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frenchkisstheabyss · 3 months ago

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♡ Wondering ♡

♡ Pairings: frat boy!mingi x chubby!fem!librarian!reader

♡ Genre: angst/fluff/smut

♡ Summary: While working your job at the campus library you find that the most popular guy on campus has developed quite the crush on you. Thinking that it's some sort of prank, you dismiss him completely but Mingi has his heart set on making you his and isn't content to give up that easily.

♡ Word Count: 4.5k-ish

♡ Warnings: mingi really develops a thing for chubby girls, reader has body insecurities, body worship, kissing, male masturbation, porn, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, a lil hair pulling, a lil rough sex for a sec, technically cum marking, pet names (baby), but otherwise fluffy

♡ A/N: This is a fic I wrote for a super adorable anon and as always I'm super honored that you even asked me to write this my love. I truly hope that I did your idea some justice and you enjoy it. To all the chubby babes out there who may read this, you're a bad bitch, I swear to you, and if anyone tells you otherwise I'll swing on em. Kay, love you, bye - xoxo

Nothing. Mingi strokes his cock—his palm gliding up and down his length, his thumb circling the rim—and he feels absolutely nothing. Lying in the darkness of his bedroom, the warm glow of light emanating from his phone illuminates the frustration on his face. His gaze lazily dances across the screen where a woman lies naked, a sex toy vibrating between her thighs. She’s in his favorite position, making his favorite noises, but he can’t get off on it.

Giving up, he lets out a groan, throwing his head back on his pillow. It’s been weeks of this. He’s been too horny to function but when the time of action comes he can only get halfway hard and nothing feels the same as it used to. Maybe a different video will help. Bringing his phone in close to his face, he scrolls through the recommended videos. His cock still in his hand, he feels it soften into a sad, floppy thing the further down he scrolls.

Just as he’s about to call it a night, prepared to at last put himself out of his misery, something catches his eye. An image of a naked woman spread across a bed, her plush body fully exposed. She’s bigger than other girls he’s seen naked in porn, even in real life. She’s chubby and soft with shimmering gloss on her lips and stretch marks on her thighs. His breath hitches at the sensation of the blood rushing down his length as he takes her in.

His interest officially piqued, he clicks into the video and watches her in action. He’s hypnotized by the way she bounces and jiggles, every motion of her body too perfect to comprehend. The skin pulls tight around his cock, beads of arousal rolling down the tip as he quickens his movements. His bottom lip catches between his teeth, an attempt at choking back the low groans fighting their way up his throat at the sight of juices moistening the woman’s soft thighs.

Seeing her hits him with a rush of something unfamiliar. Something that has his stomach muscles contracting and his mouth watering. His mind goes wild with thoughts of what it’d be like to touch her, to feel her body trembling against his. What he wouldn’t give right now to grip a belly like that or drag his tongue across the plush of her ass. It’s exhilarating, unlike anything he’s ever felt before. His cock grows so sensitive that he’s twitching with every stroke.

Any care for if his roommates can hear him flies out of the window as a dizzying heat washes over him, the veins along his length throbbing as a waterfall of white shoots up onto his stomach. His phone drops onto the bed and he lets out a pitiful whimper, his eyes clung shut as he gives in to an orgasm so strong it makes his muscles weak. He’s so high from it that he fears he’ll never come down. Breathless, his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, he sits up in bed and flicks the light on to see what a mess he’s made of himself.

His eyes drift back to his phone where a suggestion for a similar video calls him. He takes a deep breath, feeling his cock stiffening again so soon. Mingi picks his phone up, his thumb hovering over the Next button. It’s 3am and in a few hours Yunho will be banging on his door to go to football practice. He should get his shit together, clean himself off, and go to sleep. But that rush was so unexpected, so utterly delicious. He slips back down into bed, hitting the Next button. He needs more.

“Whoa, there’s so many books here” Mingi gasps, staring up at the tall cherry wood shelves of the sprawling library.

Mingi’s seen this place in pictures before—this marble palace with its sky high shelves and expertly crafted pillars—but in all his years on campus he’s never stepped foot in it. Nothing in this literary maze ever interested him enough to require a visit. His college career has always depended more on athletics and frat politics than it has books.

Most of his professors were more than content to give him a passing grade simply because of who he is. A stroke of luck that ran out the moment a new Women’s Studies professor stepped foot on campus. She’s set out to challenge him, to make him work for his grades if he actually wants them. A true tragedy if he’s ever been faced with one.

“Duh, it’s full of books. It’s literally a library” Yunho laughs, plopping a small stack of books into Mingi’s arms. “I grabbed everything you need except one. The Vagina Monologues. You’re gonna have to go ask one of the librarians for help.”

Mingi winces at the thought of the title leaving his lips and falling on a complete stranger’s ears, “Why’d it have to be called that?”

“Oh, stop being a child” Yunho huffs, catching a glimpse of a young woman pushing a cart of books past the aisle. “There! Go ask her!”

Mingi hesitates a moment but Yunho shoves him forward, “Off you go.”

Stumbling his way down the aisle, Mingi traces the sound of squeaky cart wheels a few rows over, stopping dead in his tracks when his gaze finds the woman pushing it. She wears a flowy, pear colored dress with white lilies printed all over it. It’s long enough not to scandalize the other library staff but short enough to get a glimpse of where her thighs begin to kiss. From behind Mingi can clearly make out her shape in it, the plushness of her figure bringing to mind things he definitely shouldn’t be thinking about in the library.

Humming along to a song in her head, she turns to place a book on one of the shelves and Mingi’s cheeks begin to burn. She’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. He’s said that about a lot of girls and never meant it but with this one it’s different. She has eyes that twinkle like sunshine dancing on the surface of some gorgeous lake. The curve of her nose is nothing short of perfection and her lips look like they taste of the sweetest sugar.

“Can I help you with something?” you ask. The way he stares at you makes you feel more like an animal in some zoo than the object of his affection.

Mingi shakes himself out of his daze, lowering the stack of books down to cover the slight rise in his jeans. “Uh…I…yeah…um” he stutters.

“Uh, I, yeah, um?” you tease, grabbing another book and sliding it onto a nearby shelf, “I don’t think we have that one.”

“Who are you?” he spits out as if that’s a completely normal question to ask someone when you’re the one who approached them.

“That’s a really weird question to ask someone, Mingi.”

“Wait, you know me?”

You giggle at the absurdity of such a question, “Of course I know you. Everyone knows you.”

Mingi thinks about it for a second, the reality of his popularity setting back in. “I guess you’re right. I am pretty popular.”

The grin on his face makes you nauseous. Of course you know him. And of course he doesn’t know who you are. Mingi’s from a whole different world and you’re positive girls like you don’t exist where he comes from. Rolling your eyes, you grab back onto the handle of your cart, “If there’s nothing you need…”

“Vagina!” he says, leaving you both stunned to the core, “I mean, monologues. Vagina Monologues. It’s, like, a book or whatever. Fuck it, are you busy tonight?”

A whisper of laughter drifts down the aisle, giving away Yunho’s presence. He’s never seen his best friend crash and burn this hard. Keeping a straight face isn’t an option. Yunho’s laughter may not be meant for you but it feels like it is. The first time a guy like Mingi talks to you and of course it had to be a joke.

“Second floor, in the Plays section, under E for Ensler” you snap, turning your back before you die of embarrassment right before Mingi’s eyes.

“Wait, can I at least get your name?” Mingi calls out but you’re already pushing your cart down the aisle, disappearing around the next corner without another word.

Yunho slaps a hand on Mingi’s shoulder, shaking his head in disappointment, “Who’s your new friend?”

Mingi sighs longingly, his gaze still lingering where you once stood, “I don’t know but I plan to find out.”

Sometimes when you find yourself working nights at the library you feel like Cinderella. A slave to these old dusty books, forced to clean and organize them until your manicure begins to chip while other girls are out at bars or parties. Only there’s no fairy godmother to come wave her magic wand and turn your pumpkin into a carriage. There’s no glass slipper and certainly no Prince Charming to sweep you off your feet.

Still, you need the extra money so there’s nothing to be done about it. Taking a seat at the front desk you check the time, it’s almost time to close up shop and the last few stragglers are packing up their things to head out. Once they’re gone things should be peaceful. No questions, no interruptions, no one getting on your nerves.

“Have you been avoiding me?” Mingi asks, popping up in front of your desk.

“Oh my god!” you gasp, clutching your chest, “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Kill you? How could I ever hurt a girl as pretty as you?” he says in that cocky tone you’ve become accustomed to.

It’s been weeks since your first run in with Mingi and he’s been relentless ever since. He stops by every shift to ask you some silly question that somehow always turns into yet another attempt at flirting with you. You shoot him down every single time but he never seems offended or discouraged. He just keeps coming back all bright eyed and full of energy like a golden retriever. You’ve gone home every night wondering what his motivations are. Why’s he being so persistent?

Sometimes for the hell of it you let yourself play with the idea that he might actually be attracted to you. Mingi is drop dead gorgeous after all and, even though you refuse to laugh at any of his stupid jokes, you find him pretty charming. For all his cockiness, he’s sweet in a way that makes you wonder what it might be like to be truly adored by a guy like him. This little fantasy of yours is always disrupted by the vision of Yunho laughing at the two of you. It’s a joke, that’s all, a stupid joke that Mingi’s cruel for not knowing when to give up on.

“Aren’t you sick of coming here?” you ask, pretending to be busy on the laptop, “There must be something else you can entertain yourself with.”

Mingi smiles down at you, fawning over how your skin glows in the shreds of sunset that peek through the windows. “There is actually. I’m having a party tonight and I want you to come.”

Your eyes shoot open, an involuntary burst of joy hitting you. “A party?” you ask, sounding more excited than you intended to. Catching yourself, you reel back the excitement but it’s too late, Mingi’s already caught it.

“Yeah, a party” he says, reaching behind the desk to grab a pen and a sticky note. He scribbles down the address and sticks it to your laptop screen. “Tell me you’ll come.”

He sounds so genuine when he says that. It’s almost as if he’s truly desperate to have you around. You look up at his face and feel the butterflies in your stomach go into a frenzy. You’ve heard the way other girls talk about him, the way they swoon over him like he’s this magical thing. You don’t want to be one of them, just another girl pining after Song Mingi but here you are.

You clear your throat, snatching the blue sticky note from your screen, and putting it aside. “I don’t really know if I wanna spend my Friday night with a bunch of wasted pretty boys.”

“Ooh, so you do think I’m pretty” Mingi blushes, batting his eyelashes.

You pick up a stapler, threatening to throw it at him, “Leave now and maybe, just maybe I’ll consider coming to your little party.”

Mingi throws his hands up, carefully backing away from the desk, “Fair enough. I’m wearing all black by the way. In case you wanted to, ya know, match or something.”

You wind your arm back, placing it in perfect formation to hit him in the head with the stapler. Mingi gets the message and scurries out of the door, leaning his head back in for a split second to whisper, “See you later, beautiful.” He winks at you and you groan but he’s gone now and there’s no one left to take your anger out on.

As the last few visitors trickle out you find yourself sitting in the silence of the library, that blue sticky note calling your name. You pick it up, swearing you’ll toss it in the trash but you only stare at it, reading the address over and over again. Some stupid frat party with a bunch of stupid boys at some frat house on the edge of campus. Why would you ever waste your time going to something like that? And who does he think he is insinuating that you’d even want to match with him? Anyway, you only have one good black dress and you’re sure it doesn’t even fit anymore. It isn’t even worth trying…is it?

“I’m telling you, this girl’s gorgeous and she’s super smart too. She knows everything about books and stuff, like, you can ask her anything and she just knows” Mingi rambles, grabbing another beer from the fridge.

“Because it’s her job” Yunho teases, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Mingi pops the beer open, flicking the metal top into a nearby trash can, “And how did she get that job? Because she’s smart.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve seen him like this over a girl…ever” Jongho says, stealing Mingi’s beer for himself.

“Well I think it’s cute. Mingi’s got a girlfriend” Wooyoung sings, making cute little hearts with his fingers.

“She’d be his girlfriend if she didn’t hate his guts” Yunho mumbles half heartedly.

Mingi gasps, taking offense to that, “She doesn’t hate me, she just hasn’t fully warmed up to me yet but she will.”

He looks around the kitchen and his friends all eye him skeptically. Mingi didn’t say that with nearly enough confidence for them to believe him and the truth is that he barely believes himself but how does he tell his friends that? He’s the one who girls drool over. He’s never the one doing the drooling. He has a reputation at stake and here he is ruining it for a girl who probably won’t even show up tonight. But he can’t bring himself to give up on you yet.

That first night after he met you he couldn’t get you out of his head. He kept imagining that face, that body, under him, on top of him, next to him. Just the thought of you made him hard enough that touching himself was mandatory to ease his need for you. And the more he showed up to bug you the more fascinating he came to find you.

Yes, you were snippy but never enough to directly chase him away. You let him stick around long enough for glimmers of your true personality to show. You’d made the terrible mistake of showing him how sweet you could be, how funny of a girl you are, and it only made things worse for both of you. More than having sex with you he wants to kiss you and hold your hand. He wants to tell you how pretty you are and not have you threaten him with a blunt object for it.

“Not to be that guy but when did you start liking…ya know?” Jongho says, hoping that the others will know what he means without it coming off rude.

“Chubby girls?” Wooyoung asks, making Yunho almost choke on his beer.

“You can’t just say that” Yunho coughs, grabbing a paper towel to wipe the beer from his lips.

Mingi’s eyes narrow, the question not quite setting right with him, “What does it matter?”

“I mean, it…it doesn’t. I swear it doesn’t” Jongho stammers, looking anywhere but at Mingi.

Wooyoung shrugs, coming to Jongho’s rescue, “In his defense, we’ve never seen you with one. She’s not your usual type.”

“So, what? Just cause she’s not my ‘type’ it has to be weird?” Mingi presses.

No one says anything, not a solitary word. They only stare at the doorway, their faces drained of any color. In the next room a party rages, in the kitchen an argument is ready to erupt, and there you stand in between the two hearing something you shouldn’t have at a time you shouldn’t have heard it.

“Hmm, well, thank you for that. I’m so happy everyone knows what I already did” you say, laughing to avoid tears, “Thank you for the invite, Mingi. Really.”

Something’s said, you’re sure it’s by Mingi, but you can’t hear it. You’ve gone numb to everything. Even the music blaring from the speakers a few feet from you feels like it’s playing from miles away. Desperate to outrun the tears stinging the corners of your eyes, you rush through the crowd of partiers in the living room and make your way outside.

The autumn air blows against your cheeks, cooling your tears as they begin to escape. You wipe them away, doing your best to look normal as you pass people headed into the party, but you can’t seem to stop them from falling. You feel so stupid for ever believing that Mingi’s feelings for you were anything but a joke he could laugh about with his friends. His words ring in your ears as you approach your car, frantically digging through your purse for your keys. Not his type? Well he isn’t yours either. You’ve never been too fond of assholes anyway.

“Shit” you hiss, the keys in your hand tumbling from your grasp the second you pull them out. You bend down to pick them up but someone snatches them away before you can. You spin around to find Mingi standing there, your keys jingling away as they twirl around his fingers.

“Give them back” you demand, grabbing for your keys but he holds them up high just out of your reach.

“You’re crying” he says and you can almost see his heart shatter, “Come back inside.”

“Why? So you and your friends can make fun of me to my face this time?” you ask, still fighting for your keys back but to no avail.

Mingi frowns, “Make fun of you? We weren’t making fun of you. I’d never let anyone do that to you.”

“So, what? Just cause she’s not my type it has to be weird?” you mock, feeling childish but justified considering the circumstances.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I only meant that just because I’ve dated smaller girls that doesn’t mean I can’t like you and I do. I really, really like you” he swears, “I love your body. I think it’s beautiful. Everything about you…I’m just obsessed with and all I wanna do is show you how special you are but you won’t let me and I don’t understand why.”

Folding your arms across your chest, you stand on the sidewalk staring at Mingi like you hate him but it’s not him that you hate. It’s the fact that you believe him. The tears have slowed now but your cheeks are still wet, black streaks of mascara beginning to run down your face. You drop your head, embarrassed by your mini breakdown, and Mingi swoops in, giving you a chest to lay your head on. His long arms wrap around you, locking behind your back to keep you close. It’s your instinct to pull away but his embrace is too comforting and warm to abandon.

“If you want me to leave you alone forever I promise I will. I’ll let you go and you’ll never have to see me again” he whispers, “But if you stay I promise I’ll be good to you.”

Your stomach sinks at the thought of never seeing him again. Day after day all you’ve done is tell him to leave you alone but it never occurred to you how much it’d hurt if he actually did. “I don’t want you to leave me alone” you admit, your face emerging from the black abyss of his shirt, “That’s, like, the exact opposite of what I want you to do.”

Mingi cups your face, his thumb stroking the curve of your cheek, “Good because I wasn’t actually gonna leave you alone. How can I when you look like this? You’re even a pretty crier. How’s that possible?”

You’ve always managed not to blush when Mingi’s said things like this—at least not when he’s around—but you don’t stop yourself this time. You don’t even make the tiniest attempt at hiding how utterly giddy you are over his comments.

“Ooh, is that a smile I see?” he gasps, immediately making you regret it. You motion to hit him in the arm but he grabs you by the wrist, slipping his hand into yours as he leads you back towards the house. “Let’s go upstairs and I’ll clean you up then we can talk more, okay?”

Mingi looks back at you and you could swear that time stands still. This isn’t where you thought you’d be on a Friday night, walking through a frat party hand in hand with one of the most popular guys on campus—with Mingi. He’s guiding you up the stairs, looking at you like you’re the prettiest girl in the world and for the first time, somewhere deep down inside, you’re beginning to feel like it.

Before you left the house tonight you swore that you wouldn’t become some frat party cliche. Mingi’s hot, there’s no doubt about it, but there was no way you’d wind up bent over some bed with your panties around your ankles.

You were actually right about that. You’re not bent over some bed, you’re laying across it, and your panties aren’t around your ankles, they’re tossed off to the side of the bed, blending in with the pile of black clothing you collectively shed before you found every inch of Mingi’s cock stuffed inside of you. You came up here to talk, that was it, and in your defense you did talk. You were vulnerable with each other, you opened up about your feelings, and the next thing you knew your tongues were so far in each other’s mouths that you could feel it in your throats.

Mingi’s kiss is sweeter than you imagined. It’s the kind of kiss you could get lost in it. Even now, after he’s been kissing your lips raw for the last half hour, you find yourself wanting more. You’re so wrapped up in him, so completely consumed by the ecstasy of having him inside of you, that you aren’t even focused on the fact that you’re naked. You can’t begin to care if you look good or not when your body’s flush with heat, feeling the best it has in your entire life.

But you do look good. Nothing in Mingi’s wildest dreams could compare to how beautiful your body actually is. His hands explore your curves, discovering those spots he knows will come to be his favorites. That squishy belly of yours that pokes out just a bit more when he massages your sides. Those pillowy thighs that seem even thicker when he presses them to your chest. Those breasts that bounce softly against his face while he’s sucking at your bud.

“You’re so fucking amazing, baby” Mingi whispers, licking his way over the hills of your breasts to bring his lips to yours. “I do have a type. You know it’s you, right?”

“Is that so?” you tease, trembling at every stroke of his cock between the slickness of your walls. You run your fingers through his hair, your back arching against the mattress so much that you’re sure you’d float away if the weight of Mingi’s body weren’t pinning you down.

Mingi kisses you like a starved man whose hunger can only be satisfied by the taste of you. “Mmm, can’t you tell?” he hums between sloppy kisses, “Can’t you feel it?”

He snaps his hips into you and you let out a moan that makes you grateful for the loud music blaring downstairs. Keeping his lips locked to yours, one hand gripping your hip and the other cradling your face, he thrusts into you harder. Hard enough to make the bed creak. Hard enough to make your walls clench tighter. Hard enough to have you tugging his hair, moaning between his lips while your decadent juices drip down his length.

Mingi groans, holding you even tighter as the head of his cock rides the ridges of your sweet spot. Your insides are so spongy and wet, clenching around him just right. There’s no way he can go back to masturbating after this. The thought of you won’t be enough. Fantasies are absolutely nothing compared to what it’s like to truly feel you under him and around him.

“Mingi, mmm, gonna cum” you whimper, your eyes wide and glossy as you look up at him.

You sound so cute when you say it that he loses his sanity for a second, his hips stuttering before picking up the rhythm again. Mingi slips both hands behind your neck, deepening the kiss as he bottoms out completely. Heat pools behind your belly, spreading through your body until you’re sure flames are dancing at your fingertips. Your body tenses, a weak little moan falling from your lips before your vision goes blurry and your high washes over you.

“That’s it, good girl” Mingi coos, basking in the warmth enveloping him, “So pretty when you cum all over my cock. Always so pretty.”

Your walls are pulsing, fluttering wildly around his swollen cock. Your cum just pours down him, making every movement slippery wet. He can’t take it anymore. He couldn’t hold back even if he tried.

“Aah, fuck” he hisses, pulling out of you just in time to paint your inner thighs in white, leaving ropes of cum dripping dangerously close to your core.

Completely destroyed by your orgasm, you’re plastered to the bed and can only watch as Mingi catches his breath, immediately going to work planting kisses all over your body. He kisses the places you love and the places you hate. He worships them all with his lips because to him they’re perfect in every way.

