#uhhhh ask me about any of these if you want

[puzzle-paradigm]

2024 reading summary:

Prey by Michael Chriton

Revelator by Daryl Gregory

Don't Believe It by Charlie Donlea

Wolfsong by TJ Klune

The Uninvited by Liz Jensen

We Spread by Ian Reid (⭐)

The Book Eaters by Sunyi Dean

The Andromeda Evolution by Daniel H. Wilson

Kiss My Asterisk: a Feisty Guide to Punctuation by Jenny Baranick

Starter Villain by John Scalzi

White Night by Jim Butcher

Small Favor by Jim Butcher

Turn Coat by Jim Butcher

Changes by Jim Butcher

Side Jobs by Jim Butcher

The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood

Looking Glass Sound by Catriona Ward (⭐)

Lexicon by Max Berry

Ghost Story by Jim Butcher

Cold Days by Jim Butcher

The Only Survivors by Megan Miranda

Cursed Bunny by Bora Chung

The Camp by Nancy Bush

Sister, Maiden, Monster by Lucy A. Snyder

The Stranger Upstairs by Lisa M. Martin

Things Have Gotten Worse Since we Last Spoke by Eric LaRocca

The Perfect Place to Die by Bryce Moore

Skin Game by Jim Butcher

Hemlock Island by Kelley Armstrong

The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic and Madness at the Fair that changed America by Erik Larson

Redshirts by John Scalzi

The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek by Link Neal, Rhett McLaughlin

Brief Cases: More Stories From The Dresden Files by Jim Butcher

The Trees Grew Because I Bled There: Collected Stories by Eric LaRocca

Growing Things and Other Stories by Paul Tremblay

Creatures by John Langon, Paul Tremblay

Hidden Pictures by Jason Rekulak

Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle

The Demonologist by Andrew Pyper

This is How You Lose The Time War by Max Goldstone, Amal El-Mohtar

Interior Darkness by Peter Straub

Bestiary by K-Ming Chang

Peace Talks by Jim Butcher

The Prisoner by B.A. Paris

The Only One Left by Riley Sager

Home is Where the Bodies Are by Jeneva Rose

Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt (⭐)

The Lesser Dead by Christopher Buehlman

Killers of a Certain Age by Deanna Raybourn

The Mountain in the Sea by Ray Nayler (⭐)

Battle Ground by Jim Butcher

Zombie by J. R. Angella

The Fold by Peter Clines

Chain-Gang All-Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah (⭐)

Everyone in my Family Has Killed Someone by Benjamin Stevenson

Everyone on This Train Is a Suspect by Benjamin Stevenson

You're Not Supposed to Die Tonight by Kalynn Bayron

Jack of Spades by Joyce Carol Oates

The King in Yellow by Robert W. Chambers

Carmilla by J. Sheridan Le Fanu

The Horla by Guy de Maupassant

Ella Minnow Pea: A Progressively Lipogrammatic Epistolary Fable by Mark Dunn (reread)

#noescape by Gretchen McNeil

Bury Your Gays by Chuck Tingle

Straight by Chuck Tingle

Dreadful by Caitlin Rozakis

Everyone This Christmas Has a Secret by Benjamin Stevenson

Horror Movie by Paul Tremblay (⭐)

[akkivee]

"Eldritch Shadow" lmaooo

idk how I feel about it tbh. It's cool and scary. How do they even exist or work? It reminds me of Sephiroth. Funny how black winged Shadow has come out the same year as FF7 Rebirth. I wonder if it's inspired 🤭

it could be lmao!! i personally have been thinking it was inspired by tetsuo’s mutation from akira but edgy angels are in fact sephiroth's thing lol

as for those wings lol, it’s definitely black doom’s blood activating within shadow. i’m just speculating out of my ass here lol but the trailer has shadow saying he’ll use this power to destroy any obstacles, but when the wings sprout out of him, he shakes his head in shock kinda like he’s rejecting the power initially, and it gets forced out of him. i think those are the form the wings will stay as for design purposes lol but i like the thought those wings mutated out him looking like fibres instead of fleshed out wings like black doom’s is bc of that rejection

[faunandfloraas]

inadvertently stopped using my freckle fade cream without thinking.... right around the time i started making gifs of felix.... coincidence?

[quietwingsinthesky]

Very interested to see what you do with this w the Amy/Rory/Doctor/River polycule

see this has so much potential now right? the angst alone.

because imagine you fall in love with this woman, this incredible woman who drops in at her own whim to cause chaos and save your life and flirt with your doctor. who has all of his future tucked away in a little blue book, and — you hope — all of yours, too. imagine you fall in love with her when she knows everything about you and you can’t know anything about her — spoilers, after all.

imagine you kiss her for the first time (seems only fair, if the doctor gets to, if you get to kiss the doctor, if the doctor gets to kiss your wife) and she lets you. just lets you. which isn’t like river song at all, to just let anything happen to her. but when you stop, she’s looking at you as sad as you’ve ever seen her. you don’t know what that means, but you do remember one of the few things she’s told you, that all the doctor’s firsts, and it must stand to reason, your firsts, are her lasts. you tell yourself you will kiss her again and kiss her often, as if that can make up for the fact that to her, she’ll never have it again. (and, obviously, your wife agrees, because what she wants, she’ll have, her boys and her river song.)

there was never any way not to fall in love with her, really. that’s simply what you do when someone falls out of the sky, or, better put, out of one spaceship and into the one you call home. how do you nearly die together, save the universe, bond over the doctor’s terrible fashion choices, without loving her? the doctor falls slowest, falls hardest, with a crash that rings through the whole universe, and the next time he sees her, he’s got his own book to match hers. and when the four of you are together, there’s nothing that can hurt you.

except that the doctor dies. and then there’s three months running from monsters you can’t remember. and there’s a body that isn’t yours that melts away (you feel that. don’t tell the doctor, but you feel it, every last second, until there’s nothing left of you and all you can ask is ‘why?’) and then there’s a daughter you get to hold for two minutes. tell her fairy tales come true, about the Last Centurion and the Doctor and your River Song, because they’re going to come for you.

well. two of them do. and river song arrives too late and right on time.

and you fell in love with her. you all fell in love with her. what else could you do?

there’s melted flesh on your dress. will she remember any of that? will your daughter remember that you tried to hold onto her, you fought so hard, you held on so tight, and it doesn’t matter unless she remembers. but if she remembers that, she’ll remember being taken from you as well, and that’s almost too much to bear, the thought of her falling from your arms into nothing and asking you ‘why? why couldn’t you have saved me?’

river song takes your hand, and you kiss her, and she still lets it happen. or lets it happen for the first time.

and then she tells you that she’s your daughter.

hell of a spoiler, right?

So, you know, something like that, I imagine. Plus, if we wanted to get real funky-fucky with it, we’d have an excuse to toss out the stupid ‘get pregnant on a tardis and have a time lord baby’ thing and just make the doctor the one who knocked amy up. (or who knocked her up with rory with weird time lord sex that allows there to be multiple fathers, who knows.) not that he would know until the bombs all drop, because he’d insist it was only rory’s and rory would agree. and then, seeing river’s dna would be the world’s worst paternity test, you know?

[waywardsalt]

the phantom hourglass manga is the one i care about the most out of all of the loz manga and therefore the one i am most willing to rip apart because of its relation to the game, its own problems, and the potential that was lost or thrown away for any reason at all

making this separate than the list of things i liked about the phantom hourglass manga

im not going to be too organized about this; ill go by topic and in each topic go in chronological order through the manga and everything else will probably be all over the place

im not even going to touch the story yet and just go after the art off the bat because i really believe that this manga has the weakest art of all of them. i dont know if its due to some kind of time crunch or a lack of care but its really… im not expecting any of these books to have killer art, but in ph it just feels like there was less effort with inconsistencies in some designs and either very low detail or just absent backgrounds. this feels like a mean-spirited critique since i understand that manga is difficult to create and requires a lot of effort but its just visually… worse than the loz manga that came before or after it.

some specific grievances i have with the art are things like inconsistent designs of some characters (linebeck is hard to draw and i get that but hes just… never totally consistent) and some items like weapons (the shape of bellumbeck’s sword changes during the fight for some reason) and stuff is… left out. the fire temple has basically no layout since link’s just in some flavor of void for the entire blaaz fight. one of the panels with linebeck’s ship shows it from the behind at an angle where you should see the deck but its just not there

his ship is also missing its chimney on the cover art

this is also more of an opinion thing but the way astrid looks almost nothing like her game counterpart is just… it’s a nickpick based on opinion but that is Not The Same Character.

you can absolutely tell a fantastic story with lacking art, but the reason why im criticizing this manga’s art is because its the tenth in a series of manga who, up until this point, has had consistently good art, and then it drops off with weak backgrounds and character inconsistencies.

plus, i really care about how this story is visually portrayed.

the pacing, even with half of the story cut, is also a bit of a problem. as far as i'm aware, this is the only loz manga to have significant chunks of the story cut out, and while it admittedly works well with only half of the story, it fucks with the pacing a bit. specifically, it screws over linebeck's arc, which i'll talk about more in a different section, but it also kind of glosses over the phantom sword and (obviously) loses some possible time for further character exploration and whatever. the cut from the ghost ship right to jolene right to the final boss is, while handled well, kind of abrupt.

obviously, cutting half of the damn story will make what's kept feel a little too fast, but even some of the stuff more original to the manga is paced weirdly or is just... eh.

there's a bit after neri is found where linebeck decides to stop working with link and basically ditches him and this whole thing lasts one to two goddamn pages before everything is patched up and good and... why even include it if you turn the page and oh problem fucking solved. it's even a little out of character for linebeck at that point since a few pages before he's seen getting the sands of time for link and it's... it make sense but it's a really extreme character choice and while it serves its purpose (introducing the idea of linebeck not valuing other people very much and realizing that) it's still extremely brief.

the added stuff with linebeck being a past member of the ghost ship, while fine and interesting at first glance is also a strange choice that doesn't work all that well? it works for characterization and all of that but it makes for a weird situation with linebeck's character motivation where he's a coward and after the ghost ship for the treasure on it, but if he was present on the ghost ship literally as it was fucking gutted then he would know exactly what the danger of the ship is and want to avoid it no matter what. in the game his motivation for going after the ghost ship works because he doesn't know for certain whats on that ship and has never been on it. plus, aside from character backstory and whatever, it doesnt serve much of a purpose. linebeck even makes some comments about the ship's interior and the like but it all amounts to nothing because link never actually goes into the ship anyways. it's just a weird backstory to give linebeck.

the shuffling around (and cutting of one of) the three final bosses is also weird. it makes sense for the story order the manga goes with, but it actually lowers the stakes for the bellumbeck fight (in the game literally everything is on the line but in the manga its just linebeck and they absolutely use that to their advantage but still) and mixing the ghost ship fight and bellum fights make the final encounter really brief and kind of anticlimactic in some way. it's difficult to express, but the order of the final bosses in the game makes bellum a more interesting villain and melds with linebeck's arc in a much more interesting way. it feels like there was a specific reason for that given order and for the manga to just toss that aside means it loses something.

also reserving pretty much an entire chapter for jolene is A Choice to make. there's nothing wrong with using an adaptation to flesh out a character but here you don't learn anything new about jolene she just kind of makes very little sense in her motivations when you give her more screen time but dont change her from wanting to kill linebeck for fucking off but also still liking him maybe. good for you if you like jolene since she got more time here but they did pretty much nothing interesting with her

this is something i figured out while writing this, but the manga actually does Fuck All with the actual hourglass. you could've cut the fucking thing out and it wouldn't have effected the story too much. link never goes into the temple every again and the phantom sword is just. made on request with link having no interaction with it before using it to kill bellum. the only time the phantom hourglass is actually plot relevant aside from link first getting it and then using it to gather sand is when bellum tells link to bring it to the temple and then it's used exactly once to stop time and then it's used as proof that everything happened. oshus says link needs to use it and the sand to break the curse over the temple of the ocean king and then that never actually happens the sand and the hourglass is just used once to stop time once and otherwise it might as well not be in the story it's so weird. it's also implied that oshus needs the sand to restore tetra after he returns to his own true form but they dont say anything about that after he initially mentions it so who cares. oshus also tells link that zuaz will teach him how to defeat bellum. link never meets zuaz and still beats bellum anyways.

it feels like they cut the latter half of the story but forgot that the fucking majority of linebeck's entire goddamn character arc happens in that part of the story. sure, most of the cutscenes and whatever happens in the first part and linebeck does develop a bit in the first part but he doesn't really start to change until after the ghost ship, when you get his letter and his dialogue starts to change slightly to suggest that he's starting to like link more and care about something other than the possibility of treasure. the manga cutting out the latter half of the story but still making linebeck's arc end in similar places makes his arc feel really fast and even abrupt in the manga. he goes from being fully motivated to get treasure and still kind of selfish to caring a lot for link and deciding not to wish for treasure and the time was just NOT put in to make that a smooth transition.

honestly linebeck overall got fucked in the manga more than any other character. his arc was shafted, his characterization is strange and even kind of changed from the game, he's never drawn consistently and doesn't even look great since he seems to be stuck between two styles when he's drawn, he's more shallow and generally a less interesting character, and while most of that is probably a product of having one book to cover ph, it's still a problem.

like with all of the loz manga, the extremely limited amount of space and time the story is given absolutely fucks it over so you really are stuck with telling nothing more than an abridged and seriously inferior version of the story. i dont care how good the original stuff is if it barely qualifies as a good adaptation. the story wasn't told all of the way and none of the game's strengths are kept or expanded upon. you lose the majority of the best character's arc and depth. half of the story was cut. the title item is barely used. it feels like they didn't really care about adapting phantom hourglass and just hashed out a trimmed-down version of the story to fit into 188 pages and while there was some effort put in with a bit of a unique take on linebeck but it just falls flat when everything around it feels like it wasn't given a second thought.

i'm not suggesting that the author's didn't fucking care, i don't know what the process was with this, but it just... it doesnt feel like they actually wanted to earnestly create a good adaptation of this game. i have an altered perspective on all of this because this game is my special interest and something i deeply care about and inspect the little details of and it kinda just sucks that phantom hourglass never got a good adaptation because... this game has some serious potential for a really good extended adaptation.

