#so any prolifers following me

[junicai]

in light of all the happenings occurring in the usa atm, i'd like to remind my followers that i am PRO-CHOICE, and i am horrified at the overturning of roevwade.

if you are pro-life, please kindly take yourself elsewhere. your misogynistic views are not welcome here. i am in full support of women and people with uteruses having Complete Bodily Autonomy and the second roevwade was overturned, they were reduced to something less than.

these are terrifying times, traumatic times, and this will not be the end. women's rights are under attack.

#*cass.talks #so any prolifers following me #leave ✨ #because i've spent the last 8 years arguing with prolifers in ireland after the abortion referendum #and i'm not doing it on this platform #i'm not going to ruin this for myself #my inbox is always open to people needing a friend #i will provide you with as much assistance as i can possibly manage you have my word #stay safe x

[darkwood-sleddog]

Can the balanced dog trainers please stop fucking talking about positive reinforcement as if those dogs are not “obedience trained”? A majority of competition obedience dogs I know were trained with R+. Letting your dog wander on the end of a line because you want to do so does not = untrained. It is simply…a choice.

#dogblr #dog training #I try to hear both sides and follow a diversity of people but this really stands out to me #1.) balanced means using multiple quadrants. positive reinforcment is part of that #2.) balanced trainers come off really insecure in their own philosophy when they do stuff like this #you should not have to put down other dog owners and trainers to elevate yourself #if you have to do this constantly there is a problem #the reality is to me so many of these people scream ‘I’m important and smart look at me me me!’ #the equating of r+ as = untrained in these circles is wildly prolific #‘I fixed this former r+ dog that was reccomend for BE!’ #acting like all r+ people are the inexperienced pet folks who have taken a single puppy petsmart class #and not a wide variety of individuals with varying abilities #meanwhile how dare r+ and force free people put THEM in the same box as abusive aversives using people #it’s just…how do these people have time to be like this #like shouldn’t you be training dogs? #every time people talk poorly about positive reinforcment I want to take them to a zoo #the hyenas do cooperative care with positive reinforcement #the tigers wolves and bears and other large dangerous animal too #your domestic dog is not different or special or in any way more in need of aversive treatment

[ablednt]

I wish there was a disabled artists guide to not feeling so bad about artfight

#the answer is not 'don't do artfight' btw #it's just frustrating bc I hyped myself up for it so bad then haven't really drawn much or gotten many attacks #which is basically my own fault for not drawing much #but it's just. my executive dynsfunction paired with physical disability makes it really hard to draw consistently #I want to be a draws every day or every other day person so bad but I'm not and idk how to grapple with that #bc ppl will say oh it doesn't matter how much art you produce but it's always followed up with like oh it's abt quality #and it's like no my art isn't slow because of the effort I put into it #im both slow and mediocre comparatively and I know I shouldn't be comparing art is supposed to be fun it's supposed to be a hobby #but I was so proliffic before my health god bad as a teen and I feel like art lost it's spark for me and I want that back but I'm up agains #stuff abled artists just aren't and it's frustrating bc I can't really find any prolific artists in my situation like do we just not get to #do art? is it not a possibility for us? #how to stop hating my artwork for reflecting my disability pls

[ketchuppee]

During the 2008 recession, my aunt lost her job. Her, her partner, and my three cousins moved across the country to stay with us while they got back on their feet. My house turned from a family of four to a family of nine overnight, complete with three dogs and five cats between us.

It took a few years for them to get a place of their own, but after a few rentals and apartments, they now own a split level ranch in a town nearby. I’ve lost track of how many coworkers and friends have stayed with them when they were in a tight spot. A mother and son getting out of an abusive relationship, a divorcee trying to stay local for his kids while they work out a custody agreement, you name it. My aunt and uncle knew first hand what that kindness meant, and always find space for someone who needed it, the way my parents had for them.

That same aunt and uncle visited me in [redacted] city last year. They are prolific drinkers, so we spent most of the day bar hopping. As we wandered the city, any time we passed a homeless person, my uncle would pull out a fresh cigarette and ask them if they had a light. Regardless of if they had a lighter on hand or not, he offered them a few bucks in exchange, which he explained to me after was because he felt it would be easier for them to accept in exchange for a service, no matter how small.

I work for a company that produces a lot of fabric waste. Every few weeks, I bring two big black trash bags full of discarded material over to a woman who works down the hall. She distributes them to local churches, quilting clubs, and teachers who can use them for crafts. She’s currently in the process of working with our building to set up a recycling program for the smaller pieces of fabric that are harder to find use for.

One of my best friends gives monthly donations to four or five local organizations. She’s fortunate enough to have a tech job that gives her a good salary, and she knows that a recurring donation is more valuable to a non-profit because they can rely on that money month after month, and can plan ways to stretch that dollar for maximum impact. One of those organizations is a native plant trust, and once she’s out of her apartment complex and in a home with a yard, she has plans to convert it into a haven of local flora.

My partner works for a company that is working to help regulate crypto and hold the current bad actors in the space accountable for their actions. We unfortunately live in a time where technology develops far too fast for bureaucracy to keep up with, but just because people use a technology for ill gain doesn’t mean the technology itself is bad. The blockchain is something that she finds fascinating and powerful, and she is using her degree and her expertise to turn it into a tool for good.

I knew someone who always had a bag of treats in their purse, on the odd chance they came across a stray cat or dog, they had something to offer them.

I follow artists who post about every local election they know of, because they know their platform gives them more reach than the average person, and that they can leverage that platform to encourage people to vote in elections that get less attention, but in many ways have more impact on the direction our country is going to go.

All of this to say, there’s more than one way to do good in the world. Social media leads us to believe that the loudest, the most vocal, the most prolific poster is the most virtuous, but they are only a piece of the puzzle. (And if virtue for virtues sake is your end goal, you’ve already lost, but that’s a different post). Community is built of people leveraging their privileges to help those without them. We need people doing all of those things and more, because no individual can or should do all of it. You would be stretched too thin, your efforts valiant, but less effective in your ambition.

None of this is to encourage inaction. Identify your unique strengths, skills, and privileges, and put them to use. Determine what causes are important to you, and commit to doing what you can to help them. Collective action is how change is made, but don’t forget that we need diversity in actions taken.

#long post #some thoughts I’ve been having

[gothicprep]

i've been meaning to write something for a while now about how misinformation is not a partisan issue, it's just an issue in general. i was mulling over writing something about how infowars waterboards statistics into saying whatever alex jones wants – i'll still probably do that in the future – but it's not something that exactly supports my thesis here.

but, lucky me, i had a perfect example fall into my lap this week.

so, was andrew tate taken into custody over twitter beef with greta thunberg? the short answer is "no" but i'll elaborate.

here's the primary romanian news report about the cops taking the tate brothers into custody. the way that this has been reported in US news media has basically been that a pizza box in andrew tate's video response to thunberg helped romanian authorities confirm his location. here's a daily beast article that insinuates this:

In a video rant he uploaded to Twitter, in which he smoked a cigar and tried to brush off the online spat, he unwittingly displayed a pizza box from a local pizza chain—alerting authorities looking for him to his presence in the country.

here's the problem with that, though – none of the romanian journalists who reported on this story said anything about the pizza box thing. there's also a huge problem with these stories just... citing each other.

if you dig through the citation loop long enough, you end on this daily star article that cites tweets (jurnelism!) from, of course, alejandra caraballo

According to Alejandra Caraballo, a writer and clinical instructor posting on Twitter: “Romanian authorities needed proof that Andrew Tate was in the country so they reportedly used his social media posts.

(as an aside, if you follow her on twt, i'd heavily recommend against doing that. she spews bullshit like her life depends on it and i think this is inexcusable.)

these are caraballo's tweets in question:

the source for this is the romanian article i linked to earlier in this post. it doesn't say any of this. at least, the english translated version of it doesn't. for what it's worth, i'm not a romanian speaker, and i don't have any benchmark for judging if google's translation service is missing linguistic nuances. here's what it actually says:

Sources close to the investigation stated, for Gândul , that shortly after the completion of the computer expertise, the authorities waited for the right moment to catch the Tate brothers, who were always out of the country.

After seeing, including on social networks, that they were together in Romania, the DIICOT prosecutors mobilized the special troops of the Gendarmerie and descended, by force, on their villa in Pipera, but also on other addresses.

it's also probably worth pointing out that tate's villa was previously searched in april. while the article does say that social media was used to help confirm their location, it doesn't say anything about pizza boxes. and, like, given that tate is a prolific social media poster and was tweeting out videos of romania on sunday, i think it's safe to assume they had a wealth of other information to go off.

and if you don't want to take my word for it, nyt and wapo both reported that the spokesperson for the romanian prosecutor presiding over the case denied the pizza box thing:

Speculation online centered on whether a distinctive pizza box featured in one of Mr. Tate’s tweets to Ms. Thunberg had helped lead the authorities to him, but Ramona Bolla, a spokeswoman for the Directorate for the Investigation of Organized Crime and Terrorism, told The New York Times on Friday that that was not the case.

anyway, ain't it funny how caraballo's made the fuck up pizza tweet got 76 million views, 97k retweets, and 525k likes, while her appended correction got 78k views, 100 retweets, and 820 likes. her initial "source: my mind" tweet is still up. ain't. it. funny.

#tim heidecker rules for 2023 – NO MORE BULLSHIT!

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: FUSHIGURO

A/N: OH. MY. GOD. Anon. I love you and hate you for this request. This was…hard. I told myself I wouldn’t publish it unless it was fucking perfect (you should see the scalpels I took to each goddamn sentence before this version).

SECOND: I will square up with Gege for writing the most enigmatic, LAYERED, complex, muddled character to exist. I wanted this to be Megumi. Through and through. His darkness, his light, his reservation, his crazy, all in one. And IDK. I think I did it? This one is purely to prove to myself that I can write for characters that are hard to write for (*cough* yuta im glaring at you *cough*)

THIRD: if you do read this (I get people feel things about aged up characters etc), I implore you to listen to this. Guys. I heard this at 0200 IN THE OR during a 6 hour case and the entire concept for this came to me. Meg is sophisticated and unruly, selfless and selfish, etc. So this has some NSFW but definitely probably more on the poetic, long ends of my works.

CW: Aged up characters (20+), college AU, fluffy/raunchy/dark romance-y because LOOK at him. He takes after Gojo AND Toji. Mature, 18+

“You like it when I’m rough.”

Megumi’s melody rings crystal clear.

Low.

Precise.

An F-14 Tomcat fighter jet, flying dark. Below enemy radar.

The piano keys float beneath his tone. His long, slender, deft fingers effortlessly execute the sheet music before him. It’s his GPS system, a personal flight map.

Little Beethoven, his advanced music theory professor calls him.

Truth is, Megumi is a prolific pianist and vocalist. He can tame any note, any melody, any harmony faster than any of his Shikigami.

Speaking of…

Megumi pulls off the piano and tortured love song in an instant. Just as the grade 3 curse creeps through the open door.

The part between his right long and ring fingers is automatic. His left hand grips the web space between his right thumb and index finger.

“Demon dog.” Megumi summons.

Low. Precise. Decisive.

“Eat it, boy.”

A small, approving smile tugs on the corners of his lips. Low level curses are the nothing more than chew toys to his divine dogs. With a tiny wave of his fingers, his technique buzzes inward.

Megumi’s eyes float to the ancient analog clock on the wall.

13:50

10 more minutes until you’ll meet him for your date.

No. Not date.

Study. 10 more minutes until you’re meeting him to study.

Your thought blooms within him like wildfire. It sets his normally cool, porcelain skin ablaze.

Megumi whips his body around to face the piano. To exorcise the feeling. The keyboard has always been his outlet. His life blood. Playing, singing, musing in and out of written songs is his catharsis.

Words don’t come easy. They never have. But lyrics do.

And when he gets to ride lyrics with his voice, his runs..?

The words he can never find on his own are suddenly out there. In the atmosphere. Coating empty rooms in a mist of his thoughts, his feelings.

No certain promise that the person the words are destined for will ever catch them. Or ever walk through the room and be kissed by the remnants of his musical trail. But Megumi has said (sung, played) them. And that’s enough.

“Sorry if I come across a type of way.”

“I’ve been trying to get out of my way…”

His fingers dive into the keys. Angrily. Earnestly.

“I know it doesn’t seem like I care, but you know I care—“

“Wow Meg, you sound incredible.”

You bring him to an abrupt stop. Your voice is maple syrup trailing down Megumi’s neck, leaving goosebumps in its candied wake.

Pitch fucking perfect.

A soft, ethereal C, gliding down Heaven’s staircase. You infuse sunlight into his name, whichever way you choose to say it.

And it’s hell. It’s cruel. To have as keen hearing as he does. To listen to you sing his name and have nothing else follow.

“Fushiguro.” Megumi shoots up from his seat, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

“What?”

“Fushiguro.” He repeats, eyes briefly meeting yours before settling above your head. He’s at least a head and shoulders taller.

“Nobody calls me Meg.”

You throw your head back. Feather light crescendo in your laughter. It’s pretty. Tantalizing in the way chandeliers twinkle when they capture a beam of light.

His eyes dart down to catch the feminine column of your neck. Curving into your delicate collar bones. How are your lines so seamless?

So cinematic. Like he’s watching a figure skater land a triple axel. Or a prima ballerina en pointe. It’s not fathomable.

Gorgeous.

You are gorgeous.

“I call you Meg.” You retort with a smile that liquifies all of his joints.

You double your walking speed to keep pace with Megumi’s long strides. Both of you exit the sound engineering building. Heading straight for the campus library a couple blocks away.

“Who were you—oh,” Megumi’s glacial hand along the small of your back steals your voice away.

Your eyes and feet follow his gentle push, shifting you to the other side of him.

“Walking on the wrong side.” He mutters, monotone. Matter-of-fact. Obviously.

He’s a gentleman. Of course he is going to walk on the traffic facing edge of the sidewalk.

Of course he didn’t feel the electric currents wire through his fingers to clench — suffocate — his heart.

No, he didn’t hear that punched out, falsetto gasp when his hand cradled your perfectly tapered waist.

Or notice how well you fit into his hand. How light you are under his touch that had none of his real strength behind it.

You’re made of alluring lines. Intoxicating sounds.

What would it take to coax a pretty melody out of your pouty lips?

His fingers?

They’re long. And smart. Cold. Remarkably patient. You’d like them.

He could make you love them.

Crave them. Need, whimper, whine, and cry out for them.

“So who was it?” You tether him to reality.

“Who was what?” Megumi counters, leading you to a private study room.

“The way you were singing earlier.”

Hairs along the back of his neck stand at attention. Blood runs Siberian cold. Megumi’s gaze on you is subzero.

“It had to be for someone.” You lower down into a seat in slow motion.

The sweetheart neckline of your sundress is mean. Your supple mounds tilt and ripple with every micro movement. Megumi has forgotten why he’s glaring at you.

“You sound too…pretty. It can’t be wasted on thin air.” You continue.

“She must be—“

“Let’s just get started, okay?” He sharply redirects the conversation.

And promptly shifts gear to low autopilot. He’ll speak when spoken to, answer questions intermittently. But his mind’s true coordinates are a galaxy away.

Megumi retreats to his shadow garden.

Watching you.

Drinking you in.

Savoring each detail on his tastebuds like dessert.

The pencil eraser leaves an indent on your bottom lip where you’ve been pressing too hard.

Megumi wants to roll your bottom lip under his teeth. Until it flushes rose and swells beneath his relentless pull.

His eyes fall to your bracelet, far too big for your dainty wrist.

He could hold both of your wrists in one hand above your head or behind your back for hours. Without breaking a sweat.

His other hand would take its time.

To stroke you. Pet you. Learn your sheet music. Then play your body like a harp until you’re a chorus of beautiful, soprano whimpers and moans. Begging and pleading so prettily, enticing him to give in.

But he won’t.

Not until you’re soft enough. A babbling, warm, ruined brook beneath his fingers.

Then he’ll take you, gorgeous.

Searing pain from his sharp swallow and nails digging into his thighs rip him down to the present.

Vision a little fuzzy. Head a revolving door of vulgar scenarios. A dull, demanding ache between his legs draws his eyes to his lap.

Fucking hell.

His jeans are uncomfortable. He’s stiff and needy. Not nearly enough strength in his pants to hold back his drunken arousal.

Not to the mention, the—

swarm of shadows growing at his feet?

Is his…innate domain materializing around him right now?

Megumi aggressively slices through the air at his hip level. Below the table, but you don’t miss his sudden stirring.

“Meg? You okay over—“

“Going to the bathroom.” He gruffs through a clenched jaw. Megumi places his forearm over his crotch before hurrying out of the room.

He can barely recognize the man in the mirror. Flushed to his ears. Volcanoes threatening eruption in his eyes. Api Biru. Pure, triple distilled, blue lava coursing through his veins.

Snap out of it, Fushiguro.

The splash of cold water does nothing for his internal heat. But his milky complexion returns to its effervescent state.

But then he turns a little too quickly to leave. And his painfully hard length drags along his fabric. It’s blinding.

A feeble moan tumbles out of his tight lips.

“Fuck.”

Megumi slams his eyes shut. He needs to readjust. But if he touches himself now, he might not be able to stop.

A slow, steadying breath fills his lungs.

“Just adjust, don’t…” His voice trails off. Icey fingers around his hot, angry base is enough to rip the carpet from beneath his feet.

“Oh, fuck.” Megumi mumbles through one quick pump up his shaft.

He shakes his head as if to tell himself enough. He rests his erection along his thigh before zipping up. Still painful, but tolerable.

A tornado obliterates any remaining resolve in Megumi’s mind on his walk back to you.

You are a dream.

Or a nightmare? A curse?

It doesn’t matter. He couldn’t care less.

Megumi would follow you. Deeper than the crypts of his 10 shadows. Into hell if it meant he could have you the way he wants you.

The way he craves you.

Because fuck the cost.

He’d pay anything.

You’re working on an elaborate concept diagram on the white board. On the tip of your toes. Lip curled under your teeth. And you are just irresistible.

So, he won’t resist.

“Meg! Took you a bit, you okay?”

Megumi is silent. Unblinking. Sauntering toward you.

“Megumi?”

You lower to the soles of your shoes. Neck craning to look at his face. Your eyes widen at his persistent silence. Rosy heat dusting your cheeks.

Pretty little doe, rooted in place by his wolfish glare.

Megumi takes the marker out of your hand and tosses it behind him in one swift motion.

“Hmm,” a tiny acknowledgment of his name. Just because it sounds so sweet rolling off your tongue.

Megumi corners you against the wall. Both of his hands casually in his pockets.

He watches you shift. Flicker your eyes in every direction. Fiddle with your thumbs.

His quiet.

His presence.

It flusters you. Well before he’s gotten the chance to run his hands along the lazy curve of your waist and hips.

“So…so blue.” You stammer. Your warm eyes metronome between his.

“They are.”

Megumi steps impossibly closer. His eyes drop to your chest. Dainty, nervous heaves. Up and down. Up and down.

“You are so,” you swallow thickly, dropping your gaze. “hard to read.”

Megumi snakes his large, graceful fingers into your nape. The temperature difference between your warmth and his cold startles you deeper into his grasp. Your head evanesces into his pull.