You surrender yourself to the reality of that, letting the lingering adoration from each kiss sink into your skin. Mingi’s yours, he has been since he first laid eyes on you in that library, all you ever had to do was let yourself have him.

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2K notes · View notes

briseroyawritingsblog · 3 months ago

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𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈

𝒐𝒍𝒅!𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕!𝒇𝒆𝒎 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. unprotected sex, cream pie, rough sex, innocence kink, large unspecified age gap, daddy kink, smoking, alcohol consumption etc. beware—

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

dividers by @anitalenia 💓

The thick smoke clouds could be cut with a knife the moment you entered his house the doors were left partly open so no harm right? You searched for him in the kitchen but you found him sitting by the fireplace in the living area. Manspread..Book in hand adjusting his reading glasses, cigar lazily resting between his lips. There he was.. the man who made your core pulse. That was a secret though.. nobody could ever know that you’ve been crushing on him ever since you moved next door to his house. He was not married, and he knew that for sure because every woman who ever ended up going home with him? Left the next day— you didn’t judge that of course. Maybe he didn’t want anything serious. Most men… are like that. No?

“Erhm.. Mr Howlett? My father asked me if you could come over today afternoon. The material arrived for the renovations..” you stuttered softly. He looked up from his book giving you a soft nod. “Of course kid, tell your father I’ll be there later” you nodded and hurried out of his house touching your chest as you ran over to your house walking in through the backyard. Your cheeks flushed softly red– the images reappeared in your mind, the way he smokes his cigars.

“C’on” you heard a frustrated groan from the kitchen. You peeked your head inside only to see Mr Howlett in a white vest, biceps glistening with sweat taking measurements of the kitchen cabinets. “Come here kid” he rumbles softly. You nearly tripped approaching him “how can I help?” You whispered looking at the tools “specs, on the table please” he motioned with his large hand. You nodded taking his reading glasses from the table passing them over “thanks sweetheart. Whatcha doing here? Heard your mother left to do shopping” you sighed leaning against the kitchen counter “I know I was just busy with housework” Your eyes were on his flexed muscles. You swallowed when he stepped right in front of you to take measurements again your face practically meeting with his large chest. “Sorry..” you breathed closing your eyes. “S’alright” he smiled small. Hand on the cabinet above your head the older man met your gaze. There was something in them… darkness.. perhaps something very forbidden.. you cleared your throat the moment you heard your father on the phone outside in the garden slipping past Logan scrambling quickly upstairs to your room. It was a shame.. you know nothing about men. He made you so curious, that your thoughts made you open your laptop and search pictures. First you typed ‘kissing’ the images came up blurred so you switched off the adult content button and returned back on the pictures your eyes widened in curiosity. So many moving pictures which were called ‘gifs’ the way some of the men kissed the women. You moistened your lips by licking them feeling familiar heat in your belly and butterflies. You never watched porn or anything like that but you saved some of those ‘gifs’ of couples kissing and moved onto the search bar to type ‘sex’ images came up some of the black and white and you gasped looking at the various positions women were put. The way the men’s hips clashed against the woman’s butt and the moaning expressions on their faces– you shamelessly bit your lower lip and closed your laptop. You imagined kissing Mr Howlett so many times. Maybe you could ask him to kiss you and do things to you.. to teach you how things like that feel. You thought of so many ways… but you also didn’t want to come out as a desperate girl forcing herself on an older man. How could you only do this?

Mr Howlett stayed for dinner. You didn’t expect him to but your mother and father insisted so you were seated next to him. You were heaving some veggies and steak.. it was one of your favourites but you didn’t think of anything else but the ‘gifs’ you saved. The kissing ones. You watched Mr Howletts forearms as he cut into his steak before your mother interrupted you “y/n it’s rude to stare.” You looked down at your plate face covering your hair so Logan couldn’t see your face. Your cheeks heated momentarily— stuffing your face with veggies you then excused yourself needing a breather outside on the front porch. Stealing one of your father’s cigarettes you lit sitting on the steps. Hearing the door open you sighed “Mom I’ll be in soon” apologising you heard footsteps approaching you so you hid the cigarette. “You should go inside it’s not safe here bub” Logan slipped on his jacket walking down the steps turning to you. “I’m not a little girl Mr Howlett.. thank you for your concern” his expression turned into a scowling one the moment he saw the cigarette. “Give it to me” he put his hand out. “No.” You muttered softly. “Y/N..” he grumbled approaching you “Smoking is fucking bad for you.” He continued. “Don’t care” you took a hit in front of him that made him scowl even more. “Stop being a fucking brat and give it to me” he let out a sigh and you narrowed your eyes. “Why do you even fucking care?!” Logan shook his head a disappointed expression spread over his face. Rubbing his bearded cheek he shrugged it off. “I don’t fucking care I don’t need this.” With that he walked away. He didn’t care.. that hit your heart. Why would an older man like him care? Tears welled in your eyes, you stomped on the cigarette and walked back inside the house.

You didn’t know Logan’s urges.

You didn’t know the things you make him feel when you look at him and the times you wear skimpy little skirts riding a bike around the neighbourhood with your girlfriends. Summer holidays were his favourite because he got to see you more, you were not attending university. That’s what you told him– he loves the way you throw your head back laughing with your friends. He loves the way you walk, he even loves the way you leave your curtains open in your room so he can look at your young body when you apply lotion to your legs after shower. He knows your breath hitches when you two are close and he enjoys every moment of your tiny sufferings. He doesn’t want to be the man of your dreams. He doesn’t want to make you cry and suffer because he cannot be yours. He doesn’t want to ruin you but that tiny innocence in your eyes makes him want to do things to you. How could you know all these feelings when he’s nothing but stern with you. Drinking away his thoughts he poured himself a glass of whiskey sitting by his fireplace thinking he was harsh with you. Weren’t you just a fragile soul? He was afraid to hurt you.. his calloused touch could mark your skin.

A knock on his door disturbed his thinking, so he looked out the window only to see you standing in front of his door practically shivering in your pyjama shorts and an oversized sweatshirt he swore he loved on you. It made you look tiny.

“What are you doing here kid?” He sighed opening the door for you. “I wanted to apologise..” you whispered. “The way I acted towards you.. I just-” you stepped inside his much warmer home looking around to find a cigar burning in the ashtray a bottle of half empty whiskey and a glass right next to it. “I don’t need your apology” he cut you off walking back to his armchair sitting back down taking his cigar to smoke it. His eyes taking in your naked legs making you shiver. “I just.. I wanted to ask you something” you mumble on making him raise a brow. “It’s pretty late, you should go home” he answers you wanting nothing but you to stay but he knew he had to make you leave. He held back so much..trying to control himself around you. “Mr Howlett you’re a good man my family says.. I was just wondering if you could help me with something” you asked him scratching your arm nervously. Pressing your thighs together “I get lots of butterflies when I’m around you.. and and.. I was wondering how does kissing feel like?” The older man nearly asked you to repeat yourself. “I am not a man for you kid..” he warned you resting his cigar between his lips. “I know.. I just.. you’re older and experienced and I don’t get butterflies with anyone else” you confessed. His rugged expression turned softer. “Come here bub.. let me tell you all about it.” He patted his knee and you approached him sitting on his knee. His big hand rested on your lower back and the other put his cigar out letting it rest in the ashtray. “I don’t know much about the female body.. but I’m sure when you have butterflies in your belly your tiny girl part gets wet” you nod quickly. “Yes.. yes Mr Howlett it gets very wet.” Your response made his cock heavy. It twitched with want– “where does it get wet sweetheart?” He whispered and you slowly spread your thighs. “Down here..” you show him. His big hand slowly itches closer to your pulsing mound and you look at him wantonly.

“Don’t look at me like that..” he breathed face leaning closer to yours and you closed your eyes ready for his lips on yours only to feel him kissing your cheek his beard prickling your tender skin. His fingers tracing your warm centre between your legs and you bucked your hips towards his hand “eager little thing..” he whispered you could hear the drunk in his voice but your hand softly caressed his veiny forearm. “Mr Howlett please..” you begged. “I won’t tell.. please destroy me” when he heard those words coming out of your lips he kissed the side of your neck sliding his big hand inside your sweatshirt to fondle your breast. You moaned, it felt differently when a man was touching you. “Just gettin’ started honey..” he licked his way into your mouth kissing you pouring out his needs before pulling away to touch your face in his one hand gently squeezing your cheeks “pretty little mouth.. do you think I could fit my cock in there nice and snug sweetie?” you nodded needing nothing but him and it didn’t matter how. Cock straining against his pants he grunted grabbing a hold of your shorts and panties pulling them down your legs dropping them on the floor. His fingers locating your sensitive bud circling it. You moaned against his neck as you clung to his shoulders. “There we go honey..feeling you tense already” he smiled, prepping you. “Open..” he groaned forcing your lips open by his fingers sliding them in your mouth to moisten them. You sucked on his fingers meeting his eyes feeling hot all over. Your juices drooling out of your hole. He tsked “So wet already?” You looked at your pussy the way he caressed your folds with his fingers slowly rubbing them in circles before stuffing them in your mound. You cried out at the feeling something so large like his fingers entering you. When he curled his digits and did a pulling motion your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head the wet sounds of your core only caused his fingers to move in and out of you faster the heat in your belly rising and rising until you cried out against his chest cumming undone on his fingers. His thumb expertly rubbing your clit, the older man smiled at you. The first you saw him smile so softly. “There we go..” you choked his fingers in you even though they weren’t as deep as you wanted him to go in order to do that he’d have to take your virginity. “I never.. I never..” you babbled lost in post orgasm as you looked at him cheeks reddening with arousal. “You’ve never..what?” Very slowly pulling his fingers out of your heat he sniffed them before slowly tasting them. You blushed deeper at his doings. “Never had sex..” you whispered shyly. “Never?” Logan asks again caressing your plaint thighs. You shook your head “never.. mr howlett can you show me it feels?” He hummed in response looking at your lips before leaning down to attack your mouth in soft kisses until you parted your mouth for his tongue. You whispered to the butterflies returning and he gracefully carried you bridal style to his bedroom.

Putting you down on your feet he helped you remove your sweatshirt leaving you naked. “I will teach you all about it sweetheart..lay down” the older man said softly and you climbed on his bed resting on your back spreading your legs for him. The sight of your glistening pussy had him growling. “Little girl hungry for old man’s cock.. that’s twisted..” he smirked teasing you watching your nipples go hard. You watched him remove his top, then undo his belt and jeans before taking them off along with his boxers. Cock bobbing, hard as a rock. The swollen tip drooling tears of pre cum. The colour of his cock made you tilt your head curiosity.. it was pink, looked swollen and hard. Just like on those pictures, your breath hitched in your chest “That’s going inside of you, bub..” he climbed on the bed nestling between your legs. You stared between your bodies as his warm swollen cock rested on your pussy. It was so big, thick.. veiny. “How.. how will it fit..?” You asked curiously hips bucking up to feel his cock even more. “Greedy little thing not know anything about cocks.. but is hungry for one..” he tsked lowering himself on top of you. You moaned at the feel of his chest, touching it with your hands. Logan groaned rubbing the tip of his cock between your folds “take a deep breath..” you did as you were told taking a deep breath before he sheated himself inside of you in one single push. “Shit..!” You cursed gasping and moaning the both of you at your unison. Your gasps were painful with discomfort because of your virginity but it faded away the moment he kissed you wrapping his arms around you. You felt so safe in his arms that you cuddled up to him pressing your lips to his shoulder arms curling around him keeping your legs open for him. You felt so full, so wet.. you felt your wetness drip forming a ring on the base of his cock. “Fuck.. ugh..” he buried his face against your neck pulling out of you leaving the tip inside before thrusting back in. Slow pace, but slowly increasing it leaving you whimpering and gasping for air “mr howlett.. it tingles, the butterflies.. Ughh ohhhh.. feels so good” you cried as he responded only in hungry growls grabbing your waist in his hands he snapped his hips into you fucking you. “Can’t hold back anymore..” he slurs peeking between your bodies watching his cock slide in and out of your ruined pussy and you cry out nodding “it’s okay daddy.. take what you need!!” logan moans under his breath eyes darkening something snapping in him hoisting your legs around his waist he grabs the pillows under your head pounding into you harder than before, more than before making your toes curl watching your pussy take all of his pounding before you claw his back “daddy.. it.. hurts.. but in a good way!! Need to cum” you breathe heavily your tits bouncing to his rapid trusts as he hovers above you breathing harshly too cock throbbing as he circles your clit “you gonna cum on my cock like a good fuckin’ girl” and you did, you screamed against his neck clinging to him nearly passing out as you did. Logan nestles your face against his neck as he snaps his hips into you growing into the pillow as his claws push out piercing the bed under you. “Fuck.. fuck.. fuck….!” He curses loudly shoving his cock deeply in you before cumming undone. The tip spurting hot streams of white in your womb breeding it full. You moan uncontrollably as you feel the warmness being released inside of you. His claws retreat moments later— using his hand to cradle your head finding your lips in a kiss. You both sweat so much feeling unbelievably tired. Logan pulls out of you, watching his cream pool out of you onto the sheets. “Let’s get you showered bub..” he whispers and you nod. He promised to take care of you. The way you called him daddy.. it repeated in his mind more than few nights..

liking, commenting, and reblogging means the world. please don’t hesitate to do so if you liked my fic.

(Apologies for any grammatical mistakes)

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yawnderu · 11 months ago

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Simon Riley, whose most intimate display of trust is laying naked with you. He's not only trusting you with his body, but his soul. His scars tell stories that will never come out of his lips, leaving him as an enigma even when you're married.

He almost flinches out of reflex when your soft hand drifts down to his ribs, caressing the scars that being hung from a meat hook left him. Memories of Roba and the torture in Mexico fill his brain no matter how hard he tries to simply focus on how perfectly your body fits against his, skin on skin.

It takes a few seconds for him to snap out of it, distant gaze met by teary eyes and a trembling lower lip, your heart hurting for him. Burly arms wrap around your waist, bringing you even closer, his chest tight against yours, hearts touching— the way they were always meant to be.

His eyes go to the ring on his finger, gaze immediately softening, only holding you even closer when he feels your tears moistening up his bare neck, rubbing your back in a silent offer of comfort.

Thank you for this second chance at life.

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heauxvibez · 2 months ago

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He Loves to Talk You Through It (Aaron Pierre)

Warning: Pure Smut, No Plot (18+)

"Right here, baby, in my eyes. Can you keep them open for me?"

Those eyes, damn, those fucking eyes. It was like you were completely lost, drowning in the deep, swirling mix of emerald and amber, colors that seemed to shift depending on his mood. You'd seen them change so many times—whether it was lust, when they darkened with anger, when his brows would furrow and his jaw clenched tight, barely containing what he was feeling inside; or even sadness, when they softened, filled with a heaviness he tried so hard to hide. Many emotions flickered through them, making it impossible to look away like he was holding back something that he was waiting to unleash.

"Don't hide from me, princess. I need you to keep them on me.."

His plump, plink lips glistened, freshly moistened by his tongue, which was still soaked with your juices. The way he licked them slowly, savoring every drop, made you feel like he could devour you entirely. That taste seemed to make him feral, he wanted to claim every inch of you.

"You look so beautiful when you're taking me like this.."

But it wasn’t just the taste of your essence that had you hooked. It was the sound of his voice, that smooth London accent, rolling effortlessly off his tongue when he spoke to you in the sweetest, most tender way. It almost felt like what you were really tasting was the sweetness of his words, more than your own juices. His words touched you in ways that had you craving more, not just of his body, but of the way he made you feel when he spoke.

"My sweet girl, so perfect for me.."

You could still taste yourself on his tongue, that sweet, lingering flavor covering you with the warmth of his breath as it brushed against your lips from the kiss he’d left you with just moments ago. His lips felt just as good as they looked—soft and pillowy. Your fingers found their way to his ears, lightly massaging them as you playfully sucked on his bottom lip, feeling the soft tug of his skin against your own. He responded by pulling at your top lip with just as much passion, his breath hitching before he pulled away slightly, catching your lips in another tender kiss that made your heart skip a beat.

"Mmm, so soft..so beautiful.."

When he finally pulled away, those pretty orbs scanned your face as if memorizing every detail, while his flushed lips parted slightly as if he was still savoring the taste of you. The small tugs you made on his ears made the corner of his lips turn up in a soft smile, something that made you blush. He leaned in again, the heat of his body pulling you closer, and you could see how much he loved this—how much he loved you.

"You feel so damn good, wrapping around me like the good girl you are. Taking me deeper, and deeper, and..fuck...deeper."

Your knees were wrapped snugly around his waist, pulling him closer as you felt his dick twitch inside you. His strong hands gripped your wrists, pinning them beside your head and holding you firmly in place. You could feel the weight of his body against yours, the way his muscles flexed as he moved, leaving you damn near breathless. The way your pussy gripped his dick made you feel completely at his mercy, every inch of him filling you as his hips twisted and rolled painfully slow. The thrusts were deep, drilling into you with as if he were mining for gold. Every time he hit that sweet spot, your breath got caught, his name just barely escaping your lips.

The way he had you pinned, the way he took control, your belly mimicked that same feeling you experienced when a rollercoaster made that big drop.

"I want you to focus on how it feels when I'm deep inside you. Uhn uhn, look at me—don’t look away. Let me see..."

His forehead pressed against yours, sweat dripping down from his brow as his body worked tirelessly to keep you lost in a blissful state of euphoria. His pretty caramel-colored skin glistened, catching the light in a way that made him look even more flawless than usual. Every bead of sweat traced down his features and the contours of his muscles. He was concentrated and confident, giving you every bit of his attention.

"Mhm, just like that. Makin' me fucking weak when you look at me with those pretty brown eyes.."

With his fresh haircut and sharp line-up, he looked as yummy as ever, and the scent of his cologne lingered in the air and made you want to swallow him whole. Honestly, having someone as fine as him fucking you felt like a dream, a wild fantasy brought to life.

Your chest was caving in with every deep breath, and you couldn’t help but wonder what this man was doing to you. It felt like your body was buzzing and you were doing your best to keep your eyes on his. The whines that escaped your lips were almost being sucked in by him, his own lips hovering close to yours, ready to catch every sound you made.

"Mmm, keep those whimpers coming. You're taking me in so good, so wet..just for me.."

You were sucking in his grunts just as eagerly as he was drinking in your noises. As deep as he was driving into you, your gushy walls were making his knees weak, stirring up nervous flutters in his belly. He masked it well, though, keeping that confident facade as he focused on you, completely lost in you. But you could see it in his eyes—the way he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

"There it is..I can feel you tightening around me. Talk to me darling, is it right here?"

Your pussy was getting wetter by the second, causing your grip on his hands to tighten. You were pinned against him with nowhere to escape. His hips were perfectly angled, grazing your G-spot with each thrust, making the hairs stand on your skin and your face twist with pleasure.

"Tell me that’s your spot; I need to hear you say it. Tell Daddy how deep he is.."

You didn’t have to say a word; the sounds your pussy made filled the air and spoke for you. The sounds that told him everything he needed to know. The way your fingers clutched his hands, the way your slick walls wrapped around him, all communicated the delicious torture he was putting you through.

As you struggled to speak, he was watching you closely, taking in every tiny change in your expression. He was digging into you like a shovel, watching your lips part in desperate gasps, trying to let out your whimpers. But now, those sounds were fading, as he fucked the voice out of you. He knew he had you completely under his spell.

"Breathe through it, love. You can take it,"

His eyes looked down, watching your walls pull around him, holding onto him tighter. He pulled out slowly, teasing you just enough before thrusting right back in,

"You can take every single inch of me,"

You could feel him deep inside, filling you completely, not one inch of you unfulfilled. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the way his body moved against yours.

“That's right, let it happen, princess. I'm right here, give it to me..”

He was so calm, his voice so steady as he stroked your index finger with his thumb while your hands were still in his grasp. He was coaxing you to surrender to him, completely let go and be vulnerable in his hold.

"Shit, that's my girl. Just give in to me baby, don't hold back. I want to feel every fucking drop.."

As you felt the orgasm creeping up, your body shuddered to every angle, every hit of your spot, he knew exactly what you needed.

“Look at that, ” he murmured, his eyes marveling and locked onto where your juices splashed onto his dick and thighs, glistening in the soft light. You were soaking him, drenching the sheets beneath you, and gasping for air like you were surfacing from deep water. You both shook and writhed beneath him, and he watched you with a look in his eyes that made your pussy grab at him again. A satisfied smile crept onto his face, full of not only pride but also arousal, as he saw you unraveling completely under him.

“See? You can take it all,” he said with a playful smirk, his lips still ghosting over yours as you attempted to catch your breath. You rolled your eyes and smiled lazily at his comment.

"And because I know you can take it all..I'm going to need one more from you, okay?"

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

I would like to believe I proofread this a billion times, so hopefully there are little to no mistakes. Hope y’all enjoyed!!!

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @sortudademais @empressdede @alichesmi

@msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @blacst4r @sassginamillls @wrestlingprincess80

@headoftheetable @trashbin-nie @saintmagx @venusesworld @mzv11

@tshepisho @cyberdejos2 @femdisa @dayaimonee @sayyestoheav3nn

#aaron pierre #aaron pierre fanfic #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre x reader #terry richmond #aaron pierre smut

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kisseobie · 5 months ago

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“i didn't shave” and p1h¿

“i didn’t shave” with p1harmony

warnings: nsfw (mdni)

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

a/n: ugh something about a man not giving a flying fuck about body hair is sooo sexy like yes please lose sight of your mouth in my bush 😍 thank u for this request !!