Unlike the other Zelda games that the other manga cover, the structure of the journey in Phantom Hourglass has an insane amount of space for fleshing out of character, exploration of new concepts or character relationships, or just.. whatever you want. Providing you cover the original story, of course. Off the bat, there's a nebulous amount of travel time between islands, which can be used by authors for character moments and interactions and just little moments that can be used to further themes or concepts. You can use the implied time overseas between islands to have some interactions between Link and Linebeck. Show the three fairies hanging out with each other. Show the whole crew becoming closer to each other as time drags on.

Linebeck's existence and function within Phantom Hourglass alone is so fucking unique and amazingly good for an extended adaptation. In most other Zelda games, the companions are pretty much glued to Link's side and follows him through dungeons, or they're characters locked in a specific place, more or less divorced from Link's quest, but Linebeck is an integral part of the plot, present for every part of it as it advances, and yet he's out doing fuck-all while Link is in dungeons. He's a great excuse for authors to add detail to islands, write new characterization for background characters, or even just give Linebeck his own b-plot running concurrently with the game's normal plot. He's important to the plot and yet doesn't touch the gameplay; he's free to do whatever you want while Link does dungeon stuff. One possible idea I've mentioned before is the idea of, while Link is in the temple of the Ocean King, is to create and explore a possible relationship between Oshus and Linebeck. Scenes of them talking can be used to flesh out Oshus as a character and to add some extra depth to Linebeck and make his arc more interesting to follow.

There is... SO MUCH you can do with Phantom Hourglass if you care enough to do it, and I'm just so frustrated that we got this solid 4/10 of a manga.

[crossbackpoke-check]

i’m not sure if you’ve heard yet but nico’s tattoo is all of his family members’ astrological signs smushed together which is so… i’m obsessed

NO I HAD NOT HEARD!!!!! (partially because tumblr decided i was not to see people’s asks??)

oh my god. oh my god. that is so unbelievably. actually i take it back it is incredibly believable and i love that for him

[quarterlifekitty]

heyyy

can I ask for a part 2 on fuckboy soap?

i want to know more about what happens with reader and simon

in my head, Simon HATES seeing Johnny treat the reader that way. i can envision Simon taking her out, treating her right and all but stealing away Johnny's toy.

So, I posted a part 2, but I have these asks about it and I’d hate for them to go to waste— so I thought I’ll do a little bit of expansion on the relationship. Some shite exposition.

Uhhhh I’m back from writing this now and I didn’t mean to do this but I kind of made this like a prequel or like a part 1.5 I didn’t mean to make it so long oops

Promethean: how to starve a beast

Simon does not involve himself, in any way, in the nasty hookup miasma that Soap is a part of. That most of the frat is a part of, honestly. Motherfucker doesn’t party. This man is on financial aid and has a part time job. He is studying because he’s the one paying for his schooling and for his living expenses.

He doesn’t care that Johnny fucks people under less than savory pretenses. People get played by him? Better they learn their lesson with some harmless douche with a mohawk than with someone who will actually do some damage. Ultimately, not his business. He’s seen plenty of people come and go across the hall, and he’s not fussed.

He doesn’t respond to the conquest stories from the other guys when they’re sharing takeout, or the occasional ‘family’ dinner. Really, the only reaction he gives, even internally, is when one of them comments on something some girl did that was gross, or something about them that wasn’t hot.

A complaint that her period started when she stayed the night. I’d like to fuck a girl while she’s on the rag. Bet it’s fucking warm and slick.

A complaint that she had cellulite. Way to out yourself as being a porn addict, mate.

A complaint that her nails dug too hard into his skin. I’d love for a girl to make me bleed when I fuck her.

He didn’t feel any sympathy. Just accumulated little, harmless fantasies.

Until Johnny started talking about you.

Simon didn’t know you. Had never met you. Seen you once or twice, maybe. Hadn’t learned to even recognize your face.

“Kept leanin’, think she wanted me t’kiss her.”

“So fockin’ bad at giving head. S’a bit cute, tae be honest.”

“Tried tae make a grab for my hand the other night. Can ye believe it? Tryin’ tae hold my hand while ah’m givin’ it tae her. Daft thing still doesnae get it.”

Then he starts to notice you when you leave Soap’s room. The way you very gently close his door as if you’re worried about bothering him. The way you pause, like there’s something you want to say, before you move on. The deep breath. The odd sniffle.

And then, when you show up. Yanked inside without so much as a kind word.

Simon has to strain and get close to the door if he wants to hear you. Soap’s loud as all fuck, but from what one can hear from the hall, he may as well be in there alone.

It’s like there’s an electric coil in his belly. Every time there’s something to do with you, the dial ticks over a notch. The current heats the metal. Every time Soap brags about what he’s done to you. Every time he sees you shake when you walk down the hall and out of the house. Every time Soap brags about what you, the stupid little thing he keeps for a fuckpet, really wants—

The coil is red hot. Even if he could figure out how to turn off the burner, the heat would stay. The metal would be hot to the touch. The heat radiates the very air in front of him, like a mirage. He thinks of you when you’re not even in the house. When no one’s talking about you. You’re a parasite that’s squirmed deep into his gut and you can’t be removed without pulling his organs out with you.

He feels like he’s gone mad. How can no one else see it the way he does? How can Johnny not see how privileged he is to have you even look at him? How can he not want the perfect devotion you’re so keen to give him? How can you not know that any man would thank god for your returned affection, if you’d only set your sights on one that wasn’t a complete and total fuckhead? How has no jealous classmate or longtime friend come by and set Johnny’s nose bloody and crooked for how he’s treated you, sensitive and dangerously endearing as you are?

Every time Johnny talked about you, he had no idea that it was another rusted staple under his best mate’s skin. Building your mythology. Making you a prize. No, that wasn’t right.

Making you seem utterly wasted. Shackled yourself to a mutt with no sense for what he had writhing and submissive beneath him.

Soap has the perfect thing, the finest yield of flesh, right between his teeth and he won’t bite down.

Content for you to rot in his maw.

Well, Simon isn’t.

[pedge-page]

Ok can I request something maybe out there. but sedation kink with doctor Joel. like I’m kind of into the idea of doctor/scientist prepping me for an exam or study and putting me under, reassuring and stroking my face because I’ve never been under anesthesia before and he wipes my few tears as I drift off. then he’s fondling me, putting my legs in stirrups, and observing my reactions to different stimuli like fingers, a brush, vibrator, mouth, putting cooling/tingly cream on my nipples/clit, etc., as I’m out and making notes and taking polaroids of my reactions like little twitches and noises, how wet I get, if my nipples react (if he can make me cum by just my nipples) edging me and im making little tired whines but eventually making me cum a few times while I’m out and he’s just watching what happens from down there and talking into his little mic that’s recording all this. then if I start to come to too early he tuts and asks if I want to stay under and I’m still out of it but drowsily say yes because I’m confused but feels good and he (safely) gives me some a little bit more of sedation just enough to keep me in that floaty place and starts fucking me so good that I actually come to while he’s inside and I fully come to as he’s removing the monitors and telling me how good I was for him and asking if it felt good and he’s giving me some water and kissing me telling me it’s okay to sleep because I’m still tired as he cleans me up so he can take us both home.

A Doctor’s Care

Doctor!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Nonny, you practically wrote this yourself. Please give yourself a massive pat on the back, because this was a fantastic idea. I've been foaming at the mouth about it for months (I'm so sorry It took so long!) Hope you're still around to read this!

Warnings : virgin!Reader, corrupt!doctor, corruption kink, sedation kink, non-con, oral, throat fucking, squirting, sex toys, nipple play, unprotected sex, kinda DDDNE-ish , groping, slight breeding kink, pussy pronouns, foot fetish, uhhhh please lmk if I'm missing anything

18+ ONLY

- - - -

“Now, you can start counting up to ten.”

You take a deep breath, trying you best to ignore the needle he had just inserted into your arm. “One, two, th-three, fooour, f-fi…”

He softly brushes your smoothed cheek, watching as your eyelids sag, the heavy lure of sleep washing over your entire body. Your muscles sink into the bed, eyes barely being able to close fully. You had never felt more relaxed. Up to this point, you were an axnious mess, but you knew you were in the good, trustworthy hands of Doctor Miller.

A stray tear wells up, threatening to spill. He smiles warmly and brushes it away for you. He doesn’t want to see you cry when you don’t even know why.

If you were a little more observant, you would have questioned why it was only Dr Miller moving forward with an anesthesia-induced operation. Typically there’s always more than one practitioner in the room. You would have wondered why nobody else was in the hospital at all.

 He told you he could make a special booking for your physical exam, just the two of you, to help alleviate any anxiety about the scary aura of a hospital, the sick people roaming around and watching, peeping in through the doors. He made sure you were the only one here today, to help you get comfortable and have nothing to worry about.

Of course, it is Sunday. Nobody operates on Sunday. The hospital was completely empty save for his office and this room.

Not only is this out of standard procedure, this was off the books.

This was illegal, and you had no idea.

“Dr. Miller, log 47,” he says into his little recorder. “Patient is sedated fully. Heartrate and breathing—“ he gently hovers his fingers rigor below your nose, his eyes scanning the beeping monitor next to you—“ normal and stable. Beginning examination.”

Maybe, if you were smart, you would have also questioned why you needed to be sedated for a basic physical exam. You didnt ask what a physical really entailed, which gave him the perfect excuse for... well. This.  

Joel had offered you some privacy before where he left his office to allow you to change your day clothing into the sterile gown. Such gentlemanly, professional attitude is tossed out the door as he doesn’t hesitate to unfasten the front, popping the buttons off one by one. He starts at your chest, exposing the silk smooth curve of your breasts. “Beautiful, healthy body,” he breathes. Every entimeter of your skin is observed closely. He continues, making his way down to your stomach, admiring your naval with his thick hand petting softly over your belly and unbuttoning down your hips. “I can already see excellent shape for reproduction, should she choose…”

He grins, now having you fully exposed to him under the bright light. Joel places his recorder in his chest pocket, leaving the mic on so he can continue to do his work with both steady hands.

“Fuck me,” he groans, the tent in his slacks already pressing against the cool metal table under you. He adjusts himself slightly, no concern for the perversion of his hard cock jutting out in the open as he brushes it against your legs and arms while circling you.

Dr. Miller was a practiced man. He'd lifted enough unconscious body parts throughout his career, being careful yet precise. It took him no time to hoist your legs into the cradled bend of the stirrups, spread wide and slightly elevated so that your core was exposed.

“Testing reactivity,” he says before pressing your feet with his thumbs. He massages your arch, feeling the tendons shift and resist. His lips ghost the ball of your foot. "Smooth here too. The skin of the feet haven't started callousing yet." Joel’s wet tongue glides along the crevice, thick and warm, before sucking on your toes, lubricating them with his tongue over and over again. He moans, closing his eyes and palming his bulge. You don’t seem to stir at all, but he does briefly catch the way your eyeballs shift underneath your lids, brows drawing then releasing.

He pushes the stirrups forward more, hands on the backs of your thighs until your knees are bent, as if ready to birth.

“Very healthy looking patient below the waist. I’ll need to taste more—test more before the insertion.”

Joel shifts along your side, and with no hesitation, grasps your tits roughly. He scrunches and squeezes tightly, pushing your nipples out until they’re hardened and swollen. He loves the way they feel in his big palms. It was last week when you let him do a breast exam, he was able to fondle them to his liking. He wanted to give them a taste then, but knew you weren’t ready for that.

Consciously, anyway.

A hot month descends upon your breast, and he glances up once again to see your reaction. He rolls your nip around and around before biting lightly. That receives a flinch. He smiles, sucking harder. They’re so warm and firm in his mouth, and he can’t help but suckle along them with fat suctioning sound each time he releases. “Very good potential for milk. Bet she’d make the sweetest milk.” He draws away, grabbing something from the table next to him. “Documenting …” he dabs some freezing cream directly onto your nipple and snaps a picture when your head jolts in surprise. Little sounds get lodged in your throat as he rubs it into your skin, kneading your mounds like dough. “Pretty thing…” he whispers seductively. 

He alternates between his hot mouth and the cold cream, watching your head toss slightly here and there. Your heartrate had also picked up, beeping a little more fervently. Nothing major, but a few beats per minute quicker than before. 

“We’re gonna stress her breathing next,” he sighs, moving up above your head. He feels your collar bone, working his hands up along your esophagus and underneath your neck. Pressing slightly to watch how much further your chest expands for air to ensure you’re still adjusting breath properly. 

Dr Miller unzips his trousers, his hard length falling free and slapping your forehead. He chuckles lazily, rolling it over and over, his tip nudging your nose and closed eyes. You’re so compliant like this. Not even a peep of protest as he nestles his balls overtop your sockets and pushes his head against your soft lips. 

“Seeing how well she can take …foreign objects…obstructing the jugluar.”

He presses in, your lips parting of their own accord to accomodate the intruder. “Ughhh,” he growls. His hands splay along the table, inching himself forward with a roll of his hips. Your jaw opens wider, forced to take the growing girth of his member. A strangled noise hiccups in your throat, and he immediately draws out. The monitor by your side beeps loudly before returning to a regular pace.

He aligns himself again and fucks your mouth, this time further than before until the mushroom tip is bulging in your throat.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh,” he moans heavenly. He pulls out, lets you breathe, then forces it deeper.  Again and again until you’re taking him for five seconds at a time, deeper and deeper, the table rattling with his incessant humps. “Fuck..you take that, swallowing my cock like a princess, you take cock so good little slut.”