A beautiful, shocked gasp escapes you. Just as Megumi’s lips trace the shell of your ear.

“I want you.”

His breaths collide with yours, now. Heat welling deep in his groin. His cock thunders against his thigh.

“Can you read that?” Megumi rasps. Ensuring his voice vibrates down your spine.

A new sound tumbles from your lips. Like you choked on your last swallow. How pretty. You gurgling and gagging like that.

“W-want me? Megumi wh—“

“I.” Megumi nudges his thigh between your legs. His steel pipe erection digs into your dewy, hot core. He angles his leg slightly upward, inching you on the tip of your toes.

His prima ballerina, en pointe.

“Want you.” His lips ghost against yours. Free hand cups the flesh beneath your thigh. Pads of his fingers twitching to dig in.

The two of you drink in this lock-in-key fit. Megumi revels in you. Like this. At his complete mercy.

The prodigal son, born with more power than he knows what to do with.

Ten shadows. Ten Shikigami. It’s been centuries since the last head of his bloodline had power buzzing beneath his fingertips like him.

And somehow he’s never felt more powerful than this.

With you, heaven’s most precious angel, cradled in his arms. Drowning in sinful ecstasy. He brands this freeze frame into the most permanent part of his memory.

Then, he free falls off your cliff edge.

Megumi takes your lips with unfettered greed. Hunger woven into the way his tongue traces every corner of your delectable, soft mouth. His fingers push your head deeper into him. Sucking and nibbling on your warm muscle.

You shower him with airy, choppy little pants. Moans and whines so light they crescendo to fairy dust. You can’t keep up with his bruising kiss. His other hand palms your thigh, kneading little bruises into your silky smooth skin.

Marking what’s his.

“Oh my god.”

You breathe into his mouth when he lets you up for air. Megumi’s eyes dart down to the meeting point of your sex and his muscular thigh.

Did you really think he wouldn’t notice how you’re rutting your pretty little cunt against his leg like that?

Crimson high on your cheeks. You look away when he tries to catch your fucked out gaze.

“Don’t hide from me, gorgeous.” His hand traces up to your hips. You preen into his firm grip.

“Megumi.”

“Don’t stop, pretty girl.” He forcefully moves your hips in more dramatic, languid, deep rolls against his thigh. He’s not paying any mind to the pool of his precum soaking through his pants.

You bury your head in his neck. Fingernails digging pretty crescent moons into his back. You take over the pace. Undulating against him. Shameless. In complete heat.

“You feel s-so…so good.” Your lips smear against his dampened neck. Megumi responds by circling your puffy, slick bud with his fingers.

And fuck. The slurred, broken whimper that rings in his ears.

The way you hump him even more sloppily.

He could finish from that alone.

Your hand flies to your mouth. Empty huffs spilling. Whines ascending in pitch. You are close.

“Such pretty sounds, baby.”

“Megumi…meg..I-“

“Let it out.” He grips the back of your neck. Feeling dangerously close to his own nirvana. Drunk off your precious melody.

“Sing for me.”

“F-fuck, GOD.”

You bite down on his neck. Waves of pleasure crashing into you like hurricane winds. He grips your waist steady. Feeling every involuntary twitch and jerk of your doll-like frame.

Blessing or curse?

He doesn’t know.

But he will follow you to the end of his lifetime and the next.

“God, Fushiguro. That was…” The lusty haze from your peak settles around you. The once shattered world, slowly pieces itself back together.

“No.” Megumi pulls you out of his neck. Dropping his lips to yours, so he can breathe the air directly from your lungs.

“Meg. You call me Meg.”

#jjk fanfic #jjk fanart #jjk megumi #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi fluff #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fushiguro #megumi x you #megumi smut #megumi x y/n #jjk fluff #gojo smut #geto smut #jjk season 2 #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #yuta smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #jjk x y/n #jjk geto #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro x y/n #megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader

[rinhaler]

NOTSCAREDNOTSCAREDNOTSCARED!

✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ frat boy!oliver aiku x f!reader

Genre: college!au (mostly shameless smut tbh) Notes: first fic on my new blog and it's absolutely disgusting, enjoy. Warnings: 18+, noncon, somnophilia, drugging, virgin killer!oliver, implied virgin reader, tit sucking, pussy eating, biting, fingering, marking, love bites ♡, creampie, spit, alcohol consumption, lmk if I missed any!! Words: 5.3k

What a naïve little thing you are.

That’s the first thing Oliver thinks when he sets his sights on you. A shy, sweet girl wearing the one and only cocktail dress you probably own. It’s so simple but makes a loud statement. You don’t look like the other girls here. You aren’t wearing designer clothes that fit you like a glove, no. The ill-fitting garment you’ve chosen to wear speaks volumes to your innocent nature and your lack of confidence. You don’t have friends, do you? You’re here, alone, in the sleaziest and most prolific fraternity on campus. Of course, it’s a party, and anyone is welcome to attend. But the fact that you decided to come here, alone, makes him think you might be a little stupid.

But that suits him just fine.

He doesn’t approach immediately, for fear of giving the game away too soon. He bides his time and observes your behaviours and mannerisms as you wade through the crowds. His eyes have followed your longing gaze a few times and noticed how you keep looking towards the kitchen. It’s the busiest room in the house right now, he assumes. That’s where the keg and all of the alcohol is.

But almost as soon as you look that way, you avert your eyes and look elsewhere in search of a place to belong. You’ve tried starting a few conversations with the girls, but Oliver knows how catty and mean they can be. Poor thing, fresh meat like you doesn’t stand a chance.

You’re lonely, aren’t you? You’ll feel better with a little company, yeah?

He carefully walks by you in a way that will cause you to spill the drink from your grasp. And with that, this sinful game can begin. The one in which he tells you how sorry he is for causing an accident and ruining your dress. He’s so apologetic that you just can’t help but forgive him right away. And his attractiveness doesn’t go amiss. The kindest person you’ve met thus far just so happens to be so deliciously handsome.

“Let me get you a refill, it’s only fair.” he winks. And you hate yourself because your stomach flits at the casual gesture. It’s probably a line that he uses on all of the girls he meets at parties like this. It’s plain to see that he’s confident. You’re sure there won’t be a shortage of girls throwing themselves at him after a gesture like that.

But you aren’t stupid enough to be the same.

He seems older, by at least two years. He seems comfortable enough here to get you a drink so maybe this is his party. He could have a girlfriend for all you know that is in another room and completely oblivious. You don’t want to make waves before you even experience your first day of class.

People seem friendlier towards you when they notice you with him. Is it genuine? Or could they be laughing at you? His hand resides in the small of your back as he guides you far into the kitchen; until you’re standing between an island counter and the fridge. Your body is warming, and, fuck, he can feel it. You’re so shy. He hasn’t seen a girl like you in a long time. The slightest bit of attention and touching and you’re putty in his hand. What a good girl you are, he’s going to have so much fun with you.

You watch him, carefully, as he rummages through the fridge and grabs a can of beer.

You’re a little deflated as he cracks it for himself and begins to chug.

“I didn’t catch your name.” he states as his unmistakable eyes watch you intently. He has eyes you’ve never seen before, and you’ll have a hard time forgetting. Mismatched purple and green. They’re dull, but not uninteresting by any means. They’re the eyes of a man who always gets what he wants. Those eyes beautiful eyes… they’re bored because they are a prestigious, all access key to gain whatever his heart desires. You hum, hesitating for a moment until you decide you’re too awkward and uncomfortable to hide your name from him. “Oh, that’s a real pretty name. I’m Oliver.” he introduces himself.

“Hey… Oliver.” you smile, unsure of how to respond. You’re so on edge. His peculiar eyes are examining each and every movement you make like you’re being graded. And your heart is pounding… you can’t help yourself. Nobody here has extended so much as a pitying smile. You want to pass his test, he’s the only person being remotely nice to you. But still, there’s a gnawing feeling eating away and corroding your insides and it makes you feel like a criminal, like you’re doing something wrong.

Like you absolutely should not be talking to him right now.

“You’re pretty too.” he smiles, brazenly. His voice is so deep and charming, a sonorous lull as he knows all he needs to do is utter these three simple words to get a girl like you to be completely and utterly captivated. It’s such a pathetic, insipid sentence and you can’t stand that it’s working on you.

You get a full view of his wide, toothy grin and you sense that he’s trying to extend a gesture of trust to you. And you’re encapsulated by it. Pristine pearls almost blinding you and short circuiting your brain as you arrive at the realisation that he might be perfect. His features nothing short of perfection and accentuate his beguiling persona that you can’t get enough of. You haven’t even noticed the way your chest is heaving as you devour a mind-altering cocktail with him as the main ingredient.

And he can’t help but chuckle when he notices how flustered you’ve become from his words, you adorable thing. Three little words are making you squeeze your thighs together and fold your arms over your chest. And don’t think he hasn’t noticed the quickened breaths you’re taking and the dampening forehead you’re suddenly trying to wipe away. He’s noticing everything about you and making mental notes in his mind he will use later.

Do you know how vulnerable you’re being?

You should know better than to be so visibly rattled by him. He may be handsome but he’s hardly screaming upstanding citizen at you. It’s the facial hair. It’s so grotesque and sleazy and wholly unpleasant. And still, the only thought swirling around your tiny, tipsy mind is how it would feel against your skin as you kiss. How would the scruff feel between your inner thighs as he devoured your petalled flesh. You shouldn’t be thinking like this, you aren’t sure what’s wrong with you.

You don’t know how to act, do you?

“Don’t be so nervous, sweetheart.” he tells you, getting closer. The smell of his cologne invading your senses. It’s familiar, it smells expensive and suits him just fine. The type of fragrance you’d save for a special occasion to make an impact and impress people you’re around. Your nostrils flare as you inhale more. More of it. More of him. You need more.

He angles his head as he monitors your response to his proximity. He grins when he notes that you aren’t sure where to put your hands. Moving them a few times before you decide to grip the overhang of the counter behind you until the skin covering your knuckles are taut, turning white. You want to feel his chest, don’t you? It’s so broad and muscular and peaking under his shirt, he doesn’t blame you. You probably haven’t had much experience with a guy like him.

He's more than happy to show you.

You’re starting to think your heart is packing up its belongings and preparing to flee from your own chest as you feel it beating rapidly against your ribs. He’s so intoxicating, you feel lightheaded and overwhelmed by the mere presence of him. His body is trapping yours against the counter. He’s so damn tall, taller than you could have possibly imagined now that he’s pressed against you like this. Your cheeks fill with heat, and you think you might actually faint against him if he doesn’t move away. “There are bad guys at places like this, y’know? Dangerous place to be so pretty.” he warns you, whispering gently in your ear. The tone rushing through your veins and forcing you to shiver. His eyes meet yours after he speaks, his stare willing you to understand what he’s saying.

“T-Thank you…” you mumble.

“Hey, don’t worry so much. I’m the house president, I’ll keep an eye on you.” he assures you, moving away ever so slightly while keeping a lingering hand on your shoulder. A commanding touch to make your body and your mind focus on him. His hand is cold to the touch and you realise it’s from holding the metal can, cold from the refrigerator. The cooling caress of his fingers is polar opposite to the warm smile he’s offering you. You aren’t sure what to do or say, but you need not worry about yourself anymore. He had intended on doing all of your thinking for you tonight, anyway. “Oh, shit, you wanted a drink, right? Let me get one for you.” he speaks, his body moving to act before you can even answer.

“U-Um…” you hesitate, seeing him grab a bottle of rum and a mixer. You hate spirits because they always get you embarrassingly wasted. There are four prominent occasions in the forefront of your mind as you reminisce on the states you’ve found yourself in after drinking spirits. The smell alone is enough to make you gag, but you do all you can to ignore it. You don’t want to make a fool of yourself, you don’t want to do something humiliating that will be talked about for years to come.

You aren’t a prude; you aren’t opposed to getting drunk. You just don’t think it’s a good way to introduce yourself.

He’s moving so fast, and his back is to you as he pours your drink, the red solo cup obscured from your vision as he fills it to the brim for you.

You dumb little thing.

Isn’t this something you’ve been warned about? Not letting your drinks out of your sight at any point, ever. Of course you have, it’s rule number one of going to parties or nightclubs or anywhere that your drink can be tampered with.

You just aren’t thinking straight.

And why would you?

You’re so out of place in this big, intimidating environment. You’re hardly going to suspect the first person to show you a bit of kindness is actually the shadiest guy at the party. But deep down, you know you should consider everyone a suspect after hearing what he had to say. If the guys here are so shady, why does he stick with them? If he’s the president, why doesn’t he tell them to do better?

These few fleeting thoughts have been nothing but. Passing ideas that you thought of and discarded as quickly as they arrived. You can’t live your life in fear or you’ll never make any friends here. And he’s going to all of this trouble for you. You’re nobody to him, and he’s still finding it in his heart to extend a benevolent demeanour to you and making sure you have a drink and a friendly face to keep you company for the night.

So you aren’t going to think twice that he’s slipped something in your drink, you can’t see what he’s doing, but for some reason, you trust him. Would you trust him, still, if he wasn’t so good looking? Would you trust him less if he hadn’t announced he is the fraternity president? He knows you’d never have trusted receiving a drink from him if he just offered it to you out of nowhere.

He’s happy he didn’t have to work too hard, you aren’t completely stupid, but you’re still dumb enough to accept a drink from him like this. You barely even think about it as he flashes you a beaming smile and hands it to you. Hell, it might even loosen you up. You knock half of it back in three seconds and you giggle after the fact.

He’s laughing too.

But it’s at your expense, you poor, sweet thing. You’re going to be seeing so many stars tonight, a sight reserved for Oliver’s favourite angels.

“You’re crazy, huh? You like to party a lot, baby?” he wonders, taking another swig of his drink as he rests against the fridge beside him.

“No, never! This is my first big party.” you confess, and he doesn’t miss the way you slightly cringe at yourself for saying something you must think is a little embarrassing. “I mean, I’ve been to parties… this one is just—”

“You’ll get used to it.” he tells you. “The first one is always memorable, though.”

“Really? How come?” you ask, curiously.

God you’re so cute, it’s killing him. Even he can’t hide the smirk forming on his face as he tries to conceal it with his beer. He decides to not answer. Instead, he admires the way you look disappointed at the prospect of him losing interest in you. He thinks he could bathe in the watery sheen glossing over your eyes as you worry that you’ve said something so stupid that he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.

He's such a disgustingly vile man. All he can think to do is refuse to put you out of your misery. Instead, he revels in the way you knock back the rest of your drink. The way your eyes widen paints a perfect picture in telling him it was too strong for you. Stronger than anything you’ve ever drank in your life. And that’s without the added ingredient he decided to slip in.

“I— do you have a girlfriend?” your question is abrupt as you wipe the excess liquid from your plump lips. Your watery eyes watching him keenly as you do your best to decipher his intentions.

“No.”

You scoff and shake your head. “I don’t even know why I asked you that, as if you’d tell the truth.” you mumble to yourself, but it’s loud enough for him to hear. And just as you’re about to walk away, he responds.

“I don’t care if you know whether I have a girlfriend or not. I would only care if I was trying to fuck you.” the sentence rolls off his tongue with ease. Like he knew exactly what you were going to say before you even thought of it. And you feel a wave of humiliation crash throughout your body; you feel a current trying to drag you under and suffocate you under the foaming sea.

“Y-You aren’t?” you need to stop talking. You need to stop embarrassing yourself like this. For his benefit. For the other people in the kitchen with you. It feels like everyone is staring at you and laughing at your expense. Maybe you’re just drunk and being paranoid. You should go, you should sprint out of here with whatever small scraps of dignity you have left.

He shakes his head, his hand reaching out to yours to pull you closer to him. It trails, up your side and to your chin as your eyes fixate on his. His thumb smooths over your chin, encouraging you to open your mouth for him. He tilts his can of beer onto your lower lip. The golden, yeasty liquid spills from the metal container and onto your tongue. Your eyes don’t leave his as all you can do is stand there and take it. Your little throat expanding with each glug of the disgustingly bitter drink.

Your body is once again pressed against the counter. He snickers when he feels your body jolt against his as you hear the sound of the beer can he was holding clattering against the tiled floor. And he takes great delight in the way your body melts against his touch as he places a hand on your hip. The other, smoothing the shell of your ear before he levels his mouth with it.

“I don’t need to try, I’m going to fuck you.” he whispers, he kisses against your ear a few times and the sound rushes straight to your clit. You squeeze your thighs together again hoping to alleviate the brewing tension. You pray you were discreet enough for him to not notice.

You weren’t.

And it’s worse as he kisses your neck so openly in front of everyone. He sucks and sucks and sucks until his name is signed in blue and purple blooms against your skin. You bite your lip, internally cursing him for forcing you to have to wear a scarf for the coming weeks until it fades away.

“S-Stop it.” your legs buckle and there is something wrong with your eyes. The room won’t stop spinning. You didn’t drink that much, did you?

“Woah!” Oliver exclaims as you fall into his hold. “You don’t know how to handle your drink, hm? I think you need to sleep it off.”

“T-Tax—”

“No, no. I’d be a terrible host if I made you get a taxi all by yourself. C’mon.” he lifts you with ease, your entire body limp in his arms. And he just can’t believe how lucky he is. How blessed he is to be born so genetically gifted. Because he knows there is no way in hell he’d be getting away with this if he wasn’t attractive. Girls looking at him like he’s some kind of hero coming to your rescue. Him, a hero. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t so fucking tragic.

There’s no way you’re forgetting your first frat party.

He’ll make sure of that.

As he passes a few of his brothers on the stairs, they all share a knowing look. Like this isn’t the first time Oliver has been in this predicament. And it surely won’t be the last. He winks at them as he walks by, and he puts you down as he reaches his door, your body dropping like a stone as he lets you fall with no care.

You can do nothing but groan as he drags you by your underarms and into his room. God you want to go home. Not to your student accommodation. Home. You want to be with your parents and under your own roof, sleeping in your own bed. It’s hard to even tell where you are. Are you still in the kitchen? No, there’s no way.

All you can think about is how tired you are.

Suddenly, you’re in the air, being flung onto a nearby bed. You feel like your body doesn’t belong to you. You’re no longer in control and you can’t move your limbs how you want to. You want to use your legs and walk right on out of here and into a taxi.

But you’re lucky, really.

Your body doesn’t belong to you anymore. It’s all his. His to do whatever he wants with. You can’t move, and yet Oliver is going to be kind enough to move you however he likes. Maybe you don’t feel so lucky about it. But you’re just confused right now. Oliver knows you wanted this. Wanted him. The pill in your drink was just a little insurance policy to make sure everyone got what they want.

He prefers girls like this anyway.

Nice ‘n pliant.

“Said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” he smiles, lecherous hands feeling each and every inch of your body. A curious hand reaching up to touch the fat flesh of one of your tits as he massages it over your tiny little dress. “Think you can wear something like this and expect me not to fuck you?” he whispers.

“Mmmpf…” you hum, there’s still a little defiance in you. At this point, he wouldn’t mind if you were on the cusp of sleep. There’s something so special to him about extracting salacious moans from unconscious bodies.

