#yeah ok back into my hole i go | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

just-jordie-things · 1 year ago

Text

kiss cam surprise - gojo satoru

word count: 2.8k warnings: none! :) summary: when (y/n) kisses shoko during a kiss cam at a baseball game, satoru gets a little ~jealous~ this is half fluff half crack tbh lol a/n: ok i don't take fic requests but someone dropped this in my ask box awhile ago and it resurfaced in my mind so... ur a lucky duck. also! if u like kiss cam fics y'all should check out kiss cam! by @naosaki <3 one of my fav megumi fics <3 ___

For being at an event that they couldn’t care less about, Shoko and (y/n) had been on their best behavior for the entirety of the baseball game. Satoru and Suguru had been so excited to gift the tickets to the girls so they could join them in a fun outing, that they’d tried their best to accept the offer graciously.

Even though neither of them had any interest in going. It was obvious when the tickets were presented to them, from the awkward smiles they’d worn to the way their eyes shifted towards one another as if to make sure the other was thinking the same thing- why wouldn’t they just go on their own?

Shoko and (y/n) would’ve happily spent the day doing their own thing had Satoru and Suguru gone to the game just the two of them. Maybe some light shopping, or maybe they’d hole up in one of their rooms and eat junk and watch romcoms all day. Either way… any activity would have been more entertaining to them than this.

They barely even knew the rules of the game, only cheering when the guys did, and sharing knowing looks when they tried not to laugh at just how uninterested they were.

Still, they did their best to participate. Both glad in the same colors of the cheap merch Satoru and Suguru had treated them to. (y/n) was in a jersey too big for her that hung off her body awkwardly, and Shoko wore a hat with a bill that wouldn’t stop dipping over her eyes, but they didn’t complain. They were very good sports for their friends, only sneaking off for a smoke break one time. They even made a few trips for snacks and drinks so that Suguru and Satoru wouldn’t miss any of the games. Sure, maybe they were trying to stretch their legs and ease the ache in their butts from the uncomfortable plastic seats, but they had the right intentions!

“This is fun, right?”

When (y/n) turned to him, Satoru was beaming from ear to ear. His sunglasses were slipping down his nose due to the way his ball cap bumped into them, and his bright eyes seemed to hold even more light from his obvious joy.

She couldn’t lie to him if she wanted to. It was too cute to see him this excited just from sharing the experience with his friends. He’d had his arm draped over the back of her seat for the majority of the game, and whenever his team got the upper hand, he’d eagerly tap or shake at her shoulder to involve her in the hype. (y/n) was grateful for the que to pay closer attention to what was happening, but she did fluster and blush every time he’d touch her.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Shoko, who would knowingly knock her elbow from her other side, a small smirk on her face when (y/n) would peek at her from the corner of her eye. She tried to ignore the silent teasing, but after a while it got hard with how much it was happening.

With a smile and a nod of her head, Satoru’s expression lit up even more. “Yeah, I’m actually having a really great time,” She said. It didn’t matter that she was more interested in all the attention he’d been giving her than the great seats they had for the game. He didn’t need to know that part. “We should do this more often” She adds before thinking.

Once again, Shoko’s elbow was bumping into hers, and this time a less-than-discreet snort could be heard. (y/n) sent her elbow back into hers in retaliation, silently scolding her for eavesdropping.

“Yeah?” Satoru fixes his cap so that he can push his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Tickets weren’t that expensive, we could go to more games this season, if you want?” He suggests.

Bullshit, she thinks with a smile telling him that’s exactly what she was thinking. Nothing was expensive to the Gojo Satoru.

“Yeah, maybe” She says without much commitment.

Going to baseball games just the two of them? The idea had her heart soaring. Having to sit through a game that could take more than three hours was less than ideal.

Soon enough a break in the game came, the announcers hyping up the crowd with some silly chants and trivia on the big screen. (y/n) found herself slumping down into her seat, aimlessly tapping around on her phone to pass the time. She hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice the change in game on the big screen, that is until there was a hand smacking at her shoulder again.

Looking up, she’d almost expected to see the game in motion again. Satoru had only been tapping at her like that when an exciting play was in action. However this time, he’s pointing up at the screen.

She gapes when she sees that she’s displayed on the screen. The camera has a wide angle that includes Shoko and Satoru on either side of her, the words Kiss Cam spelled out in pink cursive above them. It’s complete with lipstick stains and sparkles for dramatic touch.

“Oh my god” She mumbles, hoping that her blush is undetectable by the camera, seeing as her face felt scorching hot from embarrassment.

The longer the camera is focused on her, the rowdier the crowd around her becomes. Eagerly chanting ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ like a bunch of teenagers at their first house party.

Satoru is grinning so hard his face hurts. This was like a dream come true. The easiest excuse in all of history to get a kiss from the girl he’s had a crush on since he was fifteen was just presented to him on a silver platter- and the crowd’s cheering only spurred him on further.

Even Suguru is giving him a smirk and a nod of approval. He’d heard more earfuls than most about the ins and outs of Satoru’s feelings for (y/n). Although on occasion, Shoko or Nanami were on the receiving end of his lovesick rambling.

His heart is about to burst out of his chest when he turns to (y/n). His smile is starting to hurt and for a second he realizes he’s going to have to relax to actually kiss her.

“Are you okay with-?”

The question barely comes out before he’s cut short.

(y/n) had already turned away from him, swiveled in her seat to face Shoko. It’s like he’s watching it happen in slow motion.

They both giggle at their idea, and (y/n) takes off Shoko’s hat while she’s quickly tucking her hair behind her ears to clear her face. And then time goes back to normal and all too quickly, Satoru watches as they lean towards each other to share a kiss.

It’s just a peck, so swift and chaste it’s over as soon as it happens. The crowd hollers and then are just as quickly getting excited over the next unsuspecting pair on camera.

(y/n) and Shoko laugh a bit more before sitting back in their seats, going back to their phones and striking up conversation about some anime they’d been interested in. Both, or at least (y/n), completely oblivious to the offended gape on Satoru’s face.

That was totally his kiss, after all! It was his perfect moment to finally take things to the next level with his long time friend that he’d harbored a crush on.

To make matters worse, Shoko wasn’t as innocent as she was pretending to be, sending a smirk his way when (y/n) was too focused on her phone. He scowled back at her. She knew about his crush! She knew he was going to go for that kiss!

With a huff, he stood up from his seat and made his way out of the stands. He needed a bottle of water, or a snack, or just some damn space away from his so-called friend that was teasing him for snatching his kiss.

Satoru leaving so suddenly finally perked (y/n’s) attention. He was gone too fast for her to call after him, but she worriedly watched him scale the steps with ease as he headed towards the hall of vendors. She locked eyes with Satoru, raising a brow in silent question.

“He’s just being pouty,” Suguru replied casually, shrugging his shoulders before turning back towards the field. “You wanna go after him? Be my guest”

(y/n) sighed, turning the other direction towards Shoko.

“What’s he so pressed about?” She mutters. “What even happened?”

Shoko rolls her eyes, a lazy grin stretching on her lips.

“I dunno,” She says in a teasingly melodic tone of voice, suggesting she knew exactly what set their friend off. “Maybe pluck up some courage and go ask him?”

With another sigh of defeat, (y/n) slumped back into her seat, her thumbnail wedged between her teeth as she mulled over the idea. A nervous flutter settled in her chest, a persistent buzz of confusion and anxiety distracting her even more so from the game starting up again.

When she suddenly shot out of her seat, muttering some excuse about needing to stretch her legs before she raced up the stairs in the direction she’d seen Satoru head off towards.

Two sets of eyes watched her as she hurried off. Suguru and Shoko locked eyes once she was out of sight, both of them snickering between themselves. It didn’t exactly take an active imagination to know exactly what was coming next.

To her surprise, (y/n) found Satoru as soon as she left the stands. Moping around the upper part of the arena with a half-empty bag of cotton candy. She couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, effectively getting herself caught by him.

“Why’re you up here eating your feelings?” (y/n) speaks first, eyes narrowed inquisitively. Satoru scoffs as she approaches him, snatching a piece of the pink sweet right out of his hands.

“I’m not eating my feelings” He replies unconvincingly, digging the hole deeper as he shoves a rather large piece of cotton candy into his mouth.

(y/n) rolls her eyes, but the smile on her face is impossible to hide.

“Sure,” She remarks. “You’re totally not pouting right now. C’mon just fess up. What’s wrong?”

“I’m not pouting. My friend betrayed me, I think I’m right in being upset about that?” It’s a rhetorical question, followed by another shove of cotton candy into his mouth.