He thrusts in and out until he’s on the verge of cumming. Slipping his cock out the final time, he grips the base, growling to keep his orgasm down. He’d been thinking about it a long time, where he’d defile you last with his seed. As tempting as your tight throat was, he knew there was better ways to make you his confidential patient, forever and always. 

Your vital signs were steady again, although more elevated than you started. Your head twitched to the side slightly, eyeballs rolling under your eyelids. Your body can sense something is happening externally, but cannot rouse itself to intercept. 

He smiles, stroking your spit stained cheeks. “You’re doin’ very well, sweet pea.” its one of his favorite things about these types of exams. Watching how much a patient's instinct tries to fight his ministrations. Yet failing under the sedation and trusting senses of its owner.

For the next hour, Dr. Miller plays with your body. He’s inserted a bullet vibrator up your vaginal walls, controlling its speed and intensity on the little device. With each change in setting, your body reacted differently. Your hips bucked involuntarily, head swayed side to side. Hums of pleasure bubbled in your chest and out your nose, straining to make a coherent noise. He watched, spreading your folds so your little clit was perfectly on display. She throbbed, swelling to an engorged state. So vibrantly colored, filled with blood as he sets her nerves ablaze. 

He’d press his warm lips to her before patching it with a cubed ice. Your body didn’t like that, stomach tensing and knees wanting to lock. He had to get the stirrups tightened around your calves to keep you spread open for him. 

“That’s my girl,” he whispers quietly against your thigh, his plush lips ghosting the inside. He’s left his mic on recording, giving himself the freedom to savor your goosebumps for himself. 

Dr Miller circled around you again, viewing your exposed chest. Your nipples were stiff, and he makes note about how erect they’d become since starting your test. He presses his mouth there, his fingers dancing south to come in contact with your drooping pussy. He’s got a little cup underneath your butt, to capture any of your juices that might leak from his ministrations. For extra (taste) testing in the future.

With his mouth on your breast and three fingers rubbing your clit in clockwise motion, Joel suckles and fingers you with deadly precision.

 “Trying to make the patient—“ his tongue circles over your nipple thrice before nipping at your nipple, sucking it to a point—“reach climax.” 

He spanks your pussy, rewarding himself with a quiver from your body. “That’s it babygirl, you feel that?” He slaps it again, your body jolting, but his teeth sink further into the flesh of your boob to keep your chest in place.

He removes his hand entirely, focusing solely on sucking your tits. There’s a little device wedged inside you, not unlike the bullet vibrator, but this one can sense contractions. It connects to a monitor across the room, recording the pulses inside your pussy.

“That’s it—I see it—she’s working up to it—“ he sucks harder on your tits, swallowing his own saliva, eyes desperately strained to see your cunt reflected back on him on the TV and the matching pulses growing next to it.

The lines reach their heightened point, and your body wreathes appropriately as you cum. Your poor little cunny, contracting around nothing as you orgasm from his tongue on your breasts alone. 

“I want to see if I can just—“ he slips his hand back down to your pussy, diving three fingers in at once and rapidly squelching upward towards that gummy part inside. 

Suddenly, you let out an audible yelp, knees folding inward as liquid gushes from your opening. 

“Oohhhh yes, that’s a good girl, that’s a good girl!” He praises, smirking as you continue to squirt all over his palm and splash onto the floor. The fucking cup wouldn’t capture all of it, an he’d have to really clean up. But he wasn’t expecting such promising results. 

“She’s well hydrated for sure.”

By the way you shake your head, eyes starting to peep over, it doesn’t seem like you knew you could squirt either.

“Shhhh,” he hums, putting his palm over your eyes to block the light. “Rest now, you’re in good hands. Do you want to keep sleeping?” He glances over at the IV bag, already dripping another extra droplet into your system. “You’re so warm and safe here. Let’s rest a little more.”

You let out a sigh, eyes closed and nodding slightly before falling to the side, back into a deep state of unconsciousness.

How pathetic you can’t even tell your lower half is soaking wet of your own doing.

He makes his way back to stand between your legs, kicking away the little rolling stool. 

“See how well this pussy takes a real poundin.’” He pumps his shaft along your slick entrance, dabbing it repeatedly and grinning at how wet it sounds. He’d been edging himself this whole time. Not just this evening, but the entire few months he’s been you ever doting, caring, overly invested doctor, waiting to get you right here, spread out for him.

“She’s still so soft, so tight,” he gulps with a pant. Your chest was inflating up and down more quickly, so he knew you could feel something happening. “You’re doin’ great, baby. Just—just a little more—“

He notches the tip along your weeping hole. “She’s so patient for me.” He wonders if you’ll feel this in the morning when you wake.

Sliding in the first inch, Joel opens his jaw in silent prayer, head tilted back towards the ceiling. He pushes in again, feeling the first bit of resistance from your walls. Shit, he knew you were a virgin. You had marked it embarrassingly during one of the first appointments where he intimately needed to know all your sexual activities. You’d admitted having masturbated, which he encouraged as healthy, though the truth was so that he wouldn’t have to try too hard to stretch you out at this exact moment. Luckily he had loosened you up pretty well with his fingers and tongue this good hour, so when the good doctor pulls out then thrusts half his length in one go, you can’t offer any more rebellion to it.

When he finally bottoms out, he lets out a satisfied whimper. His cheek turned upright into a selfish, wicked grin. “Fuck, your pussy looks so good around my cock,” he says loudly, taunting the fact that you couldn’t retort even if you could hear him properly. He hasn’t had any relevant, professional notes to take for a long while now, instead resorting to little ‘fuckfuckfuck’s as he thrusts his hips in and out of your now loosened cunt. 

He reaches for the wand vibrator, switching it on and positioning it right at your clit, against the base of his dick. Its whirs to life, making your whole body contract in on itself.

“Auuggghhhh fuck yeah—fuck that’s it sweet girl—just feel that—feelin’ it so good.” He continues to fuck you open, biting his tongue and watching you shift with each rut into your unconscious body. Your eyelashes flutter, instinct fighting to get you awake. Jesus he wants it—wants you to wake up right fucking now, see what he’s doing to you. The way your eyes would float, confused, coming into focus as the trusted doc is battering your once pure insides in the name of your health. 

You didn’t know he’d already been fired and relocated from 6 different hospitals across the country for this exact reason. Granted, most anyone could report was inappropriate behavior and groping. He’d have his way with girls like you, in this exact position before. If anybody ever fully caught on to this, he’d be strung up in jail by now.

Whines bubble up from your chest as he gropes your tit with one hand, swirling the wand around your nub with the other. It takes a few minutes of on and off before he feels you clenching around him and cumming. Your back arches slightly, gasping through your mouth. He has to steady himself with his hands flat on either side of the observation table, hunched over and ramming into you while you’re still squeezing the fuck out of him. He likes the way your juices splash down his thighs and balls with each puncture. He’s a good doctor though, making sure you wouldn’t bleed or tear throughout this rough ordeal. He’s a proper man when it comes to his practice.

“Shit, shit—babydoll—fuckyeah this pussy—I’m not gonna be able to give this one up--“ He hums to himself, eyes shut.

You barely register the fact that you’re coming to. Your eyes are slitted but the tunnel vision is still so strong. Foggy and muffled, you can feel your body moving but can’t bring your muscles to do anything about it.

“D-J-oel,” you rasp, eyes fluttering close again as you definitely feel something deep within your stomach. You’re still so out of it, half your senses fading and drawing while being stimulated, unable to fully reach your brain. Your body is screaming to wake up though despite the tempting lull back to sleep. So you open your eyes again, rollin them around you. Your vision becomes clearer, still blurring but able to make outlines and lights now. Still in the hospital, still with the bright lights, still with Doctor Miller—

Doctor Miller, standing between your spread, naked legs with his wet, hard and long cock disappearing in and out of you. Doctor Miller, cursing and staring at where your bodies join, oblivious to your aroused state. Doctor Miller, telling you sweet words like how he’s gonna take you home, he’s gonna keep you like this till you’re full of him, then he's really gonna watch you grow, none of it really making coherent sense to you at the moment.

But there is that feeling inside, deep within your core that’s growing. Everything feels so wet and hot at the same time. He’s incessantly rubbing something delicious, electrocuting your nerves to an awakened state so far more than anything else.

You let out a strangled moan, and his head shoots up, watching you roll your neck and look around. Your sounds get louder, jaw flexing to let them loose.

He's been caught, and he doesn’t stop. “Fuck-fuck babygirl that’s it—M’takin real good care of ya—watch…watch me…watch me when ya cum—“ he groans, gripping your hips and slamming into you almost abusively. 

“Ah-ah-ah-ah!” You wail, unable to tear your limited vision away from him as he ruts like a dog in heat, his hips humping your ass. 

He lets out a startled bark, stilling inside you all the way. That makes your eyes fly wide open, more awake now than before as you start to cum around him. You don’t know what’s happening, don’t understand it and yet your body only knows pleasure, and that’s what your brain releases all over your insides and out. He’s so warm inside, filling you with something hot and sticky. 

There’s a thin sheen of sweat on you, and even greater on him. He pulls out, mummuring some  praise at your pearly, pulsing slit. Your heart is pounding, but body exhausted, like you’d been at this for a while now. You can’t move your head, and your eyes feel heavy once again.

“Hey, hey,” he coos softly next to you. He cups your face in his big hands, bringing you to look at him. “Hey there, angel. How we feeling? You did amazing.”

He feels gentle, touching your fuzzy spots all over again like honey. “Mmm,” you nod. 

He smiles, beginning to turn off the monitors and unhook you from the sensors. “Did such a great job for me, never had a patient as good as you.” He kisses your forehead, long and comforting. now with the needle out, you still feel drowsy, but with his reassuring words and touches, you don’t feel the need to get up any time soon.

“Here, drink this—“ he hands you a little platic cup of water with a straw. You take a few sips, suddenly feel a massive, near painful pressure in your throat, like something had been lodged there not long ago. Coughing slightly, you give him back the cup, falling back against the headrest.

“Shhh, it’s okay. No need to fight it. You can keep resting.” He kisses you on the lips, silencing any protest. Your brain still feels so floaty, you don’t even question the way his tongue swipes along your teeth. You don’t care, enjoying the way he’s treating you so well after the procedure. He makes you feel safer than ever.

“Gonna clean you up now. Take you home.”

Of course, you don’t think about it, as he makes you feel so at home now. You quickly fall back asleep. Joel wheels you out of the room, down towards his un-registered truck and into the back where he whisks you away to your very new, very permanent, very secluded "home." 

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist

[possiblyfunny]

Meanwhile…

He’s very grateful, just give him a moment-

( @100nebulas C’mon. Come back. There’s extra lore for you, Starry.)

Trick or Treat! (This time on Aster’s behalf! Hope you don’t mind-)

treat - egg?!

"Oh- oh, hey- I remember that kid! I keep that crown he made me in a special place, heh.

Here- deliver this carefully, would ya? I was saving it for a gym challenger as a special prize for any winning challengers tonight, but things have been winding down, so... I think I'd like him to have it. It's a Bulbasaur egg- I help Gramps breed em sometimes."

[purple-plum-petals]

⊱ What It’s Like Cuddling with Him ⊰ || Mr. Gap Headcanons

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Character(s): Mr. Gap (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): None! Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Romantic or Platonic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~590 words. Request: “Please I've been dying for content 😔 can I get uhhhh mr.gap content plz ?? I can't stop thinking about him popping up between ur blankets on you. Love ur homicipher stuff so far btw 🩷” Author’s Note: Thank you so much for the kind words! I’ve been enjoying writing for the fandom, too. Everyone has been so incredibly supportive, and that just means the world to me as a writer who never thinks their work is good enough. I love you, Homicipher fandom. 😭🫶 I went ahead and did headcanons about how Mr. Gap would be as a cuddle buddy since you mentioned the scene of him popping up between the blankets (and because they’re a lot easier to crank out than full-on drabbles haha). I hope you enjoy!  

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

🕳️: The first time Mr. Gap surprised you by suddenly appearing under the covers, you nearly died of a heart attack right then in there before scolding him to never do that again. He simply rolled his eyes at you, calling you boring before disappearing into the void once again. He never did stop like you had asked him to which, honestly, wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Eventually, you got used to his sudden presence to the point where it didn’t startle you as horribly as it used to (much to his disappointment). 

🕳️: Even if you don’t get startled by his appearance as often as you used to, that doesn’t mean you never get scared when he suddenly pops up. He enjoys spooking you, smiling widely whenever you gasp or let out a shriek when he lunges at your face from under the sheets like an alligator shooting out of the water to grab unsuspecting prey in its maws. He leaves with a chuckle if you smack or try to hit him, vanishing before you can do any damage. Your reactions are funny to him, and he enjoys being able to get a rise out of you. 

🕳️: You eventually become fed up with him and ask him with a huff if he wants to cuddle after lifting your covers and seeing his face in the darkness underneath, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. He grimaces and asks you what that even means, not familiar with the term. After explaining it to him as best as you could considering the language barrier, his semi-disgusted expression doesn’t change, and he leaves faster than it took you to blink. This continues for a while, you ask him with a smirk if he wants to cuddle with you which successfully manages to chase the trickster away (you just have to threaten him with physical affection... good information to know).

🕳️: However, one day, Mr. Gap doesn’t leave after your half-hearted threat. He stays and stares up at you with a blank look on his face before, to your shock, agrees to cuddle with you. It’s strange laying in bed with a ghost that doesn’t have a body in the conventional sense, his head resting on your chest while his arms rest limply at your sides (he usually doesn’t hold you back, instead laying on you like a dead fish). While you can feel the presence of a form on top of you, whenever you try to catch a glimpse, you cannot see anything resembling a body underneath the covers. It’s not an unpleasant feeling, though, and he reminds you of a weighted blanket. 