✶ keeho

keeho is such a sweetheart, and that trait mixed with him always being realistic makes it so easy for kyo to hush away your insecurities in and out of the bedroom. this situation is no different—if the man wants to eat you out, no amount of hair is gonna stop him from doing so. if you voice out your concerns, he’s staring at you quizzically, but makes sure to quickly snap out of his confusion on your hesitance by using his words to reassure you that respectfully, he does not give a damn if you haven’t shaven. a part of the information you’ve relayed to your boyfriend makes him harder in his jeans, imagining you lounging around the house, completely natural. it’s sweet to him. if you’re still unsure, he’s whispering, “cmon, let me see you.”, which finally does the trick. he eats your pussy gentler than usual this time, kissing at your pubic hair and praising you for allowing him to do so <33

“atta girl. so fucking beautiful like this.”

✶ theo

you’re typically very eager every time taeyang pleads to taste your cunt, so when you close your legs before he can even drag your panties down your thighs, he’s a bit confused, but thinks maybe you’re feeling a bit shy this time? theo sits up a bit to look up at you, eyes making contact with yours, wordlessly asking you to tell him what you’re thinking about. as soon as the words, “i um, i haven’t shaven in a while, so maybe not today?” escape your lips, he’s replying with a gentle, “no, none of that. you look perfect like this. let me show you, please?”. you bite your bottom lip at his words, wanting nothing more than to be tongue fucked by your boyfriend, but doesn’t he find the fact that you haven’t shaven gross? you didn’t realize you said your thoughts out loud, melting—and leaking—at his response to your insecurities:

“it’s not gross at all actually. all i really care about is having your pussy sat on my face. now get on with it.”

✶ jiung

“why’re you shying away from me, pretty?” you want to coo at how he looks like a mouse that’s been denied a block of cheese, but you just shrug and relay to him that you haven’t shaven in a while and don’t want to subject him to that sight. he’s confused, doesn’t being in a loving relationship equate to seeing each other in your most natural and vulnerable states? jiung clearly isn’t having it, sitting up at grabbing at your hands, giving you that familiar pointed look his face adorns whenever he’s about to tell you something serious. you cut him off before he can go on a tangent, saying something along the lines of “you shave all the time, and i’ve always shaved before we’ve been intimate too..”

“so? it’s just hair? just lay down baby, i’ll take real good care of you..”

✶ intak

“you really think i care? don’t be silly y/n. i want you either way.” is how intak responds to your timid “wait, should i shave?”. the way he speaks to you as if it’s the most natural, obvious fact in the world eases away your previous anxious thoughts. you don’t care much for shaving, but you always did it for his peace of mind. you let out a breath of relief, opening up your legs for him to dig in to his well-earned meal. you sigh as your boyfriend licks a stripe up your pussy, moistening the hairs on the surrounding skin with his slobber. he’s more primal today than usual, putting in his best effort to make you feel as comfortable and sexy as he possibly can. you gasp and tug at his locks, pushing your hips down into his mouth to meet his pace, loving and savoring his obvious enthusiasm to eat you alive.

“just like that. fuckkkk, such a good girl for me, letting me taste your sweet pussy.”

✶ soul

you weren’t expecting shota’s response when you informed him that you haven’t shaven in a few weeks to be: “i prefer it this way actually.”, and you definitely didn’t have time to process his little confession before he hooked his fingers into the band of your miffy-printed panties, pulling them down your strawberry legs in one swift motion. you’re so close to giving in, to trusting his nonchalance, but you really haven’t shaven in a while, and you don’t personally think the sight is one your boyfriend would pop a boner to. the thoughts invading your mind have you closing your legs, and he pulls them open himself, shocking you.

“don’t be embarrassed baby. ‘s just me. can you keep your legs open for me?”

and fuck it, how can you say no to that? you’d inquire about his little pube fetish later, you suppose.

✶ jongseob

“angel, why are you hiding from me? do you not want this?”

always so attentive and understanding, your boyfriend pulls away from you right away, opting to grab at your face instead, and you admit you do regret pulling him away from being face-to-face with your pussy. the last thing you wanted was to make him feel like you don’t want this, knowing that jongseob would probably overthink the situation and blame himself for your own insecurities. you’re quick to laugh it off and explain yourself with a, “i want this! i promise! i just don’t know if you wanna go down on me right now, i haven’t shaved in a few weeks so i don’t want you to feel obligated to see me like that.”, and he smiles. laughs even. he sinks back down to his earlier position, looking up at your puzzled expression, followed with the words you were secretly hoping to hear.

“you’re so pretty either way, please don’t think i’m not gonna wanna eat this cunt just because of some hair..”

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047 @sundancearchives @chuuswifereal @seisyiss @fishsquishh @sunnyyangie @asianpenguin04 @lunepoesie @haku-s0ultrain

✶ 𓅭 𓅮

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ellastone-olsen · 1 year ago

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Plush-Natasha Romanoff

Pairing: GP!Natasha Romanoff × f!reader

Summary:After a long, difficult mission, Natasha come back home. It's been the most exhausting week of her life and you, as her sweet loving girlfriend, decide to take care of her.

Warnings: NSWF, bottom!Nat, top!reader, dry humping, blowjob, breeding, dirty talk, praise, aftercare, little fluff and hurt/comfort

Word count: 1.6k

AN: I remembered my love for Natasha and especially for the bottom Natasha, I promise someday I will write a fic without smut

In the silence of the spacious apartment, the front door slammed. Something seemed to fall on the floor, then there was the sound of running water in the bathroom. You became wary and got out of bed, putting the book on the nightstand. The door was only closed and you quietly looked through the crack where the light was coming from to understand who had just climbed into your and Natasha’s apartment.

A shock of red hair flashed and you relaxed. Natasha got back, but... something was wrong. You knocked and quietly entered; the woman was sitting with her back to you in the bath, her arms wrapped around her knees. "Babe? Hi, I missed you so much, did something happen?...” You fell silent when you got a better look at her back. All covered in bruises and scratches. Natasha turned her head and smiled at you over her shoulder, it seems her face suffered no less. "Hi дорогая (sweetheart)" She said quietly, “I brought you a small gift, it’s in a bag in the hallway..”

You cut her off and walked over to take her face in your hands. She was covered in dirt, her lip was clearly broken. Natasha looked like a beaten kitten. “Oh my god baby what happened to you?” Fear settled in your eyes and she turned her head to rub her cheek against your palm and then kiss it. "It's been a terrible week." She wheezed. “I just want to take a bath and go to bed please.”

You nodded and rubbed the pad of your thumb over her slightly sore cheekbone. “Should I help you?” She shook her head in protest and directed the shower stream onto her sore back. "Okay, then I'll wait for you in the room." You walked out and closed the door behind you.

After 20 minutes, the sound of the water stopped and Natasha came out with only a towel on her hips. Her chest didn't look as bruised as her back, but there were still yellow bruises on her abs. She sighed and found clean house clothes in the closet. “Wait, I’ll treat your back, don’t get fully dressed.” The woman pulled on loose sweatpants and sat on the edge of the bed. You took out the first aid kit and moistened a piece of cotton wool with an antibacterial agent, barely touching it, wiping her wounds.

“Everything didn’t go according to plan. I should have already left there, but I was delayed and I got the worst of it because I was protecting the weight.” You listened to her without stopping your work. “Damn, it hurts.” “Shhhh I know my love, I know.” You applied healing ointment. When you finished, your hands rested on her shoulders, gently kneading her tired muscles. "I'm so happy you're with me again." A small moan escaped Natasha’s lips in response to your actions. The hands moved to her neck and then dropped back down. “You did great, let me take care of you.” You bit your earlobe and your hands slid to the redhead's breasts. Natasha’s breathing quickened as you played with her nipples and squeezed her soft breasts.

“Oh damn Y/N.” The woman's hips jumped up and you noticed the bulge forming in her pants. You grinned and turned her head towards you for a soft kiss, but almost immediately Natasha's tongue begged for permission to enter your mouth. "No no, I'm in charge here today." You said as you pulled away and grabbed her rock hard cock with your hand through the fabric her house pants. She sighed noisily, the woman's head leaned back on your shoulder while you stroked her length, watching as a small wet spot appeared on her pants. Your lips touched her neck, your teeth biting the sensitive skin. Whining began to come from Natasha. "What do you want baby?" Your hands were stroked wherever they could reach. “You..” The redhead’s thoughts were confused. "More concrete." You said sternly and squeezed her balls. It was so good, so good the redhead thought that she would cum just from this. "Fuck...Y/N please. I need your mouth, your hands, your pussy on my cock."

You moved to the floor between her legs and slowly pulled the gray sweatpants down her legs. Her throbbing cock jumped out and hit Natasha's stomach. The tip was leaking pre-cum and looked red and sensitive. She could hide it, but when you took the initiative into your own hands, it turned her on more than being on top, she went crazy when such a cute little thing like you did whatever you wanted with her.

You collected her pre-cum starting to stroke Natasha's length, obscene squelching sounds filling the room. She began to push into your hand, but you held her back, prohibiting any action on her part. "I told you. I'm in charge." With that, you wrapped your lips around her tip and took every inch of her cock into your mouth until your nose touched the woman's stomach. The redhead's head fell back from this sight, her hands clutching the sheets so as not to start fucking your mouth. "Fuck oh god baby." You continued to suck, looking into the green eyes from above, one of your hands fell between your legs, starting to rub your swollen clit through the fabric of underwear. Not only Natasha enjoyed this, you liked sucking her dick even more than fucking her. You realized how sensitive you both were now and before at least one of you came, you stopped and stood up.

"Lie on your back." You commanded and the redhead climbed to the head of your shared plush bed, taking the desired position. The woman watched as you took off your panties, but left your light housedress on and took out the lube from the cabinet nearby bed. Cold thick liquid dripped onto her length and she twitched, you quickly warmed and rubbed it, and then pressed your soaked folds against her length to slide and rub. "Please baby. I can't take it anymore." She felt that she would cum at any moment. With every movement, your clit hit her red tip, making you even wetter. Your nails dripped into her shoulders as you processed what she said. Your hips began to move faster. “That’s it Natty don’t hold back, cum for me.” Her hands flew up to your hips, helping you move against her. Her hips still began to jerk involuntarily and within seconds ropes of her cum fell onto her flat stomach. "Fuck Y/N oh god." You were still grinding her cock prolonging her orgasm, your hand reached out and the tip of your finger gathered her release. You put it in your mouth, tasting it as if Natasha was the most expensive dish in the world. The redhead's eyes darkened at this sight and her dick twitched, she so needed to be inside you.

"Mmmm I didn't even have to try to make you cum. And you're still so hard." You leaned down and press your lips onto her, licking the stinging wound. “Do you want another round Natty? Although your dick speaks for you..” You stood up to finally line up the tip with swollen folds, rubbing your clit with it a little.

In one motion, you sank down Natasha’s cock, taking the entire length at once. The feeling of your warm wet walls around her made her ready to explode instantly, she was still so sensitive. Your hands grabbed hers and pinned they to the bed as you began to ride her quickly. "Oh yeah Fuck baby I love your big fat cock so much." Your thighs slapped against her, wetness flowing between your bodies. Her tip hit the sensitive spot inside you every time. "Do you want to cum in me Natty? Fill me up to the brim. I'm going to love it so much." The redhead nodded quickly and buried her face in the pillows, you grabbed her and turned her back. "Look at me when I fuck you." From the fast pace and your rude words, Natasha’s orgasm was approaching at breakneck speed. One of her hands moved away from your grip and her thumb rested on your swollen clit. "Oh fuck fuck cum with me baby. Come on, can you do it for me Natty?"

She did it, how could Natasha upset you? The feeling of her cum inside you made you see stars and your pussy milked her cock dry. Your legs shook and you fell into Natasha's arms, her hands rubbing circles on your back as she fucked you through your orgasm.

You lay together in this position for a few more minutes, after which you slowly got off Natasha and her cum immediately flowed out of you, dripping onto her stomach. The redhead reached over to the bedside table and grabbed wet wipes to clean herself and you. "Thanks babe." You kissed her gratefully and lay down next to her, resting your head on her shoulder.

You both closed your eyes and began to fall asleep when Natasha suddenly jumped up and walked towards the corridor. "I forgot about my gift." Her voice came muffled. She walked back into room holding something behind her back. You sat up, taking an upright position. "What do you have there?" Natasha pulled out her gift from behind her back and you laughed. "Plush seal? Oh my God, he has such a funny face." The redhead frowned. "What don't you like?" "Oh I really like it, give it here." You lay down again hugging a new toy. “Are you going to sleep with it now and not with me?” The woman feigned offense and lay down with her back to you.

#natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #wandanat x reader #wandanat #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda fanfic #scarlett johansson #marvel #agatha coven of chaos #agatha harkness x reader #kathryn hahn

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hier--soir · 1 year ago

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a lover's pinch | seven

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: things get a little messy after returning home. a confrontation sparks the beginning of a new stage in your relationship with joel. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, angst, miscommunication trope, self-doubt, alcohol consumption/hangover, joel is 50 and he texts like it, les mis spoilers???, phantom of the opera spoilers???, jealous!joel, food/eating, hurt/comfort, professor DAD, professor COWBOY, soft emotional smut, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, oral [f!receiving], joel says dadgum cause i think it's so classic him and so cute. word count: 11.1k jesus series masterlist | main masterlist chapter moodboard a/n: merry christmas to all that celebrate. as always, thank you for your patience and kindness. the love for this series is nothing short of mind blowing, and i appreciate you all endlessly. i hope you enjoy this angst and potentially the most flowery + emotional ALP smut yet [if that's even possible]. also rachel i love you i'm sorry. without further ado, the beginning of our descent into The End Times x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part seven of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five, six.

Tuesday.

It's nine thirty in the morning and you buy a Coke anyways.

It’s raining heavy outside; fat droplets of water that splatter against the windscreen of your car and dribble down, slipping through the crevice at the top of the bonnet, searching for the engine, for the oil gasket, for somewhere undercover to dry out.

You tuck your legs beneath yourself, sit criss-cross in the driver’s seat, and take small sips of fizzing black sugar. Allow it to moisten your lips, coat your tongue and your teeth in that sickening, viscous way soda always does, before it slips down your throat.

There’s something unearthly about the day, unnerving—it’s Tuesday morning and you’re hungover. A dull ache behind your left eye, a kink in your neck. You check your phone.

Thick, rolling clouds loom across the sky. Occasionally, a flash of lightning, a thrum of thunder. You tear open a packet of peanuts and pluck one out, and then another. Eat until your lips are dry and puckered, and then take another drink. More peanuts then. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet.

It’s all you can stomach as your liver pumps and spasms, still working to cleanse your blood of the night before, spent sprawled on the couch with Trin and Nora.

Wearing sweaters and thick socks, gripping full glasses of wine, and watching Les Misérables. Nora, tears on her cheeks, had sung along with Hugh Jackman—'This innocent who bears my face, who goes to judgement in my place, who am I?’—and you, bleary-eyed and tipsy, had discreetly checked your phone.

You didn’t cry during I Dreamed A Dream but you’re crying for this? Trin rolled her eyes.

He sacrifices his freedom to save that man, Nora whimpered.

You woke up starving and the traffic was slow. At every red light and stop sign your fingers itched against the wheel, desperate to press inside your bag and pull out this little packet. And now, safe in the campus parking lot, you feast. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet. You feel a fleeting moment of pity for people with peanut allergies, and then you check your phone.

Still nothing.

Since you left New York on Monday morning there’s been no sign of life from Joel. No get home safe, no see you on Tuesday; no acknowledgement at all.

You stare dejectedly at the messages you’ve sent him.

First from yesterday afternoon:

Home now. Enjoy your last day in the big apple x

And then from late last night, two bottles of wine deep:

It’s raining and miserable here

Wish I was still in new york

With you

Sitting in your car now, glowering at the blank space where his response should be, you reconcile with the thought that perhaps he wants what happened in New York to stay in New York. Stolen glances and all-too-brief touches in a conference hall, his hand on your wrist at the museum, skin against skin in his hotel room, and in yours—perhaps it was supposed to happen there, not here. The lowering of walls came with a change in location, and maybe that was his intention. But those thoughts don’t ease the sharp twist in your chest when you think of him. Doesn’t take away how much you wish he would give you something – a morsel of communication, even a single word of acknowledgement. For as hard as you try to understand, you can’t forget the look in his eyes when he touched you at the cloisters, the way he breathed your name into your mouth. Sewing the seed of JoelJoelJoel into in the soft folds of your brain, impossible to forget.

You don’t think about his dinner with Rachel. Don’t consider that something may have happened that night, something that changed his mind about you. Something that made him rethink the entire weekend as you slipped into the shower and out the door, leaving him alone in your hotel bed while you headed to the airport.

No. You don’t think about that at all.

When you make it inside, clothes wet and cool from the rain, you shake your hair out like a dog. Let droplets fly across the hall as you make your way into the lecture theatre; a drizzled trail left in your wake.

The room is full when you step inside, but there’s no sign of him yet. You collapse into an empty chair in the front row and wait. The final few students filter in through the door, shaking out umbrellas and wiping their feet. And for another ten minutes you, foolishly, still expect Joel to show up.

It’s only when the door creaks open and an old man walks through, that you let the hopeful feeling rest.

He lays a worn old satchel against the desk and turns to smile at the room.

“Hello,” the stranger smiles, and his jowls quiver as he speaks. “I’m Jerry Dorfman, a Professor from the literature department, and…”

You zone out for a second, eyes darting down to your phone screen. Nothing.

“Oh, and Professor Miller,” Dorfman says, as if he’s just remembered that he shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be standing up there, in his spot. “Is tied up with a family matter. I trust he’ll be back with us later in the week.”

A family matter?

Slick with rain, staring at this stranger stood in Joel’s place, you feel like a kind of newborn. Some fresh lamb, soaked in the blood and amniotic fluids of her mother’s womb, staring through unseeing eyes, hoping to glean some understanding of this moment. This sudden burst of light, this shocking cold after so many weeks of warmth, of sweat and strong hands on your skin, holding you close. But this is Eros; the blacksmith, the limb-loosener, the crusher. A deviation from stoking the flame to the suddenly desperate, grasping loneliness of feeling as though you are standing by a lover’s window, staring helplessly through the glass, and watching them from the outside. Alone.

Dorfman tries and fails to connect his laptop to the projector.

Numb fingers type;

Are you okay? Where are you?

But no response comes.

No, not until later that night, not until you’re tucked beneath the covers of your bed, showered and sleepy, does he finally reach out.

The clock has just ticked past midnight when your phone vibrates.

Hey, I had to stay in the city another day. Just landed at PWM. See you on Thursday.

A hot, jagged feeling swims in your gut as you read the message, and then reread it. Twice, three more times, searching for some hint of familiarity. Some indication that he has been thinking about you as much as you’ve been thinking about him. That the past weekend meant something to him, like it meant to you.

Minutes pass, and when you don’t find what you’re looking for, you fall asleep without responding.

Thursday.

Nora wakes up with a stuffy nose.

This always happens to me, she sniffs. I hate being sick.

The tiles in the kitchen are cold beneath your bare toes and rain smears heavily against the windowpane. You can hear fat blooms of thunder bellowing outside. Nora’s sullen, husky voice paired with the steam rising from your mug are all it takes to convince you to stay home with her.

The two of you spend the day curled on the sofa beneath blankets. You stare at your laptop, a document open on your screen with the title of an essay sitting pretty at the top. The cursor blinks and blinks at you, taunting you, daring you to write something, anything. But Sex and The City is playing on the tv, and Nora is snoring at the other end of the sofa, and you can’t help but watch the minutes tick by on the clock. Listen to Carrie and Miranda argue about Big, and wonder if Joel has even noticed your absence.

Trin gets home from class, and you follow her into the kitchen. Peel and slice oranges and apples and lemons while she tells you about her day. Boil them in sugar with cinnamon and star anise while she complains about an argument she had with her boyfriend. Add red wine and brandy while she tells you that her Dad sent her some money, and she’ll order take out for the three of you.

So together you huddle in the lounge and eat hot Indian food with your hands. Soak pieces of naan in tarka dal and saag paneer and top if off with mulled wine, unphased by the clashing of flavours in your mouths.

And you don’t check your phone, or look at the time, and you don’t complain when Nora asks, with glassy-eyes and spinach in her teeth, if she can put on another musical.

He’s a freak, Trin frowns at the TV.

He loves her, Nora implores, staring doe-eyed at a masked Gerard Butler.

Nor, Trin scoffs, he put a wedding dress on a mannequin that looks just like her. In his fucking lair, no less. That’s freak behaviour.

He has amazing sideburns though, Nora grins. So he gets a pass.

Your phone vibrates as Erik strokes a passed-out Christine’s face, singing help me make the music of the night.

Careful that Nora won’t notice, you pull it from beneath your thigh.

Where were you today?

You stare at the words for a moment and feel your lips curl into an disbelieving sneer.

“Oh, fuck off,” you mutter, and shove your phone into the crevice between the sofa cushions.

Wednesday.

A week goes by with no word from Joel.

No word from you either.

You stay home every day. Write and read and catch up on work and take Benadryl and sip soup and then you wake one morning, relieved to find that Nora’s cold has finally left your system.