(y/n) frowns.

“Betrayed you?” She repeats. “Did I miss something? Who betrayed you?”

Satoru groaned, tossing the remainder of his cotton candy into the trash dramatically. (y/n) had to resist the urge to laugh, not understanding where this whole little tantrum came from.

“Shoko! Obviously! I mean she knew that that kiss was-!”

He stops mid sentence, realizing where this outburst was going to lead him if he didn’t relax and go back to his usual suave demeanor. (y/n) shook her head in confusion, her brows pinching together.

“Was what?” She asked, a breathless laugh escaping her. “Meaningless? A joke between friends?” She suggested. “You’re mad about a kiss?”

“Of course I’m mad-! Well, I- I guess not mad, I’m not mad at her,” He stammered over his words, not knowing how exactly to explain the complicated feelings.

(y/n) tried to be patient while he stammered and struggled to make himself clear. Mostly because she was partially amused by the whole thing. Satoru prided himself in being what he called a smooth-talker, and while normally she’d laugh at him for that, it was a shock to see him behave the total opposite right in front of her.

“But that wasn’t exactly fair, I mean, she was just trying to rile me up. And- like- yeah, that’s what we usually do, we pick on each other but that just- that just wasn’t fair! That was my kiss and she knew it! And she just-”

“What do you mean ‘your kiss’?”

Finally Satoru had been rendered speechless, his mouth still hanging open mid rant, jaw slacking a bit as he realized he’d gotten carried away. (y/n’s) expression almost mirrors his, her eyes wide and lips parted, even as she holds her breath and waits for him to clarify.

But he’s completely frozen in front of her.

“Satoru,” She waves her hand in front of his face, trying to bring him back to reality. “What did you mean ‘your kiss’?” She repeats, shaking her head at him.

“I- I just… I meant that-”

Words are spilling out of his mouth without direction, without knowing what the hell the right thing to say was. He’d known (y/n) for two years now, and in all of that time he’d been pretty proud of the persona he’d built up to be sure that he was always the cool one, the guy she could rely on to be smooth and popular. He felt pathetic now, letting his own secrets slip and stuttering over himself like an idiot.

The corners of (y/n’s) lips twitched into a smile the longer he flustered over who-knows-what. It catches his attention when she unintentionally lets out a little laugh.

“Sorry,” She apologizes right away. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you. I just… are you trying to say that you wanted me to kiss you? For the cam game?”

She tries not to sound so hopeful that it comes across desperate, but the mere idea that Satoru had wanted a kiss from her had her chest thrumming with butterflies.

Satoru’s throat feels dry, and suddenly her gaze feels like a spotlight. The intensity has the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He pulls the hat off his head to run a hand through his hair to relieve the heat.

“Well… yeah,” He admits, sounding more bashful than she ever would have thought he was capable of. Her small smile turned a little brighter, and he tried to get his voice back. “Not that I need a silly game to kiss you, obviously-”

“Obviously” She repeats the word fondly, giving him a small nod.

“But- s-still, the kiss cam, would’ve been… fun” He admits sheepishly. She giggles, nodding her head again.

“Well, it was fun, for the record,” She teases, earning a roll of his eyes from behind his shades. She steps closer to him then, a tilt in her head as she takes in the obvious nerves written on his face. “But if you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve just asked”

“I was going to,” He argued, his hands moving about erratically. “It's not my fault Shoko beat me to it!”

She giggled at his drama, reaching out and grabbing his hands as they flew around, still laughing as he froze up again from the sudden touch.

“You know, it didn’t exactly mean anything when Shoko did it,” She suggested. “I know there’s not any cameras… but…”

Satoru raised a brow.

“(y/l/n) (y/n),” He gasped dramatically, “Are you asking me to kiss you?”

Her cheeks tint pink as she bites back her smile, giving him a small nod of her head. He smiles back at her, pulling his hands out of hers and dropping his hat so he could lay them across her jaw, tilting her head upwards so he didn’t have to lean down as far to reach her.

She doesn’t wait a second longer for him, closing her eyes and leaning up on the tips of her toes so she could press her lips against his. Satoru’s quick to reciprocate, his fingers flexing against her skin, holding on as tight as he can without hurting her as he deepens the kiss right away. She has to grab him by the shoulders to keep herself balanced.

His lips are soft, and taste sugary like the cotton candy he’d been eating. She’d always thought he’d taste a little bit like sugar, what with how much of it he consumes. It makes her smile to know first hand.

When they break the kiss, he steals one more quick peck from her, grinning with excitement before he pulls away so he can pick up his forgotten hat from the ground.

“Feel better now?” She teases as he slings his arm around her shoulder to head back towards their seats.

“Mhm,” He hums, pulling his cap over her head and smiling as it slips down her forehead. He pokes it upwards with his index finger, then pokes the tip of her nose. “But next game I bring you to, I get the kiss cam kiss, alright?”

There’s a gleam in her eye and a blush on her face as she leans into him, matching his steps as they head down the stairs to their seats. As shameless as ever, she can’t help but tease him.

“Then sit on my left next time” ___

xoxo ~ jordie

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru brainrpt #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo imagine #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo satoru friends to lovers

3K notes · View notes

ellecdc · 5 months ago

Note

Okay after many many thoughts I think I've got it!

Barty showing up to the gryffindor quidditch after party (cause James and Sirius are great players and know what they're doing) bloody and bruised cause he overheard some butthurt slytherins talking shit about James and their girl. And he wasn't gonna let that slide.

I'm not sure if it's clear, but this is in regards to the darksun x reader were talking about yesterday 😅

oooooooof ok.......*throws this at you all and runs* NEW SHIP ALERT: I'm new to this, be nice to me hahahahaha

poly!darksun x fem!reader at a bloody Gryffindor afterparty

CW: Barty shows up bloody and bruised but he's chuffed about it, reader won't stop slapping Peter [it's not that serious], Sirius is not that serious -> pairing = james potter x reader x barty crouch jr

It had been perhaps only 25 minutes since the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw game ended and the afterparty in Gryffindor tower was already in full swing.

And what Remus meant by full swing was that Sirius was literally swinging from the chandelier, Marlene and Lily were challenging one another to a game of ‘who could spin the most times without getting sick’ (which Remus felt was a game that everyone was going to lose), and you and Peter were halfway through a very intense muggle card game called slap which did indeed involve slapping and, apparently, swearing and trash talk.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Peter muttered as he rubbed the back of his hands dejectedly.

“Gonna have to be faster than that, Wormy.” You taunted as you collected his pile of cards.

“Oi, if she has so much as one welt on the back of her hand, Pete; there will be hell to pay.” James called as he came up behind you.

You turned to look at James then, and Remus was sure your smile was nearly blinding in your excitement and energy if James’ lovesick look was anything to go by.

“Yeah, yeah Prongs; she’s sodding winning by a landslide anyways, no need to get your knickers in a twist.” Peter muttered (rather petulantly for only having lost a round of a silly card game if you asked Remus).

“I don’t think it’s Prongs you have to worry about, my dear Wormy.” Sirius called from his new home in the chandelier, nodding towards the entrance as Barty stepped through the portrait hole.

Remus watched as both you and James seemed to melt now that your third was here. He knew that it hadn’t been easy persuading Barty to participate in such “Gryffindorian displays of pompous pride” as he had called it, but you had somehow been able to convince him to celebrate the team’s wins if not only for James’ sake.

And, as Sirius would pretend, maybe a little bit for his sake as well. Remus didn’t have the heart (nor the patience) to tell him that was a fat chance.

“I’m not afraid of Junior.” Pete muttered darkly as he watched you reset the game in front of them.

“Circe’s tits…perhaps you should be, Pete.” Sirius bit out through a grimace, causing the group to all turn their attention to the Slytherin boy.

Remus wasn’t exactly sure what the Slytherin practice was when getting ready for a celebratory quidditch afterparty, but based on Barty’s current state, it seemed that ritual consisted of at least one fist fight with a particularly angry hippogriff.

“What happened?” You nearly shrieked as you abandoned your card game and you and James made for your boyfriend.

Barty let out a breath before he broke out into a smile. “Sorry I’m late! Had to take care of something on my way here.”

Remus was sure that the way Barty was grinning at the two of you had to be horribly painful for the busted lip he was currently sporting as his teeth quickly turned a pinky/red colour.

“And what were you taking care of? A graphorn?” James asked incredulously as you guided Barty to a stool in order to fuss over him.

“Don’t be daft, James. There’s no graphorns in Hogwarts.” Barty waved him off, eyes moving to you as you assessed his face.