🕳️: Mr. Gap doesn’t move or make much noise whenever you two are cuddling, an occurrence that has become more frequent as time goes on. He isn’t the biggest fan of physical touch, but he finds himself not minding the way your hands feel threading through his hair or the sound of your beating heart while his ear is pressed against your chest. The noise is strangely comforting... 

🕳️: If you inquire about his lack of commentary, he looks up at you and smirks, asking if you would give him your heart. You just tell him no with a smile since you were used to his questions at this point and close your eyes, your hands returning to combing out in knots in his black locks without another word… He kind of hates how he doesn’t find himself disgusted by your touch, and he can’t help but wonder why that is. 

[theroundbartable]

Arthur is stuck in a time loop.

At first, he doesn't really notice it, since every day feels the same anyway. It's Merlin's good morning that irks him, however, because Merlin tends to switch up the routine a lot. When then the topic of the court meeting is the same, Arthur knows what's up.

In loop three, he asks Gaius for help and the man explains that only a powerful sorcerer could do such a thing and that he'd need strong magic to break it.

The next morning, everything is forgotten. And Arthur researches on his own what's happening. He spends days at the library until one day, he's just really tired.

And so, he stays in bed for a couple days, and lets Merlin complain for hours. It's soozing in an odd way. As days go by, Arthur gets bolder. He approaches Merlin in broad sunlight, hands him food or flowers in front of people and receiving odd stares.

Arthur waits for Merlin's reactions and they seem rather hesitant if also positive. Yet, when Arthur finally gathers up the courage to confess, Merlin rejects him.

Arthur spends another few loops in bed, while Merlin no longer carries any memories of the incident. Arthur then asks Gaius dejectedly who the most powerful sorcerer is he knows.

And Gaius says Emrys and tells him the man lives in the woods, a two day march from Camelot. Arthur loses hope. One loop equals a day. He'd never make it. That is IF the man is even there.

On loop xy, Arthur asks Gaius again, during a different time of day, where Emrys lives. And Gaius answers: about half a day ride north, Sire.

Arthur is confused. That doesn't make sense. Why would Gaius say something different than last time? Gaius was clearly part of the loop! Unless he's lying. And each time he lied he just said the first thing that came to mind.

Arthur stops avoiding Merlin at one point and accepts that Merlin won't respond to his feelings. So, he approaches him and tries to discuss magic issues with him. While Merlin warns him of magic like read from a script, Arthur argues positive aspects. Because he's trying to talk himself into turning to magic to maybe manage to save himself if he trained himself in the arts. Even if it takes years of the timeloop.

Unprompted, Merlin hugs him tight and looks at him with so much affection that Arthur is sure Merlin likes him.

Needless to day, Arthur is more than confused. And Arthur notices another thing. Both Merlin and Gaius react differently to him, depending on how he talks. If he's positive about magic, they are eager to help. Merlin looks most carefree then. And almost like he wants to ... Well, what exactly?

One loop, Arthur tests the theorie: Merlin, I'm going to lift the magic ban.

Merlin stops in his tracks and stares at Arthur. Arthur repeats himself, nervous of the response. Almost more nervous than he was when he got rejected.

Arthur: merlin?

Merlin: why

Arthur: because magic isn't as evil as my father had me believe.

Merlin: is this a trick?

Arthur: a trick? No. I just understand now that sometimes magic is needed. And I need magic right now. *Explains situation*

Merlin: ... arthur, i don't know how many timeloops you've been through

Arthur: you believe me? Uhhhh... 200, probably

Merlin: ... I can help you

Arthur: how?

Merlin: because I'm emrys

[occamstfs]

Green Eyes of Envy

Adam finds a necklace that promises anything his heart desires and nothing does he desire more than a body no one could deny.

Vaguely Halloweeny possession story based on a well-trodden trigger! Twink -> Jock -> Bear(ish?) IQ drain/corruption. Don't forget to vote on my Viral Transformation Story poll, only one day left! Hope you enjoy! -Occam

As soon as he sees the necklace lying on the ground Adam throws it on. So far it’s another subpar night spent going home alone from the bar, at least if he nabs a cute accessory there’ll be something gained. After throwing it on, when there’s a sudden buzzing in the back of his head that’s increasingly approximating a voice Adam chalks it up to his conscience trying to speak up about his and promptly ignores it.

Once he arrives home and takes time to stare at the medallion dangling on his thin chest however, he finds the voice may well have been something external, something supernatural. As a voice resounds in his head that is clearly not his own, “Adam is it?” Concluding he’s already fallen unconscious, hopefully indeed in his home, or that he’s had far too much to drink tonight for him to remember whatever he’s about to get into he plays along. “Whazzit to ya-” Realizing just what a goldmine position it has found itself in, the presence within the necklace prepares to strike.

From the drunken grumblings made by the young man in their short time together there is clearly insecurity to pray upon, and his new owner seems adverse to caution. The being within the necklace feels close enough to gaining a physical form, a body, it can almost taste it. It cannot slip up this close to the finish line and must act swiftly and with care, “So Adam, I take it you did not fare too well in your night on the town?” 

The drunken Adam’s small hands suddenly grasp the chain and pull slightly, moaning incoherently all the while. Feeling the tug the necklace quickly speaks up once more, “Woah woah woah my dear, do be careful! If you allow me, I can help you achieve your wildest dreams!” Eyes suddenly grow deathly serious as he hears the metallic voice speak in his head, “you cuh- anythin-?” 

Calculating faster than a human mind can, the voice seizes on the curiosity, banking that whatever the drunk asks will indeed be in his purview, “Anything.” The hitherto thoughtlessly lolling mouth curls into a smirk and his mind dances with the possibilities, “Uhhhh, genie ruleshh, ish it?” 

The medallion somehow sighs not wanting to highlight the potential, or fact rather, that it’s going to twist the man’s wish to his own end but sensing its holder’s brain seems the type to rarely make a connection deeper than surface level it concludes it should be fine. “Sure, something like that.” The chain jostles on Adam’s thin shoulders as he shrugs, “whateva- can you jussht give me the body of a fuckin’ stud?” Perfect. Mission accomplished.

Adam’s eyes flash green as the medallion does similarly, connecting them and giving whatever surely sinister being lies within the small coin carte blanche. Speaking from a deeper foothold in Adam’s mind the voice gives the perfunctory warning that any act of magic requires, “Do be wary of course, the inner bits of yourself have a nasty habit of matching the outer changes.” Though knowing that it’s now only a matter of time before it’s in control it begins to reveal it’s less than amicable side, “though given how fast you let me in it seems your deep inner tapestry hasn’t all too much to lose.”

Treating the slight as if it were the annoying buzz of an insect flying around his head, Adam quickly ignores the voice altogether and pulls out his phone to hunt for the perfect body. Lucky for the spirit Adam was already beyond horny before the necklace even graced his neck, so it is not long before his envious eyes find a man enthralling. In no time at all Adam is halfway drooling as he stares at some influencer’s massive pecs. He’s doing some skit but Adam doesn’t hear a word he says, as he stares his desire proves enough tinder for the spirit’s work to begin on his body.

Adam’s eyes simply flash green and laughter fills his mind, just as muscle begins to fill out his chest. Having always made excuses to shy away from the gym for one reason or another Adam smirks as he gropes his growing pecs. Suddenly bursting from non-existence into the by far largest muscles on his body, eclipsing his ass and thighs in a manner that should not be possible. Nipples surge larger as a few thick curls begin to smatter themselves across the burgeoning pecs. Nails scratching into the soft muscle Adam smirks as he imagines that no matter how hard he tries from here on out he could never hide these powerful pecs.

Emerald shade clearing from his eyes the aftereffects of his proud new chest are less than apparent. Rather than any grand changes to the horny drunk’s personality, the spirit simply allows the current drunken recklessness to seep in deeper. Suddenly the type to never back away from challenges even in a sober state, Adam smirks as he imagines all the heads that will turn when he gets a chance to show off his bulky new pecs. Though despite how impressive they are, they can’t be the only brawn on his body hm? Before the spirit even has a chance to seed the desire for more changes, Adam himself hungrily returns to the hunt for his own aggrandization.

Only having just faded back to his natural eye color his eyes quickly shade a darker green than even that of the medallion as Adam stares at the arms of a gymnast that pops into his feed. He clenches his jaw and reflexively flexes his arms as his weak biceps suddenly surge with the strength of someone who has spent a lifetime working towards his own betterment. He smirks as veins bulge down his biceps as his own laughter resounds even louder than that of the spirit in his own head. Forearms and triceps suddenly hold strength that hasn’t a hope to reasonably wield. 

Adam’s eyes then trail from the impressive arms towards what he always paid more attention to when the gymnast was trending, the man’s thick pits. Instantly does intense itching begin in Adam’s armpits. They burn with pleasure as a forest begins to surge outwards, growing thicker as he desires to be more than any man that pops onto his screen. The few hairs painting his chest rapidly expand in kind to compete with the dank jungles that now thrive and drip with sweat under his arms. Sitting there smirking as he tears his eyes away from his phone to delight in his new beyond hairy pits as rivers of musky sweat begin trickling down his bulging pecs and thick biceps.

Suddenly having the upper body of an Olympian, Adam’s mind grows foggy with a pride even greater than the sum of his impressive parts. Bouncing his pecs for the first time while doing a double bicep flex, Adam is filled with lust for his own form and a growing confidence that already no man could ever possibly resist him. He grunts and notices that his neck has similarly grown thicker, his voice resounding deeper as an adam’s apple bulges onto his previously smooth neck. Moaning as he takes a deep breath and enjoys his new heady musk, he feels his mind start to drift away from the pursuit of perfection and to instead just give in prematurely to hedonism as his larger hands inch towards his crotch. 

Before getting the chance the voice returns and whispers like a snake, “ahh ahh ahh Adam… We are not complete yet.” Looking down at his lower body he shakes off his horny delirium and agrees, rapidly returns to the more than mindless scrolling, thankfully easily able to hold up against the whims of his still average cock. Adam again does not have to search long before his eyes land upon men he longs to be, to have, to be with. His eyes once more glow a searing Emerald, and the medallion scarcely lights up, at the sight of two specimens that alight more jealousy than anything yet.

Memories of his anxieties and self-doubt quickly vacate as confidence imbues every inch of him, staring at the thick thighs and powerful calves of the bodybuilders he feels his power and pride grow to new heights. Immediately sending tears down the ratty old skinny jeans he wore to the bar, thighs that make it immediately clear that their owner could break a watermelon between them surge into existence. Finally regaining their top spot as the largest muscles on the body they grow larger than his pecs before being similarly outmatched by his ass growing firm and flexing larger with each hungry glance at the two men.

Legs cramping outward the spirit within Adam feels his ability to control the man almost come to a head. Adam doesn’t notice as his fingers twitch and flex beyond his control nor does he care as his toes strain in the air as his feet inch larger. Why does it matter that his chest is flexing without being told, it’s hot, Adam surely meant to do that anyway. Looking down and inspecting his new form, concern slides off his mind anyway as he sees hair begin to increase across his chest, rapidly shooting down abs that he didn’t even notice forming. 

He plays with the forest of hair beginning to shadow the whole of his torso as he feels similar stubble being to scratch against his chin. Tilting his head, his foggy mind struggles to wonder how he’s still changing without looking at men like the medallion instructed. Looking at his reflection in the mirror and seeing the impossibly alluring figure he has become however he decides to not care what the stupid thing said anyway. He must have gotten what he needs from it already.

Thoughtlessly he removes the necklace and tosses it away having decided he’s more than enough man. Only then does his bulge begin to grow beyond what he has always known it to be. There’s a sigh of relief and anticipation as he realizes he almost missed a chance to grow his cock with whatever that coin did to him. Face and chest burning red with blush he forces his hand into his crotch and smirks as he feels his thick fingers begin to tangle in his new bush. His free hand still dances across the bounty of chest hair and his new mustache scratches against his shoulder as he bathes in the new musk that resounds from his pits.

Mind clouded from his changes, having far too much to drink, and the cocktail of new hormones issuing forth from balls rapidly filling his briefs, Adam pulls out his larger cock and begins to go to town. Experiencing the new heights of pleasure that his dream body allows Adam loses himself to new ecstasy. His cock stretches to a size that rivals the forearm of a lesser man and his balls race to match the size his impressive body warrants. If it weren’t for his hand slowing down its thrusts it’s likely that Adam would never notice what was to happen to him next.

His face moves in unfamiliar patterns as something besides him stretches it to understand how to control it. Eyes slam shut as far as they can and then reopen, and Adam suddenly realizes that he can no longer move them of his own volition, and yet he still sees. Staring out from eyes seemingly out of his control, Adam feels his mouth smirk without instruction as a voice he has barely gotten the chance to use spills out from his thicker lips, “Well well young Adam. Excellent work thus far, think I’ll take over from here though lad.” 

Adam struggles for dominance as he finds himself but a voice in his own head, watching his new fingers dance at the end of powerful arms he scarcely had time to appreciate. He feels them flex and struggles not to give in to the delight of the power and continue fighting. Feeling himself not totally lost he endeavors a hail mary and focuses all his attention to the one thing that has always been able to override his mind in the past. His balls churn and his cock bounces as even whatever clearly powerful spirit now controlling his form is unable to resist his rising lusts. The need for release that suddenly blares through every sweaty inch of his skin and the being totally not used to self-control or human weakness struggles to not give in.

The spirit grunts as it remembers its tenuous position on reality, through its own suddenly clouded mind it goes into bargaining mode, struggling to stop their body from its uncontrollable thrusting into the air, “Ohh oh fuck okay, another deal. I can’t- We can’t cum yet or grgh- Please not yet!” Adam grinds the well-trodden neural pathways of lust to a halt as he desires to hear the being out. To signal his willingness to play ball, as well as out of the hope Adam should be better at staying his hand from masturbation, it allows Adam full control once more. Adam does begin playing with his cock immediately, moreso from the ever-pressing desire to cum rather than intimidation at expelling the spirit though it works for both. 