So you tug on jeans, a sweater, and share a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Share quiet conversation with Pete in his shitty old Beamer as he gives you a ride to campus, and walk into Rachel’s lecture with zero expectation that today will be the day you finally see Joel again.

“We understand that Antigone is a victim of her father’s sins,” Rachel explains. “In the wake of patricide, of incest, every one of her actions is seen as a direct consequence.”

“Even her fate to be buried alive was sewn by her father’s unwitting actions,” she pauses, eyes searching the faces across the room, gauging reactions. “And, of course, this concept isn’t unique to Greek mythology. We see it plainly in the Bible, in Exodus; the sins of your father are to be laid upon the children… these themes of ancestral curses, of the inevitability of fate – they are integral to understand when looking at our tragic heroines. We saw it with Medea, we see it with Antigone, with Iphigenia, with Electra. Electra herself said, we are bound to acquiesce—”

An interrupting knock sounds against the door. Rachel’s head swivels around, eyebrows knitted in frustration as she calls for whoever it is to come in.

The door creaks open and her expression lifts. A saccharine smile spreads across her face, shoulders loosening.

“Joel,” she says warmly. “What can I do for you?”

A shiver wracks down your spine, toes curling in your sneakers.

The broad mass of him rests in the doorway. His head peeks past the wood, just a glimpse of his curls, his glasses, visible from where you sit. Your heart thunders in your chest, palms going damp at the prospect of this being the moment you finally see him again.

He speaks a few words in her direction, too quiet to catch, and then he’s taking a step into the room. His hand grips the edge of the door, keeping it open, and he casts a glance out towards the audience. Dark brown and searching, those eyes filter through countless faces until they finally land on yours.

And for a second, he doesn’t say a word. Just gazes out at you, eyebrows pulled together in the middle of his forehead, and then—and then he fucking looks back at Rachel. Your stomach goes hollow when you see the smile on her face. She lazes against the corner of her desk, and it feels like minutes go by as the two of you stare at him. And there’s something about waiting, you think, that feels like torture. That slow, painful build-up of pressure as you sit and stare and prepare yourself to discover who he’s here for. You or her.

You’re reminded painfully of a Graham Greene quote. A passage from The End of the Affair – one you’d, perhaps foolishly, found romantic when you read it that first time. Chosen words that had warmed your chest and made you feel light, lighter than air; the way only words could do sometimes.

‘Yes, Henry?’ and then ‘You?’ She had always called me ‘you’. ‘Is that you?’ on the telephone, ‘Can you? Will you? Do you?’ so that I imagined, like a fool, for a few minutes at a time, there was only one ‘you’ in the world and that was me.

Now, as you stare at Joel in the mouth of the doorway and memory of that passage sinks its hooks in, you feel only contempt for Greene.

For you had always read that passage imagining yourself as Sarah. And someone else, some misfortunate Maurice Bendrix, had fallen into your lap, and he was the ‘you’. But not you, never you. And it’s that pride which deceives. That pride which lulls us into false senses of security.

Joel says your name then.

Says, “Can I speak with you?” You, you, you.

And it should feel like relief, to hear your name on his lips again. But you catch the way he spares another glance, soft and sympathetic, in Rachel’s direction, and that sickly hurt isn’t abated.

Her face falls, but she smiles at you. Nods her permission for you to leave the room, and only when you’re halfway across the lecture theatre, bag swung over your shoulder, does she continue speaking to the class.

Palm flat against the door, he holds it open for you, making you press against him as you slip out of the room. It clicks shut behind you and he begins to move down the hall, leaving you to follow behind with no explanation. You assume that he’s going to lead you to his office, or anywhere more private than this, but a metre from the door Joel pauses abruptly, turns, and you slam into his chest with a huff.

“Jesus,” you mutter, stumbling a few steps back.

“Where have you been?” he glowers, brows drawn tight and angry over his eyes.

“What?”

“I’ve been busy,” you grit, glaring back. “Where have you been?”

“Busy?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ve been busy too. Busy teachin’ the classes that you don’t even show up for.”

“I’ve been sick,” you roll your eyes, unable—or perhaps just unwilling—to stray from nastiness, from spite. “My apologies, Professor.”

“Don’t—” Joel snaps, and flinches as quickly as the word comes out of his mouth, surprised by how harsh it sounds in the air between the two of you. He takes a step closer, voice low now—“Don’t call me that.”

“Fuck, what is your problem?” you huff, eyes widening, exasperated. “I missed two classes, it’s not a big deal.”

“And the silence?” Joel takes a step forward as he says it. Close enough now to see the smudges on the lens of his glasses. Close enough to see the muscle in his jaw twitch. Too close for public; too close for here. “Can’t even text me back, huh? What the hell is goin’ on with you?”

Your body pulls taut at that, hands balling into fists at your sides.

“Oh, you don’t like silence?” you hiss, matching his volume. “You can’t be serious. Joel, I didn’t hear from you for days after New York. Why would I waste my breath when it’s obvious you don’t want to fucking hear from me?”

“It was barely two days,” he shakes his head, shakes off the insinuation, shakes off whatever blame you’re trying to put on him.

“Two days,” you nod, smirking angrily. “Two days after we spent an entire weekend together. Two days after we kissed and fucked and practically went on a date.”

And the word date must elicit something in him. Some minute, man-brain trigger that snaps him to attention and helps him understand the hurt on your face, the tremble in your hands. Because he says your name, voice softening, posture loosening, every bit of his body language screaming out that he wants to step forward and touch you.

And he’s speaking again, voice low, but there’s people coming down the hall, heading your way. Two figures that you can’t make out through the haze of Joel in your immediate vision. So when he reaches out and touches your hand you flinch, jutting your chin over his shoulder. A warning. Don’t do this here.

One of them calls your name and you pause, mouth open. Drag your eyes away from Joel’s features to watch the figures get closer.

“Pete,” you force a smile. “Hey.”

You realise quickly how it must look; your sullen expression, Joel staring down at you with his shoulders hunched. He must understand at the same moment, because he takes a quick step away, folds his hands behind his back.

“Hey,” Pete takes a step closer. He glances warily between you and Joel, confusion colouring his face. “Everything cool?”

Stony faced, Joel looks between the two of you, posture stiffening the longer he stares at Pete. So much larger than him, taller and broader and far more intimidating. But a man with a secret to keep isn’t one to jump quickly at confrontation, so he keeps his mouth shut. Let’s you do the talking.

Ian catches your eye over Pete’s shoulder and offers a sleazy sort of smile. You swallow down a glare and hold Pete’s gaze.

“Everything’s fine,” you lie, taking a step towards them. A step away from Joel. “What’s up, what are you guys doing in this building?”

Pete’s eyebrows pull together, and he cocks his head at you. “Said you needed a ride home today. This morning, remember?”

“This morning,” you repeat, nodding slowly. You raise your hand and pinch the bridge of your nose, thinking quickly, mind a mess. “I, uh… right, look, Pete, I actually forgot I have a meeting with Professor Miller about my final essay this afternoon.”

“Your final…” Pete trails off, frowning. “Isn’t that due in like a month?”

“Yeah,” you say vaguely, and do not look at Joel. “I’ll find a way home later, okay?”

“I mean, sure. I guess,” Pete agrees reluctantly, reaching up to grip the strap of his satchel. “Call me if you need me okay?”

And Joel’s face turns to stone at the insinuation in those words. The idea that Pete could give you anything he couldn’t. That anyone would need to swoop in and save you from him.

The pair of you stand in silence for a moment, eyes trained on Pete and Ian’s retreating backs as they head down the hall. You watch and watch until they turn the corner, disappearing from sight, and only then do you exhale a breath of relief.

You contemplate leaving him there. Turning your back on him and returning to Rachel’s lecture, ignoring his texts and letting this all fade into some painful memory. But when you look at him again—at those big brown eyes that gaze back at you—you know you couldn’t if you tried.

“You look tired,” he frowns, and it’s not angry anymore. A little sad, maybe.

“I am,” you admit, and wonder if your face betrays how much of a role he plays in that exhaustion.

“Are you hungry?”

You stare for a moment, blinking slow, and then say, “Yeah.”

Joel nods, attempts a crooked smile, and says, “Let me take you to get something to eat.”

It’s silent in Joel’s car, aside from the soft patter of rain against his windows and the dull squeak of his windscreen wipers sliding it away. The truck glides through the winding streets of Biddeford, cruising down the main road and into the left lane of a fast-food drive thru. Orders you a burger, fries, nothing for himself, passing the bag into your lap and then continuing to drive.

The bun is soft beneath your fingers. Grease soaks your skin, and you taste beef, taste onions so soft, so sweet. A crimson dot of ketchup spattered onto your pants; a bright shock of mustard on your tongue. A fry here and there. Joel’s hand, outstretched fingers, sneaking across the centre console to steal one. You shift the paper bag on your lap, tilt the opening so it faces him, easier to access, but he doesn’t take another.

He grips the wheel and asks, “Do you want me to take you home?”

You think about Pete waiting for you at the house. Think about if Ian and that filthy smirk on his face and whether or not he’ll be there too. Think about having to flesh out your excuse, your lie, and finally say, “No.”

Joel keeps driving. You eat until your pants feel tight and the greasy brown bag is crumpled in your fist and he’s pulling his truck off the road and into a short driveway.

“Full?”

“Very.”

“Good.”

“Is this your house?”

“This is it.” He drags the keys out of the ignition and knocks the door open. It’s not long, barely a second, before he’s pulling yours open with a rough yank and a soft, “Door always sticks on this side.”

A vague sound spills from the back of your throat, and he guides you up a path towards the small home. Single storey, with a large brown door and windows decorating the outward façade. Your immediate thought is that it’s very Joel, but you stop the idea in its tracks. Remind yourself that maybe it isn’t your place to think things like that.

Inside it’s even more silent, even more tense. The two of you stand in the entry way, toeing off damp shoes. Your eyes flit around his front room, but it’s difficult to focus on anything. Too much to look at, too much you want to know, and you find it easier to just look at him.

“Realised you’d never been here,” Joel murmurs after a while. He shifts awkwardly on his feet, decidedly unsure of what to say as he rests beneath the weight of your stare. “This is the, uh, the livin’ room. Kitchen’s over there.”

When you don’t respond, he clears his throat, ticks his head towards the hallway. “Bathroom is down the hall. Bedroom too.”

You feel your face shift. Deadpan stare turns to surprise, to incredulity, to blatant anger.

“Oh, the bedroom, huh?” you smile, sardonic, cutting. Your throat feels tight. “S’that seriously why you brought me here? Ice me out and then come crawling back when you want something to fuck again?”

“Woah, hey,” his eyebrows shoot up, hands drifting forward like he’s trying to calm a startled animal.

“Don’t,” you hold up a shaking hand, eyes wide and wet suddenly. “Just… don’t touch me right now, okay? What are we doing here, Joel? Seriously.”

He says your name hard and fast, surprised by how quickly it’s all unravelling, spilling from you in a tidal wave.

And spill it does. The words are wet and watery, a tsunami of pent up emotions pouring from your mouth without permission, without forethought.

“I mean, we haven’t seen each other since New York. And I… I thought being there changed things between us. But maybe I was wrong… and then you pull me out of a lecture, bring me here and say my bedroom is down the hall? Am I just… do you just like having someone to fuck whenever you want? Is that it? Someone at your beck and call?”

Joel repeats your name, sharper this name. “Don’t put fuckin’ words in my mouth.” His face pinches in anger, hands dropping.

“When it’s not convenient you try to shake me off, but when it is—at a bar, or out of town—” you list them off on your fingers, eyes growing wider and wider. “Oh, you want me then?”

“That ain’t fuckin’ true and you know it—”

“Do I?” you scoff.

“I came that night when you texted,” he implores, voice raising, all wild-eyed and pleading. “You were drunk, and textin’ and you needed a ride.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that—”

“You didn’t ask me not too either,” he crosses his arms across his chest. “You wanted me to come. Don’t fuckin’ deny that now.”

You open your mouth but he’s too quick, matching your spill with his own now.

“And as if you’re any better?” he bares his teeth now, voice low. “As if you didn’t find out I was your teacher and keep fuckin’ me just for the thrill of it. As if you actually wanted me, and you weren’t just gettin’ off on chasin’ some forbidden fantasy.”

“I…” you gape at him, unafraid to let the hurt show on your face. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“What the fuck am I supposed to think?” he hisses, exhaustion evident in the way he runs a hand through his curls and sags against the door. “You tellin’ me I should believe that you just want me for what I am? A fifty-year-old teacher who spends his time giving fuckin’ speeches to people that are hardly listenin’? Who goes home to an empty bed? That’s what you want?”

And it deflates you, a little. The wounded expression on his face – the devastating truth in those words, splashed across his expression so plainly for you to see. Disbelief.

“Is that such a crime?” you ask quietly. “To want you… and have it be that simple?”

“You shouldn’t,” he shakes his head. Grimaces. “You shouldn’t want me, I’m—I’m no good for you.”

You swallow. Feel tears hot and sharp behind your eyes.

“Then why do you keep letting me?”

“Jesus,” he exhales, and his hand is on the hem of your shirt, pulling you closer, closer, until you’re pressed against his chest, hands coming up to grip his shoulders and steady yourself. “Because I can’t fuckin’ quit you, alright?”

“Because I don’t just want you when it’s convenient,” his lips curl around the word, disgusted by the insinuation. “Because I think about you all the god damn time and if I can only have you some of the time then I guess I’ll take it. Because if you want some fucked up fantasy, then I’ll play my part if it means I get you, I don’t care—”

You cut him off, lips firm and searing against his. He goes still for a moment, mouth parting with a surprised exhale, warm when you press inside with your tongue. And then warmer, salty; tears on his cheeks, on yours.

“That’s not what this is,” you whimper into his mouth, desperate for him to believe it. “It was never about that, it was about you, Joel. I want you.”

He kisses you again, slow. All of the anger and hurt and frustration pools out of the both of you, spilling from your mouths and into the air. His lips mould over yours and his hands are warm on your waist, your back, holding you tight against his chest. When you sniffle, he pulls back, forehead heavy against yours, and sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, eyes closed. “I missed you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for—"

“Where were you?” you interrupt. “What happened in New York?”

He hesitates for a moment, nervous and calculating as he stares you down.

You wilt a little; dejected all over again. Recoil from him and quietly ask, “Why won’t you let me know you?”

Joel’s hand hovers in the air, as if contemplating reaching for you again, but then it drops and he says, “I was with my daughter.”

You blink.

Daughter.

Daughter?

“She lives there now,” Joel sounds a little breathless, cheeks pink as the words spill from him. “In New York, with her girlfriend. I’d planned to spend an extra day there with her, and then Nina—Nina cut her hand open at the studio and we had to go to the ER, and she had to get stitches and—” He pauses, waiting for you to jump in, to interrupt, to say anything. When you don’t, he takes a breath and continues. “And I wasn’t gonna stay any longer but Ellie was worried, and she needed me. She needed me there, and—and I’m never fuckin’ there, because she never needs me anymore. So I stayed, and I’m sorry I went silent but I was… I was takin’ care of my kid.”

You think it might be the longest—and the fastest—you’ve ever heard him speak outside of a lecture hall.

His eyes drift to something over your shoulder and his entire body seems to sag a little. But it isn’t sad. It’s a resigned, sort of relaxed thing that happens – the corners of his mouth tilt up and he smiles weakly.

You turn, follow his eyeline until you see them.

Pictures, so many pictures, lining the walls of his home. Ones you’d paid no attention to when you first stepped inside, but can now see clearly. Bright eyes and wide toothy grins.

Some of Joel younger, leaner, smiling beside a little girl with curly hair. Some of him as you know him now; scruffy and greying, beside a different girl. This one lanky and pale and grimacing toward the camera as if she were forced into being placed in front of it.

There’s one picture of the girls beside each other, teenagers maybe, sat on either end of a seesaw. The curly-haired girl is on the upper end, grinning madly at the lens, while the other sits with her feet planted firmly on the ground, laughing up at her. Two of them. Two daughters?

“Please say somethin’.”

There’s a picture of Joel and he’s holding a tiny little bundle in his arms, and he looks so young and so fucking afraid. Dark eyes wide and teary as he gazes down at chubby cheeks, his index fingers crooked around the edge of her swaddle. A warm feeling swells in your chest and your body softens the longer you look at it. He’s a father.

Joel says your name and when you turn his face is all twisted up, and he looks the smallest you’ve ever seen him. Almost curled in on himself.

“I should’ve told you,” he nods, brown eyes darting across your face in an attempt to decipher your silence. “I know that, and I—”

“I’m an asshole,” you interrupt softly, and the tears never left but now they feel heavier on your waterline. Begging to spill over again.

“Hey,” he frowns, hand coming up to cup your cheek. His thumb swipes at the soft skin beneath your eye, begging the wetness there to disappear. “Hey, hey, no—”

“I didn’t think…” you trail off, sniffling. A sickly cocktail of embarrassment and guilt and shame swirl in the pit of your stomach and you try to swallow it down, try to send it away, but it’s persistent. “I never stopped to think that something had actually happened, that you had… I feel selfish, Joel, I’m sorr—”

“You’re not,” he hushes, fingers curling into the hair behind your ear. “You didn’t know. I should’ve told you before, and I’m sorry.”

“I thought you were staying away because of me,” you offer a watery smile. “I thought maybe you and…” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. Can’t make your lips form the name Rachel.

“No,” he shakes his head, jaw tight, as if reading your mind.

“Is she okay?”

“Ellie?”

“Ellie,�� you roll the name around in your mouth. His daughter. “Yeah.”

“She’s okay,” he smiles, nodding. “They’re both fine.”

“And…” You look back at the pictures. Two. “And the other girl?”

“Sarah,” Joel says softly, pointing at wild curls and brown eyes that look just like his. And he must see the questions swirling in your brain because he speaks again. “I was twenty. My, uh, my girlfriend at the time didn’t know what to do. Didn’t wanna be a Mom, but didn’t agree with abortion, and we were so young and… well, I asked her to marry me cause it felt like the right thing to do, but she didn’t…” he shakes his head a little, a faraway look in his eye as he remembers it. “She said no. She never wanted that… so, after Sarah was born, I told her that she didn’t have to.”

“Didn’t have to?” you repeat the words, eyebrows furrowing.

“Didn’t have to stay,” he clarifies. Your lips part, surprised. “So, she didn’t, and we ain’t seen her since Sarah was a few months old.”

“Shit,” you whisper, eyes widening as the information finally starts to sink in.

“And Ellie,” he laughs then, gazing at a picture of auburn locks and shock grey eyes. “Well, that one showed up on my door some time fifteen years later. Been in ‘n’ outta foster care for years, and just started followin’ Sarah home from school one day. We did this little dance for a while; dinners and sleepovers and me slipping money into her backpack so she could buy lunch at school. And then one day she just… begged me not to make her go back to her own house. So I didn’t.”

“Wow, I…” you blink. “You adopted her? Alone?”

“I…” Joel pauses. Wets his lips, frowning as he collects his thoughts. “Alone is… I don’t think that’s the right word for it. You see Ellie was… Sarah and me, we just knew. She was family so fast. It was the only thing that made sense, you know?”

And it does, you suppose. The image isn’t hard to conjure. Joel at the dinner table with two teenagers on either side of him. Arguing over homework, over curfews, over what movie to watch. You can see the fondness in his eyes as he talks about them – the emotion laced through his words; we just knew.

“Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” Joel says, and that line between his eyebrows is back and it’s so deep that you can’t help yourself from reaching up and smoothing it over with your thumb. He catches your hand and holds it against the centre of his chest. Lets you feel the way his heart thuds heavily beneath the skin, a sturdy rhythm against your palm.

“It’s… it’s a lot to take in,” you confess, and his hand tightens over yours. “But I’m glad you told me.”

Brown eyes search yours, gaze heavy. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay then.”

You flex your palm against his chest. Dig your fingers into the flesh there a little.

“Can I…” he hesitates, eyes flickering down. “Do you… Can I kiss you?” You, you, you.

Your heart beats fast, and you feel his do the same, and Joel is a father, and two daughters, and I can’t fuckin’ quit you, and you’re breathing into his mouth yes, yes you can kiss me, please kiss me.

It’s warm and it’s gentle and it feels like such a kindness to kiss him now and feel less space between the two of you. Feels like a thousand apologies and explanations slipping off his tongue and you opening your arms to him, saying I understand, saying thank you for telling me.

And when you pull him closer, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, he meets you in kind, pressing your back against the wall. He shifts his hips between yours and shows you how much he’s missed you, and only when his hand drifts beneath the hem of your shirt do you pause.

He stills, warm breaths drifting across your mouth as he looks into your eyes.

“Talk to me.”

“I’m exhausted,” you admit shyly, twisting a finger through a frizzy lock of hair at the nape of his neck. You tug at it, not meeting his eye, and watch it bounce back into a curl when you let go. He nods and kisses you again, closed lips soft and not asking for anything, never asking for more than you want to give, before he takes your hand and leads you through his house for the first time.

He runs you a bath. Makes you sit on the edge while he lays out a towel and checks the temperature every few minutes. Only when he’s satisfied that the water is perfectly warm does he help peel the clothing from your body. He grips your hand and helps you step into the tub, lowering you down into sudsy water. And when you’re settled, he pulls a stool nearby and sits, keeping you company as you soak.

“S’nice,” you tell him quietly, dragging a foamy sponge across your arms. “Thank you, Joel.”

