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veltana · 25 days

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Unleashed - Avengers!Bucky/Fem!Reader

✦ Pairing: Avengers!Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~4,2k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Sex pollen adjacent kinda, smut, a bit fluffy, one shot, possessive!Bucky, co-workers/friends to lovers, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, orgasm denial, dirty talk, praise, creampie, pet names (doll).

✦ Summary: During a mission, Bucky is exposed to something that removes his inhibitions and all he wants is you.

✦ Note: Previously posted on AO3 since I have basically no time or energy to write new stuff. It was titled You’re what I need before but I always hated that title so I decided to re-name it. Bucky is kind of an asshole in this, but it's just because he wants you! As always, reblogs, comments, and asks are very welcome ❤️

Masterlist | AO3

The worst part about watching from afar as a mission goes to shit is that you feel useless. Even as you dispatch medics for the team all you can do is tell them, "Help is on the way."

Captain America shouts orders that you hear through the comms. The wait feels endless until the crew of the quinjet declares that they have spotted the team and there's not much else for you to do but look at your monitors and wait for an update. When you get the call back that the team is secure you breathe a sigh of relief, but then the next message is to prepare the medical staff to receive multiple injuries and chemical exposure. You ask the crew to clarify, but they are too busy, so when you notify the medical center, they prepare a quarantine room.

Sometimes you wish you had a superpower and could be there with them instead of staring at your monitors and doing endless calculations on whatever the team needs. But then when they return they always compliment your work and tell you they don’t know how they managed without you. You try to remind yourself of those moments at times like this.

Once the quinjet is docked and everyone has been accounted for you push away from your desk and remove your headset, taking deep breaths and trying to calm your heart. A moment later a message pops up on your screen, probably because they couldn’t reach you through your comms. [Bucky wants you to come down here]

Your heart does a little flip in your chest, making you scowl. He is your friend and probably injured, you have no idea why he would be asking for you, but it’s not because he feels the same way you do. You grab your tablet and head to the MedBay.

When you get down you take stock of the situation. Nat and Steve have some scratches, Sam's arm is broken and Wanda has a few cracked ribs. Tony is bruised, his suit had taken most of the damage. You look around for Bucky but don’t see him anywhere and quickly deduce that he must be the person currently in quarantine.

When you get to the wing, you’re almost too scared to go in, afraid to see what could have happened to him. Inside, you find a team of medical personnel discussing Bucky's condition with him through a glass wall. His hair looks damp and he's wearing standard-issue quarantine clothing, soft black pants, and a black sweatshirt. When he sees you standing patiently at the side he says. "You can come back later. I need to talk to her more than I need to talk to you. Go away." His voice comes from speakers in the ceiling.

You're shocked by his behavior but smile apologetically as the white coats pass you on their way out. When you get up to the glass you hiss. "Bucky, what is wrong with you, don't be rude.” "You make it sound like I'm never rude otherwise," he laughs. "You're not rude to healthcare professionals, you know better." You glare at him as you wake your tablet. “Now what did you need me for?”

"Do you like me?" he asks. Your mouth falls open and your heart starts to beat faster. You’re happy your vitals aren’t monitored as you quickly collect yourself and try to deflect his question. "Of course I like you Bucky, you're my friend." But now it feels weird to look at him and you find a spot on the wall far behind him to focus on.

"What if I want more than friends?" is his next question and despite your best efforts, hope warms your chest. This is not happening. Of course you toyed with the idea of you and Bucky, he is always sweet to you, and if he has the chance he brings you gifts from the missions. But you’ve told yourself repeatedly that he needs someone stronger, who can keep up with him in the field and you’re not that person.

"Can we have this conversation when you are not high on some HYDRA drug?” you ask, trying to keep your voice from betraying you. They are monitoring everything in the room. And there is a sheet of unbreakable glass in between you both. If you're going to confess your feelings, it won't be like this.

"I'm not high," he huffs. "My mind has never been clearer." "I still think we should have this conversation later." "Doll, look at me." The command in his voice is so strong you don’t think, you snap your eyes to his and they are so blue and soft.

"I will feel the same tomorrow, and the day after, whenever this drug wears off but now is the only time I can't hold my tongue," he explains. You place your hand on the glass and he does the same on the other side. "It will be fine Bucky, I promise," you say just as the door opens and Steve walks in, making you pull your hand back to your side. He's showered, in a fresh pair of clothes and he swings his arm over your shoulder.

"Stop hogging her time Bucky, I know for a fact that she also needs to debrief," he smiles but Bucky looks as if he's seeing red. Through gritted teeth he presses out, "Get your fucking arm off her, punk. She's mine."

You and Steve burst into laughter because it has to be a joke, but then Bucky punches the barrier with his vibranium arm. The glass doesn't crack but both you and Steve stop short and step away in shock. Steve removes his arm and says, "I'll meet you upstairs." Before quickly heading out.

You turn to Bucky and point at him, anger rising in your chest. "What is wrong with you? Steve is your friend!" "That is what it’s like in here every day,” he points to his head. You're taken aback by his statement and his wide feral eyes. Clearly, whatever he was exposed to had messed with his head and he's not himself. “Bucky I need to go,” you tell him, and before he can protest you continue. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smile feebly at him and are out the door before he can say anything else.

After debriefing and having dinner you go to bed early. Your head is spinning with the day and most of all, Bucky.

It's way past midnight when you wake to the soft closing of your door. Since you always sleep with a night light the soft warm glow reflects off his left arm and leaves no doubt about who has entered your room. You blink at him but before you can ask a question he rasps out, pleading. "I need you. So bad. Please doll, help me." He moves closer to your bed.

You quickly remove your covers and get up, glad the giant t-shirt covers you to your thighs, ready to spring into action. "Anything Bucky, what do you need?" You stop an arm's length from him, but all he does is reach his hand out to cup your face, letting his thumb stroke your cheek. There is a wild look in his eyes but you keep calm. "I can't get you what you need if you don't tell me," you whisper, meeting his eyes and watching as his brow furrows.

"I need you. Right now. If I don't get to touch and taste every inch of your body I'm going to lose my mind," he confesses in a low voice. His words shock you and you hitch a breath. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. You have this great friendship. If things were different you would not have minded taking it to another level, but with the day in mind and the fact that he somehow got out of his containment room you say, "Bucky, you’re not yourself, you need to get back to-”

"Doll,” he interrupts with a hard voice. “For once, I feel more like myself than I have in a long time. The only thing the drug did, I think, was remove my inhibitions. For once I feel free. My mind isn't controlled by HYDRA or by fear that you'll reject me. All I know is that I crave you and I can't be quiet about it anymore.”

"Bucky… I…" your whole body is flushed with warmth from his words and you're not sure how to respond. "I dreamt about you and couldn't stop myself from going over here. I don't want to hurt you, doll, but I'm not sure this drug will let me leave. All I wanna do is move closer to you.” You swallow hard as he continues, thumb still stroking your cheek. “Ask FRIDAY to get Steve, or the Hulk if you want me to leave."

Instead, you step into him, making up your mind in an instant and resting your hands on his chest. "Stay, I'll be glad to help you with anything you need," you whisper honestly and by the way his eyes widen there was still some doubt in his mind that you would reject him.

Instead of saying anything his vibranium hand grasps your waist and pulls you closer. There is no escaping the smell and size of him and his hands on you got your pussy throbbing for him already.

"I hope you understand what you've agreed to," he whispers, leaning closer. "Once I have you I won't stop, you'll never be rid of me. I'll claim you against every surface of this fucking compound if I need to." That makes you whimper and press harder against him. "Fuck you'd like that huh? Are you a kinky little thing? Like getting fucked where people can see you and hear you moan, do you want people to see my hard dick spread you open?" "Fuck Bucky!" You exclaim and lean your forehead against his chest. Maybe that idea excites you or maybe it is just that the word ‘claim’ sounds so primal.

"You're going to tell me all your little secrets later, doll. But now, I'm going to take what's mine." And with that, he crushes his lips to yours. He backs you towards the bed, kissing you the whole time, letting his hands explore you. When you land on your back, he stands over you with eyes like a predator about to devour its prey.

You shuffle up until your head rests on the pillows, spreading your legs for him. Without taking off any clothes he crawls after you, settling on his knees between your legs and placing his hands on the headboard, crowding you with his large frame. "Mine," he whispers and it makes a shudder pass through you. He ruts his clothed cock against your core, slicking your underwear even more and making you whine, gripping the sheets under you.

"Yes," he almost hisses as the length of his dick presses on your clit and forces a mewl out of you. It's been a long time since you've gotten laid. "Bucky," you plead. "No doll, I'm going to enjoy every fucking second of claiming you, from the outside in. Did you think this would be hard and fast and that I would be gone before you knew what happened?"

He lets go of the headboard to put his elbows beside your head instead, his weight on you, pressing you down into the mattress. "When I leave you will long for me, spend every waking second wishing I was still inside you. I want your cunt to be permanently drenched so I can fuck you whenever I please." He kisses you forcefully and any coherent thought that was left in your head flees. "And when you're too sore to take more of my dick in your pussy I'm going to do the same thing to your mouth and ass."

He rids you off your t-shirt and instead of having to move from between your legs to pull off your underwear, he rips them apart. "Ah!" you exclaim when the force of his movements jolts you but he takes no notice, he just stares at you, letting his hands roam up and down your sides, up to your tits, cupping them and caressing your nipples with his thumbs.

Whimpers are coming from you with every pass of this touch. Then he moves down and lays on his stomach, not saying a word as he sweeps his tongue over your pussy before he starts devouring you with a throaty moan.

It doesn’t take long for the first orgasm to take you, his movements are precise and his words and actions have made you hornier than you’ve ever experienced. Or maybe it's because he is the hottest person you’ve ever laid eyes on and he only wants you.

When you’re finished and sensitive he dips his tongue into your hole to taste you and groans loudly, lapping up the wetness from your orgasm. "Better than I've dreamed of," he says when he pulls away. Now you’re the one that must be high because you can't help but giggle. "You seriously dream of me?" "All the time, doll. Every night when I go to bed I wish you were with me and then you plague my sleep with your soft curves and radiant smile."

You're about to tell him how his laugh makes you warm and fuzzy on the inside but at that moment he sucks your clit into his mouth, cutting out every thought in your brain. He's gentle but not hesitant, it's as if he's feeling you out and when you make a particularly loud sound he continues the same movement, making your whole body go hot.

