demeanour change!!

dallas thinks it’s so cute😭 it’s like one of his favourite things about you!

“😠😒”

“hey, baby.”

“oh! hi, dal!<3”

LMFAO IMAGINE SOMEONE SEEING YOU, A MEAN LOOKING GIRL, SHOPPING FOR MENS LEATHER JACKETS

yuppp spoil that dickhead!😫 he lovelovelovesss getting gifts, ESPECIALLY from u!!!

if you’re clingy, i feel like he wouldn’t mind it. he teases THE FUCK out of u tho!😊

“big tough girl wants to hold hands, eh?”

“…yea😞.”

“awh, look at ya. come ‘ere.”

johnny cade

you might think he’d be scared and intimidated, right? but NO! he’s literally bff’s with ponyboy, he knows damn well what rbf is!

you two are sooo cute together

little kicked, scared puppy with his feral doberman!!!

tells people to stfu whenever they try and spread rumours that you’re scary, mean, and rude.

“you’re dating y/n? don’t you know she-“

“i don’t care, shut up. ‘s not like you know her😒.”

sometimes refuses your gifts.

johnny’s not used to them :( but all u gotta do is say please and flutter your lashes and u got em!!!!

“i can’t take it.”

“please?😞”

“…okay😣.”

and he DOES NOT regret it! he might fight you at first, but he cherishes those gifts with his life<3!

loveloveloveLOVESSS having u around constantly!! since your love language is quality time, you two are always hanging out together.

and, with your scary looks, you often keep the socs away from him!

hip-hip, hooray‼️‼️

the gang was like…worried for johnny at first.

THEY DIDN’T KNOW U WERE COOL THO😭😭💔💔💔

they were all like, “??seriously, johnny?? you pick the meanest girl?? ever???” and johnny was QUICK to defend. “y’all ain’t even meet her, and you’re already sayin’ she’s bad for me?”

when they did though, they were like ‘ohhhh….she really isn’t rude…..oh….’

HE’S SO PROUD TO DATE U THO LMFAOOO

and to know the real you?? treats it like an HONOUR

ponyboy curtis

was intimidated by you.

forgot he was also like you and accidentally glares at people who walk past him LMFAOOOO

You two are like two peas in a pod istg!!

“you look mean from far away,”

“???so do you, pony??”

“…no??”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ‘NO’?”

mean looking couple who are truly just a bunch of nerds deep down to their soul<3

the gang was a little protective of ponyboy until they realized ur just like him LMFAO

They get having an rbf<3

pony loves spending time with you!

gift him a book and he’ll love you forever!!! (maybe even read it to you when you two are finally alone to help you fall asleep🤍)

he’s such a cutie…..

stays close to you in public because he thinks you’re scarier looking than anyone he’s ever met😊😊.

“cm’ere,”

“why?🤨”

“BECAUSE🙄!”

SCARY DOG Y/N IS REAL.

glares at anyone who goes around telling people that you’re mean and rude.

if looks could kill, they’d be dead already!!!

ponyboy does not fuck around with u i fear.

Sodapop Curtis

LMFAOOO GREEK GOD OF A MAN WITH HIS PISSED OFF GF WHO IS NERVOUSLY HOLDING HIS HAND !!!

he was NOT afraid of you!! in fact, he thought the rumours of you being an asshole were all fake

“you talkin’ about y/n?”

“yes, bro! they’re so rude-“

“how do you know?”

“well, i don’t-“

“so, shut up?😒”

cuz like??? did they not bother to understand you???

soda literally made it his mission to prove that you weren’t a dick!!😭😭

and GODDAMN HE WAS SO RIGHT

you’re such a sweetheart to soda! he lovesss telling people about how cute you are around him since it’s his own way to squash the rumours.

“my y/n is so sweet, you wouldn’t get it.”

“isn’t she the same girl who beat the soc to a pulp?”

“she can barely kill a fly.”

you don’t need to do much to scare off the girls that flirt with him at the DX, just a nice little glare every now and then and they’re already gone!