“’m just getting you out of this little thing… gonna find a comfy t-shirt for you to wear to sleep.” he assures you. He wonders if you believe him. He almost believes himself. But as he pulls down the strapless bust of your dress and your supple flesh is revealed to him, the thought of covering it again dies an instant death in his mind. “Fuuuuuck, gorgeous fuckin’ tits.” he moans, his bulge straining against his jeans as envisions himself sucking them until they’re puckered and raw.

He climbs over you, your tiny frame beneath his domineering one. He’s sure you hadn’t neglected to notice how muscular he is before you passed out, even beneath his clothes. He must be some kind of athlete. He’s too beefy not to be. And boy, does he use his weight and size to his advantage when he’s dealing with delicate things like you.

His head practically falls from his shoulder as he decides to let his fantasy come to life. He licks and laves over your tits individually until he gets a little rougher. Softly nibbling the tender buds until they are aching and so sore. His teeth bruise your flesh as he marks them. An assortment of canines and molars as well as decorative love bites.

Any chance you had of forgetting this party are gone.

You’ll know what happened to you.

You might even remember who did it.

But there’s no way a sweet, timid freshman like you is going to have the courage to tell such an unbelievable tale. You might think there are steps in place to protect innocent things like you. You’re a victim, after all. You need protecting. But once again, that would just be so telling as to how naïve you truly are. Drugging pretty girls at college parties is never going to end. The staff, the students, even the police are never going to side with you.

And why would they? These false statements issued by the board, talks of ‘standing with victims’ and offering a listening ear are nothing but lip service. The institution you have found yourself in will say anything to seem like a worthwhile choice. The right and most beneficial choice to you and your future.

But the harrowing truth is that they don’t have time to protect girls like you when they are too busy covering up the messes of men like him.

He pushes your dress up to your midsection, exposing a pair of white lace panties.

“Awe, for me? You knew you were gonna get lucky tonight, didn’t you?” he asks. But of course, you’re unresponsive. His finger prods at the thin material, an involuntary laugh leaving his lungs as he is greeted with the feeling of your soaked underwear on the pad of his digit. “Too dumb t’speak right now… good job your cunt is telling me how much you want me.”

His thumb circles your clit over the material. And even he’s a little dumbfounded at the way your body betrays you. You squirm and your brows furrow as you try to stave off the pleasurable feeling. But for all he knows, you could be trying to fight him off.

He doesn’t care, though, your pussy already gave your true feelings away.

Even he can’t ignore the way his cock is leaking at the sight of your tight heat becoming exposed as he peels away your panties. A slick string connecting your sex to the material.

You must be a virgin, he thinks. Virgins get wet so easily. He suspected it from the moment he saw you. You’re so awkward and uncomfortable around people, but especially guys. You fumble over your words, and you can’t flirt to save your fucking life. But he didn’t care. The thought of your first time being with him was enough to make him want you. And even if you have fucked before. It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t need to know. The very thought is enough.

He pins your knees to your chest, and he begins to feast on your dripping cunt. You shudder as your body feels the tension building with each suckle and slurp against your clit. It’s unrelenting, he can’t get enough of you. He’s fucking addicted to the taste of your slick and he doesn’t know how he’s gone so long without it. Your left leg ragdolls as he lets go, opting to slip a finger into your unprepared hole without stopping his assault on your swollen clit.

And without hesitation, he’s adding another. He takes his time scissoring you open, and by now he’s convinced you’re a virgin. You’re so fucking tight. There’s no way you’ve had a dick inside of you. Or if you have, it must have been small.

You won’t have to worry about that with him.

Even unconscious, he’s sure you’ll feel how he’s gonna stretch you.

Your lazy groans are like a cheer to him. Your body is telling him what a great job he’s doing. How close you are. How badly you want to cum in his mouth and douse his thick, calloused fingers in your syrupy sheen.

The tip of his tongue lashes over the throbbing button at the apex of your thighs. He doesn’t particularly care if you take him well or not. You’re going to take him regardless. But he isn’t so heartless he won’t try and make it a little less painful for you. He’s urging you to cum for him, his free hand pressing down on your abdomen in a bid to enhance your pleasure. With each whip of his tongue against your clit and every press of your spongy insides with his fingers, he’s trying to drag you over the edge.

Your lifeless body surprises him once more.

He pulls away and observes the way your pussy pulses and your walls tighten around his fingers as you begin to cum for him. Your spent little cunt drooling around his thick digits and coating them in your slick. You even moaned for him. Not loudly, of course. A few tell-tale grunts to let him know you were happy with his work.

His eyes ogle your tits once again, admiring the way your chest rises and falls as he sucks his fingers clean. You’re so fucking cute. You must be heaven sent, the way you stepped into the frat may as well have been a gift with a garish bow from Santa Claus himself.

He unbuckles his belt with one hand whilst squeezing and pinching your nipples once again. They’re so pretty, the prettiest pair of tits he’s ever seen. He’s rock hard in his jeans, leaking like crazy and desperate to be buried to the hilt in your sweet little snatch.

And his heavy cock springs free, the tip leaving evidence of just how desperate he is on his v-neck shirt. Pearly pre shimmering against the black material that is soon to dry and harden and meld with the cotton fibres. But he can’t find it in himself to care. He pulls it over his head and throws it into the corner of his room, he’ll deal with it another time. There’s something much more entertaining lying atop his sheets right now.

“Mmm… think this is gonna hurt sweetheart. But you’re gonna be good ‘n take it f’me, yeah?” he lines himself up with your entrance and gives your still body one final look before breaching your insides with his thick cockhead. “Fuckin’ hell you’re tight. You’re so fucking tight, might cum just from this.” he speaks.

He knows you can’t understand him, but he can’t stop himself from communicating with you anyway. He needs you to know how special you are. That out of all of the girls at the party, he chose you. Don’t you feel special? He’s sure you will when you’re stuffed full of his cum. It’ll all dawn on you tomorrow and you’ll feel so honoured that the one and only Oliver Aiku fucked you open and covered you in so many pretty patterns and was even kind enough to pump you full of his cum.

You have no idea how much restraint he’s showing by not instantly splitting you open on his thick, heavy cock. He can’t help but feel that slowly plunging into your virgin walls is a better display of claiming your body. It’s almost torture for him, easing in inch at a time at an agonising pace.

And when he’s fully sheathed inside your suffocating walls, the pleasure is almost too much, he could shed a tear at the feeling. But, of course, he won’t. He’s prioritising the task at hand.

He holds under your knee and pushes it further into your chest and begins to slowly roll his hips. It’s hypnotising, the way even out of consciousness your eyes can still roll back into your skull. He takes note of how he’s moving when your eyelids begin to flutter.

“Oh baby… right there? Like it when I fuck you there?” he wonders, experimenting with his movement and speeding up ever so slightly. His cockhead is nudging your g-spot so perfectly. It’s so deliciously soft, and those saccharine expressions you’re donning are about to drag him to an early demise.

His grip on your thigh is harsh. Another galaxy of purple bruises forming under his fingers on your doughy skin. He hasn’t noticed. It’s second nature to him to be a little rougher than intended. But it’s part of the fun, right? More little discoveries for you to find in days to come.

He’s entranced by the way his cock vanishes inside of your cute cunt. He’s being swallowed whole by your sticky lips. The sound reverberates throughout the room. The suctioning sounds of you pulling him inside and the tackiness of your pussy and his cock meeting again and again and again.

Your eyes squint as he yanks down your jaw until he sees your tongue. He’s so abhorrent and even at this point he knows this to be the truth himself. He just can’t fucking help it. He wants to do anything and everything to you. He wants to humiliate you because you’re just that special to him. With a cartoonish ‘ptuh’ sound, a glob of spit has landed on your tongue and is slowly sliding down your throat.

With a few more presses of his tip against your sweet spot, you’re spasming around him again. Maybe you liked it after all. You wouldn’t cum if you didn’t. Do you like being taken advantage of by reprehensible scum like Oliver Aiku? Do you like being unconscious while getting your insides pummelled? This might warp your tiny little mind. Maybe you’ll think this is love and this is what you’re meant for. It is, as far as Oliver is concerned. He doesn’t let up humping into your tiny hole. He spits in your mouth again, and it’s the final straw to pull him into his oncoming bliss right along with you.

“Little slut,” he pants, his hips faltering as he feels himself reaching the precipice. “Mine. My little slut. My fuckin’ cunt. H-Hear me? Mine.” he practically growls as he shoots load after load into your unprotected womb. “Ah— fuck. Fuuuuuck—” he finishes, fucking his viscous seed back into you.

He pulls out immediately after, admiring the way his sperm drips and squelches out of your spent cunt. You’re clenching around nothing, poor thing. You must miss him.

But you don’t have to worry. You won’t have to miss him for long. You’re not done, after all. He just needs some time to recharge. He wasn’t just going to fuck you once and be done with you. Not a perfect little pussy like that, no. Those drugs will be in your system for a few hours.

He’s far from done with you yet.

© 2023 rinitxshi

#oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku smut #oliver aiku x you #aiku x reader #aiku smut #aiku oliver x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock smut #bllk smut #tw noncon #tw somno #tw drugging #tw biting #tw marking #tw spit #tw alcohol

[reiding-writing]

Hiii, I absolutely loved immortal it was adorable! I was wondering if I could request a fluff fic w Gn!reader where when Spencer goes to the swing set after the whole thing with Cat at the restaurant reader also goes there maybe to read a book and it's a whole meet cute kinda thing cause it's one of his favorite authors or smth? sry for the long request I was trying to be specific Imao

swinging [s.r]

Summary:

You attempt to find your usual late night escape in the empty play park late one evening after an argument with your boyfriend, instead you find a handsome stranger that you find oddly endearing.

WARNINGS: shitty boyfriend (not spencer obviously)

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: fluff (kinda hurt/comfort)

wc: 1.5k

masterlist!!

a/n: i am reuploading this once and once only so if it doesn’t upload to the tags again then i am giving up-

“It’s a little late for a play date don’t you think?”

Your comment clearly catches the boy in front of you off guard, his head shooting upwards and his eyes wide like he was in a state of fight or flight.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” You take a second to admire the man in front of you through your apology.

His hair was fluffy, bordering curly, and long enough that it was getting caught in his eyelashes as he blinked up at you.

His eyes were big, round, and practically glistening in the warm lighting of the lamp post to your left.

He was dressed in a finely pressed black suit fit with a baby blue shirt and a lilac tie that made him look like he’d walked right out of one of those rom-coms where the male lead is a prolific billionaire.

He was gorgeous.

“I came here to wallow in my own self-pity but it looks like you beat me to it,” You can’t help but chuckle softly at your own explanation. “Do you mind?”

You gesture towards the swing besides his with a book held in your left hand and a soft expression, as if to silently tell the beautiful stranger in front of you that if he wanted to be alone that you would feel any offense.

“Uh- yeah- no- no, go ahead,” You don’t even try to suppress the smile that creeps its way onto your face at the way he stumbles over his words, and you take a seat on the swing next to him with a chuckled “Thank you,” as you turn your head down to the open book in your lap, just illuminated enough under the lamp post so you can read the words on the pages.

Any distinguishing factors, including the book’s title were unceremoniously hidden from view as it blends into the night’s shadows, effectively halting curious effort of the boy next to you to figure out what it is.

Of course, it doesn’t take long for you to feel his lingering gaze, and you follow it down to the novel in your hands before you show off the cover in his direction.

Paramenides by Plato.

“Have you read it?”

Your voice stops his psychoanalysis of your literature choices as he turns his eyes back up towards your face again.

“I have actually,” He nods softly at you with a pursed, slightly awkward smile, the contours of his cheek bones perfectly captured in the dim lighting. “I read it when I was doing my Philosophy degree.”

“No kidding-“ You let out a small laugh in surprise at the fact the cute stranger encroaching on your usual pity party venue just so happened to have a degree in Philosophy.

He also just so happened to have an absolutely beautiful laugh, the sound like a song in your ear as he joins you in laughing about the absurdity of the odds that the two of you both had a keen interest in philosophy.

“So, what brings you out here so late then?” You seem to lose interest in your book as the two of you make eye contact, shutting it in your lap as you turn your shoulders towards him. “No, wait, let me guess, shitty date?”

The boy lets out a breath that could almost constitute as laugh, averting his eyes from you and leaning towards slightly to awkwardly run his hands over his legs. “Something like that-”

You give him a sympathetic smile and a nod. “Don’t let it ruin your perception of romance, it’ll work out in the end,”

The boy’s eyes turn up towards you once more as you speak, and your smile becomes a little more awkward as he meets your gaze once more.

“You don’t look like you believe yourself…” His words leaving you blinking softly in his direction, facial expression full of confusion.“Your relationship isn’t going very well at the moment is it?”

Your expression morphs at his question and he immediately backtracks, waving his hands around as he tries to pull back the conversation.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t- I’m-” He takes a sharp breath in through his nose before attempting to actually speak a full sentence to you. “I’m a uh profi- A behavioural analyst- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable i’m so sorry-“

“No it’s alright,” It was your turn to awkwardly drag your hands down your legs now, fingers curling over the edge of your book as you reach it and fiddle with the metal plating on one of the corners of the cover. “You’re not wrong,”

You can practically see the curiosity in his eyes as you confirm his suspicion. “Is that why you’re here?”

You can hear the cautiousness in his tone as he presses you further, clearly scared about crossing a line, “You said you came here to ‘wallow in self-pity’ earlier…”

You can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of your earlier statement as he repeats it back to you. “We uh, had an argument,”

You play it off as something insignificant, but you can tell that he doesn’t believe you and soon end up finding yourself spilling the entirety of your relationship problems to someone you’ve never met before.

“He has this best friend that he’s like weirdly close to and he stood me up on a movie night we were supposed to have so they could go out together instead-“ You sigh exasperatedly as you replay the nights events in your head.

“I called him to ask where he was and it spun into him yelling at me for ‘not respecting’ his friendship because they’ve been friends longer than we’ve been dating, it’s stupid really-“

“That’s not stupid at all,” He shakes his head determinedly at you. “He’s not respecting your relationship, i’m sorry you have to deal with that,”

You can’t help but feel minorly guilty for making a stranger feel bad for you, but you give him a soft “Thank you,” nonetheless.

You unfortunately don’t have time to continue your conversation as your phone buzzes with a message from your boyfriend telling you that you have to go home to your shared apartment.

With a sigh you pick yourself up from the swing, clutching your book underneath your arm.

“Well, it was nice to meet you…” You trail of the sentence with indication for him to fill in the space with his name.

“Dr. Reid- Spencer Reid- Spencer- I’m Spencer....”

You can see the flush spread across his cheeks and over his nose as he stumbles out his name.

“I enjoyed speaking with you Spencer,” You give the cute stranger, Spencer, a soft smile as you prepare yourself to leave, hands stuffed in your pockets.

“I enjoyed speaking to you too,” He returns your smile with one of his own, albeit one that’s slightly more awkward, and you can see his mouth fall open again as if he was going to say something else, but his words fall short.

“Good night,” Your stopped in your walk home almost before it even starts as Spencer calls after you with a new found confidence.

“Wait-“ His voice echoes through the empty play park, and you turn around to meet his glistening gaze once more. “Am I- going to see you again?”

His half-awkward demeanour was oddly charming, eliciting a soft smile that spreads to your eyes.

“I like to read here sometimes, bring a book with you and maybe we can read together…”

Spencer smiles at your indirect invitation to see him here again in the future, and he nods softly at your answer, standing from the swing he was sat on to mirror you. “I’d like that,”

“Good,” You give him another soft smile that joined by a slight tilt of your head. “I’ll see you soon then..”

“Yeah…” Spencer stays stood as he watches you leave to go home, mind running at a million miles a minute as his brain fully comprehends what just happened.

You’re already out of sight before he realises that he forgot to ask for your name.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #mgg #asks 🫶

[lovinpelova]

stargirl | a. russo

summary; alessia plays really well against chelsea, so you reward her. [SMUT]

🎵 collide - justine skye

north london was officially red - once again.

a massive 4-1 win over chelsea proved that, beth opening the scoreline before amanda followed with a header, then alessia after making a perfectly timed run. but she wasn't stopping there, claiming a penalty from a miscommunication on chelsea's behalf and burying the ball confidently, arsenal's defense picking up afterwards to shut down all of chelsea's attacks when both teams started using substitutes. yourself being a gunner too meant you weren't able to properly congratulate your girlfriend as you were too busy delivering all you possibly could in midfield, victoria being a massive help as you both put down masterclasses alongside each other to aid in any mistakes that were made.

eventually the full-time whistle blew and a roar of applause soon followed, blues booing loudly or shaking their heads in defeat as gooners celebrated with singing and dancing. you shook hands with everyone and made your rounds of the chelsea team, saying they played well until the last second before running off to find victoria - your best friend - and jumping onto her back. you yelled in her ear as she flinched with a grin, looking back at you as you kissed her forehead sloppily before wrapping your arms around her neck whilst hoisting you up further onto her back.

"north london is red baby!"

"fuck yeah it is!"

you joked about with the dutchie for a couple more minutes with leah and beth joining in, loving how your childish sides came out around each other although you were both twenty-four and strictly professional when it came to anything else.

"beffy, i'm so proud of you!"

you wrapped your arm around her shoulders as she slung hers around your waist to pull you closer, kissing your temple affectionately whilst you all waved to fans and looked around in awe of the atmosphere.

"it's about bloody time i've scored here again."

the blonde joked, both of you laughing lightly before you felt a pair of hands grab your shoulders with a yell accompanying them, the accent telling you it was a certain left-back you couldn't help but adore.

"shit, mccabe you nearly gave me a heart attack then!"

"i'll be having a heart attack if she gets a yellow next game."

"we all know that's gonna happen."

katie retaliated, confirming she was planning on playing dirty against spurs like usual. you and beth rolled your eyes at her as she grinned in response, leah soon coming to take her away as viv did the same with beth, yourself turning around to spot alessia yelling your name and jogging after you.

"there's my stargirl!"

you opened your arms wide for her as she collapsed into them, stumbling for a couple moments before picking you up and spinning you around, yourself squealing in fear of her dropping you before she put you down and kissed your forehead affectionately. she wrapped her arm around your shoulders as yours went around her hips, head leaning against her to stay comfortable and in her hold whilst making your rounds of the pitch.

"you know that article i found yesterday? the one about me not scoring goals but making a bigger impact literally anywhere else on the pitch."

you scoffed at the italians petty tone but hummed in response anyways, not wanting to tell her you'd read it in your own time and there was nothing bad about it. all it was saying is that she wasn't a prolific goalscorer for the arsenal yet the same way stina or bunny or sam or rachel were and she made a bigger impact with her recovery rates, possession, passes and assists.

"i wonder how that writer is feeling right now."

"okay petty girl, calm down. i'm sure they didn't mean any harm by it."

you chuckled whilst placing your hand on alessias chest and lifting your head up, watching her look down at you with an unimpressed expression that quickly melted away when you kissed her cheek sweetly.

"plus, you woke up and told them 'hold my beer' today, didn't you?"

"guess i did. player of the match to prove it."

the striker lifted up her trophy and wiggled it in your face like a child excited about a new toy, a cheesy grin covering her face as you responded with a proud look.