The second orgasm is intense enough to send aftershocks through for a long while afterward. Bucky lays his head on your thigh as you tremble, caressing your skin and letting the fingers of his right hand skim over your opening.

Despite what he's already given you, you still crave more. His fingertips never come close to where you need them and when you whine at the back of your throat Bucky smiles up at you. "Don't worry, I'm not even close to done with you, but I don't want you to pass out on me.” One of his fingers glides inside, making you take a sharp breath just because it feels so good. Once again he is careful, moving slowly, listening to your breath and your body.

"Please Bucky, I need more.” "No need to beg, I'll give you everything you want… in time," he breathes and kisses the skin on the inside of your thigh. Slowly he moves his finger in and out. You're sure it's a form of torture. The sweetest kind there is. Your breathing is labored and when he finally adds a second, you start to quiver.

He nips at your skin and then kisses it before speaking. "You look like a goddess, doll, eyes filled with lust, your skin is gleaming. I'm going to worship you until you're tired of me.” "Never gonna happen," you whimper. Then his thumb lands on your clit, making you cry out. Everything is so sensitive and overstimulated.

"I don't- Bucky, I don't think I can again," you tell him even though his touches are causing your insides to melt. "Yes, you will," his voice is soft but the command is clear. So instead of trying to speak again, you sink further into the madness that is him playing with you. The third one takes its sweet time but you never feel rushed or stressed that it's taking too long. Bucky isn’t in a hurry.

Then it’s suddenly there, crashing through you. "Fuck Bucky, fuck you're gonna make me come." "So good for me, let me feel you come on my fingers," he urges. "I'm going to lick them clean afterward so make sure you get them nice and wet for me. I want as much as you'll give me." The climax reaches its peak and you come with a cry of his name, body convulsing and your hand shooting down to tangle in his hair.

"Just like that doll," he smiles up at you and holds your gaze when he pulls out his fingers and sucks them clean, moaning while he does. It's a filthy sound, but it turns you on as if he didn't just make you come for the third time. Then he dives in between your legs again, licking at your skin and your soaked hole. Letting go of his hair all you can do is just lie there, writhing, as he somehow coaxes a fourth orgasm out of you.

“Fuck me,” you plead when he pulls back. “I need you inside me Bucky.” This time he takes pity on you and moves away to take off his clothes. When he’s naked he kneels between your legs again and you spread them as wide as you can. "Want me, doll?" he asks with a smirk. He swipes his cock through your mess and then uses his hand to coat himself with you. "Yes," is all you can say. Both you and Bucky stare as he pushes his dick into you, filling you up completely. Of course, he takes it torturously slow this time too.

"This feels better than any dream I've ever had," he whispers almost in awe. You grip his biceps and arch into him, pushing him deeper, faster. That makes him tsk but smiles at the same time as he pushes the rest of the way, finally seating himself. Without giving you a chance to relax he starts fucking you, his cock pushes perfectly against your insides, pulling sounds from you that you haven't made in years.

He sits back on his heels lifting your ass effortlessly until your weight is resting on your shoulders and neck. It's like he is in a trance, pulling you onto his cock over and over again. Your body is his, your mind has fled, and all you see and feel is just him all around you. His eyes keep changing between his dick filling your cunt, your bouncing tits, and your half-lit eyes as if he is not sure where to look. "Mine," he rasps and thrusts hard to empathize the word. "All mine. Say it."

It takes some time for your brain to connect to your mouth and form the words but his gaze never leaves you. "Yours," you whimper. "I'm yours, Bucky." There is a familiar heat low in your belly that's steadily spreading through your limbs. It makes you wiggle and move because it's overwhelming. He is overwhelming in the best sense. Whining you reach down to rub yourself but he slaps your hand away. "I thought I told you, it's mine. I own this cunt. If you wanna touch yourself you have to ask permission." It's as close to a growl as is humanly possible and you don't understand how he can be so cognizant right now, because your brain is like putty. "Can I please rub my clit Bucky, I wanna come on your cock so bad," you cry.

"Good girl," he praises, and when he calls you that, your mouth falls open with a keening sound, gripping the sheets even harder, pulling at them because you want to come so bad. "Do it, show me how you get off when you're alone in bed without me." Everything is slippery and sensitive when you start with your fingers and you immediately know it's going to go fast. With his previous words in mind, you ask. "Can I come?" He meets your eyes with a wicked smile. "Fast learner. Yeah, you can come… when I tell you."

You rip your hand away, afraid you might fall over the edge at any second. The sound out of your throat is almost a sob. "Don't be like that, doll, I thought you said you couldn't do it more times?" "I can-I can! As many times as you want just please let me come." "Fuck, I like it when you beg with my cock in you." But he doesn't say anything else, just continues fucking you. He's not even winded while you're straining your entire body. Your hand wants to move back, anything to relieve the pressure inside you but Bucky was very clear and you don’t want to disobey him.

Then he pulls out and drops you onto the bed, but you don't get to relax because he flips you onto your stomach and pushes one of your knees up to the side before he presses in. His dick hits your G-spot dead on and you scream into the pillow under you. Bucky chuckles right by your ear. "Guess I found it." He's merciless, his hips hit your ass hard and if it weren't for his weight pressing you down you would soon hit the headboard.

"Bucky!" you wail because it's too much. You're losing the last pieces of your mind to the sheer force of the pleasure and you're scared you're never going to be able to come back to yourself. Then his hand presses in between you and the mattress. "Rub yourself on my fingers, make yourself cum. Fuck my cock and come all over me doll." You brace yourself as best you can and move your hips as he keeps almost completely still, just shallow thrusts in stark comparison to what he was doing to you just moments ago.

His fingers slide along your clit, his cock brushing your G-spot over and over again. You're breathless, sweat breaking out along your skin, but the climax you're chasing will be well worth it. You just know it.

"I can't fill you up until I’ve felt you come around me," he grunts, his voice tight with holding back. You whimper, the feeling of fire flushing your whole body, and building up to an eruption like no other. "Yes, yes, yes," he chants low in your ear. "That's it, come for me, make me proud. Fuck it feels so good." And he starts moving again "I'm going to fill you fucking full of my cum. That's it!"

The heat in you breaks and you come with a shout of his name, shaking under him. It gets even more intense when Bucky finishes right behind you, groaning your name. He collapses on top of you but his hips are still moving, slowly, as if he doesn’t want it to ever end. Neither would you but your body is wrecked.

When he finally rolls off, you're so close to falling asleep, but he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. "Pee." He points and you want to tell him that you know the drill, this isn't your first time, but all that comes out is a grumble before he closes the door behind him and you sit down on the toilet.

When you're done, you stumble out and have a moment of panic, thinking he left. But then the door opens and Bucky returns with two bottles of water, handing you one before leading you to the bed and sitting you down on the edge. Gratefully you drink and lean against his shoulder before asking. "How do you feel?" "Better than I have in a long time," he answers, kissing your forehead. You chuckle. "Yeah I have a magical pussy, it can cure anything," you joke and it makes him laugh. "You should get back to quarantine," you comment. "Before anyone notices." He shakes his head. "No I'm staying here, I'm never leaving you again." He takes the bottle from your hand and places it on the bedside table together with his own. Then he crawls beneath the sheets and you go after him, letting him envelop you in a tight embrace before you fall asleep.

Alarms blare and you wake with a start. "FRIDAY what's going on?" you ask out into the room. “Sergeant Barnes has escaped his confinement.” The voice echoes through the room. You sigh and glare at Bucky grumbling beside you, like the loud signal is just a regular alarm clock. "FRIDAY please inform the team that Bucky is here and everything is fine."

A second later the sound dies and with a sigh you get up to pull on yesterday's discarded t-shirt and find a pair of pants. Right when you're done there is a knock on the door and Steve asks, "Everything okay in there?" You open the door enough to show yourself. "We're fine, he broke out during the night and came here." "Oh," Steve says and there is a hint of blush on his cheeks.

Then you feel a presence behind you and Bucky’s arm goes around your waist. "Mine," he says and you can't see him but he's probably glaring daggers at Steve who backs away. "We'll be okay, I'll alert FRIDAY if I need help," you tell Steve. When you close the door Bucky turns you before pushing you up against it and kissing you hard. "Mine," he mumbles against your lips. "Fucking caveman," you tell him. He grabs you around the waist and throws you over his shoulder. "I'll show you caveman," he says and carries you to the bed

#veltana writes #bucky barnes #avengers!bucky barnes #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #posessive!bucky barnes #possessive!bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #possessive!bucky #posessive!bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic #bucky fanfic

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tremendum · 10 months

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i've got headaches and bad luck but they couldn't touch you

[not my gif. title from song Of All the Gin Joints in All the World] pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her, use of the word girl)

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)

word count: 4.6k requested: Could you write something (literally anything really) like mean Joel x feisty Reader but based on the ancient Fall Out Boys song "Of All the Gin Joints in All the World" pretty please? 🥺🥹 I was just listening and I thought the lyrics were perfect for your writing ❤️But as always no pressure and no problem at all if you don't like the idea or anything else. Lots of love! P.S. smut is very welcome btw hihihi summary: “Joel's not one for feelings anymore, but you seem to pull them out of him like it's your goddamn job." warnings: established previous hookups, use of girl/babygirl, established age gap (unspecified but addressed openly), brief mention of oral m!receiving, brief mention of reader and joel’s canon-typical scars. choking, mean!Joel & brat tamer!Joel, brat!reader lol, dirty talk (its joel), degradation, use of the word slut, slight dumbification, spitting, rough sex, unprotected PiV, cum eating, nipple play, slapping (tits, ass). think that's it!

notes: okay finally another mean!Joel for the soul!!! this is super unedited also. tysm for the request, obv inspired by the song Of All The Gin Joints in All the World by FOB. :) this was fun and i hope yall love it! dont b afraid to request anything yall wanna read at all and as always pls comment or reblog :) love u xoxo

[other Joel fics: mr. miller series fever landmines ]

★

Joel Miller isn't sure exactly when all this bullshit started.

one day, he was introduced to you fleetingly in the cafeteria while you and Maria had an intense conversation - he’s not sure if you spoke for more than ten seconds; but months later and Joel happens to know exactly what your sweaty skin tastes like on the sharpness of his tongue and could probably list his favorite pairs of underwear you own.

it's nothing, really.

you patrol together often, and Joel guesses that out of all the insufferable people he's had to deal with, you're definitely not the worst. perhaps your handiness with a trigger - not nearly as inept as his own but definitely a close second - helps; or maybe it's the way your mouth feels wrapped around his cock.

and he's not stupid; he knows exactly what Tommy was doing when he signed Joel with you for patrol - the same shit he'd been pulling since they were thirty years younger and Joel was fresh out of the relationship with Sarah's mom. but it's different now, because life is not the same - nothing is the same.