(soda doesn’t have to know that you play into the rumours sometimes. it’s our little secret.)

steve randle

HATES EVERYONE WHO TALKS ABOUT YOU

he’s petty AS FUCK LMFAOOO

they can’t handle the randle😜💯

“ew, y/n-“

“MAN, GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY FACE WITH THAT WHAT DO YOUUU KNOW ABOUT Y/N🗣️‼️”

that was an over exaggeration but you get the point.

gets very defensive when people try and ‘warn’ him about you lmfao

gift him a tool box and he’ll use it until it’s literally falling apart at the bolts<3

no seriously. it could be holding on by one screw and he’ll still use it. he doesn’t gaf. steve will use anything u give him.

he accepts ur rbf cause he thinks it’s SO FUNNY?? like he’ll see you far away with your friends looking all angry before one of them says a really funny joke and just watches your expression change so quickly

one of his fav things ever<3!

two-bit mathews

he makes so much jokes about it LMFAOOO

“jesus, y/n! you sure yer glare ain’t the thing that killed the dinosaurs?”

—

“swear i see the devil in yours eyes sometimes. it looks soooo good on you, though🤭🤭”

HE THINKS ITS SO ATTRACTIVE

and he lovesss your sweetheart side sm it’s like he gets best of both worlds

RAHH GIFT TWO-BIT MICKEY PLUSHIE OR ELSE

He’d totally have it on his bed 24/7. his sister has tried to steal it before to scare him btw.

skmetimes just to spend time together with him—you just go walking around town with him while he has an arm around your shoulder the whole time<3

[deadghosy]

MORE OF TRAILBLAZER!READER PLS PLS PLS PLS PLSSS, WHAT DOES THE ANGELS THINK OF TRAILBLAZER!READER???

HAZBIN HOTEL ANGELS X TRAILBLAZER! READER

prompt: how they viewed you in heaven was something no one excepted an angel like you to act.

I just gotta say. You are a fucking menace.

When you first appeared in heaven as the most beautiful thing with your golden eyes and two pair of wings….you weren’t the most nicest as you were too blunt.

“Is this a flash bang? Why the hell is it so bright here.”

everyone gasped at the H word as if this was kindergarten all over again

*cue you need to leave sound*

Sera had to put a few rules in your face. Literally a whole ass rule book as you sat there with a blank face saying. “Are you effing Fr?” Sera nodded and left leaving you with this HUMONGOUS ASS BOOK THAT REMINDED YOU OF FAIRLY ODD PARENTS

Sera founded you as a troubled youth that needs to see the rules all over again to see the true potential for you to stay in heaven.

Emily didn’t think of you being a troublemaker, she found you quite cool as you explored around heaven having the bravery to speak your mind and not let anything bring you down.

Emily and you got along great and fine as she calls you her little collector as you call her…just Em.

It was a late heavenly night as you stood up from your bed as you did a barrel roll for your balcony as you were starving for some digging. You rummage through the dumpster to find a nice old pearly necklace and a bracelet. “Emily would love this…” you said as you smiled not noticing a blonde haired lady watching you with an asumed smile.

The blonde haired lady from afar found you mysteriously cute and attractive as you roam the streets of heaven. 

ADAM HATES YOUR FUCKING GUTS😭😭

It all started when you was digging in trash. It was basically flirting for you to dig through it. *cue fuck boy face* AND THEN ADAM HAD SNUCK BEHIND YOU READY TO INSULT YOU-

But you kicked him straight in his fucking chin-

That horse ass kick gave him a bruise on his chin for legit 2 weeks

You once blasted music in your apartment…I mean shit it was good music you got from the human world you use to live in. You got so much noise complaints but thanks to Emily, she made it seem like you weren’t causing issues.

Lute has no opinions on you, she just doesn’t have time to even look at you. Even though you sometimes break in her place to eat all her food like the raccoon you are.

One day you actually caused trouble in heaven just because you decided to dig in a lady’s trash bin from outside.

“HEY GET OUT OF MY DARN TRASH BIN YOU RACCOON!” An angel yelled from her window throwing her boom at you as you swung your metal bat at her that you totally didn’t find in the trash nights ago…..

The lady screamed ducking as the bat went back into your grasp like a boomerang. “THATS IT! IM CALLING THE GUARDS!”

And so that was your cue to run as if your life depended on it as you thrown a rotten banana peel you found in your pocket. You still had one in your mouth.

And that’s how your 1 month trial ended because you fought bitches for your trash.