“Who did you run into, Barty?” You pressed; voice taking a no-nonsense tone that had Peter and Remus sharing a nervous look.

“Just some Ravenclaws who were a little disappointed by the end of today’s match, is all.” He offered happily; pulling you closer towards him from where you were standing between his legs by the back of your thighs, watching you adoringly as you summoned a cloth to dab at his lip.

“That’s all, is it?” You deadpanned, clearly not buying his story.

“I hardly think you were too fussed over some comment about quidditch scores, Barty.” James chided lovingly.

“Of course I did! I love quidditch.” Barty spat defensively.

“Yeah, but you hate the Gryffindor team.” Sirius called from his chandelier.

“That’s not true! I’m shagging the captain for Salazar’s sake.”

“Okay, well…maybe don’t shout that?” You muttered as you looked around in embarrassment, earning a bark of laughter from James as he rubbed your shoulders consolingly.

“I don’t know, bubs; I don’t see you risking showing up late and bloody over discourse on match scores.” James continued, clearly finding this more amusing than you were as you angrily cast a glacius on a cup and held it to Barty’s jaw which was quickly purpling in colour.

“Okay, perhaps they said a few other things; it’s no big deal.” Barty offered dismissively, though Remus (and likely you and James) noticed the way that his grip seemed to strengthen on your thighs at his admission.

“Yeah? Like what?” You encouraged.

Barty let out a defeated sigh as he finally turned his gaze to you. “You know I don’t like people talking about you; either of you.” He admitted quietly.

You shook your head in disappointment but let out a sympathetic sigh.

“Wait, what’d they say about our girl?” James said then, craning his neck around you in order to look at Barty pointedly.

“It doesn’t matter Jamie! It appears he’s already taken care of it, yeah?” You hissed as you swatted at him with the cloth that you had been tending to Barty with.

James quickly caught the end of the cloth and used it to pull you into him, planting a smacking kiss to your face.

“I did take care of it!” Barty repeated excitedly. “Can I have a kiss?” He asked sweetly, smiling at you expectantly as you rubbed James’ kiss off of your cheek.

“Absolutely not.” You grumbled as you ignored his disbelieving scoff.

“Why not!?” He cried out as you stepped out from between his legs.

“Barty, I am not rewarding you for bad behaviour.” You declared as you plopped yourself down in front of Peter again, ordering him to reset your card game.

James quickly looked between the two of you before stepping between Barty’s legs to give him his own kiss.

“You are such a simp, James Potter.” Remus taunted under his breath as to not alert you to your boyfriend currently enabling your other boyfriend.

“Yeah, yeah; laugh it up now. But I get to watch you try to wrestle Pads out of the chandelier later, so I don’t think you have a leg to stand on, Moons.”

“He can sleep up there tonight, for all I care.” Remus muttered petulantly as he crossed his arms.

Sirius wouldn’t sleep up there tonight; Remus knew it, James knew it, Sirius knew it, likely the whole bloody school knew it. But Remus would pretend he wasn’t as big a simp as James Potter, at least a little bit longer, in order to preserve what little superiority he held for the time being.

831 notes · View notes

kisakis-boyfriend · 12 days ago

Text

Private Affairs

Author's Note: This was just supposed to be a random thirst, but my hands wouldn't leave the keyboard 😵‍💫 Part 2 coming later today!

Pairings: Dan Heng x male reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Dan Heng, breeding kink, Dan Heng's hole is referred to as "pussy, cunt, & boypussy", implied Caelus/Dan Heng/Reader at the end

For once, Dan Heng was thankful that the door to his room could be locked. While he normally had no problem with people visiting out of the blue, well… if anyone walked in at this very moment, they'd probably find themselves at the end of his spear.

So, of course, the usual occupants of the Astral Express would need his assistance. Every last one of them, to be more precise.

The first to stop by is March 7th. Her perky voice chirps just outside of the room; “Hey, Dan Heng, are you busy? I need your opinion on something!”

“Y-yeah– a little busy right now. Can it wait?”

There's a strain in his voice that's not normally present. March picks up on the change immediately, questioning in a suspicious tone. “Are you feeling ok? You sound funny…”

She can't see it, but she can almost feel Dan Heng roll his eyes. “I am… I'm just– unf~ mm~ just searching for something in the archives…” His chest bangs into the wall, and from his parted lips flows a noise that he prays his friend didn't hear. “AaAAaaHhhH~ Something deep in the archives… oh fuck–!”

She eventually leaves, though she has to be reassured a few times. What she also didn't see was her friend pressed up against the wall on the other side of the door, biting his sleeve and digging his fingers into the wall while you—Dan Heng's good ol' pal—breed his hole.

You're still holding onto his waist when Pom Pom rushes up to the door, shouting something about the lighting in the cars…?

“I-I'll be out there to look at it in a bit…” Dan Heng stutters, hoping the lop-eared conductor will take that as a sufficient answer.

Just as soon as you hear their little footsteps disappear, you're sliding back inside, dead set on emptying another load into your "friend's" boypussy.

In typical Dan Heng fashion, he's chastising you about "getting caught" or "someone hearing you" and "you're such a pervert". But as he's saying all of these things, he's still not stopping you from pounding his cunt — in fact, he's even giving you orders to "at least fuck me like you mean it".

As luck would have it, Himeko passes by next — who most likely hears the sickening slick noises of your dick as it breaches new territory, going even deeper into Dan Heng's fucked out hole.

“Dan Heng, is everything alright…?”

This time, you have to answer, because if your "good friend" dares to speak right now, something other than words would spill out. “Heeeyy Himeko! We're a little busy at the moment. Did you need something?”

The knowing smile on her lips comes through as she hums “Oh, it's nothing. Don't let me interrupt~”

Well…at least you can count on her not to rat either of you out…

Even with the countless interruptions, you've managed to keep a bruising pace — you even have Dan Heng on the cusp of becoming nonverbal. His perfect ass bounces with your rough thrusts, taking your cock like a perfect little angel.

You lift his leg up, and with this new angle you're able to slam into his prostate. The garbled sounds pushing their way out of him—as well as his cunt clenching down on your cock—drive you mad, and you end up breeding him again just as Welt stops by–

“Dan Heng, hello?” Everything comes to a halt — Dan Heng's cock slaps against his stomach as you shove your dick all the way inside, plugging him up and forcing him to stand on his tiptoes. His eyes cross, and before he can moan so loudly the entire train would be able to hear it, you cover his mouth.

“Yes?” you reply.

“Y/n? Is Dan Heng with you?”

You feel your cock throb, and you're sure Dan Heng does too. You can also feel the heavy amount of cum stuck inside of him—unable to drip out with your dick still inside. His hole grips your shaft tightly, and you suppress a groan before answering the man outside of the door; “Yeah, he's sorta focused on looking up something.”

No indication that Welt suspects anything. “I see. If you could both find me later, there's something I wanted to show you. It's no rush.” His footsteps fade back to the parlor car.

Dan Heng gradually slumps against the wall, held up only by your tight grip in his hair and the other hand on his waist. Not even the energy to glare at you as he whines.

Another set of footsteps approaches — your last visitor is none other than Caelus. What absolute perfect timing.

Caelus knocks on the door, sounding surprised when your voice is the one that greets him. “Hey, trailblazer, need something?”

“Just looking for Dan Heng. Is he in there?”

“Sure is. You can come in.” you reach over and unlock the door with an audible clunk.

!!!!!!

“O-oh! I um…” the silver haired man stares at his two friends. Dan Heng — flushed and whining. His dick still dripping a bit of cum onto the floor. And you — a little worn out, but cocky as you remain buried inside of Mr. Cold Dragon Young, with a creamy ring around the base of your cock.

Caelus' hands shake as he fumbles for the door handle, but it's no use. You slide Dan Heng's door shut and lock it again, finally speaking in an expectant tone. “Well—gonna stand there like a deer in headlights, or do you wanna help me clean up?”

#my writing #oneshot #dan heng #dan heng smut #dan heng x male reader #dan heng x reader #honkai smut #hsr smut #hsr x male reader #hsr x reader #male reader #dom reader #top reader #dom male reader #sub male character #sub hsr

444 notes · View notes

aurorawritestoescape · 3 months ago

Text

FILL ME UP || Joel Miller x f!reader || 1,3k

Summary: Joel and you can’t get enough of each other

Or Joel stuffs you full to the brim

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, pwp, horny!Joel, cum kink, cum play, unprotected piv (duh), creampies, cum talk, dirty talk, fingering, sex toy talk. The pics are for the mood only. Reader has no specific physical descriptions

A/n: Dedicated to all my fellow creampie lovers🤍Kisses to my beta @milla-frenchy😘 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕

same couple HEATWAVE collection || MASTERLIST

“Where, baby?”