Joel's not one for feelings anymore, but you seem to pull them out of him like it's your goddamn job.

you are one talkative motherfucker; usually, that'd drive Joel up a wall, but after repeated and incessant exposure to Ellie for such an extended period, his patience has surprisingly grown.

and unlike others, you never acted nervous or scared by him. irritated, maybe, but it's not like he cares much if you get irritated by his attitude; you're worse than he can be.

at first, he thought you were just fucking him because you just didn't know who he really was yet. but months into whatever this shit is, and you're still - for whatever fucking reason - hanging around him, even after everything. he likes it, though, that you fight fire with fire.

and maybe that's why Tommy stuck you two together, because in some ways it was inevitable - maybe it was a good thing, Joel thinks.

but this morning, as Joel's mind slams against his body, jolting him awake, his aching head makes him double-guess that.

it's weird how different it all is now - before you, Joel was tortured through nights plagued with sweats and memories. blood, pain, loss. he used to dream restlessly of life and all of its unforgiving horrors; but now, to his shock, he finds himself plagued with dreams of you.

he gasps awake - he's not sure he'll ever stop that.

but this time, you're next to him in the bed. his skin feels warm as the light filters through the blinds that stay constantly pulled down this time of year to retain the cool air and Joel lets out a shuttered sigh, his head aching.

it's only the second time you've stayed the night. he's never stayed at yours, god forbid - but a small part of him aches this morning when you slide out of his heavy, sleep-addled muscles. in the absence of your heat there is still bliss for a moment, until he's roused fully by your voice.

"these sheets are dirty." the sound carries into his ears, melodic and fiery. he cracks one eye open, hand raising to rub over his face - a deep, tired sigh.

"g'mornin' to you too." he snarks, sighing as he pulls himself on aching muscles to blink his eyes open; you stand over the bed, on the side that usually remains cold an empty while Joel thrashes in fits of restless sleep. there's not a single scrap of clothing on your body.

he feels himself stir at the sight of you, naked, neck painted in a splattering of beautiful marks that'd been pulled forth in moments of ecstasy the night before.

you send him a half smirk, shrugging as you tug on a shirt - his, fuck, his stomach swirls at the sight of you wrapped in him. something primal crawls in his chest as you smile at him, legs almost glowing in their bareness as they knock against the side of the mattress. your fingers brush the fabric to the left of his head.

"there's stains on the pillows." you shake your head, your face alluring in its tease. he feels himself roll his eyes as he grunts, "you're actin' like it ain't your makeup stainin' it?"

he stares at the marks on the pillowcase; black, from that shit you sometimes put on your eyes which just makes them all the more beautiful, wide, and alluring. the makeup that's surely expired after all this time but still is something you like to do to, as you'd mentioned once, 'reclaim your humanity.' whatever.

Joel would never admit it to you, but he hadn't even really tried to wash out those stains; something about them gives him a warmth in his chest every morning that he wakes up in this cold bed.

but when his eyes fall back to you in your silence, you smirk and it hits him: you're fucking teasing him.

he glares at you as your lips curl in a huff of a laugh, shaking your head. "if you keep complainin' about every damn thing, might as well just fuck you on the floor." he mutters, mostly to himself- but also to see the way your thighs shift, eyes widening slightly as color washes your cheeks. you're squirming at his words, just like that - oh, he's got you pinned.

you'd like that, you dirty little thing.

but you regain your composure quicker than lightning, ready to snap back; yet another tally to add on the list of things he admires about you.

"you're such a gentleman, Miller." you snide, fanning yourself sardonically with one hand as you roll your eyes, searching for your underwear.

he remembers the first time you'd said that to him -

"why so shy?" you'd purred. the memory of your voice curls around his ears as he huffs, watching you bend over and give him a complete view of your ass as you fetch your panties from the floor. "c'mon, Joel, you don't need to be such a gentleman. 's nothing you haven't seen before." you'd stripped yourself of your shirt, your pert nipples pebbling in the cold breeze as he'd sat, cleaning his rifle. "the hell's the matter with you?" he'd grumbled; but it didn't stop either of you. you'd been pressed between him and the splitting backseat of the broken down crashed car within seconds, anyways.

his eyes meet yours as you stand again.

he snarks, "well you’re givin' me a headache, an' I've only been up for two minutes." he glares at you, swinging to pull his boxers over his hips, standing up to find his shirt. he pointedly ignores the glare you send him at his grumpiness.

"you're the one acting dumb," you mutter, "acting like I'm the one who gives you headaches." you retort, a teasing glint in your eye; he knows that look. Joel knows you'd never get a headache from him - as much as he pisses you off, he knows you're too fiery, too lucky to get caught up in whatever miserable puddle he's drowning in.

because Joel's bad luck curls around his fists wherever he goes; the talons reaching out, crawling through every hallway and seeping through every door. you, on the other hand, are like a goddamn firecracker. Joel hates the idea, but you're... somehow gifted in that way.

he's convinced his bad luck couldn't touch you if it tried.

no matter the dumb shit you pull - forgetting a flashlight, not flipping off your safety that one moment when the clicker had stumbled out of the brush; all of that, and you escape unscathed, nothing but a giggle and a half-shrug from you before you move on to the next stupid thing.

if you weren't such a goddamn brat, it'd be charming.

his eyes snap to yours as your words fall from your lips; a burning in his chest at your tone. he watches your legs carry you into his bathroom, and he can't help it when his follow yours.

you haven't even flipped on the lights before he shuts the door behind him - you're already wearing that snarky fucking smile on your face, and he's straining already against his boxers.

he stares down at you, crowding you slowly into the wall. "what the fuck did you just say to me?" he hisses, mouth close to yours. as you turn your chin up towards his face, he can tell that you try your hardest to control your smirk, playing into the tense energy that's emanating from his chest.

"I said you're acting dumb."

you repeat, tilting your head slightly as you drink in the darkness in his eyes. lord, you'd let that darkness swallow you in a fucking heartbeat.

speaking of; your own heartbeat thunders in your chest, anticipating. you know what's coming, you can nearly taste it on your tongue.

"oh, 's that right?" Joel asks, tilting his head to stare down at you. you swallow as you stare back into those deep irises, the small bit of golden light that shines through the small bathroom window illuminating in an ominously heavenly ray.

his hand settles on the crook of your shoulder and neck, sliding gently upwards as you nod your head defiantly, pushing as far as you can to see when he'll snap. his eyes glisten in temptation; daring you to act up more.

raising your brows, you try to play like it's obvious, "waking up and complaining about your headaches, old man?" you tut gently, shaking your head innocently. "I don't think it's my fault that you fucked me twice, immediately passed out and now your head hurts when you've woken up the next morning. you know better than to push yourself in your old age, Joel. that's stupid." you add coyly, knowing it'll push him over the edge - he loves it when you act like a brat, no matter how much he denies it.

his response is immediate and exactly what you'd hoped for.

he's on you in a split second - hand sliding from your shoulder to grip your throat, pushing you back onto the wall of the bathroom. the towel bar digs into your middle-back slightly and you gasp in arousal at the force of his body on yours. you can feel his cock, hard and straining in his boxers, as it presses into your lower stomach.

"y'wanna play like that, baby?" he growls, "why you fuckin' around with an old man like me, then?" he asks.

your face heats up, arousal flooding your core, your cunt slowly wetting itself at the purr of his voice - the meaner the words, the larger the flame.

"hm?" he gently pushes, raising his brows as his hand squeezes gently on your throat, nudging you against the wall further; your gasp is slightly rasped under the pressure, your whole body screaming with desire. this is what you love - mean, angry, hungry Joel Miller. "'s it because nobody fucks you like I do, is that it?"

his knee slides between yours, wedging himself high up, rubbing suddenly against your aching pussy, the material of your cotton already soaked with a damp spot that rubs against his thick thigh.

"Joel, fuck-" you groan, already willing to just do what you can to get him to touch you. his hand on your throat tightens at your word, thigh rutting up to slide against your needy clit, your hips bucking at the feeling. "-'s because nobody else is so easy." your fiery mouth betrays your body; the snarky comment snaps his eyes to yours, a dark breath leaving his lips.

"that's ironic," he snaps, "comin' from someone who begged me to fuck them for hours."

your face burns at the memory of the first time you and Joel'd hooked up; your desperate voice hoarse from pleading him to fuck you - out in the middle of the woods, a sleeping bag that, by the end, had rips on it from rocks and twigs and the force of his thrusts; the shyness gone from either of you as your touches made up for all the silence between you.

he hums lowly, watching you as you swallow at the memory, his thigh rutting up again and pulling a yelp of pleasure from your lips. "y'don't feel so high 'n mighty when I fuck you stupid, right baby?" he asks, voice dripping with condescendence as he nods gently, encouraging you to answer him. your core throbs at his words, your mouth going dry.

his hand leaves your throat; you swallow a gulp of air, staring with wide eyes as he grasps your jaw roughly. "answer me."

"n-no, I don't." you mutter, voice sounding small; the arousal that pulses through your veins begs your mouth to be smart, do what Joel says so he'll give in to what you want.

he smirks, hands roughly grabbing the thick of your hips and flipping you around to press you against the counter, your hips bending as he shoves himself just behind you. your eyes meet yourself and his own hawkish gaze in the mirror in front of you; your heated breath fogs up the mirror in the faint morning light.

his fingers thread through your hair, tugging you back again as he tilts your head back. his upside down face, smirking down at you, has your thighs clenching - "open." he orders, voice stern.

your tongue sticks out and he wastes no time spitting roughly onto your tongue, moving your head back to stare into the mirror; his eyes meet yours as his spit slides over your tongue and his furrowed brows twitch with a slight smirk. "look at you, doin' what I tell you. now swallow it and say thank you."

your core flutters at his words deliciously as you do as you're told; swallowing, you take a breath and mutter, "thank you," - though it's more breathless than you expected, Joel seems to approve. he hums, "there are those manners," he mutters into your ear, cock pressing against the swell of your ass. "almost seemed like you'd forgotten you had them."