"my stargirl."

you mumbled so only she could hear, a bright red blush covering her cheeks as she chuckled nervously and looked at the ground, thanking you shyly.

"come on then, lets get home."

alessia responded after she gained her confidence back, practically dragging you to the changing rooms as she was desperate for a shower and to get out of her dirty kit. music was blasting from the moment you both walked in, vic and noelle following closely behind as they egged you on to walk faster so they didn't miss out on the fun- so obviously you had to walk slower just to take the piss. after an hour or so of dancing to beths music choices you were packing up your matchday things alongside a couple of the other girls, majority already having left to go home or greet their family that had made the trip to watch.

whilst zipping up your back and searching for your boots you felt a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist, a familiar scent accompanying them as your girlfriend kissed along your neck sweetly. you quickly fell back into her embrace and held her arms there for a moment, turning your head to kiss her cheek before she spoke.

"i'll be waiting in the car for you babygirl."

"okay. won't be long beautiful."

alessia snuck in a peck to your lips before playfully smacking your bum as you scolded her, the italian out of your reach before you could retaliate and already on her way to your shared car. you looked around for your boots before finding them in vics cubby, looking at the woman unimpressed as she smiled sheepishly at you.

"it was leahs idea?"

she hopelessly tried to persuade with a shrug, yourself turning to the england captain as she smirked in response, quickly smacking you away when you went after her.

"hey, acl squad members are ruled out of catfights when in recovery! besides i thought it would be funny to see how much less distracts you."

"turns out you don't even notice someone sneaking your boots when you're loved up."

victoria explained before you retaliated to leahs teasing, holding out your boots for you as you took them from her.

"thank you vic, at least someone here has maturity- more than what can be said about you lee."

you grinned at the blonde as she scoffed in mock offence, sticking your tongue out at her before grabbing your things and heading out of the changing room after a final check for everything. spotting alessia waiting in your car you speed-walked over to get out of the cold, opening the backdoor and placing your things in with hers before settling in the passenger seat. even though alessia had very sadly departed with her beloved merc after the three-year lease she signed was up, she still insisted you be her passenger princess in your newly shared car.

"you take forever sometimes."

"vic and lee stole my boots! blame them."

you retorted as alessia laughed whilst pulling out of the parking lot to start the fairly short drive to your shared flat, staying in a comfortable silence until you collapsed on the couch after practically dumping your bags on the kitchen counter with a long sigh.

"that much of a shift in midfield, huh?"

"ugh, you don't even understand how hard jessie is to mark! it's like she channelled her inner iniesta today."

alessia sat down on the couch next to you and opened her arms wide, a shocked noise leaving her mouth when you moved to straddle her lap but she clearly wasn't complaining by the way her arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer. you kissed her deeply for a moment before she pulled away to peck your lips once more, responding to your rant about the canadian you went to ucla with a fair few years ago.

"but you played with her in the states so you know how to deal with her. you played well today baby, doesn't matter if jess challenged you 'cus you showed up on that pitch every moment we needed you. i'm so proud of you."

"speaking of people who played well today..."

the blonde groaned and threw her head back at your change of conversation topic, a small blush covering her face as she grinned up at you after moving her head to face you normally again.

"my stargirl got player of the match!"

"really? i didn't notice."

you smacked her chest lightly for the sarcasm before laughing together, your arms moving to wrap around her neck and pull her closer.

"you deserve a bigger reward than a small trophy for how you played today."

alessias eyebrows raised as you watched her lips curl up into a smirk, the grip on your hips tightening whilst she moved to sit up properly and adjust so she was more comfortable, suddenly far more interested in the conversation.

"oh yeah? like what?"

you bit your lip playfully whilst pretending to be in thought, humming lightly as she patiently waited for your answer, knowing what she wanted wasn't going to come without a little bit of teasing on your behalf.

"maybe you don't sleep on the couch tonight? wait no, that's too nice. you can lie with me until i fall asleep, then you come sleep on the couch."

"oh wow, that's a great deal. but..."

the italian trailed off suggestively, carefully moving so your back was pressed against the couch and she was above you, slowly kissing up your neck before she reached your ear.

"i do have a better idea. i think you'll like it too."

"hmm, i wonder what it could be?"

"you want me to show you?"

you grinned up at alessia as she smiled in response once you nodded your head, dipping down to kiss you passionately with her hands trailing underneath your shirt and tracing your toned stomach, your own moving up to tangle in her hair and tug on it lightly. the blonde groaned lowly as her hands impatiently trailed up towards your breasts, smiling into the kiss when you moaned softly once she started massaging them slowly, eventually pulling away to take off your shirt for you. she pulled hers off soon after and threw it across the room with yours, careless on where it landed as she leaned down to kiss you again with her hands moving towards your breasts to continue their movements, her hips readjusting in a way that told you to move your legs around her waist.

you quickly followed her silent command as she deepened the kiss, hands trailing across her muscular back as her lips moved down your neck and began sucking marks into your collarbone. your hips bucked up into hers as she gripped your thighs and pulled them tighter around her waist, wanting you as close as possible whilst you pushed her head further down towards your stomach. you felt her grin against your abs and scoffed at her cockiness, lightly slapping her muscular shoulder as she chuckled with you whilst kissing along your stomach, hands taking off your joggers slowly.

"less, please hurry up."

your girlfriend lifted her head up with one eyebrow raised, pulling off your joggers and throwing them carelessly across the living room, smirking down at your needy state with her fingers teasing the waistband of your underwear.

"what if i didn't?"

you looked up at her, unimpressed, crossing your arms over your chest as she mocked your moody expression.

"doghouse."

"okay, okay baby, you know i was just joking."

the blonde quickly apologised as you grinned victoriously, watching her shake her head in disbelief whilst pulling off your underwear and trailing kisses along your hipbones. alessia moved her lips across your thighs to leave her mark, dipping the tip of her tongue in the crevice of your thigh before lifting your legs over her shoulders, broad hands gripping your thighs without a problem as yours moved to tangle in her hair again. a gasp left your lips when she finally got to work, tongue licking a long stripe from your entrance to your clit before she fully dove in, flicking her tongue across your clit at a godly pace and smirking against your heat at the immediate moan you let out in response.

"alessia!"

you squealed in shock as she began sucking on your clit harshly, looking down to see her eyes already locked onto yours as you moaned at the sight. her veiny hands keeping your thighs in place, legs over her muscular shoulders and toned back as she buried her face into your pussy like you were her last meal, eyes boring into yours as she worked you towards your high. she trailed her tongue down to your entrance and dipped it in to test the waters, taking note of the way your back arched - a miniscule amount - but still enough that she noticed it from her position.

alessia moaned into your heat and pushed her head further down, nose bumping against your clit slightly if she moved enough with her tongue burying itself inside you, thrusting in and out the way her fingers would be if she didn't have those stupid nails on. she curled her tongue slightly upwards in an attempt to hit your g-spot, grazing over it and earning a broken moan with your hands tugging her hair to push her further into you. her eyes rolled back at the sensation of her hair being pulled at as she ate you out, loving the way you tasted and wanting so much more.

"alessia- so good baby keep going."

you murmured out breathlessly, her tongue coming out and flicking over your clit in all different directions and speeds to make your back arch inhumanely, a guttural moan leaving your throat as the italian tightened her grip on your thighs. if anyone told her she would be having you as her post-match meal she would've rushed home a lot sooner; alessia loved eating you out.

"m'gonna cum- god baby, i'm gonna cum!"

alessia picked up the pace of her tongue as much as she possibly could, flicking it back and forth before flattening it out against your heat completely and trailing back down to your entrance, teasing a couple times before moving to suck your clit into her mouth again. she moaned at the taste of your wetness all over her mouth, some of it trailing down her chin as her eyes rolled back with yours, your orgasm soon coming over you and flooding into her awaiting mouth.

the italian felt you whine and tug her hair gently when her tongue didn't let up, her thumbs stroking over your thighs gently as she looked into your eyes deeply and winked cockily, moving back to the task at hand as she closed them. your thighs tightened their grip around her head as she continued flicking her tongue over your puffy clit, moaning into your pussy as you already felt another orgasm coming.

"less- are you- oh god don't stop."

alessia felt your juices running down her chin with how lazy she was being, not caring if she missed any because she just wanted to taste your cum again. her jaw fell slack for a minute as she moaned shamelessly against your cunt, hips grinding down into the couch below with her eyes rolling back as she sloppily drove you towards your orgasm. she wasn't going to stop until she got another high out of you, that was her reward, she deserved it.

that and she was clearly pussy drunk.

who doesn't love a bit of messy head anyways, right?

your orgasm approached out of nowhere as you tugged on her hair with your thighs spasming against her face, the blonde gladly licking up your juices as they burst out into her awaiting mouth for the second time that night, cleaning you up carefully and stopping her hip movements after she realised what she was doing. she didn't care about herself, she needed to make sure you were okay after such intense orgasms so soon after the other.

"you okay-"

"take these off right now."

you demanded as your hands pushed her shoulders until she was laying on her back, the blonde caught offguard by your stern tone and desperate lips against hers but moving to take off her shorts anyways once you tugged at them to let her know what you wanted off.

"y/n/n i'm fine you don't have to-"

"less, i just watched you grind against the couch whilst eating me out because you're so horny. i'm gonna fuck you, okay?"

the blonde nodded her head shyly in response as you smiled down at her, watching her throw her clothes across the room whilst trailing your fingers down her stomach with your lips marking across her chest.

"plus, don't you think my stargirl deserves a special reward too?"

you teased before biting down on her earlobe carefully, chuckling at the breathy moan she let out when your fingers reached her heat and began gathering her arousal, trailing up to circle her clit whilst she desperately captured your lips with her own. her legs opened wider for you on instinct as you pushed a digit in and slowly began thrusting, curling it slightly to work her up as you brushed against her g-spot and prepared her for a second finger. she grasped at your shoulders hopelessly whilst attempting to keep up with the kiss, breathing and moaning heavily into your mouth once your thrusts gradually sped up.

"babygirl, i need more."

she whimpered desperately against your lips, pushing her waist up into your hand and groaning when your palm hit her clit at the perfect angle. your lips trailed lazy kisses down her neck whilst you slowly pushed in a second finger, moving back to slow thrusts as she adjusted to the stretch before speeding up again and curling your digits further, relishing in the moans she was shamelessly letting out.

"y/n/n- baby, just like that. god don't stop!"

alessia threw her head back as her thighs began to tighten around your waist, back arching lightly and nails digging into your shoulders as she repeatedly chanted your name, eyes closing in pleasure as her jaw slacked open once again.

"that feel good lessi? you like that?"

"yes, m'so close baby. oh god i'm gonna cum!"

the striker thrusted her hips up to meet your hand as she rode out her high, arms wrapping around your shoulders to pull you into a passionate kiss that she was uncontrollably moaning into. her back arched into your chest as you smiled against her lips at the pleasure she was experiencing, knowing she must have needed it judging by how fast she finished and the way her orgasm was still dragging out nearly a minute later with her hips still pushing against your fingers.

your girlfriend eventually calmed down from her high as you pulled your fingers out of her, quickly sucking them clean before she could move to do so herself and smirking at the way she bit her lip unconsciously.

"you okay?"

you asked thoughtfully, brushing some of alessias messy hair out of her face as she grinned up at you and nodded her head in response, too fucked out to even form a coherent sentence. chuckling at her state you got up and headed to the kitchen, getting her a glass of water and placing it beside her before collecting your clothes again, putting them on and helping her after noticing she was struggling to lift her legs.

"shut up."

she mumbled once she spotted your cocky grin, shoving your shoulder lightly before laying down again and opening her arms for you, sighing when she had you in her embrace and kissing the top of your head sweetly as you both fell asleep in each others arms.

#alessia russo #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo x you #alessia russo x y/n #alessia russo fanfic #lionesses #england women #engwnt #engwnt x you #engwnt x reader #engwnt x y/n #england lionesses #england #woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso smut #woso community #alessia russo smut #lionesses smut #awfc #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #awfc x you #awfc x y/n #awfc smut

[ao3commentoftheday]

This is my reluctant fandom rivalry story. It’s long. Please bear with me. 

A couple years ago I got into a major (read: very active) fandom. I wrote a few fics, then began what would become my longest WIP to date. That WIP generated a lot of interest, and as the smut escalated, I started getting more engagement with a fic than ever before – especially after posting a scene in which the characters finally hook up, in a very kinky and unexpected way. While working on this story I was following the work of other writers, and at one point a certain author who is pretty prolific and well-established in the fandom posted a finale to a work that they hadn’t updated in a long time. 

Seeing as how this work featured an uncommon ship dynamic for the pairing I write for – which my WIP also featured – I was interested to read this particular work. Then, when I got to their newly-added finale, I was astonished: it featured a scene that very closely paralleled the hook-up smut scene that I had just posted about a week or so prior, to a startling degree of similarity. So here were two characters in a very specific relationship dynamic—ages differing from canon—who were hooking up in the exact same way as my characters (also of this age/dynamic), down to the very same environment and scene context – the same uncommon blocking; same uncommon smut scenario – in a way that I’d thought was highly original when I wrote it (I haven’t seen anything like it before or since), and posted very close behind when mine was posted! The author even went out of their way to say that they’d actually written that scene “months ago,” and were only just getting around to finally posting it… /: *suspicious eyes*

You can see where I’m going with this. 

While not exactly plagiarism per se, that author received a tremendous amount of positive feedback from their many followers, while my chapter received a comparably modest response (though still very positive by my own standards, being so new to the fandom). I also worry that a good number of shared readers had encountered the other [popular] story, first, then caught up with mine after, only to wonder if I had copied the other author (unless they bothered to go into “chapter index” -> “full page index” to confirm publication dates, it would’ve looked like mine came after once I posted the next chapter). 

I decided not to confront them about it, though. There was no way I could prove that it wasn’t “parallel thinking,” even if it would make for a very odd coincidence. The wording was not the same, but it was structured very closely to what I’d written, including certain spicy details. I didn’t want to stir up drama in a new fandom, especially with such a popular author, lest I inadvertently alienate myself. 

But here’s the thing: I decided to just be flattered that my work had "inspired" theirs, and I tried to get past any lingering resentment by befriending them. Left kudos and the occasional nice comment on their work. Followed them on tumblr. Liked/RB’d their posts. But they steadfastly ignored me completely, for reasons I can only guess at. We have many common mutuals and they never like/reblog even my most popular posts (though these must cross their dash), though they will promote similar posts by anyone else. 

Over a year later, I’ve continued to follow this author’s work, keeping an eye out for other “coincidences” (though it’d be very ballsy of them to "borrow" from me again, since my work is more widely read now). Meanwhile, I have risen in popularity, myself, and while still not as popular as that author, I’m very proud of my own contributions to the fandom, and feel that my writing is a lot stronger than theirs. So I really shouldn’t let it get to me, but seeing them around all the time, being praised for their mid-level works and interacting with so many of my mutuals (while giving me the cold shoulder) still rankles me. Recently they even posted something about showing common courtesy by not stealing others' work in fandom, etc. that really rubbed me the wrong way. I stewed over it for way longer than is healthy. 

Any advice on how to navigate this one?

I want to enjoy my time in this fandom, but their ubiquitous, icy presence and my own lingering paranoia casts a pall over my experience.

This is one of those situations where you either need to confront them directly and let the chips fall where they may or you need to block them on every platform you share and pretend they don't exist.

You can't seem to get past what happened in the past, but you're also not talking it out with them. That means that you're stuck where you are until something changes. That thing is either messaging them directly or removing them from view.

Do not write a callout post. From what you've outlined here, you have a suspicion with no solid facts one way or the other. Writing a public post will just create fandom drama and having been tangentially involved in that before, do. not. recommend.

Personally, I think you need to evict them from your mind because they've been living there rent free for too long. But that's just my opinion. What do the rest of you think?

You can also find this ask mirrored over on Dreamwidth.

#asks and answers

[yourdakg]

Donation Found 2!

It took a little while longer than expected, but we finally found an appropriate donor for Brick! Brick was in desperate need of a donation. As the owner of a high quality gym and something of a fitness influencer, he was catching a lot of shit for not showing any empathy to his clientele or, in general, people who weren't in peak condition.

Maybe that's what scared some donors off, the sheer ego of having to maintain a physique like Brick's. But, by God, he paid the $325,000 to get his new body. Did he read the contract? No. But he insisted the customer is always right and he demanded action from the team at Turnaround Technologies.

Not that he could help how he looked, he was always athletic as a kid. Football, wrestling, water polo, gymnastics. He hit the weights hard as soon as high school started. And now he's a fitness enthusiast's wet dream. Let's remind everyone where Brick is starting this journey:

But thankfully we were able to find someone who fit the bill for Brick. This is someone who has the ego, the drive, and... honestly, a lot of the same toxic masculinity that Brick has. Just in a different form. So honestly it's a perfect match. Which we were relieved to find. After all, Brick doesn't fully understand the permanence of this yet. So let's take a look at our donor plate:

Meet Lemmy Chungus. A man who is almost permanently online, a moderator for the r/gayincel subreddit, a prolific user of 4chan, and a man with a subscription to 12 OnlyFans pages and PornHub Premium. He has an interesting take on why this exchange should work.

Donor Statement: This world has winners and losers. I am naturally born to be a dominant male, and it's becoming clear to me that Brick doesn't understand the role he is supposed to have. It's not fair that some buff fuckboy was deprived of the body he needs to match his true, inner self. It's obvious he wants this, so let's seal the deal and make this exhange.

I have to admit, we hear at Turnaround hadn't thought about it like that, adjusting two men into their, perhaps, more honest selves. It really is a public service. Both subjects are being stripped down, injected with serum, and placed in their uniforms as our technicians prepare the chambers.

Just prior to taking Brick's final "before" photo, he was informed that the contract had been signed, this medicine injected, and that his fate was sealed. Of course, we expected him to fight us a bit when told it was one way, one trip per lifetime, and permanent. Instead we were shocked that the young man started to cry.

Patient Statement: What do you mean permanent? What do you mean *sniff* 'new lot in life'? I don't understand why you're taking my designer underwear. I'll never wear it again? Wh-why not? I'll be fit again! What do you mean role adjustment? Huh? I dunno what a gaycel is. I don't spend a lot of time on the Internet. Whadda ya mean that's gonna be most of what I do now? *Sniffsob* I'm still an alpha. I *sniff* wanna change my mind. I don't understand. This body isn't legally mine anymore? I'm *sniff* I'll be a good boy, please!

So docile! He's really sliding into his new role quite well, and we're all very pleased. Brick was injected again when he saw the donor body, and his eyes almost went cross from shock. There will be a stiff financial penalty for requiring several staff members dragging his muscular body to the chamber.

The process was a difficult one. As the waves started to swing back and forth, Brick was grabbing his dick and squeezing his own pectorals as if to hold onto them. The beams and serums and molecule destabilization took days. It's like his body didn't want to assume a new role. But we held out hope that eventually the assault of our technology and pharmacology would win out and he would be shoved, unalterably, into his new body. So I'm happy to report the following:

As you can see, both men are now secured in their new bodies, roles, and lifestyles.