The weight of before hangs over you a little, pressing down against your shoulders as you watch him. Gauge him. But he doesn’t seem angry or upset anymore. He leans over the lip of the tub. Runs his hands through the water, over the skin of your calf, your knee. Feels the coarse hairs that have grown there over the past fortnight and smiles when they scratch against his palm.

“Said you were sick?”

“Mhm.”

“What kind?”

“Just a cold,” you whisper. He squeezes your knee, palm against your patella, fingers soft in the flesh around it. “M’fine. Past it now.”

In the soapy water, his skin feels like silk against yours.

“Changin’ of the season,” he muses with a nod. “Normally gets me too.”

And you laugh a little at that, because it’s such a fatherly thing to say and you can’t believe how naïve you’d been to not see it before. Can suddenly picture him doing this a thousand times over; resting by the bath while one of his little girls floats in the water, nose all stuffy from the flu.

At the sound of your laughter he smiles, gaze dropping to your mouth, and the skin beside his eyes pinches. Little wrinkles, so soft and so beautiful that you want to reach out and brush your fingers across them.

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel murmurs, and his voice is hushed, so low in the small bathroom.

His fingers skirt against the inside of your thigh and you splay your legs open for him, knees knocking against the sides of the tub. He glances down through the water to where you’re spread open for him to see, shameless, and smiles.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he repeats.

“So are you, Joel.”

“Psh,” he rolls his eyes, offering a delicate little smile. So shy, so feeble, and so desperate to believe you. A little glimpse of that wary weight, still pressing down on him as well.

“Mean it,” you insist in a whisper. You lift a hand from the water, wet thumb grazing the corner of his mouth. Feel the bristles of his moustache, the hairs on his cheek, prickling against your skin.

“Swoony type,” you say, smiling when recognition flashes in his eyes. Stroke the fresh blush on his cheeks. “Long hair, bedroom eyes, cheeks like wine.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs, turning to press a kiss against your palm. “Can’t get away with plagiarisin’ Carson in this house, baby.”

“She just said it so well.”

“She did,” he agrees. “So did Tartt.”

“Tartt?” your mind wanes, the warm water lulling you into a sleepy sort of daze. You rest heavy against the side of the bath, gazing up at him

“Beauty is terror,” he quotes tenderly, eyes bold and earnest as he holds your stare. “Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.”

You wrap an arm around his shoulders, water droplets staining his shirt where your fingers grip the material, and pull him forward to kiss you. Joel grips the inside of your leg and kisses you until your skin prunes and wrinkles. And when he notices he laughs with you, gripping your hand to press his lips against fingertips that look like raisins. Worships the soaked skin of your fingers until you pull his face back to yours; jealous of your own hands, fearful that they might come to know his kiss better than your lips.

And when the water goes lukewarm and you don’t know what time it is anymore, he dries you off with a soft towel and offers once more to take you home. But you say no, so he smiles and kisses you again—your lips, your cheeks, your eyelids—and leads you to his bedroom.

He drags a too-big shirt over your head, helps you loop your arms into the sleeves. Dark blue and warm, so warm, against your skin.

The two of you slip beneath the covers on his bed and he drags you against his side; lets you press your cold toes against his shins without so much as a flinch.

Facing each other on your sides, those hands slink beneath the shirt, rough palms cradling your ribs, your back, holding you tight against his chest until your breathing falls in sync. And those hands don’t stray, don’t move down, they just embrace you. A carefully held apology that promises I want this, to hold you, to be with you, too.

It stays like that, nothing more, until your eyelids are heavy, and his breathing has evened out. Stays like that until your hand drops from his back to the band of his boxers, sleepy little fingers plucking at the material, trying to slip underneath.

“You should rest.”

But you whine softly; needy and insistent as your fingers press harder.

“What do you need?” Joel rasps into your neck, helping you shift them down his legs.

“Need you,” you whisper back into the darkness of his bedroom. “Wanna feel you, I—”

His mouth is soft against yours, plucking those words from your mouth and swallowing them down. He sucks your bottom lip between his, prying your mouth open so he can slip his tongue inside.

His hand in on your knee, pulling your leg up until your thigh rests heavy around his hip and you can feel the hot weight of him against your core, still slick and warm and needy from when his hand rested on the inside of your leg in the bath.

And if you’d ever subscribed to the meaning behind words like sin you suppose that once this might have counted as one. An act worthy of being sent to reside in that second circle of hell, reserved solely for those overcome by lust; left to blow back and forth in the storm of their own desire. Two people who cannot touch, should not touch, who hold their hands out to feel anyways. A touch once spiteful, once desolate and removed, now so forthcoming. A touch that says this is the only way it could have ever been. And there can be nothing sinful about it anymore. No more shame or derision behind heavy eyelids, no more you shouldn’t or I’m no good for you. Here you rest comfortably in the hurricane of that second circle, and you welcome the breeze as a comfort.

Lips against yours, Joel feeds his cock to you in slow, careful passes.

Ensures you feel every ridge, every hard line of his body. And with each gentle press inside he murmurs against your mouth. Incessant, low nonsenses of so fuckin’ beautiful and god I missed you and that’s it, baby, I know, I know. His kiss smooth as an almond, tender as a fig. Ripe and wet and tremulous as his tongue finds a home against yours, over and over.

The comforter on his bed stays pulled high, up to your shoulders, and it traps the warmth of your bodies between you.

He coaxes rough, gasping sounds from you with every shift of his hips.

Long fingers grip the back of your thigh, using his hold there to rock your body into his over and over again, slowly, making sure you feel every second of it. Slick seeps out of you around his length, smearing against the inside of your thighs and his, and he groans at the wet sounds that slip from where the two of you are connected.

Joel says your name, low and gravelly, praising every syllable. He tells you how good it feels, how perfect you are, and every word is like an undressing of the flesh. Like you’re some tender butcher, peeling back layers of his skin to let the air hit hot, red, pulsating matter, flashes of thick, porcelain bone swimming amongst it all. He keeps you close, hardly an inch of your body not touching his, and yet you can see all of him. The whole surface and everything underneath it now too. And when you say his name in return and he moans, begs you to say it again, say my name again, it’s hearts on wings, thin fire racing beneath the skin, eyes unseeing, drumming filling your ears. It’s the cold sweat on his hands that hold you shaking, that feel the way you tremble and grip tighter. It’s wanting to take those bones of his and suck them clean; lick past the gristle and taste the marrow beyond it.

It's everything and it’s nothing and it’s that silly little four-letter word that you can’t bring yourself to say, let alone think, and it doesn’t even matter because he’s here and that’s enough.

His nose rests in the hollow above your collarbone and he inhales, smothering soft kisses to skin and bone there.

He says, “You smell like me,” and when he looks up and presses his forehead against yours, he almost looks wounded by it. He stills, holds himself deep inside and just stares, and his eyes are screaming I can’t fuckin’ quit you, so you lay your thumb over the dimple on his cheek and smile. “S’my clothes, my soap…”

Your body flutters and tightens around him, and your mouths fall open in soft moans, lips slotting together again.

“You like that?” you breathe into the kiss, and he tightens his fist around the back of the shirt, pressing inward until your back is arched, and your stomach is flush against his and he’s groaning yes.

“Want you in my clothes all the fuckin’ time,” he pants, and the tip of his cock presses so deep inside that you’re gasping, mouth hanging wide open. “And when you give ‘em back I’ll wear ‘em and smell like you, and then we’ll be even.”

“Even?” you laugh a little, nipping at his bottom lip. He smiles, eyes glinting in the darkness.

“Yeah, even,” he repeats it and presses forward in a sharp thrust to emphasise his point. You don’t need to hear it again to know exactly what he means.

“Tell me you’re mine,” you whisper, and he grunts, hips shifting a little faster against yours. You feel him pulse inside of you, his stomach tightening against yours.

“M’yours,” Joel murmurs, voice like velvet and honey, so soft as he leans forward to kiss you, licking the words into your mouth. You say it back, spell it out against his teeth, his lips, his jaw. Yours, yours, yours.

He says something else then, lips soft against your chin, and you’re so close; can feel it hot and burning in your gut, almost at tipping point.

“Hmm?”

“Baby,” Joel nips at your jaw, sharpening your senses. “Tell me you’re on the pill or somethin’.”

“I am,” you whimper honestly, and his body seems to sag against yours, hips shifting in sluggish, tired movements.

Something snaps at the base of your spine, and you tremble against him, gripping the back of his neck. Soon enough he’s shuddering into you, arms going tight around your back, trapping you against his chest as his cock pumps inside your core. And it’s warm and wet and sticky and his seed drools out of you, down to your asshole, smearing against the inside of your thighs, his sheets. Your legs wrap around his waist, holding him to you, keeping him there as long as you possibly can. Riding out your highs, and then the trembling, stuttering aftershocks in each other’s arms. He pants into your mouth and all either of you can say is mine or yours, until the words mix together and become a meaningless blur of sound murmured between locked lips.

It could be minutes or an entire hour before you manage to separate from each other. All eager little kisses and whines as his soft cock slips from your hold, thick spend seeping out of you in his absence. And you just want to sleep, want to curl up in his arms and never leave, but you slink off to the bathroom first. Wet your face and drop down on his toilet. Urinate and feel his come drip out of you. And where once, with someone else, you might have cringed at the feeling, you only feel warmth; calm.

In the bright lighting of his bathroom, you can see yourself reflected in the mirror above his sink. Hair a wild mess, cheeks and lips swollen with warmth. This woman in the mirror stares back at you and she has bright eyes. She smiles at you, and you feel your lips peel back, teeth on show just like hers. You stare at her and think god, she looks happy. When you wipe between your thighs and stand, she does too. And with your finger on the light switch, a wet handtowel clutched in your other palm, you give her one last look before turning out the light, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.

Thursday.

Joel sleeps on his stomach. At least, that’s how he ends up overnight.

Face buried deep in a pillow, one leg slung outside of the covers, with a heavy arm out to the side. When you wake, at first, you’re careful not to move. Not to breathe too heavily, not to cough or jostle him awake. He looks so peaceful like this. Heavy breaths puffing from chapped pouty lips, forehead smooth and devoid of the stress and exhaustion that often lines his face. A large hand rests close to you. Despite you drifting a part in the night, the body heat getting too much for you both, his fingers remain outstretched in your direction. The tips just grazing the skin of your stomach as you lie on your side and watch him.

A low murmur escapes from his mouth, face twitching a little, and then he’s relaxing again, humming in his sleep. You smile, and let your eyes wander.

There’s a pile of books on his bedside table, reading glasses dropped haphazardly atop them.

An Idiot’s Guide to Space, one of the weathered spines reads. Interesting.

A framed painting rests above a set of drawers on the side of his room. A vast landscape with a herd of horses galloping across it. Gorgeous hides of orange and brown and black splashed across green grass and blue sky. And on the back of his door… hangs a cowboy hat.

You move slowly, careful not to wake him as you rise and tip toe across the room. Coming to rest directly in front of the closed door, you slip it off the hook and admire it. You don’t even hear his breathing change as he wakes up.

Dark brown with a curved brim; the felt is soft beneath your fingers. The image of Joel wearing it, perhaps often, while living in Texas flits through your mind and you can’t help but smile. And then warm hands are on your hips, arms snaking around your waist to pull you back into a warm chest.

You gasp in quiet surprise, but your smile only broadens when Joel rests his chin on your shoulder, peering down at the hat in your hands.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice gruff and deeper than usual. A pang of arousal swims in your core at the sound of it, but you ignore that, turning in his grasp.

“Good morning, cowboy.”

Joel groans, sleepy eyes drifting closed as he hugs you to his chest, swaying the two of you from side to side.

“Wanted to lie in,” he grumbles. “S’too early for this.”

“For what?” you blink in mock confusion, holding the hat against your chest.

“For you to see that.” He moves quick, tugging it from your grasp.

“Hey—” You gasp, wide eyed and ready to steal it back. But before you can Joel just lifts it onto his head with a heavy sigh. “Oh.”

“Oh?” he repeats, eyes narrowing.

Warmth simmers in your stomach and you smirk, stepping back to give him a quick once over.

“I could get used to this.”

“Jesus,” he rolls his eyes, moving to take it off but you grip his hand, shaking your head fiercely.

“Not so fast,” you coo. “I want the whole experience.”

“And what exactly is the whole experience?”

“You know—” You shimmy your hips a little. Imitate twirling a lasso in the air, wiggling your eyebrows. “Show me some tricks.”

Joel laughs at you, and you can see the desire in him to say no, to refute it, but the longer you stare him down, the more it cracks and fizzles away.

“Go on, cowboy,” you try out your best Texan drawl, falling down to sit on the edge of his bed.

He adjusts his legs, elbows bending as he waves two finger guns in your direction. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down a laugh as he makes a small pchew pchew noise out the side of his mouth.

“Oh,” you smirk. “Is that all you got?”

“I’ll have you know,” Joel huffs, pretending to holster one of his guns. Hip cocked now, still dressed in nothing but his sleep shirt and boxers; he stares you down. “I’m startin’ to think this town ain’t big enough for the both of us.”

And that gets you. A sharp, barking laughs slips from your mouth, and Joel grins in return, the skin beside his eyes creasing as he adjusts the Stetson over his curls.

As your giggles calm, he just shakes his head, still smiling, and murmurs fondly, “Dadgum, you got a good laugh.”

Your face warms beneath his stare, and you just shake your head, bottom lip snagged between your teeth. Moving quick, Joel pinches the brim of the hat and places it onto your head. It’s a little big, and the brim falls down, obscuring your eyesight before he adjusts it for you. Then he takes a step back, hands on hips.

“How do I look?” You bat your eyelashes up at him, smiling shyly.

“I don’t know,” he fakes an air of contemplation, giving you a long look up and down. “Think you might be all hat ‘n’ no cattle.”

“Hey,” you pout. “I’d make a great cowboy; just need a pair of chaps.”

“Well, you can wear the hat and the chaps all you like,” Joel murmurs, gaze heavy. “But you ain’t a cowboy ‘til you prove you can ride like one.”

Your thighs tense and you arch an eyebrow, trying to remain nonchalant.

“Is that right?”

“S’right.”

“Mm,” you hum. You lick your bottom lip and watch the way his gaze darkens, eyes trained on the movement. “Gonna let me show you what I got?”

And so you end up back in bed, straddling Joel while he smirks up at you, long fingers twisting around the hem of your t-shirt. But when you slip a finger inside the hem of his boxers, the movement so reminiscent of last night, he laughs a little and gives you a look that says, really?

You pout, confused. “I thought you wante—”

“Uh uh,” Joel shakes his head. “Not what I meant.”

“Then what?”

“Get up here.” He lifts his chin upward.

Your eyes widen, stomach tensing a little.

Desire warms the inside of your thighs, and you murmur, “You want that?”

“Do I wa—?” he cuts himself off, eyes darkening a shade. “I said, get up here.”

Heart racing, you shimmy up his chest until your knees are planted on the mattress on either side of his shoulders. He smiles, encouraging, and you grip the hem of his shirt, prepared to pull it over your head, but he stops you.

“No,” he exhales, hand quickly gripping yours. “Leave it on for me.” And then he leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and you can only nod, holding your breath as you wait for him to reach where you want his mouth the most.

Face tucked in the cradle of your hips, Joel sighs your name. A rough exhalation, nose pressed into your skin. And it feels a little silly at first – your face is warm as you stare down at him, the wide brim of the cowboy hat tilting forward.

But then, breath hot and heavy against you, he mouths at the crease where your hip meets your thigh. Slow, drawn-out kisses that have your legs tensing over him, his hands slip beneath the shirt, tracing light patterns into the skin over your spine, all the way up to your shoulders. He keeps going until you’re shivering, a wet trembling mess in his hands, hips twitching forward with every touch of his mouth to your skin until he finally glides his tongue through your folds.

Your breathing hitches as he pants against you, chest vibrating with low sounds as he licks thick stripes up the entire length of your pussy. Eyes closed, he tastes all of you; tongue slipping over every piece of exposed skin that the position grants him. And with every broad stroke of his tongue, he dips inside your weeping hole and finishes with a gentle flick against your clit. So soft and so slow, building you up over and over until finally you break and begin rocking your hips into his face.

Joel grunts at first, a little surprised maybe, but in a second his hands are dropping to grip your thighs, locking you in place against his face.

At first, he guides you. Helps you find a rhythm that works, that feels good. Flattens his tongue and uses his grip to rock you back and forth over his face, groaning as you roll your clit against him, huffing and panting quiet little pleas. But soon enough your fingers are carding through his hair, holding him tight against you as you grind down into his mouth. Sharpening his tongue, he dips it inside of you and then drags upward, pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking gently.

You gasp, vision going hazy as you try to keep your eyes on him, try to watch, but it’s too good. He knows exactly what you like, and it all moves far too quickly for your liking. You can already feel your hips winding faster and harder against him, breaths falling shorter, everything in your stomach pulling tight and hot.

Joel can tell – he can always fucking tell – and one of his hands drifts over your ass, fingers slipping between your thighs from behind until his middle finger is circling your entrance.

“Fuck,” you inhale sharply, jaw going slack as he prods at your cunt, tongue lapping lazily over your clit all the while. “Please, your fingers, yeah, ohhh—”

A long finger sinks inside and you moan, head falling back.

“You like that?” he murmurs, pulling back to graze his teeth along the inside of your thigh. A second finger presses inside, and he curls them against that soft spot, fucking you slow and steady until you acquiesce, whimpering yesyesyesfucksogood towards the ceiling.

“Good girl,” he hums, slick tongue finding its way back to your clit.

He eats at you so lovingly. So generous as he lathes firm circles around your nerves, only ever pausing to suck you into his mouth again or press wet, open-mouthed kisses against the entirety of your cunt. Nose buried in the short curls over your mound, he doesn’t let up until your moans turn high pitched; strained little whimpers of his name falling from your lips as you press down harder and harder.

“Oh fuck,” you cry, hips rocking back and forth, faster now. He breathes you in, jaw shifting from side to side, matching the intensity of your movements with sharp flicks of his tongue. And when you fall apart, shoulders sagging forward, he moans, taking and taking and taking every last drop of what you have to offer.

And what an image it must be – you, wearing a Stetson, riding Joel Miller’s face. You almost wish you’d filmed it, for posterity’s sake.

He presses a small kiss to one swollen lip of your pussy, and then the other, before his head is falling back into the pillows and he’s smiling up at you.

The lower half of his face shines, lips and facial hair slick with your come, and you can’t help but grin back, a tired snort of laughter slipping from your mouth.

“How’d I do?” You grip the brim of the hat, tipping it down at him.

Joel smirks, hands squeezing your thighs, helping to shift you up and onto the side of the bed so he can sit up.

“I’d say you more than proved yourself,” he hums, leaning in to steal a kiss. You sigh, whining against his warm wet mouth, and reach a hand down to press it against his abdomen. Shifting lower, you trail your fingers over where his cock strains against his boxers, but Joel just tuts, pulling away and slipping off the bed.

“Hey,” you huff, gripping his shirt and trying to pull him back down, but he just shakes his head, laughing, and drags you to your feet.

“Gonna be late,” he tells you, squeezing your hips and pressing a kiss to your temple. “And you needa eat.”

Late. You’d almost forgotten that you had a lecture this morning. Joel’s lecture.

He turns, rifling in the chest of drawers, pulling out clothes, a pair of socks, while you stand behind him and watch, knees still shaking, with a fucking cowboy hat on your head. After a moment he turns, stares, and a rough laugh hits the air. Shaking his head, Joel grips the brim and tosses the hat back up on its hook before pointing towards the ensuite, telling you to shower.

“You coming?” you ask, and he just shakes his head, tugging on socks before padding towards the hallway.

“Cowboys don’t shower, baby,” he flashes a smile over his shoulder at you and winks. “They just dust off.”

When you make your way out of the shower, Joel is in the kitchen. Ironed black trousers and a neat white shirt cover his frame, and from across the room you admire him. That strong back, the pert rounded muscles of his ass. Fuck.

He manages to over scramble the eggs and burn the bacon because he can’t stop looking over his shoulder at where you rest at his dining table. Head resting heavy in your palm, you smile back at him. And when he puts a plate of food in front of you, you don’t have a single complaint.

The two of you eat fast, plucking little pieces of eggshell out as you go, smiling and laughing shyly as your feet tangle beneath the table. He watches you; makes sure you clear your plate before he takes it to the sink, murmuring something about how he won’t make you sit through me talkin’ for hours on an empty stomach. Says he’s pretty sure that counts as torture somewhere, baby.

And when he turns, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink, you’re staring at him, heart on your sleeve, and he must see it in your eyes. You know that it has to be clear as day; that forbidden four-letter word blazing across your forehead in bold letters.

Joel clocks your gaze and moves to hover over where you sit, wordlessly cupping your face in two broad palms and slotting his mouth over yours. And as he licks into your mouth, tasting the remnants of eggs and bacon and every unsaid word, you start to believe that maybe confessing wouldn’t be so bad. That maybe forbidden is a word you’ve prescribed to this feeling all on your own – that he might just be feeling the exact same way.

But he pulls back, presses two more quick pecks to your mouth and tells you to get ready, says he’ll drive the two of you to school, and the moment slips from your grasp.

Back in his car, you feel relieved to replace the memory of yesterday with this one. Windows down, the air is cool and calm against your skin as he drives you through town, sated, dopey smiles across both of your faces.

A Bob Dylan song drifts from the speakers and Joel sings along under his breath.