[burningcheese-merchant]

Sup! Hope the yandere beasts are so clingy to the ancients to the point they gotta get a stick to beat em off

My brother, the Yandere Beasts eat restraining orders for breakfast, lunch and dinner

White Lily can just sort of... swat at Silent Salt with her hand and he'll back off (but it's only, like... a couple of feet... for an hour at most. And then he's right back to thinking personal space is witchcraft or something idk [insert flimsy excuse to harass crush here])

Eternal Sugar should've been called Eternal Velcro tbh. The few times she actually gets up and goes after Hollyberry, the SECOND she manages to touch her, that's it. She's stuck. She's like a frog on a tree branch, just glued to the poor woman. Hollyberry cannot shake her off. She has to very slowly, very carefully pry her off while also trying to talk her down as gently as possible so as not to set her off in some way

When asked why Mystic Flour lets her ribbons start floating towards Dark Cacao as soon as he's within reach, she refuses to answer. In fact, she denies it's happening in the first place. You must be mistaken. The ribbons only do as she commands, they're not alive and they don't have thoughts or feelings of their own. No, they are not trying to coil around Cacao's ankles and slinking up his arms and legs. No, they are not wrapping around his neck just tightly enough to let her hear his breath hitch (no, she doesn't like the sound). No, she is not trying to drag him closer to her. No, she does not care that he is now within arm's reach. No, he is not close enough for her to cup his chin and lean down and kiss him on the lips. NO, SHE DOES NOT WANT TO DO THAT. WHAT DO YOU MEAN, SHE ALWAYS DOES THIS EVERY SINGLE TIME THEY MEET? WHAT ARE YOU ON ABOUT, FOOL? SHE DOESN'T WANT TO SEE HIM IN THE FIRST PLACE! RETURN TO FLOUR- (yes, Cacao is desperately fighting back the entire time. What the fuck are those ribbons made of? Why can't he cut through them???)

Oh, Shadow Milk. You touch-starved buffoon. He acts like he's going to die if he doesn't have a hand on Pure Vanilla at all times. He MUST do the following at least once a day or he will burst into flaming confetti: A) pinch Vanilla's cheeks. B) Fiddle with Vanilla's hair in some way. Petting it, running his fingers through it, tossling it, etc. C) Grabbing Vanilla's shoulders. Perhaps even giving a(n unasked for) massage. D) Hugging Vanilla, uncomfortably tight and for an uncomfortable amount of time. E) Attempt to kiss Vanilla in different locations with varying speed and intensity. F) I got threatened with being choked to death with puppet strings if I said this one, just know that it's NSFW. G) Alternate between mocking Vanilla's appeals to reason and empathy and polite requests to be left in peace, and just outright acting as if he never said anything (or sometimes even pretend he said the opposite. "Shadow Milk, please stop touching my butt" "You want me to spank you??? Oooooh, so NAUGHTY! I knew you had it in you, my dear sweet Silly-Vanilly~!")

Golden Cheese has to drop actual buildings on Burning Spice to get his damn hands off of her. And it only works for a little while. He will be back to stalking and hunting her like a starving predator as soon as he's recovered. He will hug her if it kills him. He will smother her with kisses if it kills him. He will fondle her wings if it kills him. He will nuzzle her face if it kills him. He will... uh... let's skip to the part where he fails and she bashes his head in and leaves him under 10+ stories of rubble, yeah? Yeah

The Beasts are clingy as fuck. It would almost be cute if they weren't all violent creeps that need to go back to prison and stay there

[luck-of-the-drawings]

smth smth about 'the thing that the character did that you thought was rly rly funny in the moment is actually linked to a terrible trauma that lies within said character.' or wahtever.

[heytherelysia]

riding robin's cock in reverse cowgirl while he plays with his console — not proofread, nsfw.

he was previously shy when it comes to fucking you, especially in the earlier stages of your relationship. but as time flies, he grew bolder. when you gave him a surprise kiss, he was quick to hold your wrist and swirl his tongue with yours, violating the confines of your mouth. you had to tap his shoulder to cue that you could not breath. he pulls away almost immediately, lidded eyes and heaving chest, he apologizes. it is truly a pleasent surprise.

you hang out with him in his room as you've always did even before your relationship started blossoming. multiple clicks can be heard near his console. you turn to observe robin, and you can see that he is quite focused on beating a pixelated, yet scary boss. face scrunched up, eyebrows furrowed, and a stiff posture. something about it... turns you on.

ah.

you don't give yourself a single second to think your thoughts through before you walk up to him, sitting on his bed. robin had no time to question you as you swiftly sit on his lap - facing away from the surprised boy.

robin looks away from his device for a quick second and asks, "what's up, sweetie?".

