You got me touchin' on your body...
You're sandwiched between the wall and him, sequestered away from prying eyes and sharp ears, and oh fuck, his fingers—
They make you tremble. They make you moan. They make you push and rub against him even more and god, he's so hard. And smug, too. Bastard.
Those calloused hands are doing things to your body, playing you like a finely-tuned instrument, and making you feel shameless. Under different circumstances, you'd be embarrassed at the sounds you're making, doubly so because someone might hear you but right now, in this very moment, you couldn't give two shits if they did or not. Hell, you're even hoping they're enjoying it.
All you're concerned about is your pleasure. And so is he.
He continues to push you closer to the edge, leaving you breathless and wanting more. And when you come in a volley of curses, shivers, and murmurs of his name, pressed tightly against his body, you're a thousand percent certain everyone heard that.
Tough shit, though, 'cause he's only getting started.
Under different circumstances, he'd have you going crazy, fucking you senseless while seeing how quiet you could stay but right now? In this moment? Fuck no. Everybody's gonna hear you. Everybody's gonna know who you belong to.
Everybody.
Hope they enjoy the show.
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New stills from Joker: Folie à Deux
Wishing everyone a happy holiday and a beautiful new year. Oct 2024.
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Your gasp caught in your throat as he pressed against you harder.
And god—god help you but fuck. Oh fuck—
You felt self-restraint in tight muscles, felt raw desire as hands grasped, palmed, and caressed your hips and ass. His huff of frustration kissed the crook of your neck and you could only let out a throaty laugh in response.
Oh, but the feel of his dick pressed against you...
My god.
You both were falling apart at the seams but YOU, you damn tease, you goddamn craving, his fucking obsession, YOU—
You fucking goad him. You beg him. And fuck if it doesn't sound like sweet music to his ears.
"Baby... Darling," you whisper, primal urge coating the air, "Fuck me."
He says nothing.
But a visceral snarl, flowing through your body like electric currents, told you everything you needed to know.
He's gonna deliver.
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