Patient Report: Ohhh God. It's hard to move, it's hard to move. I heard some fat guys had power, but he's... got none. I have none. Oh fuck. I'll get back in the gym and... look at him. What a slut, strutting around in that thong with a muscled up ass. Like he's some hotshot. He's not! Why does it make me so angry???

Donor Report: Chances are there a lot of other losers out there who have hot, buff bodies. Cute faces. Huge dicks. Guys who look like they should be on top, but know they're a beta bitch at heart. Stop being selfish. Ask for a donation today and let the real alphas assume their natural position.

#body swap #male body swap #mind swap #fit to fat #fat to fit #donationbodyswap #muscle theft #permanent

[mtkay13]

Lord Zhou and the Ghost Valley Master Cross-posting because i'm just that wild, hah! /jk More about the art below! --and a little talk about WenZhou and their relationship to power (+ some meta).

So hum, it is no secret that I enjoy a bit of "spice" in WenZhou's dynamic and at times am very prolific on my nsfw twitter account.

Collars and leash stuff have been on and off, and I was recently enabled for more of that by friends going wild about ZZS on a leash, etc, etc. LBR: I don't think you need any reason to go feral about that kind of stuff--but seeing how I myself seemed to regress to the state of a wild horny beast while making this painting, I felt like I may need to adress it a little. Here are some of my thoughts about WenZhou & power:

WKX and ZZS are both men who are/were in a position of extreme power. Both rose to that position of extreme power, but from very different starting points and motivations.

ZZS was, from what we know from how he describes himself in TYK and from how he behaves in QY, a very smart, cocky, ambitious kid, who probably deliberately sold his services to HLY to keep rising. There were probably ideals mixed in that, but point is, ZZS desired that power, that influence, and was encouraged to reach it. Becoming a sect leader so young was probably a shock, but nothing indicates that this position wasn't wanted. ZZS also mentioned not having a physique as advantageous as ZCL's when he was a child; so he probably had to work hard to reach his goals. Point is: the power was desired and strived for.

WKX has, without a doubt, needed the power, without ever really showing any pleasure nor satisfaction in having it. Surviving in the GV =/= reaching the top; if anything, becoming the GVM put the largest target on his head--but it is likely that reaching the position of GVM was necessary for him to execute his plan (find the key, pull the right strings, obtain his revenge). WKX was a little genius who didn't want to study, and probably wasn't dreaming/aiming for power. Conclusion: the power was a necessity and a tool. Many various characterisation points/analysis/dynamics can be pulled from this, and it is quite interesting to explore how, later, their relationship to power can evolve, both re:the rest of the world and each other. For the following personal analysis, I also worked with the following points from the book:

ZZS admires WKX's strength and power

WKX seems to have multiple fantasies of control and domination

ZZS seems receptive to many of them (including the biting, the somno stuff, and the cnc suggestions)

WKX admires/envies/resents ZZS' freedom

ZZS has fun becoming a subversion of his past self (swearing, being gross, being ridiculous, being openly cocky)

WKX is a control-freak and is very patient

ZZS is a bit conservative

WKX quite the opposite

Now how does that bring me to ZZS on a leash for the GVM?

(note that this is my current conclusion, not the conclusion)

I like to think that on the one hand, ZZS is that man who sees himself as a man and enjoys a lot of things about masculinity. The power that he likes for himself, he also enjoys seeing it in someone else's hands--he likes fighting for it, but (and this is a very personal interpretation) I like to believe he gets the most thrills from being overpowered; because it shows how strong the other is, bc it subverts whom he is himself. The power he's fought to get, has had all his life, but ended up leaving him alone at the top, feels good when taken from him--or when there's someone strong enough that he isn't alone up there anymore. On the other hand, I feel like although WKX would benefit from relinquishing some control and power, he does enjoy using it in a personal, pleasurable way, rather than by necessity. While he probably likes toying with presentations, with appearances, and doesn't mind being perceived as the wife, as the more submissive one in their fake-traditional relationship play of husband and wife, having the power, holding the leash---simply out of pleasure and mutual satisfaction is, I think very cathartic and arousing for him.

But then, why precanon? For the aesthetic bc I'm a simp for TC!era ZZS. And because showing him so strong, so powerful, yet leashed, is kind of a reminder that... It's not about real power. It's not about who, between them, is the strongest, the most powerful, the winner or whatever. It adds that thrill, the aknowledgement that this is out of freewill and choice and pleasure, I guess.

On top of that, man, I'm sorry, but peak TC!ZZS right post-QY canon after he's become the most powerful man in the country but is completely jaded by what happened in the end? On a leash? For a man he respects?? ugh

Anyway TLDR; I think it's hot and all of that gibberish barely has anything to do with my actual motivations to draw this.

#tian ya ke #zhou zishu #wen kexing #tyk #wenzhou #zzs #wkx #meta #qi ye

[kingkatsuki]

Hybristophilia | Kirishima Eijirou x Reader

𝐡𝐲𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 - 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬. 𝐈𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬.

Kinktober masterlist.

This is a part two to my inmate!Kirishima fic Locked Up, I hope you enjoy it!💕

Summary: As a nurse inside Musutafu correctional facility, you’re not naive to the threat the various inmates pose, but you manage to catch the eye of one of the most dangerous- a high ranking member of Dynamight’s gang, Red Riot.

Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, pwp, not proof-read, semi-public sex, dirty talk, manipulation, a sprinkle of degradation, cunnilingus, creampie. 

Word Count: 5.1k.

You sat in the parking lot as you nervously checked yourself out in your rearview mirror, tilting your head to check your mascara. It was stupid really, wanting to look pretty right now for a man that had you smuggling in drugs for his benefit. But it had you wishing that you were allowed to wear lipstick or eyeliner to make your features pop and give you that extra boost of confidence you needed as you instead dabbed your lips with lip gloss.

“Oi, have you got this, sweetheart?” Bakugou said, “It’s important we get it right.”

He sat behind the wheel as he insisted on being the one to drive you to the prison this morning, parked in the designated lot as he smiled at the guards on duty. Introducing himself as your boyfriend as he waited for them to raise the barriers so he could drive into the lot, your heart pounding in your chest as you prayed they wouldn’t recognise him as the head of one of the most prolific gangs in the city, and a regular at this very correctional facility.

“I’ve got it,” You whispered, trying to ignore the barbed wire tightening around your chest.

“Repeat the plan to me one more time,” Your head was throbbing as you despised his question, wishing that he’d just let you get in there and make the drop-off successfully. But instead, here you were rattling off the same details he’d conveyed to you at least six times before, the air in the expensive Tesla was becoming suffocating as you willed him to unlock the door so you could get out and breathe. Wishing you hadn’t managed to get yourself into such a big mess.

“You’ve got it, sweetheart.” He gave you a sly smile, “I’ll be waiting for you when your shift is over in this very spot, okay?”

He put a hand on your knee as he squeezed gently, the blunt nails on his fingers digging into your skin as you nodded. Trying to soothe your racing heart as you stood from the car, holding your bag tight to your side as you began making your way into the building. Pressing your keycard against the various gates that lined the building until you made it towards security. Dumping your bag down in front of the guard on duty for him to rifle through it to ensure you weren’t carrying in any contraband as you smiled softly, swallowing thickly as he pulled something out.

Terrified that Bakugou had planted something on you and that you’d be shoved to the ground and handcuffed in a matter of seconds, ending up a prisoner between these four walls like everyone else.

“Bento for lunch and you didn’t make me one? I’m heartbroken, sweets.” Hawks pouted as you released the breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding in.

“Oh, sorry.” You replied distractedly.

“Next time, yeah?” Hawks smiled, “Or maybe I could take you out for dinner?”

“Maybe.” You smiled back, Kirishima definitely wouldn’t like that.

You were frustrated as Hawks came off the security duty at the front desk to follow you down the corridors towards your office, only heightening your feverishness as you shakily grabbed the set of keys to unlock your door. 

“Who’s on the list for today? I’ll go and collect them.” The guard smiled at you as you pretended to shuffle through your paperwork to look for an inmate's name, already fully aware of who you were going to request.

“Kirishima Eijirou.” You smiled as the Hawks nodded, giving the doorframe a tap with his palm before going off to collect him for you.

“Do you want me to leave him cuffed somewhere?” You looked up towards the door to see Hawks pushing the taller man into the room first, a wide smirk on the redheads face at the sight of you.

“You can uncuff him.” You were worried you’d said it too swiftly, a little too eager as the guard began to unfasten the cuffs that sat in front of the hulking brute of a man.

“If you’re sure.” The familiar jangle of metal sounded as he placed them in his pocket, giving you a look of uncertainty.

“I’m sure.” You were desperate to feel his hands on you, even though it had only been a few days it felt like a lifetime. The adrenaline from smuggling in contraband was pumping through your veins as you needed something to ground you, to bring you back to reality as you waited with bated breath for the guard to leave the room.

“Oh, I’m allowed to be in without cuffs now?” Kirishima made a show of rubbing his wrists, even though the walk to the medical wing couldn’t have been more than ten minutes.

“Don’t make me change my mind.” Hawks rolled his eyes, directing his attention back to you, “I’ll be just outside the door if you need me.”

You always managed to forget Kirishima was a hardened criminal until moments like these when he was restrained by handcuffs, remembering the long rap sheet that had him locked behind bars without a release date. You’d convinced yourself over the last few weeks that Kirishima wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, that he loved you. You were completely safe around him, and he would do everything he could to protect you. You didn’t even think that there could be this terrible, malicious side to him.

But Kirishima knew he was a good actor, it was how he managed to get away with so much on the inside. Managing to maintain the same kind of power that he held on the outside with Dynamight’s gang as he did behind bars.

Kirishima watched Hawks with a disingenuous smile as he closed the door behind him, his top lip almost curving into a snarl as he heard the familiar click of the handle before his attention was turned to you. Warm arms circled your body as he pulled you against his chest, your nose buried against his prison-issue jumpsuit as he held you tight before sliding one of his large hands to the back of your neck to bring you into a soft kiss.

“I missed you this weekend,” He breathed against your lips, “It’s no fun in here without you.”

“I missed you too,” You smiled, feeling his lips begin to press kisses against your jaw. Warm hands skimmed your sides as you felt him press you back against your examination table, your ass digging into the hard edge.

Kirishima should’ve felt guilty for making you so dependent on him, for making you fall for him hard and fast like a bullet train. But in his defence, it shouldn’t have been this easy for you to centre your world around him. You knew he was a hardened criminal, you’d worked here long enough to know what men like him were like and yet you still chose to do this with him. You were just lucky it was him and he would treat you right, not like those other assholes, as long as you did things for him too.

“You’re not allowed to leave me for that long again.” He replied, a playful grin on his face but his eyes held a darkness behind them at the words. A possessive glint in his irises as he tightened his grip on your waist, calloused fingertips digging into the meat of your hips as he pressed his body against you.

“Did you bring me something, sweetheart?” He continued, “Bakugou said you would.”

“Uh- yeah,” You mumbled, reaching down between your thighs to slip your fingers into your panties to retrieve it, but Kirishima was quicker. A warm palm grasped your wrist as he moved your hand away, grinning down at you.

“Let me.” You gasped as he shamelessly slipped his hand beneath your skirt, skimming your inner thighs as deft fingers disappeared inside your cotton panties. Gasping in surprise as he nudged your clit in his search for the item, your hands moved to his broad shoulders as he retrieved it.

“Good job, baby.” He pulled the package from between your thighs as you noticed a little baggy of pills with it just before he had the chance to pocket them. Blanching at the knowledge, Bakugou hadn’t told you what you were smuggling in, but you’d been convinced by him that it wasn’t narcotics. If anyone were to find out your career would be destroyed and you were terrified. Wondering what he was going to do with them, whether they were for his own personal use or for the other inmates incarcerated alongside him. You had no idea what exactly was inside the package, but you hoped it wouldn’t add more time to Kirishima’s sentence.

“The other inmates are jealous, you know.” Kirishima continued to talk, slipping the package into his jumpsuit pocket as he pressed a warm kiss against your cheek to distract you, “They all want a piece of you, but it’s too bad you’re mine huh?”

Your heart fluttered at his possessive tone, leaning into his warmth as you distracted yourself from the crimes you’d just committed. Instead pulling him into another soft kiss as he palmed the fat of your hips.

“When I get out I can’t wait to take you on a proper date,” His hands slipped beneath your thighs as he hoisted you up onto the examination table, standing between them as you felt the heat radiating from his body as he pushed your skirt higher, “Have sex in a proper bed.”

Flustered at the thought, but you assumed it was just a fantasy. Considering Kirishima’s rap sheet was long, you knew he had a sentence to match. And with the constant fights inside these four walls he seemed to keep adding more time to his stay, you were certain he wasn’t getting out.

“Me too,” You smiled back, knowing that it was most likely just another fantasy for him. Something to help get him through the long days, and if you could help him with that then why wouldn’t you?

“Yeah? I’m so lucky to have you.” He cooed, his thumbs stroking the apex of your thighs as you bucked into his touch, desperate to feel him touch you where you needed it most.

You were so thankful the guard had left him inside your office uncuffed this time, allowing him to finally touch you. The stolen moments between medication drops and walks around the cell block were nothing compared to this. You were finally able to feel his warm hands against your body and you wanted to make the most of it.

“Me too- oh,” You gasped in surprise as his thumb brushed your covered slit, catching your clit as your slick began to soak your panties.

“Did that feel good, sweetheart?” Kirishima smirked as he repeated the action, watching the way your thick lashes fluttered at the motion, “Feels good to be finally able to touch you like this.”

“Yeah.” You agreed, too engrossed in the feeling of his thumb against your sex that you couldn’t form a coherent response.

“I can’t get enough of you- is this okay?” His voice was so kind and gentle as he let his palm stroke against your collarbone, travelling lower as he squeezed the soft mound of your breast through your uniform. You nodded as you leaned into his touch, your head falling back as a soft, sultry moan left your lips.

“You’re so perfect,” His large palms unbuttoned the top of your standard issue dress so delicately, groaning as he revealed the frilly lace of the red bra you’d decided to wear today for him.

“My innocent girl’s not so innocent, huh?” Kirishima’s nostrils flared as he continued unbuttoning your dress, his hands moving to palm your chest over the sheer lace, noticing the dark circles of your areolas through the fabric as he groaned deep in his chest, “Did you wear this all for me?”

You nodded silently as Kirishima committed the sight to memory, wishing the brick phone that he’d managed to smuggle in when he was booked had a camera so he could save this sight forever.

“Thought you weren’t allowed to wear sexy lingerie like this inside, huh?” You weren’t, but Bakugou’s thoughts had been that if any of the male guards had even bothered to search you it would have remained enough of a distraction to get the package inside successfully.

“They’re just for you.” You murmured.

“Fuck yeah, it is.” Kirishima groaned, “All mine.”

Not bothering to unfasten the fabric as he pulled the cups down beneath the fat of your breasts, watching as they dropped naturally.

“You’ve got no idea how long I’ve been thinking about playing with these.” He groaned. Fingers pinching your nipples as he felt them pebble against his touch, twisting them between his thumb and forefinger as he tugged. The sensation caused you to gasp out as your head fell back, giving Kirishima access to your neck as he found your pulse point. Teeth biting down as his tongue lashed against the supple skin, hands moulding against your breast as you tried to push him back.

“Eijirou, no marks.” You gasped as his teeth bit down harder in response before pulling back. The area against your neck was slightly darker than the rest of your skin and he was certain some sort of mark would appear, the thought had his cock throbbing as he met your gaze.

“Sorry, babe.” He smiled at you full of faux sincerity, “Couldn’t help myself.”

It was his silent way of possession, a way that if the other inmates noticed they would be fully aware that you were his. The same way he stepped back into the cell block and flashed your panties to whoever he deemed a threat to your little relationship.

His lips continued pressing warm, wet kisses against your skin. Following a path along your sternum as he pressed you back against your examination table, falling back onto your forearms as your breasts bounced. His lips left open-mouthed kisses against the soft mounds as he stared up at you.

“What if I leave marks here, huh?” He teased, nipping at the soft skin as you whined, “So no one will know what a little slut you are except me?”

“I’m not a slut,” You gasped at the way his words had a fire blazing inside you, your clit throbbing with neglect as you keened at the word.

“No?” Kirishima feigned shock as his fingers slipped back between your thighs, “Is that why you’re soakin’ these little panties right now? Seems pretty slutty to me.”

You mewled at his words as he bit down on the swell of your breast, sucking the skin between his teeth as he salved his tongue against the mark he was leaving on you.  

“I think you like being my little slut.” You did, you certainly did if it meant he’d have you feeling like this.

Your entire body felt as though he was setting you on top of burning coals, scorching through you as you writhed beneath him. Feeling yourself leaning into his touch as you subtly begged for more, your clit throbbing with neglect as you willed him to touch you.

“You do, don’t you?” You found yourself nodding in agreement as he tugged your taunt nipple between his teeth playfully before moving to the other breast to give it the same attention.

Kirishima’s fingers moved to the hem of your panties as you were distracted, the crotch sticking to your skin from how wet they were as he pulled the fabric down your thighs. The sudden rush of cool air against your most intimate place had you gasping in surprise as Kirishima held the pair up to your eyes, thumbing the wet spot against them as he smirked down at you.

“You’ve got no idea how many times I fucked my fist to your panties,” He groaned as you recalled the pair he’d stolen from you the first time you’d been intimate, “They smelt so fuckin’ good.”

The thought of the hulking brute of a man stroking his cock using your panties had your walls clamping down around nothing. Picturing him pressing the material to his nose as he inhaled the scent of you, thinking about you as he got himself off. It had a feeling of elation soaring through you as you couldn’t recall a time you’d felt so wanted, loved.

“I’ve spent so long wanting to taste you,” Your body jerked when you felt him lick a long swipe along your slit. His tongue shamelessly brushes against your tight rim all the way to your clit, growling under his breath. No one had ever touched you there and it had your entire body convulsing as he repeated the motion, “You like that, sweetheart?”

His nose nudged your puffy clit as his tongue bullied its way inside your tight heat, nudging your inner walls as your hands flew to his messy hair. Weaving through it as your nails scratched his scalp, holding him against you as he continued to feast on your cunt.

Your thighs squeezed both sides of his head as he dragged his tongue through your folds, letting it press against your clit as your entire body jolted in surprise. The black stubble that covered his jawline scratched against your skin, only adding to the friction as you writhed against him. One of his thick fingers moved to replace his tongue inside you as you felt the subtle stretch, immediately curling it towards the spongy spot inside you as he began to pump it inside you slowly.

You let out a loud cry when he added a second finger, the dull stretch between your thighs had the coil inside you tightening as he pulled back from your clit to give you a warning look, “Careful, sweetheart. Don’t wanna get us caught, do you?”

You shook your head no as he brought his attention back to your clit, wrapping his lips around it as his tongue lashed against it.

“Taste so fuckin’ good.” He groaned, sending pleasurable vibrations against your clit as you felt him sending you closer and closer to your bliss.

“Eijirou, I’m—” You choked out a gasp as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of your bliss, your toes curling in your basic pumps as you felt his lips curl into a smirk against your sex.