"didn't forget." you mutter, face heating up as your pussy aches, fluttering around nothing and desiring for his fingers, his cock - anything.

one rough palm slides his shirt up your torso, exposing your bare tits to both of you through the mirror. with his face stooped down near your neck, a short inhale of your hair before his hand reaches it's destination - your throat.

"then why're you actin' up?" he rasps, teeth grazing your shoulder. he squeezes his hand again and your eyes roll back in pleasure, arousal soon slicking your thighs as you think you may die from all the teasing. "you don't wanna cum?"

your eyes widen, breath halting as you shake your head, "wh- no- no!" you hiss, "I do want to cum, please."

his other hand raises, slapping your breast harsh and quick; your gasp of shock tapers off into a whine of pleasure, your nipples hard in arousal as his palm comes to soothe over the sting.

"then why're you acting like this?" he asks again, shaking his head. another slap, this time to your other breast. his eyes follow the skin of your chest; the way you gasp, your whines at the slight stinging and the pleasure that follows. fingers pinch your nipples, teasing in circles before another sharp slap echoes through the room. "just a little brat, y'can't help yourself." he decides, biting on your neck lightly.

you can feel him rut against you hard, grinding his hips as he lets out a short groan. you let out a low moan, whining slightly when he smacks your tits again, skin glowing with the impact. his eyes meet yours in the mirror. "quit the whinin'," he grunts, rutting his hard cock against your ass, "you'll be stuffed full of me soon enough." he grunts, "then we'll see who's dumb."

your shaky moan sounds more like a groan, elbows falling to steady yourself as Joel releases your throat, tossing you forward to grab your hips instead. he pulls you back, grinding into you as his head tilts back in how own small groan of pleasure. "this ass." Joel grunts to himself as he palms the curve of your ass in both large hands, one falling to smack harsh onto the left.

you're dripping down the inside of your thighs as he ruts against you twice more; thick fingers soon slide to thumb at the slick wet of your panties. his fingers tease the wet material that's glued to your pussy with need, tracing over your lips lightly over the fabric. "pretty pussy, just for me." he mutters; you nod, looking up at him through the mirror, "all for you, Joel." you affirm, voice shaking with anticipation.

"you gonna be good when I fill you up, baby?" he lifts his brow, stern look as he palms himself. fuck, he's so sexy behind you like this, his thumb slowly dragging the material of your panties to the side and exposing your weeping cunt; you nod, "yes, I'll do anything-"

you're cut off by a sharp gasp as the stretch of his cock's head cuts off your brain. he eases in gently at first which you're more than grateful for - no matter how many times Joel fucks you, his size is always something you have to adjust to; especially after your rounds last night left you barely able to walk straight.

he lets out a breath, "there y'go, baby, take me." he says it surprisingly gently, easing in inch by inch as you breathe deeply, your soaked pussy easing his cock through your channels. his cock is heavy and aching as he slides into you, sheathing you fully within another few seconds - Joel's hands grip so hard on your ass, splaying you open for him, that you think his fingers will remain there for days.

he's still only for a moment, letting you accommodate to his size before he's leaning forward to press his chest to your back, "gonna fuck you stupid, baby."

"please, Joel," you groan, cunt fluttering, begging him to move. "do it."

it's all that he needs before he's setting a pace that has you whining under him, your breath choking as you brace yourself agains the counter of the sink.

it's bliss. his hips are sharp, the reach of his cock pressing against the spongy spot inside you, dragging against your pulsing walls. "fuck, so deep-" you hiss, eyes closing in pleasure as he presses himself against you, hips surely going to bruise against the thrusts that shove you into the countertop.

one hand sneaks over your front, grasping at your tits as his cock reaches up into you deeply. he lets out a grunt, "fuckin'- christ, you're s-so tight," he grunts, "even after fuckin' you all night."

you moan, the quick bout of his praise causing you to squeeze around him, trapping him in your aching desire. the both of you moan at the feeling and suddenly one hand presses on your spine until you're low to the counter. his hands grab your shoulders, fingers curling around the base of your throat as he changes his pace to hard and rough, the sound of your ass against his hips nearly hitting your ears over your cries of pleasure.

the noises of your arousal swallowing his cock echo around the room in a familiar, comforting chorus as you both let out shuttering moans; his strong arms pull you back until you're once again pressed against his broad chest. his breath fans over your neck and you whine slightly when his thrusts press you up onto your tip-toes. his lips find your ear, "how's that feel?" your hole flutters from the deepness in his voice - he groans at the feeling.

your response is a whine of ecstasy as you claw at his forearms, head tilting back until you can almost feel his erratic heartbeat. his chest rumbles with a light chuckle, "look, barely took ya any time to get fucked out on my cock," he praises, hand petting your wild hair, "knew you'd be good for me. always take what I give you, right?"

you nod, desperate to reach the climax that's easily built within you from the stretch of him deep in you and his voice in your ear. your clit aches from being ignored and your hand snakes down to rub light circles on it; your hips jolt as you gasp raggedly, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure.

"no." he growls, hand grabbing your jaw sternly as he pounds into you, "when I'm fuckin' you, you keep your eyes on me." he snaps, squeezing your cheeks. "'s that clear?"

you nod in the mirror, whines getting louder as his name falls nearly incoherently from your lips- you see his lips ghost over your neck, the smirk that spreads over his pink lips as you finally get out a strangled, "Joelpleaseplease- s'close-"

he knows what you need; you and Joel are each other's best escape. he pistons into you hard, chasing your high as he feels it spasming close around him. "easy, huh?" he snarls, hips just as harsh as his words, eyes sharp on yours. "who's easy, baby - me, or the one beggin' like a slut to cum on my cock?"

for someone so quiet and closed off, Joel Miller has never shied away from using his goddamn words when he's fucking you, that's for sure. his words, his accent - they push you towards the edge and it almost distracts you from his question. his eyebrows raise in the silence as you gasp for words, moans choked as his fingers slide down from your jaw to squeeze your throat.

"look at'cha, can't even speak for me," he groans, his hand suddenly snaking down to smack your away from your clit; two larger, calloused fingers replace your shaky ones and you wail at the stimulation, almost too much.

you blink up at him through the mirror, unable to speak, unable to think as you feel the crest of something incredibly blissful growing; you let out a whine of ecstasy. "I'm- I'm easy," you concede, finally able to spit your words out, your voice higher than normal in your pleasure.

Joel nods, kissing your sweaty hairline, "'s goddamn right you are, babygirl," he hisses, "easy for me. this pretty little pussy is mine, isn't it?"

you scream, "yours, Joel-" before he barely finishes the sentence.

with your words, he smiles against your neck - the feeling of it sends goosebumps over your whole torso. "you're a lucky girl," he growls in your ear, teeth brushing the shell before licking it gently, "you can cum."

you barely realize you've hit your orgasm until you’re writhing - a white-hot, searing arousal streaking your vision as your eyes roll back. he fucks you steadily through your orgasm, your thighs closing slightly around his large palm, but his fingers don't stop their motions on your clit.

you shake and stutter for gasps as he pounds into you, chasing his own high that's been spurred - by your own words or the clenching of your orgasm around him, you're unsure.

"love how you feel-" he groans, voice weakening as he nears his own orgasm, hips sloppy as he pushes your face down, against the cool tile of the bathroom sink. "fuck, baby, made to take this cock."

his sentences are choppy, his gasps and grunts of pleasure mixing with the slap of your ass against him as he thrusts, your legs tired as he fills you full and then suddenly pulls out. you gasp at the suddenness of his absence, turning to look at him as if betrayed - but he looks completely gone, eyes dark with need. "gonna cum on your tits, sweetheart."

your stomach flips at the word - one he's never used before - and you relax into his harsh grip, moving down to the ground on your knees as he grunts, "take this shit off now."

his shirt is on the ground in half a second, your breasts bare to him as he fists his cock, eyes on you and lidded with pleasure. your hands fall onto his strong thighs, looking up at him in awe as he fists his cock, slick with your sticky spend, tip flushed and veins stretching over the shaft. "please, cum on me, want it so bad, Joel," you whine - his hand caresses your jaw and slips over your lips, sticking his thumb into your mouth. you suck eagerly and he moans your name deep, head tilting back in ecstasy.

"fuck," he grunts, slipping his thumb out of your mouth before you can even swirl your tongue around it, and then he's hitting his orgasm.

ropes of his cum land on your tits, a small bit gathering on your chin as he slows his hand, letting out a few sharp breaths. he's barely caught his breath before your fingers are gathering a swipe of his thick cum, bringing it to your mouth. his dark eyes follow you through his labored breaths as you slowly suck his spend off of your fingers, "fuckin'- pretty," he mumbles into his hand as he runs a palm over his face, shaking his head.

you smile, cheeks heating up. the sun is rising and the room is fully golden, bouncing off the mirror and illuminating his tan skin, the scars on his body and yours. he's pretty, you realize.

you tell him so, quietly - in the silence of the bathroom. his scowl softens and you swear you see a blush forming as he rolls his eyes down at you from where you perch on the linoleum.

Joel always says you only tell him sweet things to get him to fuck you - but in the afterglow of your actions, you catch sight of your makeup-stained pillowcase back in Joel's bedroom and it makes you grin. you know he doesn't wash it for a reason, the same reason you keep coming back to him.

and you also know that the way he smooths his thumb over your hairline, the way your own hands in turn soothe over his thighs - those actions, they make up for everything else that's unspoken.

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taglist: @satansgoatt @elissaaa @queerponcho @bbyanarchist @lapricot @umavvitch @asreadbyaj @dinsbaby @cottoncandytomu @onmytallesttiptoess @switchbladedreamz @missannwinchester @abs-2020 @afandomidiot @cosm1c-babe @rogersbarnesxx @carleenphillips-blog @bonnibuckets @nightlovechild @jazzyspasms @girlboybug @cannolighost @pastelnap @userpedros @feministfanboi @frogers @grhowls @daddy-din @gothoppered @totallynotastanacc @robbatlover @casssiopeia @wannab-urs @redhotkitchen @joelapologist2001 @silkiers

message me if i forgot to tag u. i was pretty lazy with this one sorry. requests are open.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

#joel miller x reader smut #joel miller smut #joel tlou smut #joel x reader smut #joel x reader #joel smut #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou spoilers #tlou hbo #the last of us smut #the last of us (tv)#the last of us x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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dungeonmastersconsortium · 5 months

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Limit Break - An Experimental 5e OPTIONAL feature

I posted a while about an experimental feature for 5e that lets players do things not accounted for by the rules, or lets them do Cool Shit™ they wouldn't ordinarily be able to do! This is the VERY rough draft, while I work on tables of consequences for DM's that struggle with improvising or creating such elements off-hand.