"it's nothing... just focus on your game..." your words could barely register as a whisper, yet with the slashes of a sword, and the clanks of metal, robin was able to hear you.

he says nothing in response, but you can feel his thighs shifting.

you waste no time pulling his boxers down, you gotta hit 'em when they're distracted. his soft cock bounces from the release, "b-babe? what're you doing?". although there are hints of nervousness in his voice, he sounds pleasently surprised.

"just let me make you feel good... don't mind me."

"o-okay, i trust you..."

you turn to face his night stand and open the cabinet in which a lube lies. you take it and open its cap before facing your back to your boyfriend once again. you pull down your shorts, the clothing sliding to your ankles and pull your briefs to the side. robin feels you shifting and takes a quick look at you, but his eyes snap to your exposed. "fuck..." he swears under his breath, "your hole s'pretty for me yeah?"

you pour an abundant amount of lube to your exposed hole, the cold liquid causing you to have shivers down your spine. "only f'you robin... only for you..." you don't know if that is true, but in this moment, you belong to robin.

casting the lube aside on his sheets, you take a deep breath. you reach behind your back to get a hold of his dick, when you have, he's already so hard. twitching dick representing robin's want to be inside you, so much so that he is shaking.

dragging his cock near your entrance, you slide the tip enough for it not to slide away, but also not enough for it to go inside you.

"such... such a tease..." you hear from behind you.

you rub his tip with your hole a few times, sometimes it would go between your cheeks. you could feel robin thrusting himself to you - he's getting needy, and quite frankly, you are too.

so you did what any pent up person would do, besides, why waste time teasing his cock with your hole when you can just ride from hours upon hours.

the overflowing lube from your hole has merged with robin's cock during your teasing and you had ease sinking yourself in his length. you hear a high moan from robin "f-fuck... so tight... baby..."

you put your arms down to the bed as you arch your back, gleefully riding the orphan's cock. you let out your moans and whimpers as well.

robin has somewhat been more concentrated with your tight walls closing in on his length and his clicks have finally come to a stop. he tosses his console on the side and reaches for your hips, keeping you closer to him. he thrusts into you rhythmically, only to lose rhythm minutes later as he reaches his climax as he mindlessly pushes his cock in and out of your that he loves so much.

robin climaxes inside you, breathing heavily. he sits up to look at you and notices something. "...you didn't come, baby?" you shake your head.

"that won't do..." he says almost upsettingly. robin pulls down your briefs and puts you into missionary, propping his still flaccid coke near your entrance. he puts your hands on the sides of your head and seals them with his own. with half lidded eyes, he leans into your face, lips near touching.

"it's my turn to make you feel good now, handsome."

—

it's dark out, yet the sun slowly retreats from hiding to give light to others. moans, thrusting, and creaking can still be heard from robin's room. the night is still young.

amidst the bodily fluids, the lewd noises, and the lustful exchange of words - robin's console hasn't been turned off. the text on small screen reads "game over" as a somber theme plays to signify his loss. hm, maybe that's why he's adamant for multiple rounds.

[da-shrimping-station]

here's an idea:

sleepy seraph cuddle pile

these fucked up dudes need some fluff every now and then. from Gamigin's event we saw how close they are so cuddling probably isn't new to them and they all share the same sleeping space

it would be so nice too if the people you cuddled with slept normally but nope the seraphs got their own little quirks when asleep

Gabriel

his halo is too fucking bright

it's either he can't control how bright it is, he doesn't care how bright it is, or he likes pissing the others off (my money is on the last 2 honestly)

Michael wants to suffocate him with a pillow for that

Gab also randomly wakes up to pray (which is expected from an angel but he gives 0 shit about volume control)

Michael

talks in his sleep

you can have a full conversation with him

remembers bits and pieces of it so be careful when talking to him

is clingy af, not a koala but a damn constrictor and it would be a miracle if he lets go in his sleep

he likes to be in the middle but no one wants him to cuz the ones on either side of him are fair game

he often sleeps with Gabriel beside him so that he won't get up for prayers and they can all sleep without interruptions but that means Gab gets pissy and will engage with his sleep-talking

also his hair gets everywhere

Raphael

hogs the blankets, literally no blanket is safe

he starts with one and come morning there's 3 to 4 on him

there's a mini tug of war game on cold nights and there have been instances of blankets getting torn

he also moves in his sleep A LOT

be prepared to get kneed/elbowed/kicked/a wing to the face when sleeping beside him

he falls asleep in a normal position but wakes up diagonally across the mattress with his foot on someone's face and his torso tangled in blankets and a wing trapped under someone's leg