“I know, baby. I know.” He groaned, staring up at you from between your thighs, “Wanna feel you cum on my tongue.”

His words had you throbbing as you felt yourself falling, the coil inside you snapping as you found your release. A shrill cry of his name left your lips as you came undone, Kirishima’s hand was quick to reach up to cover your mouth to muffle your cries as you continued clenching around his fingers. Riding out your orgasm as he kept them buried deep inside you, stroking against the same spot as you felt tears beginning to cling to your lashes.

“Are you trying to get us caught, Angel?” Kirishima finally pulled away from your clit, a mixture of your slick and his spit glistened against his chin as you noticed the slightly menacing look behind his eyes. Almost as if he was angry at you as you felt your stomach whirl, whispering apologies as he pulled his palm away from your mouth.

“You don’t want him walking in to see you like this, do you?” Kirishima’s eyes softened as he looked down at you, “You’re all mine, right?”

“I’m all yours,” You parroted as Kirishima leaned up to stroke your cheek with his knuckles, “That’s right, sweetheart. All mine.”

“Don’t wanna hear no stories of you finding anyone else on the outside, 'cause you know I’ll find out.” There was a darkness behind his eyes as he spoke to you, a solemn tone to his voice that had a chill coursing through your veins. It made you feel like you were right whenever you felt like someone was watching you when you left your apartment to grab groceries or you were grabbing a coffee from your local coffee shop. That maybe the car cruising behind you had actually been following you, that you weren’t going crazy.

You knew Kirishima had men on the outside, meeting his boss Bakugou was proof of it. But you didn’t expect him to have you followed or watched, though it made you feel wanted. Convincing yourself he was doing it because he was worried about you, that he wanted to keep you safe. Not because he wanted to use you, Kirishima would never do that.

You watched as Kirishima began to shuffle out of his prison jumpsuit, revealing his tattooed arms as he let the material sag around his hips. Tugging it down just enough to reveal the white prison-issue boxers as you noticed the dark stain of pre against the fabric, the heavy weight of his cock dropping down as he freed himself from his confines.

“He missed you a lot,” Kirishima grinned playfully as he referred to his cock, wrapping himself in a fist as he gave himself a teasing tug as you watched the pre ooze from his tip and dribble down the underside of his cock. Easing his hips forward as he tapped the engorged head against your slit, feeling it nudge your clit as a breathless sigh left your lips, “He’s been thinking about being buried back inside this pretty pussy.”

“Please,” You gasped as you felt him drag his cock through your folds, coating himself in your slick as the blunt head caught against your entrance. Your hips bucked to try and get him to break the distance and slip inside you as Kirishima hovered above you, a sly smirk on his face as he pressed just the tip of his cock inside you. Feeling him beginning to stretch you out as you gasped, tight walls fluttering around him.

“Is this what you want, huh sweet girl?” He cooed, giving a few shallow thrusts of his hips as you felt him push deeper inside you.

“Yeah,” You whined, your back flat against the examination table as Kirishima leaned back to watch more of his cock disappear inside you.

“Yeah?” Kirishima repeated as he moved his hands under your thighs to push them up towards your chest, letting him slip deeper inside you as he filled you to the brim, “Oh, fu-uck.”

You felt as though you were ascending to heaven as he set a slow, steady pace. Allowing you to feel every inch of him dragging along your inner walls as he pulled back before plunging back inside you. The sensation knocked the wind from your lungs as you reached out for him, clinging to his forearms as he split you apart on his cock.

“I told you you’ve got the best fuckin’ pussy,” Kirishima grunted, the sound of his balls tapping against the swell of your ass filling the small room, “Always so tight.”

“Eijirou,” You cried out, the musky scent of him surrounded you as you felt yourself becoming lightheaded.

“You don’t even care if someone comes in, do you?” He grinned as his grip tightened against your thighs, his fingers digging into your plush skin as he kept his rough pace, “You want everyone to know you’re mine.”

“No, please.” The shame of being caught in such a precarious position made your cheeks heat up, but you couldn’t deny you wanted everyone to know that you were his. Imagining the guard walking in to see Kirishima balls deep inside your warm, wet cunt had you clenching around him.

“At least your pussy's fuckin’ honest,” He growled, “Can feel her clenchin’ around me, shit—”

Kirishima’s thrusts became rougher as he cherished the way your walls felt around him, his body curling over your own as he pressed deep inside you. The messy hairs at the base of his cock tickled your clit as you felt the pressure continue to rise inside you, bringing you closer to your release.

“I can feel you getting tighter,” He groaned, maintaining his pace as his ruby gaze met your own, “You gonna cum?”

The intensity of his stare paired with his thrusts had you feeling intoxicated, the coil inside you close to snapping as you felt yourself dancing on the edge of your release. The heat continued to grow inside you as he willed you to take the dive, to crash into your bliss.

“I can feel you cumming all over my cock, fuck.” All it took was a few more rough thrusts inside your tight cunt to submerge you in a sea of pleasure as your climax flew through you in harsh waves, a high-pitched keen falling from your lips as you cried out his name.

Your walls clamped down around him as he continued thrusting inside your sloppy sex, the lewd squelching sound filling the room as Kirishima was quick to place his palm over your mouth again to silence you.

“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?” He growled, a dark tone to his voice as he stilled, buried deep inside you as the tip of his cock kissed your cervix. It was the first time the tone of his voice scared you as you remembered you were with a dangerous inmate uncuffed. Your walls trembled around him as he furrowed his brows, “If you can’t keep quiet, I’ll make you.”

The words terrified you, wondering what he was going to do as you involuntarily clamped down around his hard cock, tears building in your lash line. Kirishima’s hand moved from your mouth as he pressed two fingers against your lips, opening your mouth to grant him entrance as he slipped inside. Your lips immediately wrapped around them as you sucked softly, your tongue rolling around them as his lips curled into a smile at how obedient you were. The calloused pads pressed against your tongue as you gagged on them, opening your mouth as he started a brutal pace. Your choked moans vibrated against his digits as he used your body for his own release.

Kirishima almost felt bad for how hard he was thrusting into your tight cunt, almost. Hearing your wet head squelching around him as he felt his balls beginning to tighten beneath his fat cock. Your tits bounced from the rough pace he’d set as he felt himself close to his own end, his cock throbbing inside you as your walls continued clamping down around him as he met his own end.

You tried to object to him cumming inside you again, your hands reaching out to try and push him back from your tight pussy as your pleas were muffled by his thick fingers inside your mouth. It was far too risky for him to keep filling you, especially without protection. Especially when he had no release date. But Kirishima ignored your feeble attempts to get him to pull out, grinning down at you as he pressed down on your tongue causing you to gag around him.

“Gonna fill you up, sweet girl.” Kirishima groaned.

He was no fool, he knew you didn’t want him to cum inside you, but he couldn’t lie that this was partly why he wanted to do it. It was almost like his way of marking you as his own, knowing that you’d leave from your shift tonight and Bakugou would be outside waiting for you as you climbed into his expensive car with Kirishima’s cum still buried inside your cunt.

A deep growl left his lips as he found his end, spilling his hot, white seed inside your tight pussy. A warmth spread inside you as he stilled, his chest heaving as he cherished the final tremours of your walls pulsing around him.

“You did so good, sweetheart.” He whispered, pulling his fingers from your mouth as he grasped your jaw, pressing a soft kiss against your lips, “So good.”

“I don’t want this to end,” You mumbled, clinging to him as you tried not to think about the guard coming in at any moment to end this examination.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” He cooed, petting your head as his nose nuzzled your cheek, “I’ll keep getting into fights just so I can come and see you again.”

“But don’t get put in seg,” You pouted.

“Anything for you.” He grinned, lifting his body up from your own as you suddenly felt cold. His softening cock slipped from your tight warmth as he tucked himself back inside his boxers, pulling his prison suit back up as he watched you sit up from the examination table. Slowly fixing yourself in case the guard came back in to see you in such a compromising position.

“Let me make a quick call and then I’ll be back with you, yeah?” He kissed your lips as he pulled a cell phone from his pants.

You were shocked to see the device, part of you sad that he hadn't told you that he had it because he could be texting or calling you from the inside. Helping you get through those lonely nights at home when you weren’t with him, or getting to hear his voice before you fell asleep. But you tried to push those thoughts to the back of your mind as you watched his large hands use the tiny cell.

Kirishima immediately began tapping his fingers against the brick phone, brows furrowed as he tried to decipher how it worked. A smile spread across his cheeks as he saw it begin to ring as he held it against his ear, “Hey, bro.”

You couldn’t hear the person on the other end of the line, but you assumed he was talking to Bakugou.

“Yeah, I’m here with her now.” Kirishima grinned down at you as he continued talking on the phone, “I told you she’d do it, she’s such a good girl.”

Even though he wasn’t addressing you directly the praise still had your heart thumping in your chest, squeezing your thighs together as you felt the familiar twinge in your pelvis. Trying to ease the tension as you eavesdropped on Kirishima’s conversation with his boss and friend.

“Nah, man. Things are going good in here, everything’s going to plan.” He grinned, “I’ll be breaking out in a week.”

#Kirishima smut #Kirishima Eijirou smut #kirishima x reader #Kirishima Eijirou x reader #Bnha smut #mha smut #Bnha x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2022

[turtleblogatlast]

Thinking about the Don Suave scene and what it means in terms of LGBTQ+ representation because my brain does nothing if not torment me with random topics to ramble about on the regular.

Anyway, I just wanted to ramble about why I like the scene but to get it out of the way - the scene can very easily be interpreted in so many different ways, and all of them are valid. I personally see it as Leo having at least some attraction to a man. And the following is an explanation of my own interpretation and thoughts on it and what it means especially for Leo’s portrayal in the grand scheme of things.

Long-winded interpretation under the cut!

Now, to start with, it’s important to me that in the scene Leo looks at Don Suave in the very beginning and then for the entirety of the rest of the time the man is on screen, Leo’s eyes are closed. Yet, in the end, he is still visibly enamored with Don Suave, happily cuddling up to him as he’s being carried away.

You can very easily interpret this as Leo being spellbound and that’s honestly super valid and I believe he likely was at least somewhat in the beginning, but considering how fast he looked away and how he never looked again, I personally think it makes more sense to read it as Leo just finding the man attractive, at least somewhat. (For the record, I personally headcanon Rise Leo as bisexual with a heavy preference for men, but I want to be blunt when I say that any interpretation is valid. Literally any. Ace, pan, gay, bi, none of the above or a mixture of something new literally all of it is more than okay and fair. Hell you could even interpret this entire scene as more romantic attraction than physical and it would still work. Anything goes!! Don’t bother people, guys, really.)

The main reason I take this scene to be at the very least LGBTQ+ adjacent isn’t just because of how it’s portrayed, but because of who Leonardo is. Not in terms of Rise of the TMNT, but in terms of the entire Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles™️ franchise.

Leo’s a character who, while changing with each iteration, has still at his core been around for decades upon decades as “the blue one”. One fourth of the team. He’s the one most are going to look at as the Leader, and oftentimes he is the one closest to having the title of Main Character. Not to say the others aren’t just as important, but Leo’s presence in the A plots of basically all TMNT media is often something very main character-esque.

And that’s very, very important to note. Here we have a Main Character of a prolific and decades long-running franchise distributed by a children’s television network. You can play around with his and his brothers’ characters all you like, but there is always going to be challenges to dodge around, especially since this was still in 2018-2019.

For example, you can play around with their designs so long as they’re color coded turtles, but their sexualities? Now that’s tricky.

“But what about Hypno and Warren?” Not main characters and also they’re Rise originals. They have a lot more room to play around with than a character like Leo does. But even talking about main characters in the franchise, you could arguably have an easier time playing around with Donnie or Mikey’s sexualities than Leo or even Raph, as (unfortunately) the former two tend to get more B plots, so they’d likely have had a little more leeway (still not a lot though.)

So, where does this leave us?

It leaves us in a place where outright stating and/or showing undeniable proof of Leo’s attraction to men is very, very difficult. So, workarounds!

Workarounds like the entire Don Suave situation.

To be honest, as left up to interpretation and lowkey and deniable as it is, this whole scene means a lot to me because of who Leo is as a character. It’s just nice when we get so see even the bare bones of representation with characters that have been such a large part of pop culture for decades, y’know? Even if more would be so much nicer, this is better than I thought we’d ever get for these boys.

And, again, literally nothing I’ve said is the only way to interpret it, I’m more than happy when people interpret media on their own honestly, it’s just something I’ve been thinking of lately and I was wondering if others felt the same way.

Whatever you think when you interpret this scene or Rise Leo as a whole, I just thought this would be interesting to think about, even if it was ramble-y, haha.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt headcanons #rottmnt leo #rise leo #rise don suave #rottmnt don suave #I lied I’m back to ramble because I’m just #so bad at keeping my mouth shut #or uh #not typing word vomit #anyway- yeah this is my personal interpretation #I believe Leo was legitimately mesmerized by Don Suave’s powers…in the beginning #but even the series’ creator says it was ‘at least PART of what was going on with Leo’ so #idk it’s something that’s been on my mind and I was wondering if anyone else felt the same?? #may delete this later who knowssss #pleaaaase feel free to disagree I just like to talk lol #but yeah sometimes I look around at how much media has LGBTQ+ rep in it now and it honestly makes me emotional?? #(we always always ALWAYS could use more but) #we did not have even a crumb of this as kids #but also like most of that rep is new properties #and I just was thinking about what that could mean #idk man idk #once again please don’t take this as facts it is VERY MUCH NOT #man I was looking around for good images to use and found jack all #anyway tho did you know Donnie often has bi colors around him and Leo is often dressed in the colors of the trans flag- #okay anyway back to the caves I go this comic won’t draw itself #I gotta spray myself with water any time I go to type long winded essays because they’re not great for the mental health fr

[horsemenoftheapocalypse-if]

(First ever collaboration IF between the Author of King's Despair and Dragon's Edged.)

Writer's Links: Dragon's Edged & King's Despair

(Warning: 18+ The story includes the following: Violence, , self-doubt, cliché’s, child abuse, torture, trauma and many more will be added in the future.)

Kroz&Author

"Greetings, Reader!

You are about to enter a world of darkness, danger, and deception.

A world where a child has been sold to the most powerful underworld company known as the Fates. A world where you will have to make life-or-death decisions for them. This is not a typical story of an orphan or a survivor.

This is a story of a child who has to learn how to kill, lie, and manipulate in order to survive in the dark side of New York City. A city where crime never sleeps and where the Fates control everything from the shadows.

You are not just a passive observer of this story. You are an active participant. You are the voice, the intuition, the gut feeling of the child protagonist. You will have to guide them through their trials and tribulations, their choices and consequences, their victories and defeats. But be careful, Reader.

The Fates are watching your every move. They have plans for you and the child. Plans that may not end well for either of you.

Are you ready to take on this challenge, Reader? Are you ready to face the Fates? Reader I beckon you to join them on this extraordinary adventure, where danger lurks at every turn, and the stakes are unimaginably high.

Through your unwavering presence, you will empower our young hero to face their fears, outsmart their enemies, and ultimately shape their own destiny.

Prepare yourself for a thrilling and immersive experience. Brace for the adrenaline-pumping encounters, the unexpected alliances, and the heart-wrenching decisions that will test the limits of our protagonist's resilience.

The fate of our young protagonist lies in your hands. Choose wisely, for their life depends on it. Decided are we?

Then come closer, and let me tell you more about this story…"

Introduction:

You were a kid, was a kid, now your a cold-blooded killing machine.

Dispensing justice and vengeance using your guns and knives. A modern robin hood you ask? Nope your not wearing any leotard pants or cap.

You're a merciless executioner, killing anyone who crosses your way. But underneath all that bloodshed and brutality, you still have a soft spot for kids.

It all started when you were taken by a prolific assassin, who decided to make you his protege. Armed with guns and knives, he taught you how to kill, track and hunt. But there was one rule that he made you live by, "No children, we never hurt them". That code fueled your respect for the man.

Through rigorous training, you became an expert in sharpshooting, knife throwing, and stealth. You even surpassed the master assassin, becoming the leader of your own hit squad. Together you and him started cleaning the streets from drugs, hoodlums, pimps and mafias. That made you a hero to the poor and downtrodden. But you were known by the authorities as a murderer and vigilante.

Despite all the havoc you reaped, you kept your code. Whenever you had a child captive, you would send them back to their families or orphanage. But one day, rumors of a powerful entity known as "The Fate's" were spreading they deal with guns, prostitution, alcohol, guns for hire, and mercenaries.

It was said that they're the Top Dog of the black market, the consigners of death and terrorisms. You know because your were one of the victims in their child trafficking business.

Now it's up to you to take down "The Fates", the only problem is that you couldn't seem to find any hard evidence against them. It was rumored that they cover their tracks so meticulously.

Until one day a member of their organization was sent to the hit list.

The client? The Fates their selves wanting to kill one their own. Yet there is one problem, your just still a rookie under the eyes of your teacher and he's not getting any younger.

"We need you to get a team and a back-up plan," your mentor said. "To get to The Fates, we need to be ready for everything they throw at us."

Despite his worring tone, you were confident that you can end this once and for all.

Now it's up to the great assassin and their protege, to bring the dark side of the world to light and serve justice to those who deserve it.

"It's time, kiddo," he smirked as he patted your back. "You've proven yourself more than ready for what's ahead, you will be leading this team but under my supervision of course!"

This was an exciting step towards finally taking down the Fates. With your mentor and you leading the team, you were sure it will be successful. After all, this was his legacy, and you will be a part of it. Together, you and him gathered a group of skilled mercenaries, sharpshooters, and information brokers.

You knew it wasn't going to be an easy mission. The Fates were known for their ruthless methods and their underhand tactics. To take them down, you needed to be able to outsmart them.

But this wasn't a rite of passage or even a battle of egos. This was a race against time, a race to save countless souls like you, who were trapped and used for the Fates' twisted plans.

Elizabeth Baker, The Rider of Death

"Appearances can be deceiving. I don't have to be gentle with my words to save your life."

She was once a respected doctor at a prestigious hospital, admired by colleagues and loved by patients. Her passion for saving lives and talent for surgery were well-known. However, everything changed when she uncovered the hospital's dark truth. They were charging exorbitant fees while using second-hand equipment and expired drugs. The medical director was involved in a corruption scheme, siphoning off millions of dollars.

When Elizabeth confronted him, he responded with threats and violence. In self-defense, she accidentally killed him with a scalpel. Fleeing the scene, she left behind her career and reputation, going into hiding. In the underworld, she became a freelance doctor, offering services to criminals and outcasts.

Operating in secret locations, she used whatever tools and resources she could find. Her prices were high, but she maintained high standards. Morality and legality didn't matter to her clients as long as they paid well and respected her rules. With a sharp tongue and a cold heart, she became the most sought-after doctor in the underworld.

Over time, her skills grew, and she began performing complex procedures like organ transplants and limb replacements. You and your mentor have made countless deals with Death, even cheating him a few times, so you know how to handle someone like her.

~

Nate O'Neil, The Rider Of Conquest

"The beauty of an explosion's light surpasses that of a sunrise!"

Nate is an unpredictable force within the group. He excels at causing explosions and demolishing obstacles, making him the go-to person for such tasks. Nate embodies chaos and has a twisted love for destruction.