The spirit somehow clears his throat within Adam’s head, “To level, I am in here now, for good. But we can work out an arrangement, we can share. You can fuck and frot whatever, but every so often I’ll need a chance at the wheel for my own, uhm ends. Worry not, if anything it’ll only amount to more pleasure for yourself!” Adam cups his larger balls and struggles to understand the implications of this agreement. He hasn’t the capacity to care that his intellect seems to have diminished as his body grew, in fact as clearly duller words spill out of his mouth it only turns him on more, “Uuhhh, so we’ll share my body?”

Somehow rolling eyes he doesn’t have control over, the being realizes this must be a two way street and agrees, “Of course, you just let me do my thing and we’ll get along great.” Adam scratches his beard itching thicker and shrugs, “Sure dude, whatever.” At the lightest sign of agreement the spirit seizes control, too late does he realize his haste has caused him a misstep. Whether its his limited time in the corrupted mind of Adam forcing human err unto the spirit or simply from just how unprepared the spirit is to handle the overwhelming lust in Adam’s mind, rather than sharing control the two become irrevocably one in both body and mind. Whatever sinister priorities the spirit had rapidly shift to match the hedonistic needs of Adam. Rapidly fading into the bestial desire of Adam the spirit turns up its nose as it finds itself wanting to change their now shared form, “If we’re gonna share, uh bro, need a bit more space in here eh?”

With that, Adam’s eyes cross and he struggles to not burp as he feels his powerful form begin to bloat. His beard thickens as both minds become one and mass begins to pile onto his torso as abs grow into a bulky muscle gut underneath his still impressive pecs. Scratching his ass as it too grows a jungle of hair before going back to palm his cock, both minds feel sedated as they smell his thick musk and Adam can scarcely remember any priorities besides the all-important goal of seeking his own pleasure. 

To this end the pair find themselves awash in exploring their-his body, for countless hours of making a mess of his bedroom, living room, and kitchen Adam finally remembers that there is more to the world than his small apartment. There are more holes to explore than the few in himself and far more to see than the steamy videos he can pull up on his phone. Wiping drool off his face and crusted cum off his torso, something at the back of Adam’s mind itches as he feels there was something greater he was supposed to do, something he was supposed to spread or some control he was supposed to enforce. Giving his pits a good sniff he smirks before opining that perhaps there is no greater goal than spreading his own glory far and wide.

Quite the easy enough task as it runs out as whatever the spirit did before fading into but another aspect of Adam’s lusty mind gave him the ability to attract anyone to his cause. Rather than whatever dire cause intended, with the two totally merged the only purpose of his inhumanly alluring self is to spread pleasure. As soon as he steps out of his front door he finds men throwing themselves at him in droves. Jocks, twinks, and bears alike could not possibly resist the titan as he walks down the street, always shadowed by a heavy wave of his aphrodisiac musk.

Adam’s eyes glance across and stare through every man whose hungry eyes cannot look away, whose shoulders fly back in submission, whose noses lead them to trial behind him. While many of them get the chance to enjoy time with the inhumanly alluring man, only a few get to experience the truly rapturous experience of being changed by Adam himself. Only a select few find themselves molded into something greater than that they are when they first submit to Adam’s will. Though even a few is enough to spread and as time goes on the number of musky men wandering around could certainly become a problem. Lucky for the world perhaps, whatever cause the medallion held is long forgotten and the changed men yearn for no higher purpose than pleasure. And with the enhancements gifted by Adam, that is precisely what they find.

[monstersholygrail]

Do you have any Gargoyle stories?? 👀

As in published, I’m afraid I do not. BUT!

But-but-but I do have about 5 drafts of Gargoyle stories. As well as two French Gargoyle OCs of mine that have yet to be introduced.

I definitely want to start publishing Gargoyle stories as fun Dray lore fact, Gargoyles are part of what started my monster obsession! I gotta pay my respects now

So uhhhh, here’s a blurb of my Gargoyle OC Bastien

Gargoyle bf would be fucking you along the side of a building, his claws digging into the stone to keep you both upright, and demanding you shout his name when you call him daddy instead. Bastien immediately stops and you cry out, having been so so close. His thick cock pulsing inside of you.

“What did you just call me, cher?”

You’re still panting, your face all flushed as you try and deny it. Bastien starts up again of course, though not at his previous pace and it kills you. He asks you with each slow and torturous thrust what it was you called him as the grainy texture of his cock glides along your walls just right.

You deny it time and time again. It’s only when he unlatches a claw from the building and starts rubbing tight little circles into your clit with each thrust do you break, tears streaming down your face as you call him daddy again.

A wicked grin spreads across Bastien’s stony lips and he picks up his pace, not saying anything else but “Again.”

Making you writhe in embarrassment and a pinch of humiliation for those who might be hearing you only a handful of feet below. For those who could be around the corner listening. Taking a peak of you two…

You give into him each time, calling him daddy again and again until your orgasm explodes within you, setting your every atom on fire. Giving you a more powerful orgasm than you’ve ever had before. All while Bastien smirks down at you, his own release following only seconds after.

You can barely feel his cum spill inside you with the way you’re trembling but it makes you fall into another mini climax anway, a splash of pain accompanying it as overstimulation begins to take hold.

[daryltwdixon]

Teach You II

Daryl Dixon x Reader

warnings: smut

word count: 5.4k it's uhhhh a lot longer than the first part

summary: a continuation of part I: daryl has 0 game, 0 experience, and is eager to please. oral (both receiving) still foreplay only. reader is gentle with Daryl.

notes: back from my writing hiatus to give you a little somethin' special.

“Come with me.”

The room is quiet, the air thick with heavy breathing but undeniably warm. Daryl’s chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, his skin still tingling from the intensity of their last kiss. He’s never felt anything like it before—never let himself feel anything like it before—and now, as she pulls back slightly, her face flushed and open, he wonders how he’s even still breathing.

He watches her for a moment, his heart thundering in his chest as he nods. The flickering candlelight catches the sheen of her skin, the rise and fall of her shoulders, and he can’t stop staring. When she reaches for him, her fingers lacing with his, the simple touch sends a jolt of warmth straight through him.

She doesn’t bother pulling her shirt back on as she takes him through the house and eventually toward the bed, her movements unhurried, deliberate. He watches the curve of her back, the gentle dips of her hips as she leads him into her bedroom, where the candlelight casts a soft glow over the walls. The space feels like her—calm, unpretentious, and more inviting than any place he’s ever been. The scent of her lingers in the air, and he wonders if she knows just how intoxicating it is.

She turns to him, her hands sliding up under his shirt, up the planes of his chest. The soft caress of her hands over the coarse hair of his chest leaves goosebumps along his skin.

“Is this okay?” she asks, her voice low and steady, like she’s offering him an escape if he needs it.

His breath hitches. It’s not just okay—it’s everything. Still, his words come out clumsy. “Yeah. It’s… yeah.”

As her hands lower, fingers brushing against the hem of his shirt, Daryl feels his breath hitch. His heart thuds loud in his chest, and his thoughts start racing. The scars. They’re all he can think about now, the pale, crisscrossing reminders of a past he’s tried to bury.

His first instinct is to stop her, to pull back and keep those parts of himself hidden where they belong. He’s spent years keeping people at arm’s length, guarding the worst pieces of himself, and the thought of her seeing them now—seeing all the damage—it claws at the edges of his resolve.

But then, her touch pulls him back to the present. To the here and now. Her fingers don’t rush; they’re slow, deliberate, full of a gentleness he’s still learning to trust. He looks at her, at the way her eyes search his for any sign of hesitation, and something in him shifts.

More than anything, he wants to feel her. Every inch of her. The soft peaks of her breasts against his chest, the warmth of her arms wrapped around his middle. He wants to let her in, to feel what it’s like to be vulnerable in a way that doesn’t tear him apart.

For her—for this moment here and now—he would.

He exhales shakily, nodding slightly as if giving her permission without words.

“You okay?” she murmurs, her voice soft and steady as her hands linger at the fabric of his shirt.

“Yeah,” he says, though his voice wavers. He clears his throat, his hands sliding over hers to still them for a moment. But despite the anxiety, despite his uncertainty, he nods. He wants this. More than anything.

Her lips quirk in a soft smile, and she leans even closer. “Let’s take it slow, okay?” she reassures, “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

When he shakily exhales with another nod, she carefully eases the fabric upward, revealing the hard planes of his stomach first. His skin jumps under her touch, his muscles taut, but he doesn’t stop her. When the shirt clears his chest and flits over his head, his instinct is to curl in, to shield himself from her gaze, but he doesn’t. He forces himself to meet her eyes.

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t stare. Her expression doesn’t shift into pity or disgust like he feared it might. Instead, her fingers brush lightly over his chest, tracing the lines of old scars with reverence, like she’s trying to memorize him.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion.

His chest tightens at the tenderness in her, like she’s peeling away all the walls he’s spent years building. “You… you ain’t gotta do all this, y’know,” he mutters, his voice rough.

“I want to,” she says simply, her fingers soft along his bare shoulders now, “I want you, Daryl. Just as you are.”

The word seep into him, sliding deep into the cracks of his heart, where he never thought a person could reach. His lips part, but nothing comes out. He doesn’t know how to tell her what those words mean to him—that he’s never heard anything like them in his life.

When she kisses him again, slow and deliberate, it feels like she’s giving him a chance to breathe. His hands find her waist instinctively, trembling against her warmth, but for the first time, he doesn’t pull back. He lets himself feel it.

The sensation of her bare chest against his overwhelming in a way he wasn’t expecting, every nerve in his body alight. He feels her heart beating against his, steady and strong, and it grounds him even as it sends a rush of adrenaline through his veins. Her skin against his is like fire and silk, all at once. He can’t stop the shudder that runs through him when her chest shifts against his, her breath mingling with his as her hands move to cradle his face. It’s so intimate, so raw, that it takes his breath away, and all he can think is that nothing has ever felt this good. Nothing has ever felt this right.

Their tongues slide against each other now with a growing ease, like they’ve done this a hundred times before. Daryl loses himself in the rhythm of it—a soft push and pull, each movement teasing and tender, punctuated by the faint, electric graze of teeth. He doesn’t mean to, not really, but when his teeth catch her bottom lip, just barely nibbling, the sound she makes—sharp and breathless—lights something molten in his gut.

Her gasp breaks against his mouth, and his hands tighten instinctively on her waist. “Was that okay?” he murmurs, his voice low and shaky, his lips brushing hers as he speaks.

“More than okay,” she breathes, her eyes fluttering open. Her cheeks are flushed, her pupils wide, and he can’t help but stare, trying to etch the image of her into his memory. “That was… really good.”

Something in him twists—pride, maybe. He doesn’t feel it often, but the way she looks at him, the way she shivers between his hands, makes him think that maybe, just maybe, he’s doing something right.

“You’re full of surprises, Dixon,” she teases softly, her lips curving into a faint smile. 

A quiet chuckle rumbles in his chest, surprising even him. Then, she guides him backward, her touch so gentle it makes his skin prickle with awareness. When the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed, he freezes, panic flickering in his chest. But she’s there, grounding him with her hands on his arms, her voice a soft murmur.

“It’s just me,” she says, her eyes holding his, “You’re alright,”

She catches his chin again, drawing him back to her, her fingers brushing tenderly along the scruff of his jaw. “Don’t stop,” she whispers, her voice laced with a mix of want and encouragement. 

The words send another surge of heat through him, his skin buzzing where she touches him. He finally sits back, with her following, and he leans in again, his lips finding hers with more confidence this time. Their mouths move together, building a rhythm that feels as natural as breathing. As she sits on her knees between his legs, her fingers tug gently at his hair, the feeling of her nails causing a low groan in his throat, and she answers with a soft, breathy sound that sends his pulse racing.

“I want to show you something,” she says, her voice quiet but full of intent.

As she pulls back slightly, his eyes fall to her face, and he feels his breath catch. The bright flush of her skin—warm and glowing—paints her cheeks, her neck, and deeper still, crimson splotches blooming across her clavicle. It’s breathtaking, and he’s completely transfixed by it.

Her hands drop from his chest to rest on his knees, palms gently massaging the muscles along his thighs in slow, soothing motions. The air around him feels thinner as her hands shift slightly higher, moving inch by inch toward his lap but still keeping a respectful distance from the ache that’s grown there once again. His heart thuds heavily in his chest, his nerves and desire tangling together in an electrifying mess.

“Let’s get these off of you,” she whispers, her fingers pinching the denim clinging to his thighs.

He hadn’t realized it in the heat of the moment, but the earlier debacle in his briefs had gone from wet and sticky to dry and tacky, leaving him desperate to shed the discomfort. Embarrassment flashes hot in his chest as the thought of taking them off in front of her settles in his mind. She sees his hesitation, and coos gently, reassuring with softness in her voice, and tenderness in her touch. Together, they work to shed his jeans, the rough fabric slipping from his legs with her help. His briefs follow soon after, discarded onto the floor and forgotten.

The freedom of the warm air makes Daryl sigh in relief, though his nerves spark alive again as he watches her intently, searching for any sign of trepidation or uncertainty in her expression. No one has ever seen him like this—laid bare, vulnerable, and so… needy. His cock stands hard and flushed against his stomach, the tip red and eager for attention, but his gaze stays locked on her face, waiting for a reaction.

Her eyes widen slightly as she takes him in, her lips parting in what looks like awe. He holds his breath, unsure what it could mean, but before his mind has the chance to spiral, her gaze lifts to his again.

A fresh wave of blush paints her cheeks and neck, scarlet creeping up as her eyes meet his, and it’s so breathtaking that it steals his breath all over again.

She leans in, her small hand wrapping around him with a gentleness that has his head falling back, his breath choking in his throat.