Lucifer

probably the only normal-ish sleeper of the lot, if it weren't for his preference to sleep face down/on his stomach

man's got 12 wings there's no way he sleeps on his back

barely moves in his sleep too and one would think he's a corpse

his wings sometimes spread out and cover the others (they love it when that happens)

sleeps like the dead so whatever squabble the others got going in the middle of the night don't bother him

if he falls asleep last, he likes to watch the others for a bit

these were just some ideas that popped up in my head while on the commute to work

just throwing all these out there with very little knowledge on the seraphs but hey these thoughts were rattling in my head and i gotta let em out

Part 2

[chrislilcumslvt]

Rings… |C.S

Plot: After seeing Chris’s new TikTok you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking how good he looks with rings on

Why I’m writing it: um I had this idea from his new TikTok sooo yeaaa

Warnings: Fingering, virginity loss, pnv

RANDOM SONG CUZ I CAN BITCH DEAL WITH IT

Chris was currently in the kitchen fliming a tiktok while you were on the couch just watching him do it him and Matt made this little joke about how him and Matt looked alike the most so they both posted TikTok’s.

Once he was done he came to sit on the couch and edit the TikTok putting a text on the side that said “Me pulling up to the Matt Sturniolo look alike contest” you scooted over to him laying your head on his shoulder looking at his phone “what are you doing love” and looked over at you with a smile “just putting up a TikTok princess, were you watching?”

You smiled and looked at his hands seeing the familiar rings that Matt wore sometimes you picked up his hand in yours and said “Wow these look good on you” he smirked “Oh yeah you like them on me better than Matt?” you nodded even though you didn’t think of Matt like that, he trailed his hand up your thigh teasing the edge of your panties.

“How about we get these off yea princess..” you nodded Chris slowly took off your skirt along with your lacy pink panties when he got them off he threw them to the ground “we shouldn’t do this here princess let’s move to my room yea..” she nodded Chris picked her up bridal style taking her up to his room.

Chris put her down on the bed sitting down in front of her “You want my fingers or me first baby” she thought for a second “I want your fingers first..” “ok love” Chris was starting to take the rings off but when she saw he was taking the rings off “No no don’t take them off leave ‘em on..please..” Chris looked at her a little concerned “Why princess?” Then Chris clicked “Ohh I know why” she smirked slightly “You want me to touch you with them on right” he smirked “Yea baby please..” she whined for his touch “beg for my touch baby come on I know you can” Chris leaned down pressing soft kisses to her thighs “Please baby I need it so badly..” Chris grazed his fingertips on her clit making her whimper “M-More pleaseee..” she whined.

Chris smirked and ran a finger through her folds rubbing her clit in slow circles “Fuckkk..” she moaned quietly knowing Nick was in the other room Chris smirked knowing why she was so quiet “Yeahh just stay quiet baby don’t want Nick hearing you all those sounds are for me right baby.. no one else..” she nodded Chris slowly pushed his first finger in her, she moaned softly as she felt the cold metal on her hot needy pussy sending shivers on her body “Feel good princess..?” She nodded “Want another finger..” she nodded quickly nodded then chris slowly added another finger she felt the other ring hit her fold sending shivers through her body.

Chris started moving his fingers in and out of her in a slow motion “Gotta stretch you out before your ready for me baby..” she nodded and moaned quietly biting her lip slightly “fuck baby you feel so good your so damn tight..” she felt herself clenching around his fingers Chris went moved his fingers in and out of her in a faster pace “Yeahhh that’s it baby cum for me” she tried so hard not to scream or moan but she let out a loud moan “Fuckkkk!” She arched her back off the bed cumming all over Chris’s fingers she let out a soft sigh Chris let her come down from her high “You know I’m gunna have to clean up these rings and give them back to Matt right” he chuckled “Yea I know baby..” Chris then asked for the big question “Are you ready for me princess..” she looked a little scared but then calmed down letting out a soft sigh “Yea I’m ready..” “I’ll be gentle ok” she nodded and trusted him.