Feedback is welcome, but if you're a dick about it, I'll block or ignore you as usual. I know it has been a while since I posted new original content, and this is a new feature/system to tack on to your games, so PLEASE feel free to reblog it for additional exposure so I can get more feedback. More feedback and more exposure means more original content, in the long run!

#dungeons and dragons #d&d #dnd #d&d 5e #dungeons & dragons #dungeons and dragons 5e #dnd 5e #dungeons & dragons 5e #dming #5e homebrew #homebrew #dnd homebrew #dnd 5e homebrew #ttrpg #d&d homebrew #original content #original work

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ghost-girl277 · 4 months

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you leave the door open when you shower part 1-jjk

Part 2

Part 1-choso, Nanami, ino

Part 2-???

Warnings ⚠️-cumming, mentions of chocking, hotel sex, blow job, reader getting their back blow out, reader has a 😺, shower sex, slight masterbation, spelling errors, 18+

Note- comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated! Thank you for reading❤️👍🏼👍🏼 haven't posted in a while but thank you all for the notes and follows.

Choso

water dripped down every curve of your body, steam from the shower traveling out of the bathroom through the partly opened door partnered with the smell of your body wash, loud and inviting, filling the rooms with your scent.

Ten minutes into your shower you heard the muffled sounds of a door opening, closing, then locking. Choso paused at the potent smell, the scent that smelled exactly like you. "Choso?" you called, making the man walk and turn the corner only to find that the door to the bathroom was cracked widely open, "yeah?" he replied after a bit of silence "do you mind grabbing me my shampoo from my bag?choso blinked before turning around and looking at the set bag that was on your "dibs" bed "...okay." Walking over and ignoring the strange feeling in his gut, he opened it but what he saw was the shampoo, instead it was a pair of your underwear, light blue and lacey, the feeling immediately coming back and going to his- "choso?" you called again, he moved the material slowly and took out the colorful bottle and knocked on the door "come in". At that he paled even more than he already was; you wanted him to go in while you were indecent? And for a moment choso pondered on the feeling in his pants, he was honestly worried out by his this new human body because he never felt like this when he was a curse. He walked in and swallowed at the sight of your body through the thin plastic, which was the only thing that separated him from you. You peaked your head from around the shower curtain suddenly, handing the shampoo to you he couldn't help himself from staring at the exposure of your neck, wet and soapy "thank you" your voice seem to break him from his trance "you're welcome" he wasn't sure what was going on but he felt embarrassed?, deprived, needy, and despite your state he was the one feeling vulnerable "can I-I mean do you mind.. if I join you?" he asked unintentionally innocent.

you moaned, your shower being long forgotten, choso picked one of your legs up and fucked into you at an unsteady rythem. Choso going so deep the air in your lungs practically being forced out causing breathless whimpers to mix in with the water hitting your bodies. "Is this good? Am I doing it right?" Choso was no better, moaning louder than you as you took his virginity, pussy hoping to never let him go as it squeezed around him every time he pulled out to the tip before framing his dick up your wet hole again and again and again "yesyesyes, don't stop!" Your nails clawed down his pecs from his shoulders, continuing their descend to your clit and rub it as your body was building up an orgasm "what are you doing" his curiosity spoke loud "it helps" you breathe out "with an orgasm" "that's a good, right? can I try" shaking your head yes, your hand going to his wrist to guide his pace. "something's happening" choso moaned out, and with that being the only warning, choso's hot cum being fucked into you followed by your own orgasm. But he didn't stop, only speeding up more and more forcing you both into oversimulation "why- you plan this didn't you?" He asked into your ear, still pumping himself into you harder as he leaned his forehead into the crook of your neck "do this again, please"

Nanami

Nanami pressed his back harder into the headboard everytime he pictured your naked body beyond the crack of the door, not even 10 minutes ago he entered the hotel room and going straight to the bathroom only to stop right before it and see you're sitting figure on the tub turning the water on only wearing underwear

he felt sick, like a pervert for getting a hard on like this for his coworker, for his friend. He tried to ignore the aching feeling and the small wet spot on his pants caused by pre-cum. He took off his shirt and belt, deciding that he'll take a shower in the morning instead and hoping that by the time you returned from the shower he's asleep, slipping off his pants and sighing at the slight friction that was given to his desperate dick, he didn't hear the softness of your bare feet come out of the bathroom, nor see your figure peeking out from the corner. "Nanami?" you called quietly, he turned around quickly completely apone hearing you, forgetting his half-necked state, he paused, the first thing he noticed was your hair wet and hanging down some framing your face, second, the visibility of the small of your neck down to your collar bone to your chest that was covered in a towel, nipples poking the fabric, and third, one of your legs peeking out as you leaned your half necked figure around the corner. Nanami had to suppress and moan, clearing his throat and asking what you needed slightly blushing from your and his state of clothing or like there of; he turned his head to look at the shirt sitting atop your bag that you requested. Swallowing the lump in his throat because there was no way you didn't notice the massive bulge in his underwear, he grabbed it and walked up to you, a little too closer than necessary, his eyes seem to be filled with frustration as your scent only made him realize his desire for you and what he can't hav. You stepped around the corner, now almost chest to chest with the man, making his eyes descend and mouth go agape. You dropped your towel and took your shirt from his hand. "Thank you, Nanami"

He groaned and gritted, eyes shut and concentrating not to be too loud because next door was bound to hear his sounds of pleasure, his hand went up to his face and dragged it down stopping before his mouth. He peered down at you with slim eyes, sat nicely on your knees slightly bent forward and completely naked as you try to take him full, struggling and gagging with just how big he was. A moan slipped, quiet and small, but enough to have you peeling up at him from below and you slowly slid his cock down your throat again. The action causing him to warn you of his upcoming white hot orgasm before his seed shot into the back of your throat in multiple strands, you swallowed then wiped your mouth with the back of your wrist, looking up at him with a smile about to say something smug before he began to talk first.

"My turn"

Ino

He tried to ignore it, he did, the sound of your moans, muffled from the steaming water as you pleasured yourself, the feeling of his pants getting uncomfortably tight, but every time he distracted himself your moans seem to be more potent inside his head. When he gave up he started to imagine how exactly were you touching yourself, were you rubbing circles on your clit? Were you teasing yourself? What were you thinking about? Were your fingers buried deep in your sweet pussy walls.? If it was him he'd do whatever you desired, overstimulation or edging you, before he could stop he was playing with himself with the thought of you, rubbing his bulge to the speed of your moans, then he stopped, head turning to the crack door. It felt so wrong, he didn't want to be here, pathetically touching himself and wishing it was you, he wanted to be there and make you feel good, fuck you and treat you so well you never forget him whether you wanted him to pound you like he hated you or show how he feels about you by going nice and gentle. He'd kiss your forehead, his hand coming up and wrapping it around your throat not hard enough to cause you to lose oxygen flow but enough for you to remember that it's there as his hips slam into you, cock going deeper each time and making your orgasm hit hard and the wind being temporarily knocked out of you; he'd fuck you for as long as you wanted and pull as many orgasms out of you as you needed, but, he would never actually have the confidence to go into that bathroom that he knew was left open on purpose. He didn't notice the sound of water being shut off or the sound of you walking out the bathroom, nor notice you were standing in the doorway with nothing on but a way to big graphic t-shirt, but the sound of his name and the way it rolled off your tongue seem to snap him out of his trance.

"Ino?" you questioned, when he turned he didn't expect your face to look confused and a little...hurt? And he definitely didn't expect you to be half-dressed. You walked over to him and sat on your hamstrings right next to his legs as you faced him, your legs slightly open and you notice the way a small moan escaped him as his eyes darted down between your legs. You spoke quietly and he could have missed it if it wasn't for the deep quiet of the room, he noticed that the disappointed expression didn't falter as your words told him you left the door open on purpose, despite already know this his mouth open and closing. Taking his silence as rejection, you got up and headed to your own bed before a hand grab your wrist, pressing his body plush against your back as both of his arms came up and rapped themselves around your middle waist. "Don't go" he was quiet with his words as if he'd scare you off if he spoke any louder "you didn't come in the bathroom when I left it open" you said, playing with the hem of your T-shirt "I know.. give me another chance?"

You were on your back, his arms hooked under your legs as he held them close to your chest from apart "fuckfuckfuckfuck!" You practically screamed, then incredible feeling of your stomach tightening and fluttering making you moan in contentment, his dick hitting so deep and itching all the perfect angles. His hand dropping from one of your legs and to instead play with your forgotten clit just like he imagined minutes ago, he peppered kisses over your face and gave you praise after praise, telling you that it won't be long until you're coming on his cock again, saying that he's going to fill you up so nicely if you let him.

" fuck, pleasepleaseplease go out with me I don't- don't just want to fuck you, I want to be yours please. I'm gonna cum, can I do it inside?" with allowed moan from the both of you, you came together, not stopping and instead pushing his cum deeper inside you. The neighbors was definitely going to have a few complaints in the morning.

Part 2

Comment who you want in part two if you want to, and as always thank you for reading have a nice day 🌞 nigh 🌝 and evening 🌆

ghost-girl227~~xo~~

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voidpumpkin · 2 years

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A Guide For New Users Fleeing From Twitter, From A User Who Needed One When They First Started:

Hi to everyone fleeing from twitter, Elon Musk is shit and he already has had an actively harmful effect on the site, one that will only get worse. So, welcome to Tumblr, it can be kind of intimidating, given its reputation and how many different features there are, I was certainly confused and intimidated when I first logged on and as I'm active on both I sympathise with y’all, so here’s a guide to anyone new:

Put your hashtags in the hashtag section. This is the only way they’ll actually have any sort of effect, or appear when you search for something. Don’t post them on the post itself.

There is a character limit for hashtags and a quite high hashtag limit. Go wild. Writing entire speeches is common.