Her hand is soft, impossibly so, her touch smooth and steady as it slides along his length. The feeling is so overwhelming that it nearly knocks him flat. Even through the grit of the apocalypse, her hands are silk against the hardness of him.

“Daryl,” she breathes, her voice like a caress as she leans closer. Her hand moves with excruciating care, testing, learning, and every brush of her fingers sends sparks shooting down his spine, pooling heat in his belly.

His eyes flutter closed, his breath ragged as he tries to focus, but then—suddenly—he feels something else. A warm breath against him.

His eyes snap open, wide and disbelieving, just as he feels it: hot, wet, incredible lips wrapping around the sensitive tip of his cock. His entire body jerks at the sensation, a sharp gasp tearing from his throat as if his lungs have forgotten how to work. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, his hands gripping uselessly at the bedspread, trembling with restraint as every nerve in his body seems to spark to life.

She doesn’t move at first, holding him there in her mouth, letting him adjust to the new, overwhelming sensation. It’s as though she knows how much he needs this moment, to gather himself, to breathe. Why would she do this? Why would she want to serve him like this, so beautifully, so selflessly? He can barely fathom it, barely believe this is real, and not some dream he’ll wake from, empty and aching. He’ll never take it for granted, never forget this moment for as long as he lives.

His breath stutters, his chest rising and falling in uneven waves, “Holy shit,” his voice full of awe, his fingers curling deeper into the bed beneath him.

She hums softly around him at his words, the vibration sending a shockwave through his body that makes him groan, low and desperate. Slowly, achingly slow, she takes him deeper into her mouth. His breath hitches, his hands twitching at his sides as he watches her, utterly transfixed.

The thickness of him stretches her mouth wide, her jaw looking like it nearly unhinges as she pushes him further in, her lips sliding down the shaft with deliberate care. When the tip hits the soft, warm walls of the back of her throat, his entire body trembles, a broken moan escaping him before he can stop it.

“Y/N,” he gasps, his voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper. His hands suddenly lift to hover above her, unsure, desperate to touch her but afraid to break the moment.

She pulls back, her lips slick and glistening, and looks up at him through her lashes. Her eyes are warm, inviting, and he swears he’s never seen anything as beautiful in his life. Gently, she lifts herself off of him for a moment, though her hands stay wrapped around the base of his cock.

“You’re doing so good,” she murmurs, her voice full of praise and affection, “Put your hands in my hair, show me what you want, Dare.”

His heart skips at the sound of his name on her lips like that, soft and coaxing, full of trust. His hands hover in the air for a moment, trembling, as though he’s unsure if he’s allowed to take what she’s offering. But the way she looks at him—her eyes warm, encouraging—gives him the courage to move. She leans back in, hand sliding up to meet her lips again, stroking him gently as she waits for him.

Slowly, his fingers thread into her hair, strands sliding between his calloused fingertips. He’s gentle at first, testing, his grip hesitant as he tangles his hands deeper into her hair. It feels surreal—too good, too much—but she hums her approval, the vibration sending another jolt through his body that makes his hips shift instinctively. She starts again, taking him deeper and picking up the pace this time, her tongue swirling around the head before sliding down his length in a way that makes his whole body tense with pleasure.

“Jesus,” he chokes out, his voice raw, his fingers tightening in her hair without meaning to. He starts to pull back, afraid he’s being too rough, but she makes a soft, pleased sound and moves her head forward, taking more of him.

The wet heat of her mouth surrounds him, and he can feel the deliberate care in every movement. Her hand works in tandem with her lips, stroking him in perfect rhythm, and all he can do is hold on, his chest heaving as she drives him higher and higher.

“You feel so good,” she whispers, pulling back just enough to speak, her lips brushing against his head with every word. “Don’t hold back, Daryl. I want all of you.”

Her words undo him, and the next time his cock hits the back of her throat, it sends a wave of desperate need crashing over him that leaves him trembling beneath her. His hips buck despite himself, and she meets his movements with ease, her lips stretching around him. 

The sounds that escape him are raw and unrestrained—a mix of whimpers and low, guttural groans that fill the air around them as he cums. He can’t help it, can’t hold back the shaky, desperate noises that tumble from his throat as she works him over with her mouth and hand. Each movement of her tongue elicits another broken moan, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath.

“God,” he gasps, his voice cracking as a strangled whimper slips out, followed by a low, drawn-out groan that vibrates deep in his chest. He tries to stifle it, biting down on his bottom lip, but another sharp cry tears free when her tongue presses flat against the sensitive underside of him, milking every last drop from him as she moans with fervor.

His fingers tighten in her hair, not pulling but gripping like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality. The noises keep coming—soft, needy breaths mingled with shaky groans and whispered curses, each one raw and involuntary, spilling out of him without thought. His chest heaves, his body trembling beneath her as he rides the waves of his release.

When her lips finally slide away, his eyes flutter open, the haze of pleasure leaving him dazed and breathless. He watches her, transfixed, as she wipes the spit from the corner of her mouth with a slow, deliberate motion. Her tongue swipes along her top lip, catching the lingering taste of him, and the sight makes his cock twitch, a mix of overstimulation and desperate loss tightening low in his belly.

His gaze locks with hers, and the look in her hooded eyes mirrors his own—heat, awe, and something deeper that neither of them dares to name. 

The room is quiet now, save for their shared breaths slowly evening out. Daryl watches her with wide, glassy eyes as she shifts back to sit on her heels, her movements graceful and unhurried. Her touch is soft, almost reverent, as she trails her fingers along his thighs before leaning over him to press a tender kiss to his lips. It’s slow and gentle, nothing like the fire they just shared, but it makes his chest tighten all the same.

She begins to stand and tugs at his arm, coaxing him to move, and he lets her guide him like he has since the start. She helps him ease back onto the bed, pulling the covers loose and gesturing for him to crawl beneath them. He feels awkward and out of place, the aftershocks of what just happened still sparking in his nerves, but the way she looks at him—warm, steady, so damn sure—makes it impossible to refuse.

Sliding in beside him, she nestles close, her body fitting seamlessly against his. The heat of her skin against his own feels like nothing he’s ever known, and his arms instinctively wrap around her, holding her close. He’s stiff at first, uncertain, but the steady rise and fall of her breathing against his chest calms him, slowly easing the tension from his limbs.

Her hand drifts lazily over his stomach, her fingers tracing the lines of his scars in a way that feels more like a silent promise than a question. His fingers twitch where they rest on her back, unsure of what to do, but when she shifts even closer, pressing her nose against the crook of his neck, he lets himself relax into her touch.

The quiet feels different now. It’s not heavy or awkward—it’s warm, safe. He closes his eyes for a moment, letting the sensation of her fill him completely. He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but his heart slows, steadying against the soft weight of her head on his chest.

But the thoughts creeping into his mind refuse to leave him alone. The memory of her—on her knees, lips wrapped around him, giving so selflessly—sends a mix of gratitude and longing coursing through him. He swallows hard, his breath hitching slightly as the question forms at the edges of his mind.

His hand tightens on her back, just enough for her to notice, and she shifts slightly, looking up at him. He can feel the heat crawling up his neck, spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his voice.

“Can I…” His words trail off, rough and barely audible. He can’t bring himself to meet her eyes, his throat tightening with nerves.

She waits, her expression patient and kind, her hand still tracing light, soothing patterns on his stomach. The steady rhythm of her touch is the only thing keeping him in place as he struggles to force the words out.

He clears his throat, revising his previous start. “Will you show me,” he whispers, the words so soft they almost don’t make it out. His heart pounds, each beat rattling against his ribs. “Show me how to…”

Her lips curl into a small, knowing smile, her head tilting slightly as she looks at him. He can tell—she knows what he means. Of course she knows. But she doesn’t let him off easily, her eyes glimmering with playful intent.

“I want to make you feel good,” he blurts out, the words tumbling out in a rush, his voice rough and raw with vulnerability.

Her smile widens, warm and teasing all at once. “You do, huh?” she murmurs, her hand pausing on his stomach, her fingers curling lightly against his skin. “What do you want me to show you, Daryl?”

Heat floods his face, spreading down his neck and chest as he glances away, his hand flexing where it rests on her hip. “You know what I mean,” he mutters, his voice low and hoarse.

Her laughter is soft and melodic, her fingers drifting up to brush against his jaw, coaxing him to look at her again. “I do,” she admits, her voice dropping to a tender whisper. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

His eyes find hers then, and for a moment, he just stares, taking her in. The way her smile lights up her face, the way her gaze is steady and sure, like she has all the time in the world for him. It’s disarming, leaving him with a warmth blooming in his chest that he doesn’t know how to describe.

He can’t fight down the grin that spreads across his face, his mouth twisting as his eyes crinkle at the corners. Emboldened by her openness, her patience, he finally lets the words spill out, low and rough, “Wanna taste you. Let me.”

A brand new flush paints her cheeks, the pink spreading down to her neck and chest as she nods, her voice soft but sure. “Yeah, alright.”

“Dunno—” he starts, squirming a little where he sits, nerves creeping in again, but she stops him before he can spiral. Her hands cup his jaw, warm and steady, grounding him instantly.

“It’s alright,” she whispers, her thumbs brushing gently along his cheekbones as she tilts his face to meet hers. Her lips hover close, brushing against his in the faintest of kisses. “Remember how we kissed?”

He nods, swallowing hard, though he doesn’t lean into the closeness this time, waiting for her to go on.

“Kiss me,” she murmurs, her voice low and inviting, her gaze holding his with unshakable trust. “Down there. Just the same.”

The words send a shiver through him, equal parts anticipation and awe. He exhales shakily, moving his body to hover over her. She hums to herself, the warmth of him on her a welcome touch. 

His lips meet the bare skin of her chest first, pressing soft, reverent kisses along the curve of her breast before trailing lower. His movements are deliberate, his lips peppering gentle pecks down her stomach, lingering just enough to feel her shiver beneath him. When he reaches the waistband of her shorts, he pauses, lifting his head to meet her gaze. His hands rest lightly on the fabric, already loosened from earlier, but he doesn’t move further. Daryl is nothing if not careful. He needs to be sure she wants this just as much, needs to see it in her eyes before he lets himself go any further.

Her smile widens, her cheeks flushed, and she nods softly, her hips shifting up in quiet encouragement. He takes her silent permission, his hands steady as he slips her shorts down her legs. The fabric pools on the floor beside the bed, forgotten, his attention entirely on her as she opens her legs for him.

Glistening, wet and welcoming, his eyes look at her center. It’s like some sort of innate human instinct to want to bury himself between her legs. He forces himself to go slow, his hands moving almost on their own to slide along her thighs, his touch careful and deliberate as he shifts down the bed. The warmth of her skin beneath his palms steadies him, guiding him as he settles between her legs.

Her breathing deepens, her chest rising and falling as his lips brush softly against the inside of her knee. The first kiss is tentative, testing, but when she lets out a quiet sigh, her fingers threading into his hair, it’s like every hesitation in him melts away.

He kisses her again, further up this time, his lips grazing over her sensitive skin. Each press of his mouth grows bolder, his confidence building with every soft sound she makes above him. Her thighs tremble slightly under his hands, and the sensation sends a thrill through him, igniting a need to keep going, to keep making her feel this way.

When his lips finally find her, the heat of her, he swears the world stops. His breath catches as he pauses, letting himself take it in—the softness of her, the warmth, the way her body seems to move toward him instinctively.

“That’s it, Dare. Kiss me there,” she says again. So he does, his lips pressing against her pussy with the same care he gave her mouth, slow and deliberate, learning her like he’s memorizing every inch.

Her gasp is soft, a mix of surprise and pleasure, and it drives him on, his tongue darting out to taste her for the first time. The sound both of them make in response—her low, breathy sigh, his guttural groan—is enough to send a spark of pride and awe coursing through him, his hands tightening slightly on her thighs as he settles in to show her just how much he wants this.

Her moans are soft, delicate at first, but as his tongue glides against her, teasing and testing, they grow richer, her body responding instinctively to his every movement. The sounds she makes—half sighs, half gasps—wrap around him, filling the room with something intimate and electric.

His hands remain firm on her thighs, grounding him as he works to memorize the way she feels, the way she tastes. Every motion is deliberate, his lips and tongue tracing her with a quiet intensity that feels more like devotion than anything else. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t push too hard, letting her body guide him as he explores this uncharted territory.

Her fingers thread deeper into his hair, tugging lightly when he finds a particularly sensitive spot, and the quiet, breathless “Oh, Daryl,” that follows makes his head spin. His chest tightens, and a groan rumbles low in his throat, vibrating against her in a way that makes her hips shift toward him, seeking more.

She’s soft and warm, and the way she moves—deliberate but unthinking, like her body can’t help but reach for him—sends another jolt of confidence through him.

“You’re… so good,” she breathes, her voice trembling as her hips tilt toward him.

Encouraged, he presses closer, his tongue circling the sensitive bundle of nerves he’s just beginning to understand, his lips closing gently around her. Her body arches in response, a sharp gasp escaping her as her thighs clench slightly around his head. He groans again, the sound low and guttural, and shifts his hands to hold her hips steady, guiding her gently as he continues.

Her breaths grow faster, more uneven, and the tension in her body builds beneath his hands. He can feel it, the way her thighs shake, the way her fingers tighten in his hair, and it drives him to give her more. Her sex pulses as he continues, moving his tongue with growing confidence, drawing her higher and higher, until her soft, shaky moans turn into something louder, more raw.

“Daryl,” she gasps, her voice breaking as her hips jerk against him. “I’m—oh, God—right there.”

The words send a surge of determination through him, and he doubles down, his tongue and lips working together to push her over the edge. Her body tightens suddenly, her back arching off the bed as a cry spills from her lips, raw and beautiful, and he holds her through it, his hands steady on her hips as she rides out her release on his tongue.