Once chris was fully stripped he slowly got on the bed getting on top of her kissing her head softly “Are you really sure you want this princess..”, “Yes baby I want this..” he nodded and positioned himself at her entrance rubbing the head of his cock in her recent release “Fuck…” he moan softly “I’m gunna start now ok..just tell me to stop if you need me to..” she nodded.

Chris pushed inside of her tight pussy “Fuck princess your so tight around me..” he moaned quietly , she whimpered softly at the burning sensation Chris immediately stopped “You ok..” “Mhmm just burns a bit” “Yea it’ll only hurt for a bit then you’ll start to feel good ok..”.

Chris was fully inside her and let her adjust to his size “Ready for me to move..” she nodded, Chris started moving his hips slowly not wanting to go fast just yet “Ohh fuckk.. you feel so much better than I imagined..” Chris moan quietly “B-Baby go faster please” she whined Chris moved his thrusts faster “Fuckkk! Take it baby take my fucking dick in your tight pussy..” “Ohh Chris!” She moaned out loud not caring if nick or Matt heard she didn’t care anymore she was having a great time.

“Fuck yeah baby you close?, I can feel you clenching around my cock you wanna cum for me baby..” she nodded Chris moved his hips faster “Fucking cum for me baby I’m so close” she moaned loudly feeling the knot in her stomach slowly snapping Chris’s hips slowly slowing down as he was close to cumming he thrust one more time before he felt the knot in his stomach snap “FUCKKK YESSSS!” He moaned loudly “Ohhh baby..” she whine, he pulled himself out of her and laid on top of her exhausted.

She smiled and threw the blanket over them and kissed his forehead but then suddenly Chris’s phone rang it was a text from nick

WRITER TYPING… OMG I FINALLY HAD THE MOTIVATION TO FINISH THIS HOPE YALL LIKE IT 😭

TAGLIST 1: @stayingstromboli @lollycoldzzz @conspiracy-ash @ijustbelurkingmymen @slutforsturniolosss

TAGLIST 2: @angvlarabella @shadowthesim @zariyam @adoreechxmpion @liiixsturniolos

TAGLIST 3: @chrisbabymomma @unknvhx @colorthecosmos444 @matts-myloverboy

[shoyoist]

Hi my name is virtue and i'm plagued (pos) by thoughts of how delightfully vocal hanma is in bed.

content: fem!reader. unprotected sεx, riding dⅰck<3 shuji is loud and talks so much. multiple rounds and οrgasms, overstim, use of the terms daddy and babydoll. manhandling. note: this took me so long i apologizey_y

— . ｡˚ ♡ hanma likes it best when you're just as vocal as he is.

“shuji—” your voice has nearly given out. your body is hot and sore and your skin glows with sweat under hanma's bedroom light. the slap-slap-slap! of skin against skin fills the room, along with your boyfriend's shameless moans and sighs of pleasure.

“say my name again, baby,” he groans, sliding his big hand down your waist to your ass, squeezing at the plush skin before giving it a sharp slap. “fuckin’ say it, and open your mouth—moan pretty for me, yeah?”

you're tired — hanma has been making you ride his cock for what feels like hours, and your legs are trembling, cunt and thighs messy with your slick and his cum, and your clit is begging for relief.

but he doesn't let you stop. “c'mon, dollface. fuck, you look so fuckin' good like this, mm?” he hisses through gritted teeth, hips jerking up to meet your body when your cunt flutters around him, making his dick throb. “tits so good when they bounce like ‘at. gotta— gotta fuckin' see em jump while i cum.”

god, he uses the most embarrassing fucking words sometimes— but you're so blissed out and dizzy on the feeling of his big, big cock inside you, that you can't give a damn. 

“hhngh— shuji, ‘m tired.” you beg, grabbing hold of his arms and using them to hold yourself up, still being such a good girl as you fuck his cock, pussy drooling and pulsing hot and wet all around his girth. “please.”

“keep goin’, baby.” he moans so loud, throwing his head back and exposing the expanse of his throat for you, and you can see red lines from where you'd dug your fingers in and scratched him down the side of his neck— you want to lean in and kiss him there, but you think if you move forward too much right now, you might collapse.

hanma is nice enough to grab your hips and fuck up into you, lightening the effort. “heh,” he smiles, a drunken stretch to his lips — and his eyes lower to his cock, watching the way your cunt stretches out around him as he rolls his body up in slow, languid thrusts.