Recklessness defines Nate. He thrives in dangerous situations, embracing the adrenaline rush that comes with each explosive endeavor. With a devil-may-care attitude, he charges into any situation, leaving destruction in his wake. His disregard for personal safety often leaves his comrades on edge, unsure of what he might do next.

Nate's passion for pyrotechnics is unmatched. He finds beauty in the chaos and destruction that fire brings, taking pleasure in watching things go up in flames. His eyes light up at explosions, and his laughter echoes through the chaos as he revels in the fiery spectacle. He is a true pyromaniac, using the world as his canvas to paint with flames.

But Nate is not just a reckless demolition expert; he is also the life of the party. With his larger-than-life personality, he fills the room with infectious energy. His boisterous laughter and dark jokes keep everyone entertained, even in dire circumstances. Nate can turn any situation into a comedy show, ensuring there is never a dull moment.

He possesses an innate talent for determining the right amount of explosive power needed to achieve the desired result, whether it's breaching a secure facility or creating a distraction with a chaotic firework display.

Nate is also one of the most loyal members of the group. He always has their back, regardless of the situation. He willingly puts himself in harm's way to protect his comrades and will fight fiercely for them if necessary. His bravery knows no bounds, and while his recklessness can sometimes lead to trouble, it is ultimately his heroic actions that make him the beloved daredevil he is today. Nate O'Neil is a wild card, a dynamo of destruction, and the heart of humor in the group. He reminds everyone that even in the darkest times, laughter and explosions can still exist, and he is always ready to ignite excitement wherever he goes.

~

Haley Jones, The Rider Of Famine

"When I look through the scope, all I see is you."

Haley, a Texan country girl, was born and raised on a ranch. She had a fiery spirit and a talent for precision. While she was no stranger to hard work and the thrill of the open fields, it was the touch of cold metal and the weight of a sniper rifle that truly ignited her passion.

From a young age, Haley displayed an uncanny talent for marksmanship. Her ability to hit headshots with unwavering accuracy earned her the title of the best sniper in her town's academy. Instead of pursuing a military career, Haley chose to become an assassin, targeting key figures who committed heinous acts.

Haley's movements were as precise as her shots. She never missed a target and always completed her missions efficiently. Her sass and flirtatiousness added to the mystique that surrounded her. She often used her curves to distract opponents, giving her time to get into optimal shooting position. People said that if you heard Haley's rifle, it was already too late - you had been marked and there was no escaping your fate.

Despite being an elite assassin, Haley never lost sight of her roots. She took pride in her Texan heritage and maintained a strong work ethic. After every assignment, she would return home to the ranch to decompress from the chaos. Among familiar faces, she would tend to the fields or go horseback riding, finding solace in the simplicity of her upbringing.

~

David Garcia, The Rider Of War

"I don't engage in meaningless conversations. Prove your worth or go away."

David is a mysterious and versatile individual. In private, he is quiet and reserved, preferring simple communication. However, during missions, he surprises even his closest allies with his various personas.

David is quick-witted and can easily become a charismatic trickster. With his clever wordplay and silver tongue, he can turn the tide of a battle without using force.

Flirtation comes naturally to David, and he uses it to manipulate and gather information. It's hard to determine his true intentions when encountering him.

Regardless of the roles he assumes, David is always dedicated to completing his missions. He will do whatever it takes to accomplish his tasks, whether it's infiltrating an enemy stronghold or uncovering a sinister plot.

#adult fiction #authors of tumblr #fiction #if game #if recs #if wip #interactive fiction #interactive game #interactive novel #interactive story #original writing #twine game #twine if #twine wip

[granolawriting]

"Do you have a boyfriend?" •°. *࿐

pairing: no breakout! Cowboy costume!Joel x fem reader

Summary: Your best friend holds a halloween party at her house, where the often brooding Joel you often disregard adorns a new attire that sparks something in you. And he makes it clear he feels the same.

Content warning: 18+ NSFW, age gap (college senior and 50 year old), grey hairs so hes about that old, picture part 2 joel cause he’s the sexiest, porn with lots of plot, p in v, creampie, HEAVY praise, you guys are wearing matching costumes on accident, he fucks you IN costume if you're wondering, nice aftercare, pet names (darling, sweetheart, doll), southern hospitality misconstrued for shyness, sarah is your best friend

word count: 7.4k (holy shit)

masterlist

A/N: christ almighty. This took me all day. it has clouded my mind, overtaken my senses. finishing the final lines of this fic made me feel raw, completly finished. I have never written a fic this long in my entire life I'll be so honest. Anyways, I've been delving so deep into pedro stuff recently that reignighting the Joel adgenda made me quiver at night thinking about it. ANYWAYS. THANK YOU FOR 200 FOLLOWERS!!!! confetti thrown everywehere.

and in other news, I hope u enjoy the 4th installment of my kinktober list, I'll see you all again on the 20th with some bondage!Joel.... Make sure if you like my work to check out my requests/comissions or my ko-fi!!!

P.S. The title was made with scream in mind but since I changed up him from wearing a mask to a cowboy because christ how could I not I decided to just keep it as is.

Monotonous noise of worn out wheels against tired linoleum floors squeak softly at the turns of your cart against the rows of aisles that comprised the small store. Dimly lit bulbs illuminated the rows of supplies— plates upon masks upon streamers of different colors and themes overtake your senses as the whole display seems ostentatious and unflattering to you. 

“How's this for a Halloween costume?” 

A wolf mask hides the face of an otherwise non-furry Sarah Miller. Who seemed to not share the same sentiment as you regarding distaste for the design. 

“I don't know, how are you going to drink if you have a mask on your face?” 

“Straws exist.” 

“I'm not convinced” 

She takes it off with melodrama, sullen disdain for your lack of halloween spirit as you push the cart further down the aisle. 

A soft squeak of tires indicates a stop in your steps as you stand before a wall of costumes— what you needed more than anything to hold an answer for you. 

Eyes tracing up and down the rows floor to ceiling coated with cheaply made, scantily clad costumes makes your vision blur. Until it lands on a single item; one that stood out to you above all else. 

“A cowgirl?” 

Sarah sounds unimpressed. Eyeing the plastic wrapped costume labeled “ride my rodeo” with a model on the front wearing small red and white plaid tied to her front, small jean shorts cut at most with an inch’s inseam, and a cowboy hat— sold separately. 

“It's the best I've got. It's either this, or I repeat last year’s costume.” 

“You are not dressing up as Adam Sandler to my party.” 

You put the bag in the cart. 

Ever since moving to college, your career as a party-goer has been less than prolific, as a freshman assuming that time away from home was means to let yourself go, slowly turned into a reluctant senior year where parties were oftentimes the last thing you wanted to do on a given day. However, as Sarah lived in the area, she at the very least dragged you to her neighborhood functions. Which, was marginally better than what any Greek life could pull together. And as your car pulls into the empty spot within the miller’s lot, you become privy as to why; because you always had to help put it together. 

As smooth concrete lays beneath your car while you park, the truck parked beside you was none other than Joel Millers— Sarah's bachelor dad. 

Bachelor was an overstatement, a compliment that wasn't quite applicable to him. He wasn't looking for love, a bachelor without a cause, he was purposefully distant. A brood coated his face from eyes to lips that only ever contorted to something positive in the sight of his daughter. A contractor seemingly married to his work he had no means to find love. A part of you wonders when the last time he even had anyone was, romantically or sexually. Or even how he got ahold of one to make Sarah happen in the first place. You could never picture Joel as someone sexually active, if Sarah told you she was immaculately conceived you would have believed her. 

The click of boots against concrete greets the Millers doorstep as your cowgirl boots are adorned, the rest of your uncomfortable costume shoved in a bag across your shoulder as means to at least dress the house in comfort before having to walk around in costume for hours on end. 

Walking directly in you’re faced with a Mr. Miller, with a similar idea. He wore nothing at all, costume-wise. Something that you wish you could have done, as every year he seems to escape the wrath of Sarah’s demands regarding spirit, to be met with the regular weathered jeans and loose long sleeves. Standing tall upon a stepladder was he already being put to work however, thick fingers pushing small thumbtacks into the open space of his home, orange and black streamers littering the front room as he works. 

His head turns to you at the sound of his door being opened and shut, 

“Well, what’re you supposed ta’ be?” 

His eyes size you up and down, southern drawl brings sound to the quiet of the room, only otherwise broken by soft halloween music traveling its way downstairs from Sarah’s bedroom. If there was one attractive thing about him, it was his accent. The way he would slur his words together, the charming yet teasing air to everything he says. Having moved to Austin 4 years ago you would’ve thought you’d have grown used to it by now, and you have, besides Joel. The age that honeyed his voice like old whisky was unprecedented, and never paralleled by any other man you’d yet to mean in your time there. 

“Haven’t put it on yet Mr. Miller. But I can see that your costume is quite the classic.” 

“Oh quit it. Now, Sarah asks that you go upstairs when ya’ came in. Bosses orders.” 

You give a stern look to him and nod as though you were to be sent on the front lines, and he only gives a small chuckle before returning to his work. 

“Oh my god you’re finally here. Look—” 

She opens the door in hurried fashion, and quickly centers herself in the middle of the room to do a spin for you. A small gust of wind as she twirled letting her skirt float as she moved to reveal her outfit. Bells and jingles fill the room at the movement of her body. 

“Does it look too corny? Can you tell who I am?” 

Looking her up and down, large bundles of curly hair hiding a stuffed serpent around her neck as a green top wraps around the back of it, paired with loose bells and metal pieces adorning a small blue skirt with layers of tulle, it was quite obvious who she was meant to be if you were born prior to 2006. 

“Britney spears. And you look perfect, but don't you think it’s a little early to try on your costume?” 

Her eyes pierce you with only the gaze of a woman who thought you clearly misunderstood what was going on. 

“The party is in 2 hours. I've yet to even do my makeup, or take photos before I get wasted. Time is of the essence. Here, put your costume on and help get ready with me.” 

Sarah, despite being in the same grade as you, was marginally less mature. Mostly driven by her intelligence boosting her into higher grades when she was younger, she was around 2 years younger than you despite graduating the same year as you. And despite her efforts sometimes her stress levels were purely driven by the fact she was barely 21. Still obsessed and enamored with arguably, menial things. Though through her age, you always attempted to discern her fathers. With grey growing into the roots of his head, speckling his beard as it traced the lines of his jaw, you had ventured to guess he was around 50. 

…

Ding Dong 

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh—” 

“It's okay Sarah, I'll get it.”

Feet scrambling up and out of her bedroom, you quickly find your way to the front door as the clock shone at 7:30, cursing the people who find joy in showing up so early to what is not a dinner party. Dressed in your cowgirl costume do you answer the door, expecting either trick or treaters or an older neighbor, does someone entirely different greet you as it opens. 

Joel towers before you within the doorway. He no longer wore the loose fitting shirts and jeans omnipresent on his person, moreover it was swapped for a much more form fitting attire. A cowboy hat for starters, sat upon his head of hair, usually messy and combed back did it now fall in front of his face, sculpting his jaw as it fell to the sides of chocolate eyes. Strands peppered his face as you took him in, a worn cowboy hat that complimented the tan of his skin, equally as sun bleached did it seem almost natural for him to adorn it. Followed by a small toothpick sticking from his lips, did it draw focus to the pink of them, shaped and contrasted by the peppered beard freshly trimmed, longer pieces of hair falling over his top lip to establish a thicker mustache that became the centerpiece of his look. As your eyes trailed down the rest of his body, you’re met with a form fitting tan tuscan button up as his underlayer, slightly unbuttoned at the top to reveal his chest lines do you notice fabric rolled to his elbows to reveal thick hairy forearms that held muscle visible unflexed. Trailing up to see the definition of bicep within the confines of cotton fabric almost bursting at the muscle he carried, only to be met with an overlayer of a dark brown vest seemingly made of corduroy or something similar, tightly buttoned around his waist to accentuate it's contrast to the broadness of his shoulders. The pants worn in tandem with the outfit were a chocolate brown, thick leather-like material clung to his quads as they tapered at the ends of his calves, square toed cowboy boots finding home beneath the heavy fabric of his pants. Around his waist was there a detailed belt, a worn leather belt held up the tie of his pants, and to his hip was a holster, housing a small toy gun that fell to his side as his hip stayed slightly cocked at the entrance. His thumb looped in the side of his pocket as he stood waiting at the front door. The scent of cologne fills your senses as it breeds with his natural scent to produce what was to you somewhat of an aphrodisiac. This was no longer the grumpy old man that wore clothes a size too large because he was too lazy to check the charts, no longer the father of your best friend— in this moment he was nothing but insatiably attractive. 

“Oh, Mr. Miller I— don't you have a key?” 

Only now do you notice the look he gave you. The equal look of awe as his eyes unabashedly trailed your body and it's curved. Much more revealing than him though equally as hidden from what he wanted. You watched as lips became slightly pursed, taking in the fit of your jeans and the curve of your hips, eyes falling for far too long upon your top and how it complimented you. 

He skips a beat. 

“Oh— uh, sorry kid. Though Sarah’d be comin’ down. Wanted to show her my outfit. S’ the last halloween we’re gonna have fer a while.” 

You feel yourself heat up, his eyes connecting with yours have a whole new meaning to it now. He seemed embarrassed, even, as his eyes darted from side to side, unable to connect with yours for more than a few seconds as he asked for his daughter. 

“She's still upstairs getting ready. Do you, do you want me to call her down?” 

“No, no that won’t be necessary. ‘Supose I’ll wait fer her inside.” 

It takes you a moment to register that as means for entry into his own house as you stood there agape in the center of the doorframe. Though quickly do you move your body to make room for him, as he dips his head to you in thanks before heavy boots hit the wooden floors of the downstairs in his entry. 

The tension that builds within the room is deafening as you both stand there in silence. Unable to remove yourself from his proximity does the air fill with feelings foreign and impure. 

“That’s a um, nice costume ya’ got there.” 

Joel breaks the silence with soft spoken words as he begins to pour a drink in the kitchen. Though not looking at you, the image of you within his mind pierced the darkest parts of his consciousness with glaring extremity as he felt himself grow hot in so many layers. 

“This? Oh, Sarah, she made me do it. But uh, I really like yours as well. It, it suits you well. And we’re matching, that's funny.” 

This was your poor attempt at flirting with a mind so foggy with memories completely turned on their head as your perception of Joel did that same. 

“WHO IS ITTTT!!!!!!!!!”

Sarah screams from the closed door of her upstairs bedroom. Clearly your time downstairs was limited before she began even more antics from the confines of her unkempt bedroom. 

He hands you a glass, amber liquid sloshes upon crackling ice fills up a quarter of the cylindrical glass. 

“Hope ya’ have fun t’night sweetheart. Make sure Sarah’s doin’ alright.” 

You flash him a shy smile as you take your drink to go, climbing the hardwood stairs leading to her bedroom as quickly as you can without spilling it. 

“Who was it? What took you so long! Is that whisky?” 

“Can you ask one question at a time?” 

“Well I already asked all of em so what's the point?”

“Just for future reference.” 

“Maybe. Well?” 

“your dad forgot his key, I helped him inside, he gave me a drink. Tis the story.” 

She looks you up and down as the recollection of her father instills newfound meekness at the mention of him. 

“Ok weirdo. Here, take candids.” 

…

Halloween music blares from speakers as the party comes to a head, the myriad of costumes all still holding creases from the cheap packaging they were purchased in become clustered together as the drinks you have begin to get to you. The smell of alcohol and pumpkin fill the room as a cacophony of laughter takes you out of a spell of staring thankfully focused on the floor and not upon unsuspecting persons. 

The only person who seemed to stand out amongst the crowds of duplicate costume and cheesy innuendos was a certain Mr. Miller— a prolific wallflower that only hosted these things as a means to keep Sarah close in situations like this. For if not here, she’d be somewhere else doing the same thing. 

Eyes scoured the home every few minutes, looking to catch a glimpse of Joel within his costume, politely smiling at guests through small talk or taking slow drinks of his flask. 

“Hey you!!!” 

You’re startled by the sound of Sarah's boom from across the room as she calls for you, a caramel hand stuck high in the air to signal you to her, drawing you out of the trance of Joel’s small movements. 

You walk to her with careful steps, trying not to step on capes or trailing costumes in the process. 

“What’s up with you! I’ve barely seen you at all tonight! I know you’re not a party girl anymore but please, try and live it up for me!” 

Something catches her eye as she speaks to you, her smiling face turning into an O with excitement; 

“And—” 

She points behind you. 

“I think that guy over there is checking you out. Go have fun! Let me hear all about it later!” 

Later. You forgot you’d promised to sleep over at her place too, rehashing the night's events as soon as they came to a close as you always did over the years. Though the first thing that comes to your mind is not the man behind you eyeing you, tacky tie-dye making up for a lackluster hippie costume, but Joel. the man who in fact owned the home you would be sleeping in, the man who kept eyeing you from the side of the room with a gaze you accepted much greater than the mans behind you, and above all, the man that had caught your heart in a way that led to it's seeping out between your thighs. 

God, what the fuck is wrong with me? This isn't right it's, it’s Sarah's dad. She’d be heartbroken to even know I think like this. 

You decide to throw away all the Clint Eastwood movies you stole from your dad and uninstall red dead redemption 2 when you got home, and blame your attraction solely on your overconsumption of cowboy media. You need a breather. 

There's a balcony, facing the back of the property that was off limits to the party guests. Entered only through Joel’s bedroom, anyone would be stupid to test their luck if getting caught within his personal dwellings. However, you were Sarah’s best friend. And was even shown this entryway by Sarah herself— of course when her father was not home. And so you decide with cautious steps to ascend the stairs of his home, the liquor giving way to uncertainty in every step as your eyes are glued to the placement of each foot upon the step one by one. Though as you reach the top with great pride, you venture into Joel’s room, to the left of the stairs as Sarah’s is farther to the right. 

You had never been in his room by yourself before, only for a brief moment with Sarah as she showed you one of her favorite spots in the house. It was secluded, of course looking over the backyard she lamented years past as a girl playing within the pool below. She was at the age where she wanted to be independent, but in no way could be yet; and for her that was about 10. And as means to give her her freedom but keep her close, he would watch from the confines of a balcony she paid no note to as the splashing of waves kept her occupied. And he doted on her from a distance. 

As you walk through his bedroom, walls covered in guitars and desk littered with wooden sculptures while a record shows to be finished upon his player. Sheets properly made upon his bed, and a sense of intimacy looking around at the things littered upon his shelves and tables. The framed photo of him and his daughter, his old watch he took off specifically for the occasion of dress. The distinct smell of him that enveloped your senses. 

Opening the door to the balcony does the feeling of cool air hitting a flustered face sober you everso slightly. Bracing yourself on the edges of the platform, you drift into a calm. The first time you’d felt that since the moment you opened the door for a cowboy Mr. Miller—  as you force yourself to call him in your mind. 

“Now what do you suppose yer doin’ in my room?” 

Your heart sinks. You knew you’d be fine, if caught, but the thing that sinks your heart is the uptick of your heartbeat and the twist in your stomach at the sight of familiar drawl sounding behind you. 