When she finally begins to relax, her body softening beneath his touch, he pulls back slightly, his lips and chin slick, his breath heavy as he watches her, planting more kissing along her inner thigh and at the crevice of her leg and center. Her chest rises and falls in shallow gasps, her skin flushed and glowing, and her eyes flutter open to meet his.

The look she gives him is full of wonder, her lips curving into a soft, breathless smile. She reaches for him, her fingers untangling from his hair to brush against his cheek.

“Daryl,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “That was… incredible.”

He swallows hard, his cheeks flushing as he pushes himself up, crawling up the bed to settle beside her. His movements are tentative, his arms hovering for a moment before he wraps them around her waist, pulling her gently into his chest. “Yeah?” he asks, his voice rough, almost hesitant, like he can’t quite believe her.

She nods, her smile soft and full of warmth as her hand comes up to wipe his chin gently of her slick, “Yeah,” she murmurs, her gaze meeting his.

His heart stumbles in his chest, and he can’t hold back the lopsided grin that tugs at his lips. “Never… never done nothin’ like that before,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

She leans in, still holding his chin between her thumb and finger, her lips brushing his in a kiss that’s slow and deliberate, full of unspoken affection. Her hand slides up to cup his jaw, her thumb stroking lightly over his scruff as the kiss deepens. It’s different from before—softer, unhurried, as if she’s savoring every moment.

“I know, baby,” she says gently against his lips, “but it was perfect,”

His cheeks burn hotter, and he huffs a quiet laugh, pulling his head back slightly to look at her despite the flush spreading down his neck. “Ain’t perfect,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to his words, only quiet humility.

She presses a kiss to his jaw, then to the corner of his mouth, and his hold on her tightens instinctively. “You are to me,” she whispers, her voice so soft it’s almost lost in the quiet of the room.

They shift together, her naked body fitting snugly against his as they settle under the covers. The warmth of her skin against his, the weight of her head resting on his shoulder, feels impossibly right. His hand drifts up to stroke her hair, his fingers tangling gently in the strands as her arm drapes across his chest.

For a while, they just lie there in silence, the steady rhythm of their breathing filling the space between them. Daryl’s mind buzzes with thoughts—gratitude, disbelief, a quiet, overwhelming sense of wonder—but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

Instead, he tilts his head, pressing a soft kiss to her hair, and lets himself hold her close.

[thriftedtchotchkes]

come clean

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel comes home after a messy day on patrol, but you're already in the shower

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, language, getting together, slow buildup, jackson era, smut, handjob, f!masturbation, fingering, unprotected piv, rough sex, shower sex, size kink

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this one goes out to emotional support daydreams! as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated. hope y'all enjoy 💕

Joel’s having a rough day. It’s late, and he’s bone-tired and covered in…well, he’s not really sure what he’s covered in. Mud and bits of dead grass, definitely, but there's splotches of red on his jeans, too. He couldn’t tell you whether it’s his blood or something else’s—the adrenaline still hasn’t completely worn off, so it’s entirely possible he’s not feeling the full extent of his injuries yet.

His day hadn’t started that badly, but it wasn’t a typical morning, either. Maria had stopped him and Tommy at the gate to ask if they'd mind checking out a situation at the dam instead of patrolling their usual route.

Apparently, some of the machinery was acting up and the only person she trusted to oversee the repairs was Tommy. She honestly hadn't given much thought to Joel's part in all of it—their relationship is still pretty tense, even after his return to Jackson, so he was just along for the ride.

Things went downhill fast after they arrived at their destination. No one's really sure how the infected got into the facility, but it was a lucky thing Joel was there after all. With the help of a few guards, they were able to dispatch everything in and around the building without any bites or serious injuries but, boy, did they make a serious mess. Of the facility and the machinery they were supposed to help fix, and of Joel.

So now here he is, exhausted and dirty, getting shit from his kid when all he wants to do is get clean and take a fucking nap.

“Ew, gross,” Ellie groans, clearly not giving two shits about how badly Joel’s day is going or how little she’s helping right now. She had the day off and is somehow still watching movies in the same spot he left her in this morning. “Stop touching things! You’re getting shit everywhere.”

He ignores her and shrugs off his coat, walking into the living room to toss it over the back of his recliner, but she throws him a dirty look that stops him in his tracks.

"Whatever, m'gettin’ in the shower," he grunts, dropping it on the doormat instead. He'll probably have to burn that coat anyway if the stains and…odor are anything to go by.

"Uhhhh, no, actually you're not," she says matter-of-factly, and he raises his eyebrows, eyeing her expectantly when she doesn't elaborate.

"Why the fuck not?"

"Did your hearing get worse or something? Shower's already on,” she nods toward the stairs. He’s not sure how he didn’t notice the sound of running water filtering down from the second floor earlier, but now he’s annoyed that he can’t shower and that she might actually be right about his hearing.

"Well then, I'm waitin' here," he sasses back, taking a seat on the recliner with zero regard to the upholstery.

"Dude!" She’s starting to look as exasperated as he feels. And her reaction isn’t unwarranted. If he touches literally anything in this living room, they’ll probably have to burn it, too.

"Fine, fine, m'not touchin' anythin'," he stands back up, holding his hands up in surrender. "How long's she been in there?"

"Like, five minutes. Probably gonna be a while, knowing her,” she replies with an amused grin. Oh, so she thinks this is funny.

"The fuck do ya expect me to do then, stand here ‘til she's out?" He asks as if it’s not exactly what he’s been doing the entire time they’ve been having this conversation.

"As long as you don't sit on any of the furniture, I don't really give a shit what you do," she shrugs.

He rolls his eyes at her, running a hand down his face in frustration. He’s just about to give up and hose himself down in the yard when she finally offers a solution.

"You could just knock and see if she'll swap out with you. She basically just got in, anyway."

“Y’know what, I think I will,” he grumbles, heading upstairs to the bathroom and leaving Ellie to her shitty 90s sci-fi thriller. She shakes her head, laughing as she slips on her headphones.

“Don’t be too loud up there!”

But with his bad ears, he doesn’t hear her.

God, you needed this shower so badly. It's been a rough day, to say the least, and it’s finally time to get the relaxation you deserve. You got saddled with an extra patrol shift because two of the usual guys had a last-minute change of assignment, and it turned a typical day into an unbelievably exhausting one.

But tonight you got lucky. There was no one around to use up all of the hot water besides Ellie, who’s been glued to the TV all day, and you miraculously got home before Joel. So tonight, you get to enjoy the expensive bottle of shampoo you found at some fancy store in some fancy mall last month, and let yourself forget for a while that there’s fucking fungus monsters out there eating people.

That is—until someone knocks on the door and ends your perfect evening before it begins. Now you’ve got soap in your eyes, and you’re slightly worried because Ellie either needs something from the bathroom or the house is on fire. There’s never an in-between with her.

“Ellie? Everything okay?” you call out, really hoping it’s not the latter.

The voice that responds is muffled and decidedly much deeper than Ellie’s, and you’re momentarily taken off guard before you realize it’s not a burglar. It’s Joel—of course, it’s Joel. He probably got off his shift late and wants to clean up, and now you feel bad for making him wait and using up all the hot water.

You can’t really hear what he’s saying over the shower, so you slide the curtain open to poke your head out. “What? Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

He tries to answer you again, or at least you think he does, but you still can’t make him out, so you tell him to come inside. The door only opens a crack, but it's so quick that there's no time to duck behind the curtain before Joel's face appears and you're both staring at each other blankly.

“…Hi,” you breathe out, praying it’s just your head and not the rest of your body peeking out. “So, um, what were you saying?”

He looks a little embarrassed and it’s adorable, but the thought only crosses your mind for a split second before you notice the rest of him. He’s—there’s really no nice way to say this, but he looks revolting.

There’s dirt everywhere. Matted in his hair, under his fingernails, all over his clothes. It looks like he’s been rolling around on the ground all day, and honestly, maybe he has. He’s also got…gross, is that a chunk of…? Nope. It looks like someone exploded in his face, and he needs a shower. Badly.

The only problem is you’re covered head-to-toe in soap, and you’re pretty sure you’ve only got about 15 minutes of hot water left.

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry to barge in on ya,” he mumbles, looking pointedly away from you. “I came up here to see if you wouldn’t mind pausin’ your shower for a bit, but I, uh…can see that’s gonna be a little difficult.”

You look down at yourself and, yeah, he’s right. You’re dripping water and soap all over the floor. Getting out now would be a pain in the ass, but he also really needs to get in.

“No, no. It’s totally fine! It makes way more sense for me to sit around soapy than for you to, um, stand around like that,” you reason. It’s his turn to look down at himself, and he grimaces. “Just turn around for a sec and we can swap.”

He nods, still looking sheepish, but grateful.

You duck back into the shower to shut the water off and gather up your toiletries to make room for his. You’ve already shoved half of your stuff to one side before you realize it was probably just a waste of time because there was already plenty of space—and that's when it dawns on you.

This stall is pretty big—as far as showers go, anyway. There's no reason you can't both fit in here at the same time. It's also not like he's never seen you naked before. You joined up with Joel and Ellie long before running water was in the picture, so you've had your fair share of awkward bathing encounters. Really, it's just a matter of whether or not he'll go for it.

You pop your head back out, taking a second to admire those strong, broad shoulders of his before getting his attention. Damn, he's a real catch. Hot and respectful. But seriously, he's so disgusting right now and it would be a shame to allow that to continue.

"Hey, Joel," you start, and he glances back carefully over his shoulder. You hesitate for a beat before continuing, “So, hear me out—what if we just…if we both showered…at the same time…”

He looks confused, and you realize how badly you botched that entire sentence. Okay, so talking around it didn't work. You take a deep breath to steady yourself before trying again.

"Just—just get in with me," you say softly. "We can shower together."

His brow furrows, eyes unreadable. He looks like he might be thinking it over, but his silence isn't exactly the most encouraging reaction in the world. Subconsciously, you hold your breath while you wait for an answer.

There’s no way he’s going to go for this, is there? It’s Joel. He can barely look at you in a tank top without blushing, let alone wet and naked. You’re not even sure why you bothered asking. It was clearly a dumb—

“Yeah, guess that makes sense,” he nods, turning back to you fully, and you swear he’s looking at you differently. That's…not what you were expecting. Not that you're complaining in the slightest. He's not even trying to hide his eagerness, and you're starting to think maybe he was waiting for you to ask all along.

"Well, come on in, cowboy."

Joel undresses slowly, eyeing what little of you he can see greedily, and it makes your cheeks burn. It’s like he can’t look away—from your eyes and lips, your collarbone. Even the tiny droplets of water that fall from your hair. It feels more intimate than any moment you’ve ever shared with Joel, and he hasn’t even touched you. Yet, hopefully.

You’re getting impatient. He's making a show of stripping down and it's taking everything you have not to get out of the shower and rip all of his clothes off yourself. His fingers are so thick, and more and more of his tanned, weather-worn skin is exposed to you as they work to unbutton his shirt.

You’re pretty sure you’re drooling at this point, imagining those fingers sinking deep inside you before you can stop yourself. Fuck, you're pent up. And should probably have a lot more shame, but now he's unzipping his jeans, and you feel like you're about to combust.

You let out a pained noise without meaning to and he chuckles, shaking his head as he picks up the pace. "I'm comin', I'm comin'," he teases, dropping his pants to the floor. "Why don't you get the water goin' for me?"

Now you're the one having trouble looking away. Damn, who even is this guy? He’s nothing like the Joel you’ve known for years, and definitely not the Joel who stepped into this bathroom ten minutes ago. If you'd known it would go like this, you would’ve invited him to shower with you a long time ago.

He’s down to just his boxers now, and maybe it's wishful thinking, but he looks like he’s already hard. Swallowing is suddenly extremely difficult, so you shoot him one last appreciative look before doing what he asked.

You turn the water back on and it’s still pleasurably warm as it rains down onto your tense shoulders. The steady pressure soothes some of the nerves while you wait for him to join you, but you’re so caught up in the moment that you don't notice the curtain opening.

"Scoot over," he murmurs behind you, his breath fanning out over the back of your neck. He’s close, so much closer than you expected him to be. You assumed you’d be dancing around each other for at least a little while longer, but it seems like Joel knows exactly what he wants, and it’s not just the shower.

He reaches around you to grab that expensive bottle of shampoo you’ve been looking forward to, his fingers grazing your bare skin, and you shiver despite the heat of the water.

“Or you could stay right here,” he says, even closer now, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “We could help each other out—with washin’ up, I mean.”

You inhale shakily, your reply getting caught in your throat. “Y-yes—yeah, yes…we should definitely do that,” you breathe out.

He chuckles and the sound is surprisingly affectionate. It gives you hope that this won’t just be a one-time thing. That after all this time, he wants you as much as you want him.

You’re the first to initiate physical contact, reaching back to bury your fingers in his hair which, in retrospect, turns out to be a terrible idea. He’s still filthy, and your fingers get caught in tangles and dirt and…probably a lot of other nasty shit you don’t want to think about.

You snort out a laugh, turning around to face him. “I think you’re up first, handsome.”

The corners of his mouth tip up as he nods, and you can’t resist the urge to reach up and trace his bottom lip with your thumb. He kisses the pad of your finger, and you wish so badly that it was your lips.

For the second time tonight, you’re feeling incredibly impatient. You want to feel more of him, let him press you up against the wall and kiss you, touch you the way you both want him to, but it’ll have to wait.

You pluck the bottle from his hands and squeeze a huge dollop into your palm, telling him to turn around with a small smile. His eyes drop to the quirk of your lips for a moment too long before he obliges, and you’re starting to realize he’s getting impatient, too.

You reach up to thread your fingers into his graying hair and, somehow, the strands still feel soft despite everything tangled up in them. It’s going to take a decent amount of scrubbing before it’s back to its normal, fluffy state of disarray, but you’ll make it feel good for him. A little taste of what's to come.