“We’ll meet again someday on the avenue. Tangled up in blue.” Voice low and breathy, left hand on the wheel, right hand on your thigh. You nod along to the lyrics, your fingers tracing the veins and tendons on the back of his hand all the way until he pulls over.

“Shouldn’t be seen walkin’ in together.”

“Yeah,” you agree, understanding. “Best not.”

The truck idles on the side of the road, somewhere inconspicuous down the street from campus, and you slip out his passenger door. Close it with a thud and peer in at him through the open window, eyes devouring every part of his face as if you won’t be seeing him within the hour, stood up in front of the room giving a lecture.

The truck peels away from the curb, Tangled Up In Blue still whining from those speakers, and Joel sends a quick wink out the window at you, his face a blur as he drives off. And you just smile, chest warm despite the cool Spring air on your face, walking along in the same direction – because you know exactly what that wink means. And you love it.

Our little secret.

a/n refs:

in Dante’s Inferno he said that those overcome with lust were doomed to the second circle of hell, wherein they would be buffeted back and forth by the terrible winds of a violent storm, without rest. slay.

the bacchae tr. by anne carson [read if you have mummy issues, a massive ego, or just like the idea of frolicking in the woods for a while...]

the secret history by donna tartt [read if you like unreliable narrators, strange professors and stranger students, and the nursery rhyme 'the farmer in the dell']

the end of the affair by graham greene [read if you like weird intense guys and angst and infidelity]

eros the bittersweet by anne carson [read if you're cool as fuck]

thank you for reading! x

#finally am i right?#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut

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seattlesellie · 1 year ago

Note

Reader getting a little embarrassed bc Ellie's strap won't fit?

Sorry of that's too much

perfect fit. ♡

screaming crying losing my mind. what a perf excuse to use “ill make it fit”

She’d be on top of you, forehead lightly pressed onto yours. You feel her pouty, somewhat chapped lips ghosting over your own, then lightly and delicately pecking the corner of your mouth. It’s one of your favorite types of kisses, makes you melt into the mattress, heavenly sigh, tremble within her touch. The warmth of her breath caresses your skin, a gentle zephyr of intimacy, of being so close. She looks at you so fucking intently, concentrated, fixated, scarred brows knit together and god, you love that little serious line that forms in between them.

The best way to describe her gaze, the most accurate one, would be to say that she looks at you as if she’s studying, genuinely attempting to take in every little gasp that you let out, eager to decipher every subtle nuance of your existencet, every single blink of your eyelids.

Ellie lowers her hand down from your cheek to the base of her strap on, caressing it upon your soaking, gushing slit. When you moan as a result of its bulbous tip hitting the hood of your clit, then your clit itself, Ellie smirks like an asshole. "I can just keep going like that if you want me to”, she whispers, meaning she knows she could make your pussy cum from just rubbing her cock all over its folds. You shake your head no, because as much as you know that it’s true, you yearn for her inside of you, for that intimacy of getting fucked deep with something she treats as if was her own. Ellie chuckles. “What do you want then, babe?” she coos lowly, continuously hitting that sweet spot above your clit that makes you whine, and her grunt.

You attempt to grab the back of her neck and bring her closer to you, to push her in somehow, but you’re too overwhelmed by everything, your hand ends up falling on the mattress and landing with a small thud. You whine, “Ellie…”, she smirks, moistening her bottom lip and slightly pushing the tip in, so it hangs juuuust a tiny bit away from being inside of your hole. “Inside?” she murmurs, never failing to add that teasing “yeah?” of a raspy coo.

You eagerly nod, she loves it when you do that — so fucking pliant, she stops you mid nod for a kiss that leaves the two of you breathless, tongues dancing a nasty, wet, sinful rhythm within the realm of your hot mouth. She leaves your lips with a loud smack. Your lips are swollen, a pout that kills, how could she ever concentrate on something else in her life?

She’d be absolutely lying if she said she didn’t have daydreams (and nightdreams) of your tight cunt stretched out by her cock, of seeing that pretty clit poking and peaking from the top of your pussy, of watching and taking in the sight of the stretch, the way it’ll slide up and down so easily because of how wet you get.

Unfortunately, Ellie did not take the tightness of yourself in consideration. She picked and packed a nine incher, deep blue and veiny, a bold choice, a goddamn cocky one.

You grab her sleek bicep and dent her skin with your nails, she hisses. You’re actually soaking, a pretty clear pool of heavenly nectar formed on the bedsheet, inside the seam of your ass. Your tiny whimpers are shaky and breathy and ever so desperate, egging Ellie on. “please…” you beg even under no command to do so. “Want it that bad?” teases Ellie, but with how desperate she has become, it sounds more like a plea, begging to please tell her how bad.

“need it inside, ellie, n-need you inside”

"Mhm", she hums softly, eyelids descending languidly, surrendering to the ecstasy of hearing your voice. “M’gonna fuck you” — god, you love it when she tells it like it is.

Pampering your cheeks with desperate, wet little kisses like raindrops, she pushes the tip in further, but… it won’t go inside. It’s blocked, your narrow hole begins to burn, redden, eyesight going out of focus, everything fading into a hazy abstraction. “Babe, it won’t…” she murmurs and attempts to fuck herself inside again. “Fuck, t'wont go in”

Your heart quickens its rhythm, a pulsating drumbeat beneath your chest, as you instinctively shut your eyes and, with a mix of embarrassment and restraint, gently bite down on your lip. You spread your thighs even further, attempting to somehow give her more space for movement, she pushes in again, you wince. “Owh, Ellie… owh”

You don't quite know if you're more embarrassed, or more pissed off. Your hole pulsates and yearns for a taste of her dick, but it hurts, and this feeling bubbles up inside your chest — This actual fear of disappointment, of not being good enough like her previous partners, of being or feeling too fragile, too inexperienced. You can't help but scan your eyes over her face, looking for a sign that will tell you that you're right, that you have disappointed her or worse, but before you manage to find it —

“Ffffuuuhck” she exasperates breathily. She strokes your cheeks with her thumb, a worried expression on her face. Her eyes dart over your form, muscles of her jaw tightly clenched. "Don't wanna hurt you", She murmurs and her voice is so sweet, "Can jus' use my fingers, yeah?"

“No, please" you sob, "I’m— fuck, i’m too tight!” your voice is a whine, an actual tear leaking from the corner of your eye, chin wobbling. Ellie’s so fucking torn because poor you, and she knows it hurts — she doesn’t want to hurt you, ever — but hearing those words fall from your lips… it’s hard not to buck her hips inwards and make you take it, miss “too tight”

“This is so… m'sorry” you actually sob, sniffling and avoiding her loving gaze, and maybe if you’d look — instead of letting your embarrassment wash over you and be a murky presence in your mind, your tears might have faltered. “S’not gonna fit”, your chest heaves. Ellie wipes a tear away — from your cheek, from the corners of your eyes, she considers comforting you, telling you to never apologize for anything, ever again, but she's sensible and rational and knows what do to next, to actually stop your tears from falling.

“babe?”, she huskily murmurs. You hum back, holding onto another choked sob.

“I’ll make it fit”

“Know I will”

#𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 anon 🎀#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x you

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not-neverland06 · 8 months ago

Text

How About A Nuke?

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV

The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: I’ve received more love and interaction with this series than I have with any of my other works, so thank you all so much for that ♥️ That being said, I’ve also had a lot of comments talking about how excited readers are for Cooper eventually finding his humanity. This is not going to be that chapter, so strap in and good luck. I’m anticipating there to be about two chapter of this story (most likely.) Summary: The surface sucks. There’s nothing else to it, you’re affronted by violence and brutality every minute you’re up here. The one thing that’s kept you going has been Cooper slowly easing up, you should have known better. Warnings: Themes of SA but none is actually committed.

“Up,” you jumped, jolted harshly out of your restless sleep. You weren’t sure when you’d passed out last night but it was a long while after you’d struck your deal with Cooper. A glance through one of the holes in the wall told you it was still slightly dark outside.

He strode to the door, throwing it open and not bothering to see if you were following. You scrambled up to your feet, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes while you hurried to catch up with him. You trailed slightly behind him for a while, not willing to risk pissing him off by getting too close.

He’d always been an even tempered man, at least when you’d known him, this brutality was something completely foreign to you. Left you feeling like you were walking on glass every time you even looked at him.

After about an hour and a half of walking without speaking, you felt yourself starting to go a little crazy. You rushed up to his side, glaring under the harsh beams of sunlight. “Where are we headed?” He didn’t bother looking at you or even acknowledging that you spoke.

He simply kept his eyes ahead and kept going. You huffed and let yourself fall back again. He clearly wasn’t in the mood for conversation today. Another hour and you felt yourself starting to slow down. You didn’t have a handy little canteen like Cooper did, you certainly didn’t have any fucking sunscreen. You could already feel yourself starting to pour sweat and your lips were peeling again.

Any rest you’d gotten from last night was zapped out of you. You’d barely started the day’s journey and already you felt like you were going to keel over. You stopped for a moment, not thinking he’d pay attention, and leaned over to try and catch your breath.

“Come on!” You glanced up. He’d stopped a few yards up ahead, he was glaring at you, impatiently waiting for you to get a move on. You groaned, taking in a deep breath and forcing your feet to move again.

“Please, can I just have a sip of water?”

He grinned and pulled out the canteen. You felt the briefest amount of energy shooting back through you at the prospect of water. Your hands reached for it but he snatched it away and took a deep gulp. You licked your lips, mouth feeling even dryer while you watched him guzzle the last of his water down.

You felt yourself deflate again, too tired to even get properly mad at him. He was just being a dick now. “Fuck you,” you muttered, brushing past him and continuing ahead.

“Come on, darlin’,” he caught up with you. Not like it was hard, you were going the pace of a turtle right now.

You felt like a panting dog under the summer sun, practically drooling in an attempt to keep your throat moistened. You pulled the zipper of the vault suit down and tied the sleeves around your waist.

“I’d keep that zipped if I were you.” You knew he was talking about, the black slip you had on underneath the suit. Probably not smart to go advertising your assets like this, you had no idea had bad the people out here were. But so far you hadn’t seen anyone for miles and you needed a few minutes to try and dry the sweat on your back.

You didn’t bother responding to him, it was a waste of breath at this point. “You ignoring me now?” You grunted, reaching up to wipe off your forehead and slick the hairs off your skin. “You wouldn’t want the water anyway, unless you got a purifier everything you’ll find out here is radiated to all hell.”

“You were still an asshole,” you muttered.

He scoffed, glancing over at you before looking back out at the horizon. “We’ll be coming up on an old town, see if you can find yourself some supplies while we’re passing through.” You glanced over at him but he was walking ahead of you again.

You wondered if this was his attempt at an apology or if he was just heading there because he needed something. Either way, it would provide you a break at least.

“This is pathetic.”

You glared up at Cooper from where you sit curled up on the floor of an old house. “I’ll remind you that as of yesterday, to me, the most physical labor I had to do was switch out with a stunt double.”

He scoffed and shook his head, not bothering to respond. He walked past you and started rummaging around in drawers. From the abandoned bed rolls on the ground it was clear that somebody used to use this place as their base. You just wondered what sent them running.

“Hey,” he barked, “we’re not staying here forever. Get a fucking move on.”

You groaned and slowly got to your feet, you stumbled to the other side of the house, rummaging around for anything you could change into or something to eat. You could hear Cooper moving around in the back of the house. He kept slamming drawers and cussing up a storm.

You’re not sure what crawled up his ass and died but you figure it’s smart to just stay out of the way while he’s like this.

She made his skin crawl. Being around her was just a constant reminder of what he’d had, who he’d been, and what he was now. Everytime she looked at him with those hurt eyes of hers he just wanted to shoot something.

He hated feeling like this, almost like he was out of control. He knew what he was, he knew what he had to do to survive in a world like this. But she didn’t. She was naive to the way the Wastelands worked and innocent to the brutality she’d soon find herself in the middle of.

He should have left her dying in the sand. He should have left her to choke to death in her pod. He was itching to get to Filly, the longer he stayed around her the more on edge he felt. He didn’t need someone slowing him down, she was a weakness and the Ghoul didn’t do weaknesses.

His hands twitched towards the holster at his side and for a moment he really thought about it. Just sneaking up behind her and burying a bullet in her skull. He’d be getting rid of his problem and saving her from a lot of trouble in the future. She’d never do well in this new world, she was still someone from the old world.

It would be a mercy to just put her out of her misery now.

The button of the holster clicked as he popped it open. Slowly, he made his way towards the room she was in, the leather of his gloves creaking as he wrapped his hand around the handle of his gun. Quick, in and out. She wouldn’t even know what was happening before it was too late and the light in her eyes was out.

Her back was to him, rummaging around in the wreckage of the room. She was completely vulnerable and exposed. Like she didn’t understand how easy it would be for someone to sneak up on her or she stupidly expected him to defend her.

“Hey! I think I found something!”

His hand jolted away from his gun and he shook his head. What the fuck was he thinking? He still technically needed her for his business in Filly. “What?” He snapped.

She let out a yelp and jumped. She whirled around on him, hand clutching her chest and stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. It really would be easy to just take her out now.

“Jesus,” he could tell when she was about to say his name. She’d bite her lip real hard and frown, she was doing it now. For a moment he was thinking about how they used to scare each other. They would make a stupid game of it and she would always hit him and yell, Jesus, Coop!

He used to think it was hilarious. Now he was just resisting the urge to draw his gun on her.

“What,” he enunciated each word, speaking to her like she was a child, “did you find?”

She glared at him and moved aside, showing him the stash of shit she’d uncovered. There were a lot of good supplies here, nothing he could use, but enough to stick in a pack for her. Only problem was nobody would leave all this here. Either they were coming back for it or whatever had killed them off was coming for it.

“Hurry and pack this shit up, we need to get out of here.” When she didn’t move fast enough he snapped, “Now!” She knelt down, hurriedly scooping all the supplies into the ratty old bag on the ground next to them.

He walked back towards the front of the house, pulling his gun out and surveying the destroyed houses. He didn’t see anybody but that didn’t mean shit anymore. Ever since Muldaver started bringing people into her cult the raiders seemed to have been getting smarter. They needed to get the fuck out and quick.

“Alright, let's go!” He leaned back in the doorway, peering back into the house and waiting for her to pop out. There was a moment of silence and he frowned, slowly heading back into the house.

A scream ripped out of the room, echoing into the empty streets of the neighborhood. He rushed back into the house and slowed down once he reached the hall. He could hear her talking to someone, yelling at them more like. He only heard two other voices, wouldn’t be too bad if he didn’t hear more approaching the front of the house.

“Fuck,” he muttered. He flipped open the chamber of his gun, counting his bullets and trying to decide whether or not she was actually worth helping.

“Well, ain’t you pretty?”

“Back the fuck off,” you clutched the backpack to your chest, gaze darting between the two men before you. Men was being generous, you’re sure they’d been men once but now they were just twisted freaks capable of nothing but violence.

The one on the left smiled, blackened teeth making an appearance and the boils around his mouth shifting. You stumbled further back, nearly tripping over a toppled over couch. You only had so much room to move, you were gonna be backed into a corner soon and you didn’t want to think about what they would do to you then.

The scalpel in your pocket could slit one of their throats but the other one would be on you before you could blink. Still, you kept your hand firmly wrapped around it while you glared at them.

“You know,” the one on the right started. You could practically smell him from here, his hair so greasy it looked soaking wet. “You’re being awfully rude for someone who just helped herself to our supplies.”

“Pay the price pretty lady and we’ll let you go,” he leered and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what the “price” was. You’d sooner slit your own throat then spread your legs for them. But you also weren’t about to give up the supplies in the bag you were holding. You may be new to this whole Wastelands thing, but you figured Cooper wasn’t going to share. If you didn’t get this bag out of here, you weren’t going to make it another day.

“You got a working right hand, go fuck yourself.”

They laughed and moved in closer. “We got a fighter, Bart!”

“Sure do, Jed.”

You yelped, tripping over a loose plank of wood and falling on your ass, the scalpel flew out of your hand and skittered across the floor. You barely even breathed before they were pouncing on you. Rough hands gripped your ankles and dragged you across the splintered floor. They were more wild animals than men.

You tried to kick out, screaming for help and flailing your fists wildly. You felt your hand connect with something hard and then there was a low groan of pain before your arms were being pinned. “No! Let me go!”

They started laughing, one of them tugging the sleeves of your suit off your waist and whistling at the slip underneath. You brought your knee up into his gut but it barely phased him. He just swatted your leg to the side like you were nothing to him.

You could feel a visceral type of panic brewing in you. There were a lot of things worse than death. The prospect of these men actually getting their hands on you had you kicking out again. You tugged on your arms until you were sure you were doing more damage to yourself than to them. But you didn’t care, you couldn’t think, you were working on the base instinct to protect yourself.

The sound of spurs echoed down the hallway before Cooper was turning the corner. He had his gun raised and was pointing it right at them. “I do believe the lady said no.”

“We found her first,” one of them let go of your suit to crouch in front of you. He looked like an animal guarding his territory. The other chuckled, barely sparing Cooper a glance.

“Actually,” he cocked the hammer of his gun back, “you didn’t.”

You processed your ears ringing before you got to the gunshot. You couldn’t hear anything, a high pitched whining making your jaw clench in pain. Your arms went slack and you quickly pulled your pants back up, zipping the suit all the way to your throat. You rolled onto your hands and knees, barely cognizant of the puddle of blood you were dragging yourself through.

Two arms wrapped around your waist and you acted without thought. You swung out blindly, yelling and clawing like a wild cat. “-nough! That’s enough, come on!” Cooper’s voice broke through the haze and you went limp with relief.

He tightened his arms around you and dragged you to your feet. You glanced down at yourself, finally feeling the warmth seeping through your clothes. You were doused head-to-toe in those men’s blood. Your face was completely covered.

You glanced to the right and had to suppress a gag. Brains and skull were mashed together in a disgusting puddle of gore, nothing left of the men who’d grabbed you. “Hey,” Cooper shook you slightly and your eyes shot back to his. “We need to leave now, they’ll be more coming.”

You nodded dumbly, not really sure you were processing what was actually going on. Half of you was still stuck thinking you had to keep fighting, the other half wanted to be back in the cryogenic pod. He wrapped a hand around your arm and shoved the bag into your arms.

Then you felt something heavy being pressed into the palm of your hand. You glanced down, surprised to find one of his guns in your hand. “What’re-”

“Clearly, you need something to defend yourself. You still remember how to shoot, don't you?” You nodded, of course you did, he’s the one that taught you. “Good, now move your ass.” He gave you a rough shove and you stumbled over the bodies.

One thing you were learning was that you didn’t get a whole lot of time to process things in the Wastelands. One minute you were on the floor being stripped and the next you were ducking behind an old house to avoid raiders. You didn’t linger on what happened, you tried to keep your mind firmly gripped in the present. You couldn’t give it too much thought or you’d shut down.

Cooper moved ahead of you, slinking around the back of the neighborhood to make sure the coast was clear. You slid the straps of the bag over your shoulders and followed quietly after him. You made it to the border of the houses and figured you could relax a bit now.

Clearly, they weren’t coming after you. They might have heard the gunshots but they had no clue where you were. Cooper wasn’t going to risk it though, he wrapped his hand around your arm again and roughly dragged you behind him.

“Keep up, I’m not gonna come back for you if you fall behind.”

But he already had. He could have left you to those raiders. He came back for you, even he couldn’t deny that.

“Do you think we’ll be safe here?” He glanced up at you and nodded wordlessly. You stacked the last piece of wood for the fire and sat back. He leaned forward, striking his knife against a rock and waiting for the sparks to catch.

You watched without thought, mind lingering on the feeling of blood sticking to your skin and clothes. Everytime you moved bits of it flaked off or crusted further onto your skin. You were nearly ready to just claw your skin off to get rid of the feeling.

“Here,” you glanced up, surprised to find him holding up a wet cloth. “Wipe your face off, you look fucking insane.”

You grabbed it, scrubbing at your face and hands until your skin was raw. “Thanks,” you muttered, tossing the cloth back to him. He caught it and tucked it in his pocket. It felt strange between you. You’re not sure what it was exactly. Maybe you were just projecting, still worked up from what happened earlier.

It wasn’t a bad strange, per say, just odd. “Take first watch,” he ordered. You just nodded, watching as he leaned against the wall of the old house you were camped in. He pulled his hat over his eyes and stilled. You weren’t sure he was asleep until you heard a few light snores coming from him.

You glanced down at the gun in your hands. You opened the chamber and counted the bullets before closing it again. It wasn’t like the guns he used to teach you with, that’s for sure. It was bigger, bulkier, probably had a bitch of a recoil too. But you could point and aim well enough, hopefully you wouldn’t need to fire off more than one shot if someone did bother you tonight.

You’re not sure when you fell asleep, you know you shouldn’t. It’s up to you to make sure no one tries to slit your throat in your sleep. But the events of the day caught up to you faster than you thought they would and before you knew it you were slumping back against the wall and dead to the world.

Your eyes snap open at the sound of wood creaking. There’s a man, he looks like the ones from today, standing over Cooper. He’s got his knife hovering above his throat. You’re pulling the trigger before you can even think about what you’re doing.

He lets out a howl of pain and slumps onto the floor. Cooper’s eyes shoot open and he jumps up, he pulls out his own gun but the man is already dead before he can pull the trigger. You stare at the body in shock, mind running so fast you can’t even process what you’re thinking.