“Inside, Joel, please, inside.”

“Oh, yeahh,” Joel moans when his balls draw up and he begins pumping his cum into your spent pussy. You accept it greedily with your arms and legs tightly wrapped around his body.

As soon as his cock discharges the last rope of his warm load, he falls down on you, covering you fully with his huge heavy body.

Yet his weight is never suffocating, only comforting.

Just like his love.

“That was amazing,” he mumbles into your ear, words muffled by his and your panting. For a few minutes you’re lying in each other’s arms, relishing these moments of intimacy.

Then Joel sits up on his heels between your open legs and runs his fingers through his curls, darker with sweat, pushing them off his handsome face. Your body might be satiated for now but your eyes are always hungry for him so you’re feasting on the image of his strong torso, glistening with postfuck dew. It seems that he can’t get enough of you either.

“Look, baby, I’m sipping out,” he comments while his eyes are focused on your still clenching hole, stretched by his girthy cock. You feel his cum slide down between your asscheeks, the sensation arousing especially with Joel’s lustful stare glued to your pussy.

“Oh…enjoying the view?” you ask, curling your lips, which are puffy after Joel’s kisses.

“Fuck, yeah. Can I push it back?” he asks, not tearing his eyes off your cunt, leaking his cum.

“Ok.”

Biting his lower lip, Joel brings his hand to your pussy and glides two fingers up between your asscheeks, gathering the runaway cum, and slowly and gently pushes them into your hole. You wantonly moan his name, watching his digits disappear in your pussy.

“Ya like that, baby?”

“Yes and no. Still very sensitive,” you reply, feeling a little sore, but Joel doesn’t stop moving his thick fingers in and out of your entrance, and soon any discomfort vanishes, and your walls greedily clamp around his digits.

“I have a feeling you want me to continue.”

Proving him right, you close your eyes and push your head back into the pillow, drowning fast in the pleasure of his caress.

“Damn, baby, ya makin’ me wanna go again.”

“Can you?” you purr, as your eyes flutter open.

“Not yet, minx. But I can play with you.”

With a naughty smirk, he pulls his fingers out and moves them up and around your oversensitive clit, careful not to graze it with his seed-covered pads.

“Your cum’s the best lube,” you murmur, “but I love it inside me more. Do you like coming inside me, Joel?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Why? It’s not because you want me to get pregnant, right?” you smile, watching him coat your folds with his spend.

“No, I don’t. Well… I guess the instinct is still here.”

His hand slithers up your mound and to your belly where he rubs it gently.

“I jus’ love leaving you a part of me.”

Joel’s confession paired with his shy smile fill your belly with butterflies. His thumb caresses your skin and he continues,

“Also, ya know, imagining you leaking me for days gets me crazy hard. Thinking of your pussy wet and shiny with my cum when you go about your day. Damn, I’m getting hard again.”

“Really?” Your ears perk up and you lift yourself on your elbows.

“Want my dick, baby?”

“Yes, please.”

“Good girl.”

The next moment he grabs his cum-covered cock and pushes it into your already full pussy with one determined thrust. Joel moans, the sound alone is the best compliment.

“Damn,” he groans, as his head falls back. “I should do it more often.”

“What?”

“Fuck my cum back into you.”

“My god, Joel,” you whine, reveling in the sensation of his stiff length claiming your pussy again, while another climax is already building.

“What about you?” he asks, accentuating the last word with a deep stroke of his hips.

“What?”

Your mind is clouded with lust and pleasure.

“Why do you love me coming inside, baby?”

“Same as you, Joel,” you reply, breathing heavily while he starts pounding your cunt faster. “I love when you give me a part of yourself. And it turns me on when I feel your cum between my folds the next day— Ahh— it’s like you just fucked me and stuffed me again. Or like your cock—ahh— still deep in my pussy— filling me.”

“Damnit, baby. Gonna make me come again too soon.”

“Please, Joel.”

“What? Give you more?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m so lucky to have you.”

You smile, hearing his words, so sweet, accompanied by the obscene squelching of your pussy around his huge cock.

“And it’s a reminder that I made you feel good and now I get to keep the result. Like a gold medal.”

Joel chuckles, eyes hazy and blown out.

After a few moments of railing you, he growls through gritted teeth trying not to bust his load just yet,

“Ya know what I wanna try on you?”

“What, Joel?”

“A pussy plug.”

Your whole being is focused on the bliss between your legs, on the man you love, towering over you, and you think it’s impossible to be more turned on right now, but a new wave of lust floods your core and a needy moan escapes your parted lips.

“You like the idea, baby?” Joel asks through heavy panting. “Imagine me plugging you. Jus’ storin’ my cum in you. Keeping my load warm and your pussy full.”

“Like your cock is still there?” You whine, barely able to concentrate, the sensations and the arousal, overwhelming you.

“Yeah.”

“Sounds fun. Maybe not very comfortable but—“

“Yeah, I guess.”

“But I wanna try.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ll have your cum inside me all day. So hot.”

“Fuck yeah.”

You know your words are driving you both insane with want while his cock is rutting into you but it’s impossible to stop now.

“Imagine how hard you’ll get from knowing that I’m working, wearing it. Or grocery shopping, with your load inside me.”

“Hnggg…,” is all Joel can muster to say between your words, driving you both insane with want, and his cock, rutting into you relentlessly.

“And when the day is over you’ll get between my thighs and pull it out.”

“Shit. What’s next baby?”Joel asks, biting his plush lower lip.

“Then you’ll tell me to lick the plug clean.”

“Fuck, dirty girl.”

“Yeah. I’ll be tasting your cum and my slick, sucking on it, while your cock pushes into me. Into my flooded pussy.”

“You’ll be so fucking wet.”

“And leaking, Joel. Just imagine the sounds my full pussy’ll make when you’re fucking me.”

“Just like now. Fuck, gotta fill you more. Your belly’s gonna bulge soon with all the cum ima give you.”

“Yes, Joel.”

You’re completely gone now, eyes closed, fingers twitching your pebbled nipples, while Joel’s snapping his hips fast and hard against your ass.

“Damn, my thighs and balls are fucking drenched. So much cum already. Bet your little asshole covered in it too.”

“Ahhhh, Joel, I’m coming.”

“Yeah, c’mon, baby. Squeeze my dick, make me jizz again inside this needy cunt.”

You explode on his cock, curling your toes and crying out with euphoria, that’s shaking your body and making every nerve light up.

Your clamping pussy sends Joel over the edge, and he begins squirting his fresh load into you, still moving his cock, slowly but assertively mixing the old cum with the new inside your pulsating core.

When his balls are empty, Joel lies on top of you and you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders.

“Don’t pull out,” you mumble, barely able to speak, “You’ll be my plug for now.”

Joel smirks against your cheek, before kissing you,

“Always happy to be your plug, dirty girl.”

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!💖🌺

same couple HEATWAVE COLLECTION

MASTERLIST

tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @survivingandenduring @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk

If you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know!💕

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal smut #fill me up fic #heatwave collection

958 notes · View notes

macfrog · 9 months ago

Text

psyche and cupid | one shot

happy valentine's, beautiful people. i love you with all of my heart. xx shoutout to @familyvideostevie for putting joel's slutty little thigh holster into my head and, well. yeah. pairing: jackson!joel miller x fem!reader summary: valentine's day with joel doesn't go to plan. warnings: part two never happened!!!!! abby who!!!, established relationship, cursing, half joel pov, unspecified age gap, hints to reader having a sliver of ptsd, jesse is alive and well because he is my prince and i said so, reader has dark pubic hair, masturbation, somnophilia (not discussed in this fic but she is a-ok with it) and therefore dubcon, sprinkle of praise kink, oral (f!receiving), someone comes in his underwear, these two goofballs are big in love word count: 5.5k

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩷

It’s not in his nightstand.

Not hung over the newel post, either.

He said he left it on the kitchen counter yesterday, right after he got home; said he woke up this morning and it was gone. And then he muttered something of an accusation that someone had tidied it away and forgotten where, and that started a whole new argument.

You know what, Joel? You’re following his tall figure as it sways down the hallway, his strides longer and considerably smoother than your flurrying shadow in his wake. Maybe if you weren’t going out today, we wouldn’t be having this problem.

His chin tilts upward, salt and pepper scruff angled to the ceiling with a ha slung from his throat. Yeah, he tosses a glance over his shoulder, we’d just be havin’ it tomorrow, instead.