“was gonna put a— a ring on you for valentine's day, baby.” his laugh is breathy, partially a stuttered moan. he eyes the milky band of cum and slick that sits around the base of his cock, getting thicker every time you sink your pussy hilt-deep onto him— and his smile widens. “but it looks like you beat me to it. look at that.”

your face heats up in a furious blush, and hanma just chuckles at your expense as you shudder in his arms, feeling an orgasm coming but also feeling too exhausted to even tell him about it.

his dark, golden gaze scans you as you try to catch your breath, thinking you're so fucking pathetic and so pretty as you keep going, just incapable of saying no to him even when you're begging him to give you a break.

he knows you love getting fucked on his cock as much as he loves watching you get fucked on it. “talk t’ me, baby.” he coos, patting your cheek before wrapping sin around your throat and gently leading your lips to his.

your hips buckle then, and your ass smacks onto his thighs as you sit down on his dick and whine. “fuck—” he groans, choking on his words as he lets out a string of cusses under his breath. “little cunt did so good f’me, ah?”

“can’t— wanna cum, shuji.” your eyes flutter, rolling back into your head as you exhale and slump into his chest, upset as you feel the stimulation against your clit die down but you've worked enough for one night. 

“kah— you tappin’ out on me?” he grins, squishing your cheeks in his big, big hand and giving your head a little shake. ”c’mon baby, give me a good time.”

“wanna cum,” you beg, tears dotting your lashline now. you wanna please him so bad, but you just cant. “shuji, shuji please. i … i did well already, mhm?”

you're so fucking cute. so damn good, so pretty and all his for the taking, he knows. you've pleased him plenty already, it's true. he's made you ride him and let him watch your tits bounce till he came three whole times into your pretty little pussy— and till you'd come undone, shaking and whimpering in his hands as you struggled to fuck his cock through your orgasm at least four times. 

and hey, isn't valentine's day supposed to be an occasion where the man showers his woman in gifts, affection and love?

“alright, since you're askin’ so sweet.” he chuckles again, and when sin and punishment grip your waist again, they do it firmly and with force.

hanma lifts you off his cock easily, and you don't notice but it twitches, the vein that runs underneath throbbing heavily when you let out a sad little whine like you're sad it's not in you anymore— and he shushes you, pushing you down on your back across the sheets. “let daddy take care of you now, m’kay?” he giggles.

you blush again at the term that you always say is so embarrassing yet makes you so wet and obedient for him anyway — and as you nod, hanma climbs over you, trapping your body under his broad shoulders and between his long, lanky limbs. “just need you to say the words f’me, baby.” he says, taking hold of your legs under the knees and hooking them over his shoulders.

you feel your cunt open up, slick and fluttering in anticipation for him, and the sensation of the cool air washing over the sensitive flesh right before the blunt head of his cock presses over your hole — it has you keening. 

he doesn't even have to instruct you. “please shuji, daddy—” you babble, needing him. “need you to fuck me ‘n help me cum. tired, so tired and i did well for you, didn't i daddy? need you to make me feel good now, please.”

and how could he ever say no?

“anyth—shit—anythin’ for my babydoll.” he hisses sharply, pushing his cock past your entrance and back into your warm, velvet cunt. his hands, the dark tattoos contrasting so prettily against his pale skin as he grips you tight, holding you in place as he thrusts in and slides himself into you in one go.

you cry out weakly, toes curling with the pleasure that rushes through you when he splits you open and his tip bumps your cervix— and he smiles down at you, golden eyes lidded and dopey. “yeah, ya like that? like how daddy can fuck his cock so deep into your little cunt?”

“mhm, mhm,” you nod, by now so blissed out that all you can do is moan and tell him mhm to every question he asks. 

“baby's all fucked out already,” he tuts, giving you another thrust, the schlick! of his cock going in and out so loud it sends the most delicious shiver up his spine. he's going to fuck you so hard. “y’gonna match my energy, doll? gonna moan with me ‘n cry while you cum?”

“mhm,” you nod, mouth falling open as he thrusts harder, and your arms come up to wrap around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. “love you, shuji.”

god, he thinks, giggling into your mouth, biting into your swollen bottom lip. he's going to fuck you so damn hard, when you finally cum this one last time, it'll fucking knock you out. 

notes: interactions, reblogs & feedback are much appreciated! come thirst with me in my asks<3 tagging: @katasstrophy here it is rivvy! hehe<3