Don’t tag lots of unrelated stuff to your posts, that’ll get you reported for Spam and just hated in general

Don’t censor words, users are fine with swearing, doing so especially with triggering content makes it hard for people to limit their exposure to said triggering content.

There’s no such thing as ratioing.

We don’t have quote retweeting, every reblog, comment, etc counts to op’s post. They can see it all, and will be notified depending on their notification settings.

Change your icon, people will think you’re a bot if you use the default.

Give yourself a bio, it’ll make you look like a person.

Follow people and tags, that’s the only way you’re gonna see the content you wanna see. The foryoupage isn’t to be trusted.

Actually reblog stuff, liking has no effect, reblogging is the only important thing here as there is no like based algorithm. Doing so will also make you appear human.

You can hide your likes and who you’re following. Doing so is not frowned upon in the slightest.

You can block tags, similarly to muting words on twitter.

You can have multiple blogs tied to one account.

You can customise your blog, go wild.

There is no word limit, you can write as you want. But if it gets too long make use of the keep reading feature, (the three dots beside the add gif feature)

There is an image limit of thirty, up from the former ten, though for some they may be stuck at only using ten, tumblr is kinda inconsistent. If you want to add more you’ll have to reblog your own post.

There is no reblogging limit when it comes to a post, though there is a daily posting limit, go wild, only your followers will be upset.

You can have videos, gifs and pictures in the same post.

You can just post audio.

Adult content is still banned, but actual moderation and enforcement is spotty, especially if it’s written.

Spam liking and reblogging isn’t a thing. Go wild.

You have an ask box that people can submit stuff to. You can respond or just delete the post. You can remove anon capability from it (which will get rid of most of the hate), or outright bar it.

You can’t private your account but you can restrict commenting and reblogging. Edit: I’ve been informed that you can in fact make your blog password protected, it’s just that it’s a rarely done thing and not widely known.

Block whoever and whenever, it’s not a big deal. Though if someone you’ve blocked has reblogged and added to a post and someone you follow reblogs that, their commentary will still be included in the post you see.

We don’t have muting, only blocking.

Yes, direct messaging is a thing (it’s the little smiley face)

The only way to promote your is through ‘tumblr blaze’, you pay a certain amount of money and your post will be promoted, but not targeted, so no invasions of privacy. You are subject to the employee’s whims on whether or not it gets promoted and unfortunately hate speech has been allowed.

Tumblr has tendency to hide/consume comments, posts and asks, don’t be surprised if they go missing.

Tumblr searching a blog relies on tags, words in the post and the users name, keep that in mind.

Posts will remain after you delete your account or the original post if they have been reblogged.

Years old posts are still circulating and that is considered normal.

You can queue up posts to be released when you’re not using your account. Or you can just post whenever you’re active. Go wild.

Wizards exist and are very popular on this site. Accept it.

There are posts with no notes that will never gain any more than a sing note for your like. Accept it.

There are posts will no op. Accept it.

Trans and autistic people dominate this site.

Don’t get pissy when someone tags a post ‘tw (insert slur)’, or any trigger warning for that matter, most are just being considerate of their followers who may be triggered by such content.

Twitter discourse is regularly mocked, it’s not gonna fly here.

No, we don’t call each other oomfs, or anything like that. We just have mutuals.

Tumblr in general lacks a lot colloquialisms that began on twitter.

We do have ‘blorbo’ ‘poor little meow meow’ etc.

Trying to go viral or trying to corporate is frowned upon.

Tumblr has a tendency to blacklist things tagged like ‘crowdfunding’ so bring that kind of logic you use for twitter posts over to tumblr.

We don’t have twitter circles, co-posting, etc.

Tumblr is surprisingly good at recommending blogs.

There are no verified accounts, and your follower count isn't visible. This is a good thing, trying to change it will get you laughed at.

People are going to just make up stuff, don’t believe everything you see and if it’s a claim about someone, investigate it rather than just believe it.

You can edit your posts after you’ve posted them, but the versions reblogged before said changes will still circulate. This editing of the original has been used as a spruce of comedy

If your worried about people seeing your potentially triggering, or even graphic content and they haven’t blocked the tags you’ve used you can use the keeping reading feature to put the content under the cut and post a warning at the top.

And this is quite important:

Stay anonymous and have fun. There isn’t an expectation to constantly expose inner details of your life, you aren’t expected to use your real face, your real name, age, etc. You’re not even expected to be truthful here. Exist however you wanna exist and have fun, that should be the point of social media.

Also keep in mind that tumblr has its own distinct culture that is going to take some getting used to. As well as a history any user who’s been here a while will at least somewhat understand.

Also I'll be editing the post with additional info and corrections provided to me.

#twitter #tumblr #social media #Elon musk #giude #psa #hellsite #edited to correct some stuff #hellsite tag #edited again to add stuff and correct some information

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57sfinest · 1 year

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theoretical entroponetics: the post

okay. LONG post incoming. i have summarized all available information on the pale, separated into confirmed objective truth & in-canon speculation that may or may not be true, and then appended my own very detailed theory on the pale! this post is meant as a resource; please feel free to add things of your own in replies/reblogs (please tag me if you do!) or point out any errors i may have made. you’re welcome to use any of my personal theory in your own work but please credit me if you do!! (and tag me in that/send it to me, i really want to see what you do with it!)

Here’s what we *know* about the pale, according to in-game and concept art:

It erases data, at least the kind stored on radiocomputer filament and magnetic tapes.

It has no dimensions of its own- pale latitude compressors serve to force dimensions on raw pale and allow navigation.

The pale is referred to in the context of entropy

It arrived with mankind, but not immediately- there are 8000 years of written history, but the pale was first recorded 6000 years ago, implying that pale either didn’t start forming immediately or that it was so insignificant/distant that it went unnoticed for 2000 years.

There exists a group of people who are actively trying to expedite entroponetic collapse; the ideology is called entropolism

To this point, pale isn’t immediately visible. Pale has molecular structure, but manifests as a waveform, and only becomes visible at a certain distance from the origin, once wave frequency is sufficiently high.

During pale exposure, people experience “sense objects”: visual or auditory hallucinations and/or vivid physical recollections of memories. These hallucinations may originate from their own consciousness or someone else’s. c

People require physical and mental examinations before interisolary travel and are allotted a certain number of days per year as their pale exposure threshold.

Overexposure results in a pale “addiction”- these individuals crave pale exposure, and it’s unclear if this addiction can ever be broken. It’s also unclear whether there is a point at which pale exposure becomes lethal, but given that it dissolves matter, we can be fairly certain that a given length of continuous exposure will kill.

Radio signals, cold plasma torches and anodic sound are all used to manage the pale to permit travel through it. Plasma torches destabilize the molecular structure of the pale to create gaps, anodic sound widens and maintains these gaps, and radio signals rationalize the pale into recognizable dimensions.

Radio signals are, in return, susceptible to corruption by the pale, resulting in entroponetic crosstalk, where signals from the past or the future are transmitted to the present. CCP is one such phenomenon and is directly related to the formation of new pale through magpie interpretation.

There is a dedicated Union for people who work in and with the pale (the Pale Workers Union). They have two slogans; “The light purifies; The sound absolves; The pale no more” and “Son et Fureur” (sound and fury)

Here’s what we may choose to believe about the pale, based on the thoughts and beliefs of in-game characters:

In conversation with Soona, the pale is described as a “curdling milk” phenomenon: “repulsive, but natural”

In this same conversation you can theorize that the churches were meant to contain the pale origins; out of the seven churches, six were destroyed during the suzerain or the revolution

The phasmid and whatever other lifeforms it’s communicated with believe that entroponetic collapse is comparable to an oxygen holocaust (i.e. the great oxygenation event), implying mass extinction due to a toxic overabundance of sapient thought

Harry refers to it once by saying “The wolf is at the door. It’s going to eat the sun.” so take that as you will

It’s likely that Tiago’s “Mother” is some manifestation from the pale, if you choose to believe that the 2mm hole is in fact a pale origin point (the concept art does confirm it’s a pale origin, but the game offers other explanations, so I won’t say it’s the only answer)

Inframaterialists believe that revolutionary action (NOT thought) may create a counter-force that will prevent the spread of pale; it’s unclear if any reversal is possible.

The world will be fully consumed by the pale in 27 years (I put it here because you may or may not believe that shivers and harry are reliably sourcing this information)

And now my personal speculation about the pale:

A quick and easy point: it’s confirmed that the pale has a measurable EMF “exhalation” frequency that varies with proximity. Strong enough EMF pulses can actually tamper with magnetic storage- radiocomputer filaments! Electronics! Fortress Accident data loss! This gives us a tangible explanation for why pale can delete data :)

This may also explain its ability to cause radio interference- radio frequencies are just a subset of EMF frequencies, so it’s possible that pale exhalation on *just the right frequency* is what’s responsible for the entroponetic crosstalk we get on radios sometimes

The pale canonically has an atomic structure, but it also has wave properties, so it’s possible that the pale has wave-particle duality on its subatomic level, like photons do

Based on this, entroponetics is likely a very similar field to quantum mechanics, which might be an interesting source of ideas for anyone (like me) who wants to explore pale-related possibilities

The pale could be a manifestation of raw patterns. That’s why math “forces dimensions” on it- it rationalizes or “tames” the patterns, which allows it to be manipulated to a certain degree.

There are several references to the pale that refer to mathematical concepts and patterns, saying that the world dissolves into “a tangle of azimuths and cosines” as it blends into the interisolary pale- more on this later

Steban comments that the pale is commonly theorized to be nostalgia or “historical inertia”, but it’s largely agreed that it’s “the past” in a broad sense. Thinking about the idiom that history repeats itself, it could be that history/the past is part of the pattern that comprises the pale, and that it’s also the type of pattern most readily perceived by people (people don’t viscerally *perceive* math, for example, but we experience memories)

To first define entropy: Chemically speaking, “the measure of a system’s thermal energy per unit temperature that is unavailable for doing useful work. (per encyclopedia britannica).” Physically speaking, it’s a measure of randomness or disorder in a system. Less work/less order = more entropy; it’s a physicochemical “winding down” of a given system

It’s commonly thought that pale is the entropic force, but what if it’s the opposite? (Keep in mind the chemical definition: less ability to do work = more entropy) Consider: the pale as less entropic, a cleanup force, recycling the potential lost by death and destruction in the universe. This in part explains why a dead person’s memory is present in the pale- their potential has been recycled into the pale in the form of their memories (their life’s *pattern*)

Enthalpy is a related concept to entropy and is defined as the total energy contained within a system. Holding the system enthalpy constant- saying the universe will always have the same amount of total energy, no matter what, according to thermodynamics- results in an entropic tug-of-war between the pale and the world. The pale wins through sheer inertia (again, inertia is mentioned specifically in game)

Overall: think of the world as “cooling”, losing heat and energy through war and death and complacency. Think of the pale as steam and heat, melting down old materials to start it all over again. (Kim says, *through entroponetic interference*: “it’s been a long, cold winter.”)