You scoff in response, stepping where his boots lift off from, following the heavy thud thud thud like a cat at his heels until he’s rounding the corner towards your bedroom.

You pass over the messy trail of your jeans and Joel’s pajama bottoms, your underwear and his leading in a trail to the unmade bed – sheets like a rippled wave painted golden by the dawn.

The two of you split off – Joel lifts the cotton and watches it float back down over the flat of your mattress. Nothing.

You take the closet – the squeal of metal on metal harsh in your sleepy ears as you shove the hanging clothes aside, swiping around at the floor. Also, unsurprisingly, nothing.

Deflated, you straighten, stars peppering your vision and a tatty sleepshirt pinched in your fingers. Led Zeppelin – some band Joel was into before everything went to shit. You’ve listened to him out on the porch before, plucking strings in time with the record wobbling on the turntable inside.

The collar torn, sleeves pecked with holes, print lost to the years and the dryer – but each time you drape it over your shoulders, he smiles and hums some song from a world you’ll never know.

It’s sweet, when you’re in the mood to be wooed.

Which, incidentally, is not right fucking now.

His eyes flit down to the peeling, grayscale image – and that same smile attempts to bloom on his lips. That’s cute, but it ain’t my holster, pretty bird.

His smirk dampens quickly when he looks back up, snuffed by your stony expression.

You whip the tee down to the foot of the bed. You are a piece of fuckin’ work sometimes, do you know that? you growl, storming by him for the en suite.

Joel’s rough hand slips around your wrist, tugging gently but letting you drag him through to the bathroom.

Just go, Joel, you groan, the chill of the room prickling goosebumps on your naked legs. Give me some peace and quiet. ‘s not like I’m gonna be seein’ much of you today, anyways.

Is that what this is about? His voice echoes in the morning blue, round in your ears as you hang your head over the sink. Pickin’ a fight ‘cause you’re pissed I’m goin’ out?

I didn’t start the fight, you protest. You’re the one who lost his holster.

Didn’t lose it… he mumbles, lips closing around the sentence when he catches your glare in the mirror. He crosses one ankle over the other, toe of his dusty boot on the cracked tile, and sighs. What do you want me to do, baby? I gotta do my job.

On Valentine’s Day? When I worked extra to get it off, and you can’t even get your brother to swap one shift?

Joel’s expression seems to stiffen, tense with a realization that you know, and now he knows, too – he should’ve had days ago. A weighty breath falls from his nostrils, admitting some kind of defeat, and then he’s wandering carefully over to you, two hands curved over your shoulders.

He lowers his forehead onto the nape of your neck, a slow breath which flutters the loose collar of the flannel you’re wearing and sweeps down your spine. I’m sorry, pretty bird. I didn’t know it meant that much to ya.

It doesn’t, you admit, adding, usually. I just thought we could have a day to ourselves, for once.

He’s nodding, sweep of his fringe tickling the slope of your skin. It’d be a lot more romantic than spendin’ it with Jesse, that’s for sure.

Your bodies fall together with a shared laugh, a bright and charming thing in the dull bathroom light. Joel kisses the soft cushion of your shoulder and hooks his chin over, beard grazing your skin.

I’ll be back before you know it. ‘n then we can do whatever the hell you got planned for us, hm?

He’s steady behind you when you lean back, turning to place a damp kiss to the hinge of his jaw. A reply, a plea – a promise.

In the echoing dripdripdrip from the faucet, Joel pulls apart from you, two fingers pinching the hem of your shirt to pull you back into the bedroom.

You wanna walk me to the gate? he asks, pulling the zipper on his jacket.

What about your holster?

He smiles. I’m sure I’ll survive without it. C’mon. Put some pants on.

February is bitter even by Jackson’s standards – a bite of ice in the air which numbs the tip of your nose and stings the helix of your ears. The chill slips a long, sharp finger down the collar of your – Joel’s jacket, and you wrap the baggy canvas tighter around yourself.

Told you to wear som’ thicker. Joel sighs, grip light around the strap of his shotgun. His elbow nudges into yours, a wide arm wraps around your shoulder and draws you flush against his side. Head on back if you’re cold, he says, rubbing until the friction warms your upper arm.

I’m fine, you lie, eyeing the line of horses up ahead. The eager crunch of their hooves in the frozen ground, the pinkish light on their backs from the sky flooded crimson overhead – a warning from the horizon, you think.

It seems to agitate the animals as much as it does you, their heavy heads tossing nervously, ears flicking and inky eyes blinking.

Jesse meets you by the paddock, slipping Joel the reins of his horse with a curt nod, before hoisting himself atop his own.

It bleats from your lips before you can hold it back. Be careful.

Your frozen fingers claw around the zipper of his coat, tugging it upwards until it brushes against his bottom lip. The weather gets bad, you turn back. Okay?

He’s nodding, paying half his attention to your words, the other half to the little crease between your brows. Sure could use my holster against the cold, baby, he mutters, smirk lifting his cheeks and folding similar creases at the corners of his eyes.

Your eyes narrow, palms landing flat against his strong chest. Home soon?

He hums a little laugh, lips ghosting across your temple as he shifts by. Home soon, he mutters, breath steaming against your cold skin, and he leads the mare off towards the gate.

There’s a lot about Joel you admire.

Each part of him like a pebble stolen on a hike; some more jagged, a little more weathered than others, some well-rounded and smooth to the touch. Each one turned and turned and turned between your fingers until you’re fluent in every pore and vein, then dropped into your pocket alongside the others you’ve collected.

Clacking against one another until you arrive home, coat heavier with the happy burden of how much you love him. The same weight you feel behind your ribcage when you think too much about it.

He takes good care of you – has done since you first happened across one another. As if hanging his hunting jacket over your frail body was a wing over your shoulders; as if, from then on, you would never make a single move again without your grizzly bear of a man making it first.

Quiet about it, sure. Subtle. Opens the crook of his elbow for you to hook your wrist around as you wander through town together, and waits until you’re under the cover of nightfall or behind the close of your front door to do much else.

Asks with little more than a fleeting glance if you’re okay; a squeeze of your knee under the table in the dining hall. A conversation shared between closed lips and the meeting of his honey-flecked gaze, and yours. A language which lives and dies with the pair of you.

He’s guarded – and for all that he’s been through, you figure you can allow him that. Allow him his private peace. For all that he says without saying, all he does without making some big song and dance of it – there hasn’t been a second since you arrived here on the back of his horse, that you haven’t known he loves you.

It’s in him like it’s in you. A fever which broke at the first touch of his hand and yours, the first meeting of his warmth and your chill. Two opposites – cooling the painful sear in his heart, warming the barren frost in yours. Something sewn deep into your flesh, carved right through to the hollow of your bones.

And Jesus, if it doesn’t drive you fucking insane.

The front yard needs tidied up after winter, you notice, as you scuff your way up the path towards the porch. Once the last of the snow dries up, you two can get to repairing the damage done by the blizzards and the gales: fitting new shutters, planting new bulbs.

A cycle you’re still getting used to: the upkeep of a place called home. The strange feeling of having someone you call the same thing.

Your extra shifts at the stables and Joel’s long mornings out on the trails mean your home has gone neglected for a few days. Dishes and cutlery left in the sink, a pile of laundry slowly sprouting to new heights like a wild plant each time you cast a wary glance at it.

It’s not like you’ve much else to do, given Joel won’t be home for at least another couple hours. So you shuck off your jeans, letting the tail of his shirt dangle from your behind, and pick your way around each room – wiping counters and dusting corners, humming along to the crooning old records as they spin in the background.

Playing house at the end of the world. Pretending to listen for the tired exhale of a yellow school bus, mimicking the electrified babble of radio presenters between each track.

The bedroom is arguably the worst offender. Bedsheets used a few days too long, clothes strung across the floor – the relics of a late one at the Tipsy Bison. It’s no wonder you’re so fucking tired.

Echoes of stumbling footsteps and hushed, drunken giggles loop your ears, the groaning bedsprings and blunt thud of the headboard. You pluck the underwear and socks one by one, your body wincing around a satisfied ache still lingering, and shuffle over to the laundry hamper, lifting the lid to –

The dopey smile on your lips dissolves instantly. You gotta be fucking…

The buckle glints in the light, silver blinking up at you from its bed of dirty laundry. The tan strap coiled and neatly slung through its fastener; the pouch empty. Awkward and ashamed, lying there in front of you. Apologetic, almost.