“I killed him,” you muttered. You can feel the gun slipping out of your grasp, hands shaking too badly to keep a good grip on it. “I killed him.”

Cooper walks over and picks the gun back up. He sticks it into the pocket of your backpack and grabs your face. You wince slightly as his fingers push against the bruises on your cheeks but don’t complain. He’s not being rough like you’ve come to expect.

He stares at you for a long moment, eyes boring into yours with an unreadable expression. “I just killed him,” you whisper again. You’re still trying to reconcile with that fact. You knew it would happen eventually, today had taught you that much. But you hadn’t expected it to shock you as much as it had.

Maybe it’s because you didn’t manage to blow his head off with one shot. You watched as the light left his eyes.

“You did a good job, we need to move now, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

And despite what you’d just done, you could really only focus on the fact that was the first time he’d called you that without sounding cruel.

You were getting closer to Filly, you could see a large forest a couple miles ahead of you. Being closer to the trees, even by such a little amount, was doing wonders in improving your mood. You found you didn’t mind the sun and heat as much when you just kept reminding yourself that soon you could find some shade.

You passed by an old sunken billboard, Filly spray painted across it with an arrow pointing the way. You found yourself pushing Cooper further ahead today, more and more excited to find somewhere with halfway civilized people.

You made it to the edge of the forest before Cooper stopped you. He threw his bag down next to a fallen log and pointed up towards the sky. “Sun’s setting, trust me, you don’t want to be exploring these woods after dark.”

The ominous tone had chills raising along your arms, you frowned and glanced towards the dense grove of trees. Something within them trilled out towards the night sky. You found yourself scooting a little closer to him, wary of what was waiting in there for you.

He huffed out a laugh and started building a fire. You dug through your bag, pulling out the few rations you’d gleaned from the raiders. You held one out to him but he shook his head and pulled out his odd looking jerky instead.

You’re not really sure what that shit is made of, but you know you don’t want to know. You were too afraid to ask him. Especially after you tried a bite the other day, it didn’t taste like any meat you recognized.

You ate in a comfortable silence, the sound of your chewing drowned out by the insects flitting around in the trees above you. But he kept glancing at you, giving you odd looks that had you on edge. “What?” You finally snapped, sick of him looking at you weird.

You hadn’t felt clean since you’d crossed the desert, but after what happened yesterday your skin was crawling with shame and disgust. You felt like you needed to scrape the skin off until you felt clean. He was making you feel even worse.

“So,” he leaned back against the log. He took his time getting comfortable, letting you squirm before he deigned to finish his sentence. “You really didn’t leave for Vault-Tec?”

You glared at him and shook your head. Why did he still think that? How could he think that? It pissed you off to no end. “Why in God’s name would I do that?” Your tone was indignant. But there was a slightly desperate undertone to it as well. You hated the thought of Cooper genuinely thinking that you had just up and left him one day without a word.

“Well, I don’t know. I looked for you for a while. Eventually I gave up, figured you’d just found someone else to shack up with.”

You were pained that he would think that of you. “How could you say that?”

He chuckled but it wasn’t kind, it was that cruel laugh that made you feel small, like something to be squashed under his boot. “Well, not like we meant a whole lot to each other.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper. Not fully processing what he was trying to say to you. “What?”

It took you by surprise, the hatred in his eyes when he glared at you. “What do you think happened, sweetheart?” You hated the way your old nickname rolled off his tongue. It sounded tainted now, twisted by his cruelty.

“You were at the peak of your career, the sexiest actress of your generation,” he sneered at you, yellowed teeth flashing in the firelight. Your fingers curled into your palms, broken nails digging dully into your cracked skin. His eyes ticked up in interest at your minute shift in behavior. He had always been good at reading people. Except he didn’t used to use that skill so horribly.

He didn’t let up, digging further into you when he noticed your discomfort. “You were a sex symbol, darlin’ and I was freshly divorced. Did you really think any of that was love?” He scoffed and you felt tears pricking at your eyes. “No,” he shook his head and ripped off another piece of jerky, scoffing at you. “You really think I was gonna say no to a pretty young thing like you? You were just a hole to fill, honey. That’s all.”

You felt like you’d been punched in the gut, actually, you’d think you’d prefer that to how you feel right now. It was getting hard to get the air down your throat, you felt like you were suffocating on the smoke from the fire. Winded and you hadn’t even done anything.

Everything, everything, he was saying was perfectly concocted to hurt you as much as fucking possible. He knew how you felt about your place in the world, how desperately you had crawled your way into being seen as something human. You’re sure he’s just saying this to hurt you, to keep you away.

If you were more mature you might even just let it go, realize it was a childish attempt at hurting you and keep going. But this was a man you’d opened up to completely. To take those parts of yourself that he knew were vulnerable and wield them like a weapon against you was something you just couldn’t look past. Especially not after what happened yesterday.

You clenched your eyes shut, trying to keep the tears at bay and weakly nodded your head. “Alright. You’ve said your piece. You done?”

He nearly frowned, eyes lowering as he gave you an odd look over the fire. He seemed to be expecting something else. Maybe for you to fight back. Well, if that’s what he wanted he was going to be sorely disappointed. He’d just drained the fight out of you with a few measly insults.

After a tense moment of silence he nodded. “Great,” you refused to look at him as you got up and grabbed your pack.

“Where are you going?” he questioned, tone souring as you continued to avoid looking at him.

“Far away from you as I can get,” you muttered, stalking off into the dead trees. You weren’t a complete idiot, you stayed in sight of the fire, but you couldn’t bear to lay so close to him tonight. Not after what he just said to you. Not after you thought you had finally been making progress and he threw that in your face.

“Fine, pout all you want sweetheart, give the radroaches a nice meal!” He shouted at your retreating back. You still kept your head down, hand clutched over your stomach while you tried not to cry. You threw your bag down on the ground, a choked sob slipping through your lips while you sank against a tree.

You felt so stupid! To actually believe that any of the man you loved was left in him had been a fool’s hope. You wiped your eyes harshly, pissed at yourself for crying again. This was the apocalypse, there wasn’t time to cry and moan because the man you loved didn’t love you back.

You’d dealt with that feeling for years when you pined after Cooper. You could deal with it again.

Only, the last time you’d pined like this, you hadn’t actually had a taste of what being with him was really like. Knowing that the whole time you were with him he just saw you as something to pass the time hurt you more than you wanted to admit.

You glanced over your shoulder, watching as he packed away the rest of his food and sank back against the log. He tilted his hat over his eyes and settled in for the night. You turned back around, using the dwindling light of the fire to scope out the forest before you.

Cooper had said it was only a day’s walk to Filly. Go a mile north into the trees and you’d find the signs pointing the way. His cruel words festered bitterly in your stomach and you found yourself on your feet before you could really think about what you were doing.

You crept your way towards the campfire and grabbed one of the burning sticks. Cooper shifted and you stilled, wincing as you waited for him to wake up and question what you were doing. But he just shifted onto his side. You ran back towards your bag and threw it over your shoulder.

You only spared Cooper one last look before you made your way further into the woods. He’d made it clear enough that he wasn’t looking for companionship or friendship. You could respect that, but you weren’t going to tolerate him being a fucking dick to you at every opportunity he got.

If he wanted to see how far he could push you until you reached the edge, he’d done it. You were done trying to cater to his temper. You could make it a day on your own. After that, you’d find something for yourself in Filly, but you were sure as hell done with Cooper Howard.

He was a ghost that should have stayed fucking dead.

SERIES TAGLIST: @pixelatedprofilepic @o0mellowdramatic0o @bisasterbisexual @julianmarie @v3n1x @weakling-grace @coolrobloxkid28 @sunnexaltation @fiftyshadesofokay @ktdragonborn

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout x reader #fallout tv series

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insidekatmind · 7 days ago

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A blues girlfriend- Virgil van Dijk

wearning: +18,smut

request: yes.

You are sitting on the couch at home, snuggled up next to Virgil van Dijk. The atmosphere is quiet, the sound of the television in the background is barely perceptible. His presence was always reassuring, a mix of strength and sweetness that made you feel protected. He has his arm resting on your shoulder, his fingers slowly marking circles on the fabric of your shirt.

You turn slightly to look at him, the sculpted profile of his face is illuminated by the light of the screen. He looks down at you with a smile just touched, one of those smiles that always make you get butterflies in your stomach.

"Virgil," you start out in an innocent tone, but the mischievous gleam in your eyes does not escape him.

"Hm?" he answers without taking his eyes off you, curious.

"Could you... play badly against Arsenal?" you ask in a soft voice, almost as if you were proposing the most logical thing in the world. Hold a grin, knowing what his reaction will be.

Slowly, his right eyebrow rises. He looks at you with a mixture of amusement and disbelief, and for a moment there is only silence. Then he tilts his head to the side, his gaze becomes tighter and more penetrating.

"Wait, wait... what did you say?" he asks, his voice low and a hint of jealousy that shines through behind the jesting tone.

You shrug with an innocent expression, but you can’t hold back your smile.

"You know, if Liverpool loses to Arsenal, Chelsea has a better chance of getting back on the board. It’s not a big sacrifice, is it?" Add, touching his chest with fingers in an innocent and provocative gesture at the same time.

He stares at you intensely, his gaze is now deeper. He moistens his lips with his tongue and then shakes his head, letting out a brief incredulous laugh.

"Ah, so is that it? you’re more supportive of Chelsea than you are of me?" He replies with a calm voice, but his dark eyes hold you captive, full of silent jealousy that he had never openly admitted.

"Come on, baby, you know I’m a big fan of Chelsea," you say, putting your head against his shoulder. "That’s not new."

"I know," he replies slowly, his voice more raucous. He turns slightly, so that he looks you straight in the eye. "But that doesn’t mean I like it."

Feel his arm clench around you, and the warmth of his hand on your shoulder gives you a jolt. Your heart beats faster.

"Oh, are you jealous?" you ask, challenging him with a funny smile.

"Maybe a little," he admits with a slight grin, hid lips dangerously close to yours. "I don’t like it when you’re not rooting for me. Makes me think you don’t support me as well as you should."

"Oh, poor baby," you joke, trying to keep a defiance tone, but your voice goes down unconsciously. "Do I have to cheer for you when you play against my team?"

"Yes, that’s what I’m saying," he replies with a confident smile, his voice getting lower and more seductive. "You’re mine, aren’t you? Then you must cheer for me. Period."

You don’t have time to answer. Before you can open your mouth, he leans over you and kisses you with an overwhelming passion. His lips move with a decided sweetness, and the warmth of his kiss envelops you like a flame. A big hand slips behind your neck, fingers sink gently into your hair, locking you in that delicate but authoritative grip.

Your breath is broken, and your mind is empty instantly. The awareness of what you were trying to do disappears under the pressure of his lips against yours. Every logical reasoning gives way to that feeling of warmth that runs through you all.

Virgil interrupts the kiss for a moment, his eyes burning with intensity as he stares at you.

"I told you so," he whispers in his deeper voice than before. "I come before Chelsea."

You’re short of breath, warm cheeks, and your answer is a whisper you can barely utter.

"You are unbearable," murmurs, the eyes lost in his, the heartbeat accelerated.

"Yes, but I’m your unbearable," he counters with a triumphant grin, leaving you speechless.

You stare at him, trying to catch up, but the smile that lights his face makes you lose any desire to counter. You already know he won, and he knows better than you.

"So," he adds, tongue-licking as if he was still enjoying the kiss, "I will play against Arsenal. And not only will I play... but I’ll do everything to win. And you know what? When I score, my first thought will be you. My girl who cheers for Chelsea."

"Ah, you’re unbearable!" you exclaimed, laughing as you slap a light punch on his chest.

"You’ve said it before," he replies with a smile full of arrogance and affection at the same time. He holds you closer to him, his arms wrap you with that sure and stable force that you have always loved in him.

"I come before Chelsea, remember that," he whispers to your face and then kisses you again

The kiss becomes more passionate as Virgil explores your mouth with his tongue and you groan.

With a fluidity that leaves you breathless, Virgil lays you down on the couch gently, his big strong hands guiding you with sweetness and determination. It makes you lie down with a slowness that feels like safety and control. His body moves over yours with the grace of a sure predator of its prey. His eyes follow your every movement, his gaze burns with an intensity that makes you spin your head.

"Now don’t run," he whispers in that husky voice that makes your soul vibrate. His lips bend in a smile that drives you crazy, a promise and a challenge together.

His hands slowly caress you, sliding down your hips with a delicacy that contrasts with the strength of his movements. It keeps you still, but at the same time it makes you feel free. The beat of your heart accelerates, every sense is concentrated on him, on his touch, on every breath you feel against your skin.

"You’re too stubborn," he whispers against your lips, his warm breath tickling you. "But I like it that way."

And then he kisses you. But this time it’s different. It’s not a sudden or impetuous kiss. It’s slow, deep, studied. His lips move against yours with a precision that makes you lose your breath. Every second that passes, the world around you vanishes. There is no more television in the background, there is no more dim light in the room. It’s just you two.

His hands caress your face, thumbs trace little circles on your cheeks. Hi8s touch is so sweet that you almost cry. Yet there is a strength in that gesture, a silent promise. He holds you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, and at that moment you feel just like that.

Feel the weight of his body against yours, not too heavy, but enough to make you feel protected, safe. His lips move more now, and your breath is mixed with his. Your fingertips run along his broad shoulders, tracing the line of his muscles. Every corner of his body is carved to perfection, and it seems almost unreal that it’s all yours.

"Tell me," he whispers against your lips, interrupting the kiss for just a moment. "Who comes first, me or Chelsea?" His voice is full of arrogant confidence, but his eyes are full of expectation. It’s not just a question, it’s a challenge.

Pretend to think about it, tilting your head slightly and biting your lip to hold a smile. "Let’s see..." Jokes, but you do not in time to finish the sentence that his lips return to claim you, more hungry than before.

"Wrong answer," he whispers against your mouth before kissing you again, and this time it’s more insistent, deeper. You find yourself letting go completely, your hands clinging to his back as the kiss becomes more intense. There is no Chelsea, no Premier League ranking. There is only Virgil, with his strength and his sweetness fused into one overwhelming embrace.

When he broke off the kiss, he turned you on your stomach and pulled out your pants and underwear leaving you naked in front of him, Virgil began to strip himself and sucked his dick on his hands to then rub you on your entrance making you groan.

You tried to push your hips back to feel more friction but he blocked you. " do the good blues" he said mocking you and then with a quick blow he put his dick inside of you.

You cried a whimper and your whole body felt weak for a moment. He grunted feeling you tight and took a handful of your hair to arch your back against his chest and started fucking you making you scream moaning.

You lowered your head on your shoulders, while leaning against his body. He looked at you and smiled when he saw your fucking face with his mouth open and kissed you ruddy as he kept fucking you.

You moaned even louder feeling his power and how he was filling you with his cock. "Chelsea comes first, huh?" he whisper to your ear, then nibble playfully on your lobe and you groan without giving him an answer.

Virgil put his hand on your pussy and started to insert a finger into your pussy and made it move as he began to increase his thrusts even faster.

You groaned, focusing on your pleasure and Virgil began to attack your neck with bites and kisses. " Answer me when I ask you a question" he said and gave you a push that made you bend on your legs on the couch.

He started to fuck you without stopping and you were screaming with pleasure his name. He grunted as you felt that you were close. "That’s fine," you whispers with a short breath as he is still fucking you. "You come first."

A triumphant smile lights up his face. "I know," he says, with that arrogance that drives you crazy. His lips touch your neck, leaving a trail of light kisses that make you shiver. "And I’ll remind you of it every time you try to forget it." He continued giving you a last shot by making you cum on his cock and he kept hitting you until he cummed inside of you.

"a blues girl who gets cum in her pussy held by a player of the Liverpool, that bad girl" he said jokingly.

I pull his dick out and you whimpered about the loss of contact. Virgil sat on the couch trying to catch his breath and you crawled over to him kissing him and he hugged you.

"You’re mine, don’t forget it" whispered.

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vestaignis · 5 months ago

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Деттифосс самый мощный водопад Исландии и Европы, его называют «европейской Ниагарой».При ширине около 100 метров этот водопад низвергается с высоты в 44 метра. Во время паводков количество воды в водопаде может вырости в 3-4 раза и в пиковые моменты составляет до 600 м3/секунду! Кстати, в переводе с исландского Деттифосс значит Бурлящий водопад, гул его слышен на многие мили вокруг.

Водопад находится в северо-восточной части острова, в Национальном парке Исландии Йёкульсаурглювур и расположенн на крупной реке Йёкюльсау-ау-Фьёдлюм. Ледниковое питание реки Йёкюльсау-ау-Фьёдлюм обуславливает не совсем обычный для исландских рек буро-коричневый цвет воды, срывающейся с уступов Деттифосс. Путь к живописному творению природы лежит сквозь пустынную местность, покрытую множеством дюн черного песка.Единственным исключением является зеленый оазис на склоне холма на западном берегу, куда попадают брызги от водопада, увлажняя почву. Однако на восточном берегу совершенно иная картина. При определенном направлении ветра вы можете промокнуть до нитки от брызг. Из-за густого облака брызг дно водопада не просматривается, однако хорошо видны потрясающие базальтовые колонны, которые встречаются на всем пути с обеих сторон реки.

Однако не только своей мощью и суровой красотой известен водопад Деттифосс, но и своим участием в кинематографе - именно этот водопад "сыграл" роль в фильме Ридли Скотта "Прометей". По версии Скотта именно тут зародилась жизнь на Земле.

Dettifoss is the most powerful waterfall in Iceland and Europe, it is called the “European Niagara”. With a width of about 100 meters, this waterfall falls from a height of 44 meters. During floods, the amount of water in the waterfall can increase 3-4 times and at peak moments it reaches up to 600 m3/second! By the way, in Icelandic Dettifoss means Raging Waterfall; its roar can be heard for many miles around.

The waterfall is located in the northeastern part of the island, in the Jökulsárglúvur National Park of Iceland and is located on the large river Jökulsau au Fjödlum. The glacial feeding of the Jökulsau au Fjödlum River causes the brown-brown color of the water falling from the Dettifoss ledges, which is unusual for Icelandic rivers. The path to the picturesque creation of nature lies through a desert area covered with many dunes of black sand. The only exception is a green oasis on the hillside on the western shore, where spray from a waterfall falls, moistening the soil. However, on the eastern shore the picture is completely different. In certain wind directions, you can get wet to the skin from the spray. Due to the thick cloud of spray, the bottom of the waterfall is not visible, but the stunning basalt columns that occur along the entire path on both sides of the river are clearly visible.

However, the Dettifoss waterfall is known not only for its power and harsh beauty, but also for its participation in cinema - it was this waterfall that “played” a role in Ridley Scott’s film “Prometheus”. According to Scott, this is where life on Earth originated.

Источник://t.me/roundtravel,/scandica.ru/iceland/sights1/vodopad_dettifoss_dettifoss/,//www.andreev.org/travel-photos/iceland-dettifoss . html,//www.tripadvisor.ru/Attraction_Review-g315845-d1912449-Reviews-Dettifoss_Waterfall-Lake_Myvatn_Northeast_Region.html, /scandica.ru/iceland/sights1/vodopad_dettifoss_dettifoss/,/vislandii.com/attractions/waterfall/100-dettifoss waterfall, //www.vodopads.ru / blog /vodopad_dettifoss_dettifoss/2012-10-26-33, //www.equatorial . by/content/vodopad-dettifoss-dettifoss,/priroda.club/vodopady/8358-vodopad-dettifoss-islandija-56-foto.html.

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briseroyawritingsblog · 23 days ago

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𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 — 𝑨𝑼

𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒓!𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒆!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +21 minors do not interact. this is actually taboo, mutual flirtation, desire, inappropriate thoughts, large age gap, heavy kissing, professor is so horny in this (beware), darkish AU, light stalking (if you squint) mutual pining (little) mentions of rough sex, thinking of unprotected sex.

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

dividers by @anitalenia

Yes it happened, he’d overwork so he didn’t have to return home. That home of his was nothing but cold, empty, and lonely. Another evening of sitting in his office and marking the last semester papers. He’d secretly drink some whiskey out of a coffee cup and remove his shoes to feel comfortable. Stretching his limbs he’d sigh and think what happened to his life. Children grown up and wife somewhere out there with a new man. Yes- divorce was messy but at the end the feeling in his chest could’ve been compared to elation, maybe freedom. Divorces ended up being messy because of the heartbreak but man in his age? He desired peace- adjusting the reading specs on the bridge of his nose and sighed coming across your semesters quiz. Naturally loving the way you curved the font of your name on his papers. Reading your essay only to the half way and marking it ‘excellent’ because to be truthful you were a very creative writer. Thoughts drifting to many places as he touched the coffee cup to sip on his whiskey. He could also definitely just retire because being a teacher in his late 50’s was quite challenging. Not because of the age range, he lost patience. Yes… it happened. Secretly hating his colleagues guts, but oh god when he saw you… there it was. The weak spot- what he liked the most that you’d always catch his gaze. Sitting at the back of the classroom leaning on your elbow and catch his gaze. Seeing you press your thighs together under the desk, at the praise he gave you for your test results. He liked praising you.