He tips his head back as you massage in the shampoo, letting out the softest groan when your fingernails scratch along his scalp, and you have to press your thighs together to relieve the growing ache in your core. You’re not going to make it through this shower if he keeps making noises like that. But, of course, he does, and they're getting louder.

You can feel his body starting to respond to yours, too. It’s a little cruel how you’re purposely working him up, sliding a washcloth over his shoulders and across his back, letting your fingers skim teasingly over his skin as you stretch your arms around him to reach his front.

His stomach flexes under your palm, and he inhales sharply as your hardened nipples graze across his back. You continue your path down, running your fingers through the coarse hair at the base of his cock, and his hips jerk forward, seeking the friction you so desperately want to provide. He's panting, and you're both having a difficult time holding yourselves back.

Brown and red swirl in the water around your feet and down the drain, and it's enough to tell you that he's finally clean. And that you can finally touch him the way you want to.

Pressing yourself firmly against his back, you reach down to wrap your fingers around his cock and he feels huge in your hand, rock hard and pulsing with his racing heartbeat. You pump him a few times, giving him a firm squeeze at the base, and he keens, already leaking all over himself.

He braces a hand on your hip to steady himself as you trail open-mouthed kisses down his spine, digging his fingers in roughly when you slowly start to jerk him off in earnest.

"T-that's it, pretty girl—,” he pants heavily, eyes dropping down to watch you work him, and you twist your wrist up on the next stroke, thumbing over his head. "Keep goin', just like that."

You whimper damply against his skin at the pet name, feeling a pleasurable whoosh in your belly as your cunt drips pathetically down your thighs. The throbbing between your legs is almost unbearable, but you don't want to let him go, not when his hips are meeting your fist so fucking desperately. You wedge a hand between your bodies, slipping it lower and lower until your fingers rub against your slick folds, gathering some of the wetness to rub soothing circles into your clit.

“I got you, I got you,” you moan at the sudden relief. Your caresses start to match his thrusts, and soon he's trembling in your arms, whimpering like he'll cum any second if you let him. You rub your cheek tenderly against his back, murmuring soft, encouraging words into his heated skin.

"You're doing so, so well," you tell him, and he seizes up at the praise, chest heaving as you focus your attention closer to the tip. "You wanna cum or are you gonna wait for me? Want you to fill me up…can you do that for me?"

For a second, you think your words might've thrown him over the edge, his hips stuttering against your palm even as you slow your movements. But he's still clearly fighting the urge to cum, and that has to mean he wants to fuck you badly.

His hand shakes as it lifts to wrap around yours, guiding you down to squeeze the base of his cock to stave off his orgasm, but you're not making it easy for him. You barely notice your other hand still working your pussy, too turned on to realize you've started pumping two fingers in and out of yourself.

Joel notices, though. Something that sounds almost animalistic tears its way out of his chest as he turns on you, snatching your hand out of your cunt and slamming it against the shower wall. Your fingers are shiny and glistening with your wetness and he leans forward to suck each of them into his mouth, groaning at your taste on his tongue.

The look on his face makes it seem like you're the best meal he's ever had, and you feel a strong, sudden urge to have his tongue in your mouth so you can taste yourself. He pulls off your middle finger with an audible pop, and then you're crashing your lips into his, immediately licking into him.

God, why do you taste so good in his mouth? It's salty and heady, and really shouldn't be as hot as it is, but you can't bring yourself to care as his tongue tangles with yours. You feel two—shit, no, it’s three—of his fingers slip into you, and, holy fuck, they're so much bigger than yours. You're already so full and they feel even thicker at the base, nudging a spot that makes you see stars.

There's no way his cock is going to fit inside you…right? But the thought of him trying anyway almost makes you cum on the spot. Another wave of heat crashes through you and your walls convulse around him, pussy gushing down his fingers, and he abruptly breaks away from your lips, groaning lowly, desperately.

"Fuck, I-I need—shit, I need to fuck you, pretty girl," he twitches against you, leaking a glob of precum as he ruts into your belly. “M'gonna fill ya up real good, just like you wanted—," and you gasp, clamping down on his fingers one more time before he's pulling them out and hauling you into his arms, your legs quickly wrapping around his waist as he shoves you higher up the wall.

His hands roam your skin hungrily before eventually settling under the soft swell of your ass, holding you up as he slicks up his cock between your folds. Every time the tip catches your clit, your hips buck clean off the wall and he presses into you harder to keep you in place. You bury your face in his neck, thighs squeezing into his sides.

"S'not gonna fit," you slur, a little drunk off how good he feels between your legs. The next time his hips buck forward, the blunt head of his cock catches your entrance. "J-Joel—ngh…Joel, s'too big, you have to make it fit, please."

And that's when his patience runs out.

He sheathes himself to the hilt in one harsh thrust, growling roughly into your hair, and the stretch is mind-numbing. He stays deep, letting you adjust to the feeling of being split open, and his head drops to your shoulder. His eyes are locked on where you're joined, your pussy stretched around him almost obscenely.

"Would'ja look at that," he mumbles to himself, rocking in and out slowly as he turns his head to suck a bruise into your collarbone. You reach a hand down curiously, wanting to feel yourself around him, and your jaw drops when your fingers brush where his thickness is forcing your cunt to yield to him. "Knew you could take me…pussy feels s-so fuckin' good, like you were made for me."

You whine pathetically as the ache starts to subside and the need for him to fuck you becomes overwhelming. Pleasure blooms where he's already grazing that heavenly spot again, and you tug his head back by his hair, bringing his attention back up to you.

Everything pauses, just for a moment. You kiss his lips delicately, so much more delicate than he's about to be with your body but, right now, you need him to know that it's more than this for you. More than the sex and the physical intimacy. And the way he kisses you back reassures you beyond a doubt that it's more than this for him, too.

Then, your patience runs out.

"Joel, move."

And suddenly, he's spearing up into that spot deep inside you with reckless abandon, bouncing you on his cock, and you're not entirely sure, but you might actually be screaming.

Your head lolls back, thudding dully against the wall, and he ducks down to wrap his lips around your nipple, tongue circling the nub as he continues you work you up and down his shaft. The sound your pussy's making around him should be humiliating, but it only spurs him on, the wet squelching echoing loudly over the running water.

"Hear that? That's all you, baby. So fuckin' wet, look at that," and he's watching himself again in awe as he fucks in and out of you. You follow his gaze and, holy shit, he's not kidding. You're absolutely soaking him. "You look so good like this, so goddamn pretty stretched around my cock."

You still haven't completely acclimated to how thick he is, not sure you ever actually will, and the syrupy-sweet pain of him has you clawing at his back. You use the wall as leverage, arching just enough so you can actively meet his thrusts, and the new angle sends you reeling.

"Feels so…full, so full," you gasp, your back inching higher up the wall with the force of his thrusts. "K-keep going…there, Joel, there."

It's not just that one spot he's hitting anymore—fuck, it feels like he's everywhere. The ridge of his cock is rubbing your walls just right and every other thrust fucks deep enough to graze your cervix. You sob at the onslaught of overpowering pleasure, burying your hands in his hair to tether yourself as your brain begins to fizzle.

Just a little more, you only need a little bit more. You can feel the lower half of your body locking down and, as if he can sense exactly what you need, he grinds his cock in as deep as it'll go.

"That's it, baby. C'mon, give it to me," he grits against your throat. "Squeezin' me so fuckin' tight, you're almost there."

The coarse hairs at the base of his cock scrape roughly and a little painfully against your swollen clit as you rock against him, but the slide is still so slick and raw that your thighs begin to quake around his waist, and it's—fuck, it's so…so…

"M'gonna fucking cum—gonna…oh fuck, fuck, Joel," your lips part around what you pray is a silent scream and your body goes rigid, cunt spasming violently around him.

He chokes out a moan as you clamp down impossibly tighter on his cock. "Fuckin' hell, there we go," he rasps out shakily as he fucks you into the wall blindingly hard, letting you ride him through your orgasm.

"So, s-so good. Feels so fuckin' good," he's starting to mumble to himself deliriously, squeezing your ass hard enough to bruise. You whimper helplessly as his thrusts get sloppier and more desperate, "Gonna fill you up 'til it's leakin' out…c-can I, pretty girl? Please…bet you'd look so fuckin' good with my cum spillin' out of you—"

Before you can even answer, you feel him throb and then his entire body stills, his cock visibly pulsing as he empties into you. He moans his way through it, his head dropping to your shoulder again to watch himself pump you full of cum just like he said he would.

If you thought you felt full before, it's nothing compared to how you feel right now. He's still so deep, twitching pathetically inside you as he lifts his head to nose at the underside of your jaw. He presses a soft kiss there and you sigh, wrapping your arms and legs around him tighter.

"Christ, Joel, where did that come from?" you rasp out. He chuckles, and his whole body shakes with it, jostling his hips into your sensitive clit. Your pussy flutters around him and his breath hitches, fingers digging into the softness of your thighs. He still hasn't pulled out and you have a feeling he doesn't want to.

"Been waitin' a long time for that," he murmurs, meeting your eyes. You smile softly, and your lips command his attention. "Waited a long time for you."

So full of surprises tonight. You’ve traveled with him for years, settled down with your kid, but you never expected this. For him to finally feel the same way you do, to fuck you like that. You’re suddenly extremely thankful he came home in dire need of a shower.

You run your hands up his chest, settling one on his shoulder and burying the other in his hair. The dirt, the grime—it's all gone now, replaced by your release and the sweat of your exertion. He smells so good, just like your fancy shampoo. Just like home.

You lean in to kiss him deeply and he melts into you, his lips soft and warm against yours. When you part, you're met with that look again. The one he gave you after you asked him to shower with you, and that he hasn't stopped giving you since. Like he's observing you, contemplating you.

You recognize it now—it's hope.

"I've been waiting a long time for you too, Joel."

He kisses you again, holding you close as the water goes ice cold.

thanks so much for reading! 🥰

[johnbrand]

A Promise

Brady had been unenthusiastic about going to the gym. Actually, “unenthusiastic” may have been a light way to put it. Although he should have had the typical confidence of a college senior, his low self-esteem and horrible body image rendered him unable to socialize with others. Brady had made a promise to himself that visiting the gym would solve his problems. He hoped working out would at least combat his issues with body image, and then eventually friends would begin to magically come to him.

But now, standing in the massive gym, Brady could not help but let his eyes widen as he scanned the room of all the machines. Why were there so many–did humans truly have so many body parts to further develop? It was insane, overwhelming in a way that Brady was beginning to feel suffocated.

“Previewing all the options?” a male voice caught Brady by alarm.

“Uhh…” he swung around to greet the mystery person, immediately having to trace his eyes up along the rippled chest before him. Thanks to his smaller, hairless body, Brady appeared like a boy next to this man. “Yeah,” Brady stupidly replied, holding back a blush. He had not meant to lie, but the handsome jock twice his size caught him completely off guard.

Unfazed, the muscular jock stuck out a hand with a pleasant smile, “Michael.”

“Brady.”

“The gym truly has everything a bro needs. It’s so great that the college focuses on funding areas for the majority of students, unlike other schools,” Michael remarked. Obviously there was a backhanded comment in that remark, but Brady was a little too infatuated to notice.

“It is impressive,” Brady agreed. “There’s just so much to work with, I don’t know where to begin.”

Michael chuckled, jabbing a bit at the shorter male. “What? A guy like you! By the looks of it I’d bet you follow a pretty rigid routine.”

“Huh?” Brady peered down at his baggy sweatshirt and sweats, confused.

“Don’t think your pump cover can fool me,” Michael poked. “A bro like you should only wear tight, revealing stuff anyway.”

Brady suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. There were too many places his extra weight hung off him weirdly. “Uhhh…I…I don’t really-”

“What's the point of working out if you don’t show it off.” 

Brady had an argument, but it suddenly left him, replaced by: “I mean…I don’t want to seem rude.” Subconsciously, he rubbed the back of his head, flexing his huge bicep almost on reflex. Brady did not realize just how much his veins were bulging out, squeezed by the tight black tee. 

Michael laughed. “Bro who cares, you’re an alpha male! Take up some space–it’s your right after all.” 

Brady thought back to how people had treated him all throughout life. People did look up to him, followed him around like helpless puppies. He had received high grades without even putting in the work, gotten one-night stands with pretty boys by a simple wink. Being ripped had its privileges.

“C’mon, stand a little taller bro. Put some hair on that chest.” Michael gave him a rough, playful pat on the back. Brady straightened back out after a moment, standing eye-to-eye with the other attractive jock. “There ya go, men like us are born superior. I bet you could even crush skulls between those thighs.

“I’ve cracked open a few watermelons in my day,” Brady showcased the glorious muscles underneath his short shorts. He could not help but take a moment to admire his legs, carved beautifully all the way down to his great stompers. It made Brady feel really good; he did deserve to enjoy his muscular body and display it for all to see.

“You got a girl yet?” Michael suddenly asked, pulling Brady back in.

“Uhhhh…” a flash of concern paused Brady. 

“You gotta be kidding!” Michael announced with an exaggerated amount of shock. “Who’s gonna keep you in check, bro? You probably work up a sweat beating all those fags back into place, so how else are you gonna relieve that pent-up energy if you aren’t smashing any pussy?”

The statement was a lot. Brady did not have a response immediately, but eventually his face softened, releasing a dumb guffaw. “Yeah bro, you’re probably right. It’s hard being the top dog all the time without getting any thanks.”

Michael smirked, “Course it is! Tell you what, flex those pumps for me and I’ll send them to a few of the chicks I know. I promise you’ll get some action by the end of the day.”

“Really?” Brady could not believe this steal rubbing happily at his beard. “Thanks bro!” Eagerly, he pulled up the lower half of his shirt and pumped his massive arms into the air.

“Oof, I guess you really do work up a sweat. Those pits are ripe, man!” Michael applauded. “Now, let’s get you laid!”