Your eyes roll closed; a short, hot breath seeping past your lips. A silent promise embedding beneath your tongue to take him by the sleeve as soon as he crosses the threshold, force him to lift the lid himself. An I told you so already brewing in the pit of your stomach.

The holster’s actually pretty heavy when you lift it up in the light. Leather a little worn, stitching frayed where it should clip around his belt.

It’s the size and width of him: a thick, toned thigh slotted inside the loop of leather, fixed by fingers long void of feeling when he’s been riding to the outpost, chasing infected, plunging his knife deep into their necks.

Patrol was never your thing. Joel took you out just once – but there are cracks in your past which threaten to split you in two, it seems, the longer you spend outside the settlement walls. Phantoms which follow close behind in the form of snapping twigs, of the wind rustling in the trees overhead. Shadows living in your periphery with curled sneers and spits of filth.

You lasted twenty minutes, that first and only day, before Joel had your horses tied together and your body shelled in his own, taking you straight back home.

But the thought of this around his thigh, the thought of him adjusting it to the waistband of his jeans; his hand floating down to settle gently atop it when he’s listening for danger approaching, two fingers slipping into the trigger guard.

It…stirs something.

You pad over to the bathroom, hopping as you step into the strap. He wears it on his right leg, right? You pull it past your ankle, ball of your foot slamming clumsily back down on the tile.

Adjusting it to fit your thigh, you bunch the hem of his shirt in one fist and stare back at your reflection. Her nervous stance, hips swaying left to right as she peruses the figure opposite.

Who is she, this mirage – naked thigh decorated with her man’s leather, fingernails tracing the messy stitching and imagining the weight of his gun, keen in the pouch?

A strange aura of possession about it, like a part of him locked firm around a part of you, from however many miles away. You swear you can feel the ghost of his warmth on the inside of the strap, wrapped around your sensitive skin.

Yeah.

Stirs something, alright.

Joel’s been gone little over an hour. He’s probably at the outpost by now, logging All clear and pretending to let Jesse take the lead. Wide shoulders swaying as he wanders from room to room, a careful scope of the valley from each window, tongue tracing the bottom of his teeth.

Ridges of his knuckles white around the grip of his shotgun, squinting down the barrel. Lines drawn between his brows and at the corners of his eyes like scores on parchment, focus and concentration tight on his face.

You sink back into the cradle of your bed, that divot where his body and yours meet each night. Each part of you intertwining with a part of him: the place where you become one. His smell and your touch, your giggle and his teeth.

A sudden, powerful thing which hammers through your veins and jumps your body for a few seconds – you pull the first orgasm from between your legs within a matter of minutes. The sight of his shirt disturbed over your stomach, the feeling of blood squeezing past taut leather enough to throw you under by itself, never mind the fast snap of your fingers deep inside your body.

Another – slower, lazier, still vibrating from the first – then almost a third, but the crinkle of sheets at your ears, the pillow-soft landscape beneath your heavy body, begins to sweep you off somewhere.

And in as little time as it took to entice you into the water in the first place, you slip beneath the waves.

The house is quiet when he finally makes it home.

Jesus, Joel thinks, what a shift.

Not one infected the entire run, he can’t quite believe – but Jesse caught his palm on some warped sheet of chain link fence, then almost passed out when he looked down and saw the scarlet seeping from his shredded skin.

The pair sat for half an hour, unsheltered in the unforgiving wind, waiting for the kid’s head to stop spinning and the cold to rob the feeling from his hand.

All Joel wanted was to get home to you. You, and your hips swaying as you stand by the stove, and his hands kneading into the velvet plush of your waist, and the smell of burnt sausages and spatter of angry oil from the pan.

He’s so late. He said he’d be as quick as he could, said you’d barely know he was gone, and he’s so fucking late.

But he’s here now, at least.

He’s home.

As he kicks off his boots, snow sprinkling from the soles onto the doormat, he notices the absence of your arms around his waist. The missing weight at the back of him, no ear flat against his spine and hands interlocked above his belt. No relieved, I missed you, no nuzzle of your head under his arm.

The house is still and dim. The turntable spins in the corner, a dead crackle playing nothing for no one. Joel sniffs, eyeing the room and its new, orderly form: the books slotted neatly on their shelves, the rings of coffee wiped clean from the table.

Lifting the needle from the record, Joel calls out, Baby?

Maybe you’re in town somewhere. Maybe you’ve gone to spend the morning with the horses. But then, you would’ve been watching for his arrival. Would’ve skipped out from the stables and swung around his body, a gleeful smile and an outstretched hand. Take me home, cowboy.

And you wouldn’t have left the lights still burning, the player still turning. Your coat is still on its hook, smaller and brighter and where it belongs on the right of Joel’s. The cushions on the couch are fluffed and smooth, perched contentedly in place; the curtains draped in their tie backs.

You’re home. You’ve been home all morning.

So where the fuck are you?

Joel crosses over to the bottom of the stairs, blinking up at the painted cowboys and horses staring down from the landing. Calls your name, a faint singsong as he slowly ascends the stairs. You up there?

Down the wintery dull hallway to the bedroom door, figuring he knows the answer. And he’s right, isn’t he, when he nudges the door open and peers inside, spots the tiny lump of you in your double bed. Sunk deep into the mattress – covers you’d come in here to change, swallowing you whole.

A crooked, exhausted smile pulls across his lips; his thumb hooks around a belt loop, knee cocking.

You’re so…perfect. So heavenly, so still like this – stretched out on your front, breathing in the scent of his pillow and breathing out little puffs of air.

Joel leans over you, a heavy hand pushing into the mattress above your shoulder, and runs a featherlight knuckle over your cheek.

Pretty bird? he whispers, lighter than the long breaths from your sleep-swollen lips.

You don’t stir. No movement, save for the rise and fall of your shoulders wrapped up in his flannel.

Joel feels a pang of guilt, numbed only by the chill still through his body: he woke you this morning, before even the sun had lifted her head. Had you hunting all over the house with him, for some dumb holster that he wound up not even n–

His eyes trail down the shape of your body, draped in the sheets like white marble carved into the round shape of something beautiful, hands following the curve of your thigh. His wrist freezes when it meets the odd bulge of something, an awkward bump beneath the cotton.

He peels the sheet back, lifting it from your shoulders, your waist, your hips – until your angled thigh lies on full display for his feasting eyes.

His fucking holster…wrapped tight around your fucking thigh.

A disbelieving laugh at first – a She told me so, before he notices the indents in your skin, the stretched leather snug around your leg, riding higher than it should at the doing of your slumber.

Christ, baby, he breathes, stare glued to the folds of plaid hooked around the belt loop. Following the tatty hem down past your hip, along the underside of your ass – riding up some, right where your legs part.

And between them, all sheer and thin, twisted around itself and slipping between: your underwear. The threading of pubic hair peeking over the frilled hem of it; the sight filling Joel’s mouth with saliva.

A heavy heat forms in his jeans, an irritable weight which aches when he moves; which hardens when he pictures the image of you in his bed, his shirt, his holster wrapped around your thigh – playing with yourself while he’s been gone.

Fuck. Fuckin’…shit.

He lowers, running lips he knows are freezing cold along the burning surface of your skin, tongue slipping past his teeth to drag a wet trail along your thigh.

Your leg shifts under his touch, the startle of his chilled fingertips behind your knee, nuzzling of his nose where the holster sits smugly on your thigh. Smelling like leather and salt, the sticky sheen of sweat still glowing on your skin.

Joel takes your waist in two hands – he can’t fucking help himself, can he? – and turns you, patiently, watching as you roll onto your back so he can drag you further down the bed. Tongue flicking at the corners of his lips, thirsty for something he only wants you to feed him.

Slow, slowly. Every effort put into not waking you, to keeping you in this peachy haze between asleep and awake; your movements long and staggered, held firm against the mattress by the weight of your doze.

With a sigh, your jaw turns to one side. Joel pulls you in, kneeling at the edge of the bed with your socked feet resting on his shoulders. His shirt gathers around your waist; your hips and the thin twine of your underwear spotlighted by stripes of weakened sunlight spilling in through the blinds.

Oh, pretty bird, he groans, slipping his open palms under your ass, rough and squeezing the pillows of flesh in his hands. This all for me?

A moan wrapped in a hefty breath twists from your lips. Your knees fall limp; legs open almost eagerly, like your body inviting him in. And he accepts, takes it with eyes blown black and hungry lips parted – leans in and nestles his nose against the thrumming heartbeat pounding through your clit.

Such a good girl, he whispers, closing his lips in a kiss over your clothed mound, and your hips jolt.