Consider: the pale as a sinusoidal function, eternally repeating. The pale recycling the universe to start a new cycle, “spending” itself, resulting in pale not being present in the beginning. Then, as the new things begin to settle- with the advent of the human mind, specifically- the pale reforming, slowly reclaiming potential, eventually ending the cycle to start again.

In comes CCP and magpies. Consider: CCP as a backwards transmission from the next “cycle” (after all, pale has no sense of time). Magpies as *pattern-sensitive* people who are able to decode CCP into something useful called novelty. They reach into the potential of the next cycle to build the potential in their current one- this paradox could be what creates more pale, because (and this is where it gets weird, I apologize) doing this retroactively increases the total amount of energy/work/potential in the current cycle to have been reclaimed by the pale for the next one.

Think of the pale as the compost bin for every single thought in the universe. The pale is the exact right size to compost every little atom and thought in the universe, and can hold nothing extra. But magpies reach into the future, the next cycle, and bring in extra. This paradox forces the pale to grow to accommodate the additional material, which also increases the starting potential of the next cycle. This process allows each cycle to accumulate minor changes from the previous one, which can snowball over many cycles.

Furthermore, to the inframaterialists’ point: revolutionary action would be such a radical shift in inertia that it would increase the potential in the world, forcing the pale to pause/shrink to “balance the equation” in terms of pale-vs-world thermodynamics. So maybe they’re right after all :)

And some diagramming, to explain the utter bullshit I’ve just dropped:

#disco elysium #entroponetics #the pale #disco elysium pale #the pale disco elysium #sorry idk the tags for this #theoretical entroponetics #this is all based on legitimate quantum physics and stuff so you could definitely go crazy with these concepts #if anything doesn't make sense please tell me!! i don't know how well i explained it #i'll be happy to rework things if i need to #anyway yeah so im deeply in love with the pale. im basically a real life entroponeticist now #also i didnt include in-game screenshot proof for brevitys sake #but feel free to add them or ask me for some and i can put it up! here or in asks #kiwipost #gen meta

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polyamships · 3 months

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[ID: “Polyam Shipping Day / 14th of every month”. Next to the text is a red infinity sign that finishes in a heart on top. Above the text are rows of stylized hearts in the colors of both versions of the polyam pride flag (black, red, bright blue, light green, dark green, light blue, navy). /end ID]

February 14th 2024 is our 36th Polyam Shipping Day.

The optional theme for it is: 🌦️ Weather 🌨️

This could be weather literally, such as: characters enjoying the sun, dealing with rainy days and having to cancel plans, gleeful dancing in the rain, being snowed in, snowballs fights, or more dangerous forms of weather like blizzards, hurricanes, tornados! What kind of weather do they prefer, and what do they like to wear or do to prepare for different types of weather? For whump, characters getting sopping wet, hypothermic, having sunburn or sunstroke, and so on. Do they weather something, either physically like skin weathered by being outside, or mentally with getting through a difficult time? Something else, like a monument, location or item, they frequent or care about could be worn by exposure outside. Perhaps a ship they are on weathering a storm or taking advantage of the weather to get ahead. AUs with a weather related career like meteorologist, or they could have abilities to predict/control the weather. There's also many phrases with it in, such as fair-weather friend, under the weather, or to make heavy weather of something.

…

We’ll be tracking #PolyamShippingDay, and keeping an eye out for any @polyamships mentions too. We will reblog any polyam-positive fanworks featuring polyamorous ships of any configuration/type from any fandom. All ratings are welcome but anything nsfw/triggery should be warned for and behind a read more, as should very long tumblr fic.

You can also submit works directly to the blog or send us asks to let us know to check your blog for a post. If you’re posting on AO3, our collection name is ‘PolyamShippingDay‘ and you can post to the collection here. Only fanworks submitted/@ us on tumblr or in the official AO3 collection, or fanworks posted to our Dreamwidth community, are guaranteed to be included in our roundup. Please also let us know what prompt you created for, if any - people are always welcome to create for past prompts instead.

We have a Discord - invite here - if you want a place to chat about your ships or what you’re creating for them.

We look forward to seeing what people create for it. If you’re enthused about the day, we’d be especially appreciative of any reblogs to help spread the word about the event.

#OT3 #OT4 #PolyamShippingDay #polyshipping #polyshippingday #polyships #poly shipping #poly ships #polyamships #polyam ships #polyam shipping #polyamorous shipping #polyamorous ships #polyamory #modposts #polyamships prompts #PolyamShippingDay prompts #prompt: weather

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divinehedons · 9 months

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hard to explain.

previously: call it fate, call it karma | masterlist

pairing: dilf!joel miller x f!reader

word count: ~3.5k

summary: after your fall-out with the son of a texan contractor, you didn't expect to come face-to-face with the man; nor did you expect the feelings that come with him.

warnings: this is a dark explicit fic, minors DO NOT interact! once again, i am reminding you that this joel is a meaaaaanie. ginormous age gap (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), brief depiction of somnophilia, fingering, phone sex, mutual masturbation. proceed with caution!

note: thank you sosososososo much for 500+ followers! this is in celebration of everyone who enjoys a little debauchery, i hope you enjoy. you're welcome to suggest drabbles through my ask, and comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

It had to end. You knew it did. You knew it had to end not only when you saw Christopher in the arms of some other girl—you knew it had to end the morning you woke up in his father's bed, Joel Miller himself. You remember it, clear as day.

You remember waking to his tongue exploring your folds, legs already shaking. You wonder how long he had been down there, how long he had been tasting you, and you froze. You remember the way Joel smirks up at you, spreading you open with two fingers, your orgasm not far behind from how sensitive you already were.

The limbic system primarily existed with three mechanisms of responses: fight, flight, or freeze. As your vision cleared, you saw the three responses laid before you, along with their consequences. If you confronted him, you risked the exposure of your very own crime, secrets sliced open and exposed in the warm Texan morning air. If you stayed, you'd find yourself complicit in an active role for destroying a relationship that meant something to you. Therefore, there was only one option left.

You remember the way you shot up, barely getting something on when that Texan drawl emerges from the bed. Sweet pea... You don't hear the rest, shutting the door behind you in near perfect silence. You end it that morning with Christopher; over coffee after he tried to apologise to you. There was nothing to forgive.

Hell, you'd even think you were both even by then.

You left before noon, almost running away from the scene of the crime you have left with hands stained red. You didn't even notice you left a book you were reading until you were back at your parents' house, unpacking as you curse yourself.

You thought that was the end of it. But not quite. Who cares about fate or karma when both clearly wanted to mess with you?

—

You threw yourself directly into the fires of a new semester. Your days easily fill with readings and essays and everything else. You see your friends less and less. You hole up in your dorm room more often. The solitary existence, you began to think, allowed you to repent, to correct yourself. It was why you were so willing.

If only you knew how naive such things seemed.

It was early mid-autumn when you were proved wrong when Joel Miller himself knocked on the door of your dorm room. It was comical, how different Joel seemed against the backdrop of assorted university kids, frat boys, and other such cliques with his greying beard and tired eyes. It was almost comical because you didn't expect him to be here—months after your shared evening disappeared in the haze of stress and study. It was almost comical because you avoided Christopher like the plague, barely dodging out of sight the moment you recognise him anywhere.

Even in mundane things, the father was proving to be brighter than the son.

He sees you, eyes red from exhaustion, fingers stained with pen ink as the pregnant silence fills the air. You wonder what's on his mind as his eyes rake over your form. You're dressed in a campus sweatshirt and (he promised to thank a god or two) just panties. He goes to speak before you can shut the door on him. Before you could pretend and brush him off.

"Christ, sweet pea. What happened t'ya?"

That's how Joel Miller ended up in your shared room, looking over the small collection of books you had stacked up on some rickety shelving. You don't know what to say to him. You don't know what there is to say. You mumble fragments of things. "I'm sorry, mister Miller, this is not a good time..."

"Y'know, this could fall apart on ya. Shouldn't put too many things on it."

You look up at him, catching his eye once more. You feel the heat on your cheeks, feeling like an errant child with their hand caught in a cookie jar. It's strange, you think. You, who had once felt so welcomed by the same man, now look at things differently, wondering if he still thinks of you writhing against his sheets.

Because you think about it. Every fucking night. You think about his deep chuckle, that playful smirk, the orgasm you hadn't been able to recreate ever since. So, the question comes so easily to you: "Mister Miller, did you come here for a shelf?" Your shaky breath exposes you, reveals the tension in your shoulders from the idea of being so proximally close to you.

Slowly, you watch the edges of his mouth curve upwards in a slight, knowing smirk as he moves closer to you, chuckling as you attempt to back away, only for him to continue coming for you, until you feel the door press against the small of your back. His left palm moves to settle right beside your head, effectively pinning you where you are as he leans close enough for you to have a whiff of minty breath. "Why is that, darlin'? Did'ya want somethin' more?"

There is a shiver that shoots directly from your spine to your cunt, a wave of unabashed want as your lips part from his words. It's when a short laugh escapes him, moving to press a chaste kiss against your cheek, the prickling of his beard making your knees clench from expectation. "Actually, I came here to talk to Admissions about Chris and his failed major last semester. And of course, to return a book of yours."

For a moment, you think the conversation is over. Only Joel loves proving you wrong.

"But it's cute to know ya think' 'bout me, sweetheart."

Motherfucker.

The trade paperback emerges from his coat pocket, just as beaten as you had found it all those months ago in some decrepit, secondhand bookstore. You briefly catch the tile in front. The Master and Margarita. Bulgakov's opus. You gingerly take it from his grasp, managing a shy thanks just as you duck out from under his arm to place it on his desk. "I was just looking for that."