Being newly enrolled, finding new friends which you did instantly and they were cool people. Sharing mutual interests and forming a little study sessions in the library. It was honestly so good. But the moment you saw him passing by holding that green smoothie in his hand from cafeteria you loved so much. You caught yourself staring, goodness he was tall. That hair slicked back, and the specs, your chest felt like giving up. A breath caught in your throat as he locked his eyes with yours. Gripping the book against your chest you ran up to him “Mr..” stilling his feet he acknowledged you “Y/N” a smile greeting his features and you grew weak in your knees. Secrets… secrets again. You had tons of them. “Did they have any different flavors?” You pointed at his smoothie and he chuckled shrugging. “I’m not entirely sure, but this one caught my eye today.” You nodded “it’s pretty great. I get it all the time.” He moistened his lips as you spoke. “Oh don’t say, that good?” Bringing the straw to his lips he tasted it. The sweet flavors leaving his tastebuds dancing. “Very healthy, it’s sweet” he hummed. “Walk with me?” He motioned to his office at the end of the corridor. Your heart needed to calm down because god, you couldn’t stop the feelings. Holding the book against your chest forgetting about your study session and your friends soon finding yourself sitting in his office. Leaning back against his chair he sighed. Finally having you for himself- it’s been days since he last time saw you. “Read your essay, i must say it’s amazing” he praised. “Really? You think it’s good?” You relaxed your shoulders taking a breath. “I know it’s very good, you don’t have to study so hard in that library you already have it.” Answering you with so much confidence your attraction level towards him spiked off the roof. “Thank you Sir..” you smiled, eyes sparkling. “Most welcome” the Sir part definitely surged through his body and straight to his cock. You had no idea…

Throwing his briefcase on the passengers seat, it was time to go home but he didn’t want to. He really didn’t want to walk into that cold empty house alone. Maybe divorce was fine but he didn’t expect to feel so goddamn lonely whenever he was at home. He could eat out, join his awful work colleagues because they constantly invited him. About to start his car he noticed you running across the road, he leaned back in his drivers seat adjusting his specs, your skirt bounced as you ran flashing him a sight of your thighs. You got in the car with a man he figured it’s your father. How much he wanted to drive you home, maybe hold your inner thigh with one hands and maybe- only maybe touch that sweet pussy of yours. He would trace your little folds and make them wet. He wanted to fit his cock right between those folds and fuck it until you’d cry for him to stop. Maybe a little rougher- maybe causing you a little lust filled pain. Snapping his hips right into you, faster and faster gripping you around your neck. These thoughts ran through his mind, making his cock heavy in his dress pants. Hissing softly as he touched his growing cock through his pants shifting in his seat, god he hated this. He hated not having you for himself and pound that little pussy of yours at every chance he’d be able to. Fill you right up with his cum, and stuff it back in you as it would leak out of you.

Seeing your professor sitting in his car, on the other side of the car park you waved. He seemed to be looking down perhaps reading something- and in fact yes he was reading a book because what else he’d have to do to make his little ‘problem’ suffice away. You told your father that you’d rather walk, the car park was nearly empty and it was getting dark maybe it was your chance to tell your professor about your new story what you were writing. No harm in that right? Getting out of your father’s car waving him goodbye, you ran back across the road to your professors car gently knocking on his window. He looked up, and god his heart sunk in surprise seeing you there. Sliding his window down slowly you stuttered at first “I-I just saw you sitting here thinking you were reading and yes you’re.” He nodded slowly masking the awful need in the pit of his stomach. “Hop in.” You excitedly did- getting on his passengers seat. “It’s actually a novel by my favourite author.” Handing you the book locking the doors. You eagerly read the info about the plot and bit your lower lip. “Have it. It’s from my library at home, I really don’t borrow books from the campus.” Your eyes grew wide. “Really?! I can read it?” He smiled nodding. “Of course! Give it back once you finish.” Your heart thumping against your chest cavity not containing yourself anymore kissing his cheek telling him endless thank you’s. Closing his eyes the moment your lips touched his cheek his breath hitched. He chuckled lightly giving your hand a gentle squeeze. Then it hit you- you kissed your professor even though it was not allowed at all you felt like breaking the rules. “I can show you.. the book, umm- in my home.” He offered, and you swallowed. Was this happening? Really? “I - I cannot accept it Sir. Honestly.. you’re too sweet.” He hummed at your words but not saying anything. “What if I like being sweet with you?” He then answered. Your cheeks deepened in red, lord… what on earth was happening to you?

“First editions? First official printings?” You gazed in utter awe tracing the books in his library. He was leaning against his table, arms folded in his chest. “What’s this?” You asked innocently trying to reach for a book much higher not aware that your professor was sweet enough to sneak up behind you reaching for it your hands touching. Alone just you two in his house. Tilting your head towards him your faces inches apart, your heart was jumping and juddering in your chest as his cologne hit your nose. It was woodsy, hint of spiciness, perhaps even a little tiny bit floral. “Here” whispering taking a whiff of your hair. “I should go-” you realized that this hole you were about to fall into would be hard to get out of. “So soon?” He whispered giving you some of his warmth, his chest pressing to your back. Warmth radiating from his body- your lips parted. Dropping the book by your two feet turning around his large hands capturing your ribs. Leaning down his mouth was on yours kissing you fiercefully. You moaned gaining him the access to your tongue and he kissed the hell out of you. Wet kisses, full of cravings and desire painting your soul in reds and oranges. Your hands finding rest on his back as you indulged yourself in the warm feeling, his large body pressing you against the books his hand hiking your thigh around his waist. The way your tongues glided and touched in your mouths the saliva strings connecting your mouths as you both hungrily kissed again and again moaning in sweet lust. Tilting his face to one side as he devoured your lips, you couldn’t stop the mewls which escaped you making his cock possibly harder. Your panties getting in twist pussy leaking with wetness drenching your own panties you both found pace rubbing against each other. The rough material of his belt buckle giving your clit a cold touch causing you gasping for air against his lips and his large hand gripped the back of your neck. His grunts and groans, surged through you. “S-Sir” gasping at the neck kisses wrapping your arm around his neck pulling him down on you feeling his kisses on your soul. His arms wrapped around you “let me make you feel good angel, i wanna take good care of you” your brain was telling you to stop heart telling you to give yourself to the man who was so passionately ravishing your mouth. Your body betraying you- you were so lost. “Been needing you so much lately” admitting all these things while touching your body in ways hand on your breast kissing your chest sniffing you his thumb circling your hardened peak through your bra and blouse. Your hands holding his back, wanting him all over you. “M’so scared this is not allowed but I want you” admitting making him kiss you passionately touching your pussy through your panties. Those kisses and touches were unforgettable that’s why it took you everything to gently push him away and run out of his house with tears spilling down your cheeks because this was not allowed. You might’ve loved your professor yes and he might have loved you back- but this could not happen at all. Wiping your tears with the back of your sleeve you ran as fast as you could. Even though your heart hurt immensely- you both knew you’d steal moments to be together.

My secret lover… my secret- only mine. “To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life.”

(Apologies for any mistakes and typos in advance)

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dixons-sunshine · 2 days ago

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That’s What I Like | Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Steve Harrington loved every part of you. There was no denying that. And he especially loved the part of you that he got to see at the end of the day.

Genre: Fluff.

Warnings: Swearing.

Word count: 681.

A/N: My Steve fic I posted yesterday has over 200 notes at the time of posting this and I just wanna say thank you because what?! That’s honestly so surreal to me. I’ve only really written for Mr Daryl Dixon this year and was super scared to post for Steve, but knowing that people enjoyed it makes me so happy. It makes me wanna write for Steve regularly. And who knows. I might just do that.

“Goddamn.”

That singular word was the first thing that reached your ears when you stepped out of the bathroom and into Steve’s room. Your eyes flitted over to where your boyfriend had casually been lounging on the bed, his body now in an upright position as his beautiful, golden-like amber eyes raked over your body. His lips were slightly parted, and his tongue subtly ran over his bottom lip to moisten the dryness.

You looked downright appetizing.

You slightly adjusted your—well, technically Steve’s—shirt on your body, the soft, blue fabric falling down and hugging you just right. Your shorts were riding up just the slightest bit and showed off your beautiful thighs, much to Steve’s liking. His mind was running wild, with no signs of being caught any time soon.

“Holy shit,” Steve muttered under his breath, pushing himself up from the bed to make his way over to you. His hands itched to reach out and touch you, but he did not do so. Not yet. “You look fuckin’ beautiful, Baby.”

You let out a quiet scoff at his words, but you could not help the small smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth at his heartfelt praise. “Yeah, I bet,” you began in a disbelieving tone of voice. You vaguely motioned over to yourself, hoping to emphasize the way you looked at that moment in time. “This is totally runway model material right here.”

Steve knew you were just joking, but he agreed with your words entirely. “You would put the other models to shame.” And he truly believed that. In his eyes, nobody else in the entire world could compete with your beauty. In his eyes, you were the most beautiful woman to walk the earth. In his eyes, you were absolutely perfect.

You gave him a look that perfectly conveyed how wrong you thought his words were. “Seriously?” you asked rhetorically and laughed lightly, allowing yourself to be pulled into Steve’s embrace when he wrapped his arms around you and yanked you closer. “You find this hot? Wet hair, stained sleep shorts and one of your t-shirts? Plus no makeup?”

“That’s how I love you,” Steve agreed with a lovesick smile. However, his eyebrows furrowed at his own words. “Not that I don’t love you when you’re dressed up and wearing makeup! I love everything about you. I’m just saying that I love you like this, too. You’re—”

You effectively cut off his rambling by placing a soft, tender kiss to his lips, your hands coming up to cradle his face. Steve all but melted into the kiss, his hold around you tightening slightly as he allowed himself to get lost in the taste of you. God, even your lips were perfect, he thought to himself as his fingers flexed against your hips, attempting to pull you even closer.

The kiss ended too soon for Steve’s liking. He could spend all day just kissing you if he could. However, even though the kiss had ended, his hold on you did not. “Not that I’m complaining in the slightest, but what was that for?” he inquired softly, his lips slightly swollen from what had transpired a few moments prior.

You giggled and looped your arms around his neck, gazing deeply into the eyes you had come to love getting lost in. “To stop you from getting into your own head. I know what you meant earlier.” One of your hands slipped into his hair, lightly and gently scratching his scalp the way only you knew he liked. “And also because I love you, Stevie.”

Steve smiled at that. He turned his head and pressed a chaste kiss against the skin of your arm, his eyes sparkling in the soft glow of the light that the lamp next to his bed emitted, an almost golden-like hue colouring his gorgeous brown irises. Steve looked regal in that moment, and you thanked your lucky stars that you got to call the man in front of you yours.

“I love you too, Sweetheart. I love you so fucking much.”

#krys writes .ೃ࿐#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve x female reader #stranger things #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington drabble

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hayatoseyepatch · 3 days ago

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𝓓𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷: Nagi never made a big deal about the holidays, not something he had partaken in, but there was one tradition you had started with him that he could never resist. I mean what were the holidays without some sweets after all?

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻: Seishiro Nagi (Blue Lock)

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 2.3k

𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼: Nagi x Fem!Reader 𝓒𝔀: Minor food play (icing), praise, use of petnames, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, marking, written with plus sized reader in mind.

𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻’𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: Happy Holidays loves! This is my entry for the @pixelcafe-network's Secret Santa event as a present for @nagis-wife. The way I was so EXCITED to write this for you bambina I tried real hard to keep it a secret ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა Honestly Nagi was so much fun to write for and I hope you enjoy my love!

Nagi catches a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye, the subtle way your tongue pokes between plump lips, a total look of concentration decorating your features as you pipe a line of icing on the border of your gingerbread house. Nagi’s parents had taken the “hands off” approach to parenting, meaning the holidays were often not something to be made a big deal of with their constant travel. Christmas had not really been anything more than some presents arriving at the doorstep of his apartment. So even into his late twenties, as he was now, he had never made the most of the holiday. The most he got was a paper star that sat on top of his cactus with some string lights.

You, yourself, hadn’t been the most festive person in the world. But the idea of Nagi having never engaged in any holiday festivities pulled on even your grinchy heartstrings. Your family may not have had much, and maybe the most you had to look forward to on Christmas was the tradition of your mom’s pancakes, but you wouldn’t give that up for all the presents in the world knowing what you could have been missing out on. So here you both sat, fully decked out in festive attire at your dining room table decorating gingerbread houses. It had become a tradition for you both throughout the years of your relationship, a little competition of sorts. Feeding into his ego to have a friendly wager to who could make the best house.

It was almost comical to look over at your boyfriend, his white hair fully pulling together the Santa suit you insisted he wore for the evening. While you looked at him with mirth, he was looking at you with a hunger for more than the sweets scattered across the table. The short elf costume dress hugged your curves in a way he couldn’t simply disregard. His mouth all but watering as he let his gaze slide down your form. The elastic of the red and green striped thigh high socks that you wore rested against plump thighs, making the flesh at the top more accentuated in such a way it made his heart race in his chest.

“Shiro? You’ve barely touched your house, at this rate I’m gonna win!”

Your voice held a teasing edge, completely unaware of the war waging in Nagi’s mind, his self control hanging by a thread. His cookie house was barren in comparison to yours, him too distracted by the way your finger slipped past plush lips to clean some icing that had dripped onto your skin. His daze broken by the sound of your phone blaring with an alarm, notifying you both that the gingerbread men that had been baking, the final touches to your houses, were ready to be pulled from the oven. Nagi watched with rapt attention as you sauntered your way to the oven, your outfit swaying with your movements, lis tongue slipping past his lips to moisten the dry skin as you bent over to retrieve the cookies from the oven. Eyes locked on the subtle lift of your skirt revealing more of the delicate skin of your thighs, the same ones if he really focused, he could see the faded markings between them that his mouth had left a few nights prior.

As if on autopiliot, Nagi stood to his feet, stalking behind you in the kitchen. You couldn't help but notice the heat of his gaze, the way his eyes seemed to drink in every curve of your body.

"Those do smell amazing," he said, stepping closer to you. He leaned in behind you as if all at once, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke. "Almost as amazing as you look right now."

His hand brushed against your lower back, sending a shiver down your spine. You straightened up, turning to face him with a blush on your cheeks.

"Seishiro, they’re hot you cant have them they’re still hot.” you said, playfully swatting at his chest. "Now, let's decorate these babies. I have sprinkles and everything."

You said, a weak attempt to salvage your evening, knowing by the way his tone had dipped that the cookies were the last thing on his mind, You set the cookies on the counter with shaky hands as Nagi fully moved in behind you, his body pressed against your back effectively pinning you to the counter. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the strength in his arms as he reached around you to grab the icing bag that rested on the counter.

"I have a better idea," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Why don't we decorate each other instead?"

His hands slid up your sides, his fingers teasing the hem of your skirt. His large hands rested on your hips, turning you to face him. You gasped, your heart racing as you turned in his arms to face him. Your eyes met, the air between you charged with tension and unspoken desires. "Seishiro..." you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"What are you doing, Shiro?" He smiled at your response, lips curling in satisfaction at the tremble in your voice, his eyes dark with desire.

"What do you want me to do, princess?"

His hands reached up as he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he leaned in closer, his lips just inches from yours. He can see it, the way your eyes drop to his lips. Can hear the way you swallow heavily in anticipation before he closed the gap separating you both. Nagi’s lips claim your own, his hand curling around the base of your neck to pull you even deeper into the embrace. The kiss was filled with need, desperation to feel your skin against his own. But this wasn’t a primal need, he felt it down to his molecules. He wanted you, needed to keep his hands on you, whether that was just in a simple holding of your hand or something more he couldn’t care less he just knew that he didn’t want you to slip through his fingers. Didn’t want to risk not feeling the euphoria of kissing your lips. It almost pulls a whine from his lips when you pull away, resisting the urge to surge forwards once more.

Hie eyes stared into your own as they fluttered open once more, hands slipping beneath your knees to perch you on the countertop, reaching behind you to grasp the bag of icing A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he used the other hand to guide your head back, exposing the delicate skin of o=your neck to him, piping a trail of icing along the column of your throat. Dipping his head down, he wastes no time letting his tongue follow the work he had just created. The sweetness of the icing combined with the taste of your skin had him rolling his eyes back. The feeling of your hand pushing the hat from his head as your fingers entangle themselves in his hair. Graning against your skin, Nagi laps up all of the sweetness that once coated your skin, trailing his lips down further, his free hand curling against the hem of the skimpy dress that concealed your breasts form the descent of his hungry mouth. Tugging down the fabric in one swift motion, he groans, pulling back to admire the exposed skin of your chest.

“So fucking beautiful, bunny.” He growls, eyes devouring you as lust swims in their stormy depths. He relishes in the way your nipples pebble due to the exposure to the cold air.

“And all fucking mine.”

As if to emphasize the sincerity of his words he brings the icing bag to the skin that lay right above your breasts, sloppily writing out the kanji of his name before tucking down and capturing a perked bud between his lips, tongue lolling against it, coming to a point to flick at the sensitive area before letting his teeth capture it. Pulling his head back to tug until releasing, pupils blows wide seeing the bounce of the plush flesh he was rewarded with. He was quick to give the other nipple the same treatment. Hands trailing from your ankles to your knees, forcing your legs apart further under his strong grip. He groans into your chest as he feels your hands on him hand making a trail up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the hood of your clit before rubbing slow agonizing circles against your drenched center. His lips pull from the swell of your breast kissing up a trail to your ear, making no move to touch the icing that marked your skin.

“I was gonna be a nice boyfriend and get you all prepped to take my cock, bunny.”

He groans, pushing your panties to the side and sliding two fingers past your entrance with ease, curling them in just the way he knows would have your back arching. “But with the way this greedy cunt is sucking in my fingers I don’t think I’ll even need to do that will I baby?”

His chuckle is deep and almost cruel in your ear, Nagi wasted no time pushing the band of his sweats down to his thighs, cock springing against his abdomen, twitching at your following words. He leans forward palm resting against the counter as he cages in your form. Using is other to grab his cock at the base, rubbing it past your slickened folds, swiping the mushroom tip up your slit collecting your wetness, not that he needed the aid to slide in, being sure to nudge your clit with each pass. Having had enough of his own teasing he slides into your opening. Head falling back deep groan stumbling from his lips With one roll of his hips he was buried to the base feeling your walls suffocating all of him, head falling to the crook of your neck as he groans.

“Fuck princess, she’s sucking me in so good, god this cunt was made for me wasn’t it baby?”

Now that he was sunk completely in hie gives an experimental snap of his hips, the resulting pleas falling from your lips guiding each motion of his hips. He picks up the pace, angling his hips just right to nudge your clit with his pelvis. His hands hook under your knees, pulling you toward him until your ass was hanging off the counter so he could lay you back. Taking advantage of the new angle, Nagi presses your knees to your chest. The deeper angle also allowing you to be even more exposed to his hungry gaze, eyes locked on where you both met. Mesmerized by the mouth watering sight of his cock disappearing inside of you with each passing surge of his hips. Groaning a long growl of your name and a slew of profanities as the sound skin against skin and the squelching wetness of your cunt fills the kitchen.

“You hear that princess? How wet my cunt is for me angel?”

His hips don't falter, he keeps up his speed, though each snap of his hips hitting deeper with each pass, angling his hips just right to find that sensitive spot deep inside your walls, grinning maliciously when he does so, stealing any response you could have formed from your lips. He removes one hand from your knee, thumb swiping some of the icing that dripped down your skin. Once coated, slotting itself between your lips, eyes rolling back when your tongue circles the digit instinctually. His eyes roll back as you look up into his own, making a show of cleaning the digit and effectively coating it in your saliva.

“So sweet Sei, fuck. Need more daddy please.”

The desperation laid in your tone is more than enough to inspire his movements, especially when spoken around the skin of his digit still lodged between your lips. He slides the finger from your mouth, using the coated wetness as lubrication to rub tight circles on your clit. Hips picking up pace in time with the kneading. His lips leave your throat capturing a sensitive nipple into his mouth, sucking on it harshly, aiming to overstimulate all of your sensitive spots in tandem. Nagi out a loud growl of your name as the drag of your nails incorporated pain into the overwhelming pleasure he was feeling. The coil had been tight in his abdomen, but he would hold out, he wouldn’t allow himself to fall over the edge before you had. He picks up the pace once more, thrusts growing sloppy under the pleasure. His thumb quickens its pace pressing harder against the bundle of nerves. Gon on princess, come for me wanna feel those pretty walls clamp down on my cock.

“Fuck, bunny, just like that princess… Go ahead, come for me angel, gonna fill this pussy so good baby, gonna have you dripping. Go on baby fucking.. come. for. me.”

He accentuates every word with a deep harsh snap of his hips. He groans loud and deep feeling your walls slam down on his cock eyes rolling back as whines and whimpers fall from his lips as your own release triggers his own. His body trembles violently as he topples over the edge painting your walls white. He slows his thrusts, body shaking as he overstimulates you both just a little bit before his hips finally still. He releases your legs, quick to readjust your form wrapping you around him pressing a long loving kiss to your lips. He grips your thighs in strong hands, carrying you with ease back to the couch, resting you against him. Fingers carding through your hair as you rest against his chest, pressing a loving kiss to the dip of your temple.

“So, did I win our little decorating contest, or do you think we need a rematch?”

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics & @/cafekitsune.

#blue lock #blue lock smut #bllk smut #bllk imagines #nagi seishiro #seishiro nagi #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #nagi smut #nagi seishiro smut #seishiro nagi smut #blue lock headcanons #bllk headcanons #nagi x reader #nagi blue lock #blue lock nagi #nagi x y/n #✐ᝰ. — samwrites

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