You’re so fucking warm. So wet; sticky and so ready for him. He kisses your folds, suckling gently and letting his tongue dart along the inseam of your lips in flicking movements – collecting the taste of salt and feeling his cock throb against rough denim.

Off? he asks – you and the room and himself – fingers hooking around the underwear rolled on your hips.

When your back arches, body feeling the loss of his tender kiss, rolling like a wave seeking to crash against the steady rock form of his – he smirks to himself.

Joel nods. Off.

He takes his time peeling them from your body, watching as more and more of his paradise is revealed. The waves of your folds, the sheer glisten of arousal along them; the dark hair peppering either side as damp and slick as the skin beneath it.

Your panties drop from a hooked finger without a sound and he turns back, hovering over your waiting cunt with wide eyes and a slack jaw. Out front, voices call back and forth to one another – some neighborly greeting and affable conversation – but Joel doesn’t hear. Deafened to anything but the sound of your sighs and his own blood hammering through his ears.

It’s a little rushed, a tad rough, the way he presses his lips back to yours. The way his beard grazes against your most sensitive spot, and the gasp he swears he hears lift from your tongue.

But fuck, he’s missed this, the way he always does – without knowing, without actively thinking about it, without knowing it was even at home waiting for him. If his mind weren’t on an entirely different planet right now, he’d curse that goddamn chain link for holding him up, for keeping him away longer than thirty seconds from the sweet little angel resting in his bed, and the sweet little pussy between her legs.

He parts your thighs wider, tongue dipping lower and deeper as he laps at your core, almost fucking panting against it.

You squirm lazily beneath him, shoulders tensing and untensing, a half-limp wrist lifting to pet his hair and an attempt at his name between your lips. Joel, you whimper, thick with sleep and something more dangerous.

I know, baby, he’s telling you, I know, and his tongue slips inside again. His hips grind into the mattress, cock an agonizing stiff against the sturdy edge. He can feel the wet in his boxers, the precome sticking to the inside of the cotton.

Fuck, he wants to be inside you so badly, so desperately.

Another gasp sputters across your lips, cut short in your throat when his teeth bump against your clit.

Too hungry, too brash, he thinks. You’re too soft, too open for him to let it go to waste. Not like this.

He pulls back, a filthy thread of arousal and saliva between his open lips and yours, and places a sodden kiss to the inside of your thigh.

But you whine, you poor little thing – your head twisting to the other side, a second hand now blindly surfing across his shoulder, past the brush of his beard and sifting through his still-chilly hair. The loss of attention to your pussy aching between your legs; your hips lifting weakly to meet the scratch of his chin again.

And that same sound – that same Jo-oel – a sound like song, like saccharine dripping over his shoulders.

So, he lifts a hand – two middle fingers coming together to push open your cunt, instantly sliding in knuckle-deep. Sucked in by the wet mess left behind by his lips, stretching you out with slow, round movements.

You’re slowly stirring, blossoming from your sleep and turning slowly back into this world. The cold edges seeping in, the warm flush of pleasure sharpening at their meeting. He’d do anything, he thinks, to keep you here; keep you teetering on the edge, tangled up between your world and his.

J– oh, fu-uck, you whine, and he can tell you’re still blinkered by sleep. But you grind on him again – a long, languid movement which seems to spatter out at its end when the coarse hair of his beard catches against your clit.

The breath stops in your throat, punching out in a shuddered moan. Joel could come just from the sound of it.

You gonna give me one, baby girl? he pleads, forearms clamping down on the underside of your thighs. Desperate – desperate to feel you, hear you, taste you as you come undone. Just one.

You’re writhing around beneath him, as needy as he is. A winding which matches his, coiling at the bottom of your stomach; a feeling which pulls at the corners of your lips and shocks them into a smutty, half-conscious smile. Your eyes roll back, fluttering open and then snapping shut when the light floods in.

There, you say, clearest so far, movements the strongest he’s felt. Your fingers root in his hair, rough over his scalp. Keep – keep doin’ that.

Joel smiles against your mound; a cocky thing, emboldened by the sound of that little Texan twang, the curl of an accent which doesn’t belong to you. Rather, a result of your years spent with him, watching the way his mouth shapes the words, learning the low swing and swirling melody of his tongue.

As if he’s as alive within you as he is within himself; every little thing Joel knows is him, injected into your bloodstream – his dry wit, his blunt honesty, his thick fingers and his insatiable tongue.

He slips in a third, flicking them perfectly inside of you. Beckoning your release; tongue sitting in wait, a resting point for you to grind your clit against.

And he wants it as much as you do: wants to feel the clamping of your body around him, wants to taste the flood of your orgasm as it shocks through every bone in your body.

Wants to pull three soaked, pruned fingers from your pussy and slip them over your tongue, letting you clasp your fingers around his wrist; watching the half-dozing flutter of your eyelashes as you suckle on them and make those pretty little sounds for him.

Your hand knots tighter in his hair, pelvis circling steady against his suckling lips. He can smell it on you: smell the need seeping from your pores. The sleep spilling from the corners of your mouth, the happy whimpers and quiet cries for more, more, Joel, more.

And – Shit, he breathes against you, feeling a sudden rush of electricity he knows all too well between his hips. Not now, not now not before he’s been inside – Shit, baby, gotta let me go.

You whine in refusal – a petulant sound, all stubborn and greedy. ‘m so close, I –

Pretty bird, he groans, lifting his jaw. He places a messy kiss to the crease between your core and your thigh, wrist stammering with his sudden movements. You gotta – you gotta let go, you’re gonna make me come –

You’re echoing him, mumbling the words gonna, gonna come – fuck, Joel, ‘m gonna –

Shit.

Not – Fuck – not right n– Christ, baby girl, you’re gonna – you’re –

Your walls spasm, clamping and relaxing, squeezing around his huge fingers. But it’s not that – it’s not the gush of warm fluid which seeps from between your legs, coating his knuckles and dripping into his palm.

It’s not the arch of your back, the way your breasts lift to the ceiling and his shirt slips below one nipple. Not the way your head rolls back against the mattress, a broken moan tearing in shards from your throat.

No.

It’s the way your hands leave his hair in an instant, and grip around the leather on your thigh. Skin stretching thin over your knuckles, thumbs between the strap and your sticky skin; hips still riding out your high as you ground yourself, holding onto his holster.

And it makes Joel come. Hard.

Harder than he knew possible, grinding against a mattress and the inside of his fucking jeans.

He falls forward, breathing a guttural moan into the soft swell of your stomach below your navel, fingers hooking into the baggy shirt around your arms.

Shitshitshit, he pants, feeling the warm ejaculate spurt from his cock and all over the inside of his boxers. Oh, fuck, baby. Fuck me.

His hips shudder a few more times, pressing hard into the edge of the mattress before he’s coming down, slowing to a stop – still a leaden weight on your stomach. His cock almost painful, overstimulated and oversensitive.

But then – something gently tittering. A bird singing, cooing above his head. The ground beneath his temple shakes, tremors with laughter. The dust twinkles in the sunlight, now brighter, golden, streaming through the window.

You’re awake.

Joel drags his gaze upwards, bleary and glazed with sex, and catches your eye.

Feel good? you ask, sifting hair away from his damp forehead. When was the last time that happened? Fourteen?

I don’t wanna talk about it, he mumbles into your belly.

Your chest jumps, a laugh which echoes into Joel’s ear. Tastes that good, huh?

It takes a mighty effort for him to push up on his palms, slowly crawling up the length of your body until his elbows plant firm into the mattress either side of your head. He groans as he lowers his lips, parting them to let you slip your tongue inside.

The kiss is slow, tender. Your bodies melding together, teeth clacking and jaws moving in sync. A sharp taste, sweet with a singe of bitterness to it. Perfect, you think, smirking against Joel’s cool lips.

He pulls away, lips tickling the tip of your nose deliberately.

With a giggle, you push on his chest. You should shower. You smell like patrol.

Joel cocks an eyebrow. You comin’ in with me?

Nope. I got even more laundry to do now, old man.

He entertains the quip with a subtle smile, a thing which softens the creases on his face and lights a twinkle in his eyes. Quietly, genuinely, in a way which makes your heart ache a little, he whispers, Sorry I was workin’, pretty bird.

You shrug. ‘s okay. You made up for it. And – I found your holster. You lift your knee, letting the buckle shine in the sunlight.

You did that, Joel agrees, nodding and glancing down at the thing. He hooks a finger around the strap, giving it a little shake. Maybe I oughta lose it more often.

Hm, you shrug, or I can just keep it safe for ya. Looks good, don’t it?

He feigns a disappointed smile, a resigned sigh before he looks back up.