"Pretty dense read, if ya ask me." He turns to you, leaning against the door for a moment. "You worry your pretty l'il head too much." He moves to take his leave, opening the door as he steps out into the hallway with a gentlemanly nod.

"Well... I like the, um... thanks. Drive home safe."

He hums, looking around to check if there was anybody to hear his next words. But when he looks back to you, he had that same smirk that generated a tremble to the knee from you. "I hope ya still have my number. Maybe you should call the next time you're thinkin' 'bout an old man, baby doll."

And just like that, he leaves, shutting the door behind him as you collapse to the nearest seat, unbuttoning the top button of your blouse as you exhale.

What a fucking asshole.

—

You do not think of the same Texan contractor until a few days later, coming home from an admittedly awful date with some Tarantino fanboy that thought you needed help when it came to understanding Pulp Fiction. And, should anyone ask, you could honestly say you attempted your best behaviour, but eventually, there were just too many differences for you to logically accept his offer of sex back in his own (possibly) stinky dorm room.

So you walk back alone, sighing as you try not to think you made a foolish decision. You've been stuck in a dry spell, you think, considering the fact that it was Joel who last fucked you dumb. Considering it's been months of you fucking around and never really liking anyone because it's Joel you'll be touching yourself to at night.

With a sigh, you start to understand how foolish you were still being. And with a quiet gulp, you reach for your phone to dial that number you've been avoiding all week.

It's Joel, so, of course, it only took a few rings before you hear him on the other end.

"Well hello there, sugar."

You groan, leaning back to look up at the cloudy evening before clearing your throat. "Please don't be an asshole," you murmur, just as you hear him chuckle on the other end. "I was on a date this evening."

You hear the silence ensure from the other end. As if Joel immediately imagined you necking some frat boy or some other dickwad holding your breast while he's so far away, sitting down on his couch in his lonely home, so empty without you reading at the most random spots. As if he can smell how wet your cunt is and he's nowhere to be found. "It's just nine, baby doll, did you end the fun early?"

"I..." You swallow, entering your dorm room before your voice dropped into a whisper. "He... wasn't being nice..." You hang your coat as you check in to see your roommate fast asleep in her own bed, biting your lip gently. "And now... I'm back at the dorm and I have a roommate so... I'm just... I might just read until I'm tired."

"I might just be the last nice guy you'll meet, sweet pea," he teases, groaning as he adjusts himself in his spot. "And, as much fun as it is readin' about the Devil in Moscow, I think I'm much better company, no?" You perk up, stilling yourself mid-step as you replay the words in your head.

"You read it?" Already, you could feel the smile stretching across your cheeks as you imagine Joel, frowning down at your tiny book in an attempt to comprehend it.

"Tried to, doll. Too dense for an old man like me."

It's when you giggle. So suddenly and naturally that Joel feels a smile etch onto his own face. "I'm sorry, mister Miller. As much as I would like your company... I don't have any privacy right now..."

Joel hums from the other end, as if swallowed by his own thoughts. It's comfortable listening to the easy silene between the two of you, where nothing has to be said for five seconds.

Then, of course, he thinks with his cock and it gets him what he wants.

"I'm gettin' ya a room, darlin'. But you better stop with that mister Miller nonsense, got it?" You hear movement on the other end. "I'll send you the details. Call me when ya get there, sweet pea."

—

In the minutes where he has to wait for you to get where he wanted you, Joel has the time to contemplate just what he was doing to you. You, with a smile so sweet and young that it'd probably let his teeth ache if he let it. You, with your wandering, curious eyes that never asked a question. You, who he missed and hasn't stopped thinking about since that night.

If he was more honest, he would've told you that you also left some clothes from when you stayed over. If he was more honest, he'd tell you that you left your swimsuit in the bathroom beside the kitchen. But he's not honest. Actually, he's just a little bit too fucking selfish.

He'll never tell you of the number of times he breathed in the leftover scent of your skin and your perfect cunt staining the very pad of your swimsuit. He'll never tell you of the number of times he came just from the scent of you, cock in his fist, seed bursting out in powerful spurts.

He'll never tell you he could never have too much of you. And that he's been starving since you left him.

You call again, almost an hour later, shaky giggles being the first thing he hears. He tries to picture you taking in the hotel room he admittedly paid too much for. Tries to imagine if the bed was big enough, if the sheets were soft enough. If the fridge was filled to the brim with things you can enjoy. "Joel," you finally say, and he melts back into his own bed in his own house in Texas, "what the fuck, this is too much!"

He waits until your excitement wears off, smirk on his face. "Private enough for you to touch yourself, sweet pea?"

You audibly suck in a nervous breath, followed by the sound of you falling into the covers of your bed for the evening. He waits for you to respond, expecting some meek response. He doesn't know you've had a few drinks in you, doesn't know that you feel the heat of the alcohol pumping through your veins.

"Only if you touch yourself with me, Joel."

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph and all the saints combined. You were getting bolder. He began to chuckle, and you can almost hear the smirk in his voice. "Good girl. You're getting better, aren't ya?" His large palm reaches down to cup himself through his sweats. "What'cha wearin', baby?"

You tell him and he pictures it in his head. You in a cute knitted sweater, your light washed jeans, your muddy sneakers. He likes to imagine the sweater to be one of his, even if he knows it isn't. He imagines his musk on your skin while you smile an dmake conversation with some boy.

"Anything under the sweater?"

"Uh..." He catches the hesitation in your voice, just slight enough, just there.

"My goodness, did you go on a date in just a sweater, baby doll? Not even anything underneath?" He tsks nonchalantly, reaching down to free his hardness with one hand, sighing in relief at the feel of some contact where he needed it. "D'you think he saw your nipples through dinner?"

It's when you squirm, much to his delight as you stare up at the ceiling. "Oh, God, I didn't even think of that..." You eventually sigh, and he waits for you to continue. "I don't know, he just... he's not quite as interesting."

He wonders what you meant by that. He wonders what to say, but you are quick to add more.

"It's not like I want to fall in love— I just..." Another sigh, the sound of movement as you roll over in bed. "I just want someone who'd do me no good. To fuck me up, just once, so I can understand it."

He chuckles, spitting on to his palm. "I can do that," he mutters, "how 'bout you take off your panties for me, doll?" He waits, judging from whatever sounds your phone picked up. "Well, don't act all demure, now. Use those li'l fingers of yours."

You obey, because it's Joel and he knows things. Because you thought you'd be getting fucked this evening. Because he paid for your time and it's the least you can do.

You listen to him as you slowly melt into the warm sheets, legs spread wide and two fingers shakily rubbing yourself. From the other end, you hear his speech interrupted by shaky grunts, some breaths, and even low, menacing growls.

"Tell me what'ya thought about, doll. When you think of me."

"Uh..." You feel a jolt of want rush through your skin as your fingers unintentionally speed up, leaving you moaning. "I-I... I think of your... your hands..." A whimper follows, making you bite your lip as you attempt to control yourself.

From the other end, Joel himself groans at the sounds you make, his own fist speeding up. "That's it... keep goin' and tell me, sweet pea..."

The image is clear in your head. His hands on your waist, cupping your aching breasts. You think of his desperate cock fucking you wide open in a way nothing satisfied you. You think of his hand tangled in your hair as he takes you from behind, held up only by his grasp. You think of his growling against your neck, teeth running carefully across the surface of your skin before he sucks a trail of hickeys down your wanton body.

You think of him telling you how good you are. You, you, and only you.

Meanwhile, he directs you between his own laboured breaths. If anything, he keeps a clear head about it anyway. "That's it, pretty baby, get one finger in for me..." The sensation is enough to make you whine, whilst he chuckles at how needy you sounded. "S'good, yeah? Pull out your fingers f'me and get a pillow between your thighs..."

It's so easy to obey when you're at the very brink of an orgasm. It's so easy to tear down the walls you built when all you ever wanted is presented to you on a silver platter. You put him on speaker, setting it on the bedside table before you get on your knees, grabbing the nearest pillow, lip bitten as you position yourself.

"Imagine me under ya, baby. Y'like my hands, didn't'cha? Imagine them guidin' you back and forth..."

You squeeze your eyes shut and it's so easy. Your hips grinding down on the pillow, cunt spread open and giving the pressure it so desperately called for. You could almost imagine Joel's cockhead, notching just quite there at the very fold of your cunt, but not quite going in.

So you grind against the pillow, pretending it's Joel and pretending he's grunting your ear, driven by praises and compliments while you cry out in pleasure.

"Stop right fuckin' now, sweet pea, or I end the call."

You pause, shakily, eyes teary as you hear the wet squelch of Joel's fist moving against his cock. "Oh, please, just let me... I was so close, Joel!" You groan, hanging your head as you chew on your lip. Your fists clench the sheets below as you wait for him to let you continue.

"On one condition, darlin'. You better stop runnin' after those stupid college boys who don't know the first thing about takin' care of you."

You take pause, trying to bear the weight of his words with the call of your cunt. You do not know how he grits his teeth at the other end, trying to hold off from his own orgasm, driven by the idea of the two of you cumming together despite being miles apart.

"I... you—"

"Five seconds, doll."

You gulp, clenching as you try and not to give in to the urge to move your hips. "Fine! Fine, fine, fine—"

"Good." He takes in a sharp breath, growling as images of you, his very own personal whore, so fucking willing to obey him, no matter what it is he asked for. "Make yourself cum for me, doll. S'alright. Such a good girl..."

You cry out, words of thanks bubbling from your mouth as you resume your movements once more. You call for him, telling him you're so close as you come closer and closer to the very crest you've been wanting all night.

"C'mon, come with me, baby. You wanna be good, don't ya?"

It's always more than enough. As if just one provocation from him is enough to send a chain reaction through you. You let him know, and he counts you down together.

Five. Your knees quake just as you hear Joel's breath grow more ragged.

Four. He says it through gritted teeth while your left hand grips on to the headboard for some sense of balance.

Three. You tell him you might not last for long but one growl for him makes you learn your place.

Two. You're begging and begging and begging, breath held and teeth clenched. He shuts his eyes before he sees stars.

One. It's so close you both can taste it.

Cum for me, baby, fuck, yes, yes yes—

For a moment, you are caught in a riptide of inexplicable high, vision going bright white momentarily before lulling you into a daze.

A beat passes. Then another.

Fuck.

You better not be falling in love with him.

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