Better ‘n when I wear it, he admits, and his lips crash down to yours again.

#same universe as 'wish you were here' - if you want #joel miller #jackson!joel #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #tw somnophilia #tw dubcon

1K notes · View notes

4ngels0uls · 4 months ago

Text

god forbit i should live right? - C.B

don’t like? don’t read.

summary: carrington and y/n fuck hate each other so much that they would end up slitting each other’s throats, till carrington gets fed up and fucks the rudeness out of her.

paring: fem!reader + rude!carrington

warnings: SMUT, random tension, enemy’s to fuck buddies, unprotected sex, oral (fem!receiving), little pet names ( slut?, pretty girl ), strong language, kinda porn without a plot, etc.

a/n: i’m going to go rot in a hole🤗 also guess who found out carringtons last name😣

————————————————————

y/ns pov

“carrington you asshole!” you scream from across the house. you yelled this because he took your charger, your only good charger. your yelling because he had broken your other charger, and also he took your fan. you and carrington fucking hate each other, and jake and johnnie are fed up with it. “what the fuck are you yelling about now y/n?!?” jake also yells.

“carrington! not you!” you yell back. you and carrington used to be best friends when you both just had moved in, but now…. you want to fucking slit each other’s throats. “what the fuck do you want now y/n!?” carrington yells. you guys only hate each other so much is because he begin to become a total bitch to you after he hooked up with this one girl, till he got his heart broken. after that he started to become a bit more nicer than usual

“did you take my charger and fan?!” you yell at carrington. “yeah!?” he yells and you scoff. you go down the stairs to his room and go in there. “stop taking my shit bro.” you scold him as you grab your fan and charger. “i only borrowed it for a bit, jeez.” he mumbles. “bro you took it for a full day, i was literally at a meeting!” you scold once again. “yeah ok whatever.” he mumbles as you walk out of his room. ‘fucking asshole.” is all you can really think.

————————————————————

you sit in johnnie’s room with him has you watch him stream. carrington walks into the room. “John joh-. oh.” he says as he sees you. you look back at him and realize it’s him, then you look back to johnnie screen. “yeah ?” johnnie says as he doesn’t look over from his screen. “whatchu doing?” carrington asks, completely ignoring you. “i’m playing a game.” johnnie says quietly.

“oh okayy.” carrington says. “i’m about to go out for a bit then stream when i get back.” carrington continues. “where ya going?” johnnie asks. “just to a restaurant with a few friends.” carrington answers. jesus carrington sounds so much more relaxed when he’s talking to johnnie.. it’s actually not as annoying. you stare at carrington as he’s not wearing a shirt, because of how hot it is.

you suck your teeth and finally look away as carrington goes to look at you. he smirks and leaves the room. “alright johnnie i’m goin to go now.” you say as you stand up. “okay, see you.” he says softly. you walk out of johnnie’s room and start to walk to yours, till carrington spins you around. “i saw you staring at me.” he says quietly. “god forbit i should live, right?” you tell him. “i saw the way you stared at me y/n. you can’t play it off.” he says. you begin to feel your cheeks flush.

“and that’s exactly why your blushing y/n.” he says softly. you stare into his blue, piercing eyes, as he stares into your shit brown eyes. he lifts your chin and you swallow. he takes a fast glance at your lips then to your eyes. he smash his lips into yours like nothing. his tongue completely explores your mouth. he lifts you up and take you to your room as he shuts and lock your door and places you on your bed.

he continues to kiss you crazy. he pulls away to breath as he locks eyes with you. someone knocks on your door. “hey y/n?” jake yells from the other side of the door. “y-yeah?!” you yell back. “have you seen carrington. “no and i don’t care.” you say while lying. “oh okay.” jake says as he walks away. “no i don’t care.” carrington mimics you. “shut up!” you laugh as he chuckles. he kisses you again, he begins to kiss down your neck and jawline.

he goes back down to your neck and leaves a dark, purple hickey. “you like being rude huh?” he says in a whisper. you let a slight pathetic moan out. “pathetic.” is all he says and slides your pants down. “carrington.” you moan slightly. he groans at your noises. “slutty.” carrington says as he starts at the red lacy thong you have on. he hooks his middle and pointer finger in the strap of your thong.

he pulls the thong down to your ankles before tugging them off. he makes you put your knees up and you do what he wants. he places his face between your thighs. he places sloppy kisses on your inner thighs. you whine at his teasing and he chuckles. you buck your hips and he moves his mouth to your clit. you gasp at the waves of pleasure though out your body. “f-fuck carrington.” you groan as he fastens his pace with his tongue.

“fuck you taste good.” he mumbles against your pussy. he moves his mouth down and sticks his tongue in your hole. “fuck carrington!” you moan. you wrap your fingers around his brown locks. you close your thighs around his head and he holds the back of both of your thighs. you begin to grind your hips into his face, chasing your release. “fuckkkk!” you moan quite loudly as you feel the knot snap inside of your stomach making you cum all on carringtons face.

he licks your pussy clean, in which making you squirm like crazy. he stops and chuckles. he leans up and kisses you, making you taste your own release. he pulls away and smiles at you while you smile back. “fuck your hot.” he smiles. “other way around” you mumble and he smiles. he takes his pants off, along with his boxers. he lines himself up with your pussy and slams into you like nothing. you gasp when he just slams into you.

he chuckles as he begins to thrust his hips in the same place over and over. he finds your g spot and you moan loudly. he smiles “found it.” he mumbles before hitting the same spot again and again. “oh fuck me!” you moan loudly. “trust me, i am.” he says, while being cocky. you moan repeatedly as he slams into you. “such a pretty girl hm?” he says as the only thing you can think about is him fucking you like crazy.

you dig your nails into his back and he grunts from the stinging your causing. “fuck y/n..” he groans as he fucks you. “oh fuckkkk! i’m close!” you moan. “oh are you now?” he says. “y-yes!” you surprisingly say. “hold it.” he says with dominance. “what?” you grunt. “i said fucking hold it.” he grunts as his pace quickens. you try to hold release as much as you can. “please carrington!” you moan.

“please what?” he teases. “l-let me cum!” you scream. jake and johnnie have definitely heard you now. “shh pretty girl.” carrington says as he covers your mouth with his hand. “go ahead now, i’m right behind you.” he mumbles, trying to keep his act together. you scream into carringtons hand as you release your cum onto his dick, soaking his dick from your release. “fuck me carrington!” you scream into carringtons hand. “fuckkk!” he groans as he releases inside of you.

he collapses beside you. “fuck you feel good.” he chuckles as he talks. you get up on carringtons lap. “one more?” you ask. he smirks and nods. you line him up against your core and sink down on him. you gasp. “fuck.” you says, breathlessly. you put your hands on the headboard of the bed for support.

you continue to ride carrington as he holds onto your hips and groans, and moans under you. “mmm fuck carrington.” you moan softly. your pace is slow but fast. carrington grabs your hips and thrusts up into you. you gasp as he thrusts up into you, your tits bouncing with you as he pumps up into you. “fuck carrington!” you moan. “you feel so good y/n.” he groans. “so fucking tight around me.” he groans again.

“such a perfect body, hm?” he mumbles. at this point.. his words are turning you on even more. “oh fuck dadd- carrington!” you accidentally spit out ‘daddy’. he smirks and fastens his pace. you gasp. “fuck!fuck!fuck!” you scream. “you close?” carrington groans. “yes!” you yell. “fuck fuck! yesyesyesyes!” you say repeatedly. “in cumming!” you scream.

you cum all on carrington and the bed. carrington throws his head back and cums inside of you once again. you slowly pull off of him. you whimper before flopping right on the bed. “shit! i have to go!” carrington rushes up. “bye. i have to go i’ll see you soon.” he says carefully.

he rushes up and puts all his clothes on before rushing out the door and house. you sit there speechless. “fucking asshole.” you mumble before getting up and putting your clothes on. you walk into your bathroom and fix up your hair before going downstairs.

you walk into the kitchen and grab a drink before johnnie appears randomly. “how was your fuck with carrington?” he asks calmly before grabbing something out of the cabinet. “it was goo- stfu.” you say before johnnie chuckles. “good dick huh? i know from experience.” johnnie says jokingly before walking off. “what the fuck..” you whisper under your breath.

holy fuck. god forbit i should live right?.

————————————————————

A/N

HAHAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAA

anyways sorry for the post from when i was high😓

i was being a bit freaky.

#johnnie and jake #johnnie guilbert #jake webber #carringtonsmut #carrington x reader #carrington

547 notes · View notes