You hear heavy boots break the threshold of the doorway into where you stood as the sound of wood upon his feet changed to a scratch of concrete. 

He stands next to you, forearms pressed against the railing as his back curves along casual footing aside of you. The moonlight illuminates his face, the curve of his nose complimenting the side profile that gifted you sight at the tufts of hair poking out from the ends of his hat, and the proximity to him gave you the insight to the smell of whisky on his breath as he spoke.  

“Needed ta’ take a breather' myself. ‘Spose we had the same idea.” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

“Ya’ having a good time t’night kid?” 

“Oh yeah, I haven't seen all that much of Sarah though did you—” 

You stop as he shifts his body to turn to you. 

“Now, can I be honest with ya’?” 

As you turn to look at him, mirroring his stance he dwarfs you in the process, standing at around 6ft the broad of his shoulders shadowing your whole figure. 

You nod your head meekly. 

“I just— now, I don't know how ta’ say all this quite right. But, don't get me wrong darlin’, I’ve seen the way you’ve been lookin’ fer me all night. I don't know if ya’ think i'm blind or somethin, but i’ve seen ya’ all night, watchin me.” 

He pauses for a moment and within that silence does your heart shatter. The whole time you thought that he was eyeing you, looking you up and down, it was just a one sided coincidence that led you to this awkward conversation with a man twice your age. You start; 

“Oh listen I'm, I'm so sorry Mr. Miller I must have given the wrong impression or something I don't know i'm just so—” 

“Please, call me Joel. And don't hafta’ be so sorry sweetheart. Just callin’ it how I see it.” 

He pauses once more as he considers what he’s going to say next, a tinge of uncertainty covering his face as he decides how to follow up. 

“And I don't quite mind it, if that's what you’re worried ‘bout.” 

The tense of your muscles releases as he continues. 

“Just, wanted ta’ tell you you looked quite well yourself that’s all.” 

He’s holding back, you can tell by the sway of his legs as he goes on and the grip of his fingers upon the pocket of his pants. The way his gaze averted yours and his glancing upon the floor; for any look at you from your eyes to your body seemed to be hard for him to swallow with proper manners.

Your eyes lock in silence, the pale moonlight illuminating you two as the distance from Joel grows unconsciously closer as you take in his face, his body looming over yours and the prospect of their being more within his mind that he’s willing to give you. The southern hospitality still overshadows his true means. 

Rough fingers graze your face, tucking hair behind your ear as it falls in front of your face. And as he leans forward to do so, you lean in as well. Blinded by desire and complicated by liquor and closing the gap between the two of you. Tasting his lips reminiscent of whisky and the frosting of halloween cupcakes you feel him kiss you back for only a moment before shooting himself backwards. 

He almost trips over his own feet in adverse reaction, stumbling to the other side of the balcony as you watch him. 

“I'm—” 

“No darlin’ ya’ don't have to say anything. But I've probably got to get back down to company. Feel free to stay up here ‘s long as you want.” 

You watch as he rushes out of the room and the urge to chase after him grows weak as the taste lingers on your lips. The sense of defeat wells in your chest but not entirely, because for a moment he kissed back. A moment you felt him push forward on your lips and savor the flavor of them as you did for him. 

Later.

Now, a sleepover with Sarah is what you needed most. A sleepover with her, is a sleepover with Joel right across the way. And the mere feeling of that made your knees weaken with rushing dreams of him. 

The party seemed to drag on after that, only satiated by more drinks were you able to bear a night where you could feel him from across the room, sense his body and the heat that came with it. You felt naked for him, utterly exposed at the sight of his eyes trailing you— ones you could only hope followed you the way yours did for him whenever you noticed him with back turned. Drinking in every part of his body as he was none the wiser, finding joy and security within the turn from you as means to make him in for as long as you pleased. 

…

“Alright ma’am, seems ya’ need to be goin’ home, me ‘n Sarah got a lot of cleanin to do in the morning.” 

An outstretched arm grabs the bicep of a polite Joel, ushering out the final guest that had an affinity for his touch so it seemed. 

“Ohhh but darlin when will I see you in such a getup again? Oh i'd never want to leave.” 

“‘S a shame I’m about to take it off though ma’am. Now go walk home alright?” 

Her eyes hooded everstill she demands even more of him;

“Oh but will you take me? Don't think I trust myself in these conditions.” 

He closes his eyes and a heavy sigh leaves his nose. 

“‘Spose so ma’am— Sarah, I’ll be right back.” 

Her arm loops around his bicep as he leads her out of the house, jealousy overtaking you purely at the close proximity she had to him, for much longer than he ever had with you. 

Sarah turns to look at you as you stand a few feet back from the scene, a bemused look painted on your face unconsciously demanding explanation. 

“Oh- that was miss carey she uh, she’s had a thing for my dad for years now. It’s kind of funny if I'm being honest, given I didn't see her drink all night.” 

You let out a halfhearted laugh for a response, trying to deny the yearning within your stomach to feel Joel’s arm as she did, to touch him, fall over him. Just be close enough to smell him again, feel his warmth. It had felt like decades since the last feeling of him close to you. your body remembering calloused fingers grazing your heated cheek; contrasting with the cold tips that crept upon his hands as the air finally showed hints of the coming winter season. 

“Sorry to be a bother, but doya think you could start cleaning up? I’ve gotta get this costume off and shower before I vomit. Thanks!” 

As Sarah zips up the stairs all that’s left is you alone, standing within the living room of Joel Miller’s home. One where he could return any second. 

You decide to busy yourself with chores, cleaning up stray glasses and bottles littered across the house, fallen decorations and dessert trays now only holding wrappers and trash. It’s a hefty job, one that helps for a short while as the weight of hours prior looms over you with darring intent to seep deep within your mind, allowing visions of the taste of his tongue, the feel of his body pressed against you to consume you. What you would give to feel his nose clash against yours through sloppy kisses, lips puffy with desire as small nips and clashing of teeth is all that can fester in your mind as candy wrappers stuck to the floor fail to give enough distraction anymore to keep Joel off your mind. 

“Fuckin’ christ man I— oh.” 

You didn't even hear the door open, or the creak of boots as they settled into their first steps within the home. Only the sound of his voice did you perk up with your mind unable to shake your thoughts as you stand before him. Feet away with a small trash bag in your hand.

He continues. 

“Didn't know you’d still be here, my apologies.” 

“Oh yeah uh, Sarah didn't tell you I was spending the night?” 

“Spendin’ the night?” 

He repeats you, barely able to hide his shock. Clearly, she hadn't. And as you stand there, beginning to hear the water running for a shower she’s yet to even get into, the tension of the two of you grows immanent as he realizes just how alone he currently is with you. 

He didn't know what to do, feeling palms grow sweaty as his desire clashed with his sense of respect and responsibility as a father and his yearning grew too prominent to hide behind the unforgiving stretch of tightly fitted pants he busied himself once more. 

“Oh, right then. Well I ‘spose i’ll be in the kitchen if ya’ need me.” 

Walking past you with a heavy stride does the scent of him once more draw you to him— something primal, wanton is elicited from him when in close proximity. One that with a room now void of people to maneuver through, you refused to ignore any longer. You followed his quick steps into the kitchen, separating yourself even further from Sarah as the stairs fell into your purview as you ventured deeper into the home. 

You greet Joel at the counter of the kitchen where he stood, pouring another drink for himself does the hand gripping his drink suspend mid air at the sight of your trail behind him. 

“Ya’ need somethin’?” 

You don't know if it’s the liquor talking, or the suspense and tease of a night full of dreaming for a moment like this to arise but you don't allow yourself to beat around the bush anymore. If this old man failed to make a move, you would. 

“I do Joel, really— I think we both do.” 

He sets the glass down on the counter with a light chink filling the air. His demeanor changes; you watch as both hands lean forward on the counter to inch closer to you, arms outstretched flex his forearms to reveal muscles only garnered by heavy and hard working. His hip cocked to his left as he made unwavering eye contact with you, a smile forming slightly upon his face. 

“And what would that be darlin’?” 

He made you nervous. This was a first. The mild mannered gentleman that often stood before you, speaking only when necessary and smiling only when compelled to. You always shook him off, an old man not worth anything but a gracious thank you as he catered to you and his daughter when times came. But as you looked upon that man now, face shadowed by a cowboy hat perfectly curved at its edges lining his head, hairs falling in just the right places over the sides of his face, and the hooded eyes coated with lust you found yourself hard to speak. Hard to even think. 

“Well? Cmon’ now I ain't got all day.” 

He's taunting you. Watching you grow nervous under his gaze as you become the one that can't hold it anymore. 

“You, and me I mean. The way you look at me— I want you Joel. And so do you, right?” 

Without skipping a beat, Joel retorts

“So come closer then sweetheart. Can't do anything with ya’ so far away.” 

your heartbeat picks up again. Shaking steps inch around the bend of the countertop, until you’re no more than an inch away from him. Watching, as he looks down upon you. 

“Good girl— now, what’s this about wanting me hm?” 

“What?” 

“Oh don't play coy darlin’, I love hearin’ you tell me all about how much you need me. The look in those pretty little eyes.” 

A coarse finger falls upon your cheek once more, this time lingering there before toying with stray hairs. His fingers trail to your chin and jaw, gripping onto your face to lift it higher to lock dark eyes with his.

“Such a doll. I wanna hear ya’ beg for it.” 

You feel a pool of slick well between your thighs, heating and dampening already ruined underwear at the sight of him as the night went on. Though as you listened to the sink in his voice, demanding you to beg for him. You don't even know what you were so needy for, his kiss? That was too little. You wanted all of him, and as knees felt weak at the thought of it— him, and you completely at his disposal. He dwarfed you from this closeness, you realized this as you approached him. He overpowered you in every way, and that made it even harder to say what you wanted. Every semblance of confidence leaves your body as all you want to do now is whatever he demands, whatever he says. 

“Please Joel I— I need you. Every part of you. I can't take my eyes off of you. Every part of you looks so perfect no matter the angle or the lighting. Id, i’d never noticed it before but now I…” 

The gust of articulation you had quickly dwindled as his face lit up from such compliment, such desperation. You were desperate, needy for him. That much was true. And he knew that. 

“Mmm that's all ya’ had to say sweetheart.” 

Now he is the one that closes the gap between you, the yearning for his taste finally satiated as your lips collided once more, the fantasies of clashing of teeth against one another with impassioned touch as his hand falls from your face to trail bare stomach. Feeling the large of his hands take in every inch of you with precision, like he had memorized exactly where he wished to be. Feeling as his hands trace down to your hips, and slowly maneuvering up to the wire of your bra. 

“Take it off. Please.” 

You beg through breathy moans as you stay inside his mouth, taking into him as you refuse to open any gap of distance between the two of you. 

“Since ya’ asked so nicely.” 

His fingers trace the center of your chest where a simple tie kept together thin fabric that complimented your chest. Unraveling it's knot does he guide it off your arms and onto the floor, a free hand snaking to your back to unhook your bra, leaving you with nothing but the shorts you wore and the hat upon your head to constitute a costume. 

His mouth lets up from you to look down on your chest, his palms engulfing them as he kneeds them within his hands, letting the weight of them move with his fingers as he massages them. Fingers slowly trailed down to the mountain of your nipple, toying with them with two fingers as his eye flitted back up to you to watch your reaction. Sighing in relief, your eyes fluttering at the feeling of his cool touch against a body so overwhelmed with heat for him. 

He leans in to you, his lips pressing softly against your ear his voice no matter a whisper is still laced with lust creating deep tones otherwise foreign to you to emit from him as he speaks to you;

“God you don't know what you do to me darlin’.”  

“Then show me.” 

His hands make quick way to the back of your thighs, lifting you up to his hips where you can feel his bulge pressing into you, the thin material of your shorts leaving little room for imagination. 

Walking to the dining room adjacent to the kitchen, he sets you on a table that meets him at about hip level, lowering your back onto the wooden finish that often held dinners with the three of you now making way for just the two of you as you watch the buckle of his pants become the main spot of his attention. 

“Bet ya’ could feel what you’re doin’ to me sweetheart, you like that hm? Feelin’ my cock against you even for a fuckin second?” 

He talks down to you as he undresses his lower half, relieving himself to only his boxers as he now knelt down to face your heat, legs dangling off the edge of the table to uses that as means to slide your shorts off with ease, revealing the soaked underwear that gave you constant reminder of the eyes you held the whole night. 

“All this for me hm? Ain’t I lucky.” 

He lifts a finger to massage the outside of your heat, slowly pressing on the wet spots as he toys with you, making your breath hitch at the feeling of his touch, the sensitivity only growing overtime as you were denied for so long. 

Slowly he peels off your underwear, allowing your slick to trail down the side of your thigh as it leaves a trace when it hits the floor. The cool air hitting your clit makes you jolt, but Joel wasting no time allows himself to dig straight into you. Feeling his tongue explore every crevice of you, every place where you have leaked for him he wants to take in every drop of it. Tasting you was like heaven to him. As his lips were pressed against your heat as his tongue began to make a repeated circular motion along your clit.

your fingers beg for his hair, grasping it in desperate fingers do you confine him within the bars of your thighs as they squeeze against his head. 

“Mmng— god Joel it feels so nice please I-” 

He waited for you to speak before sticking a finger inside of you. Thick callused fingers grabbed at your core and pushed its way into your center, hooking at sponge from inside you right at the spot that felt best. No longer could you ever think he didn't know what he was doing, it’s as if he knew your own body in and out, and with the whines you have to bite back out of fear of it drowning out the shower's thud of water upon a clueless Sarah. 

“You like that sweetheart?” 

Joel groans into your pussy, he’s enjoying this just as much as you are. Hearing your stifled yelps and desperate moans over his tongue, his finger inside of you. 

“Y..yes please Joel I need more.” 

He slides in with a second finger, though lets up from your clit. Slick drips to his chin as he rises to face you, leaning over you as fingers still pump inside of you. 

“Never fuckin’ satisfied, is that it? Whaddya need darlin’ hm? How about ya’ use those words for me.” 

He made it hard for you to speak or even think as the steady grind of his fingers inside of you overtook your senses. But you obliged, trying through breathed heaves to try and relay what you desperately needed from him. 

“Fuck me. Please fuckme Joel I cant— ngh I cant fucking take it anymore.” 

“Good girl. Guess you’re in luck ‘cause I aint ever wanted to fuck someone this bad in my entire life. And I’m not gonna be gentle on ya’ alright? I know you can take it.” 

Slowly removing his fingers from you, he lifts them up to his own mouth to let him taste you one last time, slowly licking clean what was just knuckle deep within you. You watch as he slithers his boxers off, revealing what seemed to be impossible to fit inside of you. His cock was pulsating, almost red as it yearned to be touched, it yearned to be inside of you. You watch as beads of precum already coat its tip, and veins throb against the slight curve of him that twitches at the feeling of release. 

Inching towards you you feel his tip graze your core before pushing into your folds, covering himself with your slick does he push himself flush against you as you see how far his cock rides up onto your body. You see him smile at the sight of it lying on your stomach, predicting how deep it’ll push inside of you before he centers it once more at your entrance, slowly spreading you open as you feel a fire burn within your stomach at the initial pain of it. It felt as though he was ripping you apart slowly, legs instinctively closing did his hand grab onto your thighs to push them open.

His body flushes against yours with a deep groan, letting your walls warm his cock for a moment as he looks down on you. 

“You’ve got a pretty fuckin’ body ya’ know that? All done up fer me, feel so lucky finally gettin’ to do this.” 

He begins inching in and out of you with slow pace, your body moving with every stroke of his cock around you as you fell hopelessly obsessed with the feeling of him inside of you. 

“Been wantin’ to do this all night— imagining what ya’ looked like under that pretty little costume of yours. Fuck, woulda fucked you right on that balcony if I could’ve. Nngh—” 

His thrusts in you grow faster as he speaks to you, talking you through the whole thing makes you only look at him with wide eyes, desperately needing his cock and drinking in the southern drawl that detailed how he felt the exact same. 

“Body’s fuckin’ perfect. Pretty little pussy all fer me, yaknow that? Right now you’re all fuckin’ mine hm? Ain't that right doll?” 

“Yes, yes Joel— all for you nngh. My body is all yours please, please don't stop.” 

His finger trails down from your thigh to your clit, throbbing with pain at the need to be touched does he satiate it with a thumb beginning to circle where his tongue did moments prior. 

“Fuckkk please oh my god” 

your breath grows irregular as the fire burning in your stomach grows white hot, unable to utter anything coherent as babbling of desperate please escape your mouth as your body becomes addicted to his every touch. The push of his cock directly against your cervix, the circle of his thumb perfectly against your heat, you felt it bubble inside you. Nearing on toppling over all you can think of, unconsciously chanting as he fucks into you Joel Joel Joel Joel 

“Ya’ gonna fuckin’ come for me? Cmon, I wanna feel it darlin’ I want it to swallow me I want you to cum on my fuckin’ cock hm? Can ya’ do that for me?” 

He groans over you, thrusts growing irregular at the desperation of his own climax reaching a head at the same time yours does. Only letting a few more thrusts greet you before you feel it toppling over, every inch of your body becoming utterly ruined below him. Feeling his cock inside of you pistoning into you through your orgasm, legs lock around his clothed waist as your hips buck up, shaking as your back arches against the table with legs raised, most of your body not even on the table anymore as he holds your legs stable to fuck through his own orgasm. 

“Fuck fuck darlin’ you’re so fuckin’ tight— shit you feel so good.” 

“Inside of me” 

You manage to breathe through a fogged mind and blurry vision as the sensitivity of your body makes his use of you mind numbing. 

“Please. Please Joel please cum inside of me please—” 

You feel heavy liquid fill you as he slows his pace, heavy groan being the only thing that fills the room now as he pumps in and out of you, softening inside of you as his seed leaks from you. He slowly removes himself from you, a collection of your own fluid and his trails down the side of your thigh as you both stay there breathless. Watching as he slowly shifts on his boxers, and loosely does pants that are soon to come off later. 

Before you’re able to right yourself or even get up, you watch as Joel slides your clothes back on you, latching your bra softly as he raises your back up to do so. Slipping your top on and tying a proper knot is the only thing missing from your wardrobe, the underwear he took off of you, that of which becomes missing as he slips your shorts onto you. 

“I think you forgot something.” 

“Think I deserve a little trophy don't you darlin’?” 

You flush at the implication, Joel keeping them as a sort of token of remembrance of you, of this night. 

Straightening yourself up as he finishes clothing you do you stand there, as you watch his back once more fill up glasses of water for you and him. Taking in all he is, form fitting cowboy attire still decorating his body, do you outstretched a hand to feel his bicep, a desire you’d had the moment that woman did. As he turns to face you, feeling your hand brush against his body once more he smiles slightly, teasing; 

“Ya’ like what ya see sweetheart?” 

“I just wanted to feel you.” 

“Already did a lotta that don't ya’ think? But be my guest.” 

He hands you a small glass of water as he drinks out of his own, and as silence engulfs the two of you you hear the dreaded creak of a shower turning off sound from the upstairs as reality sets in for the two of you once more.

“Think ya’ best go check on Sarah now.” 

“Yeah that’d be smart.” 

You avert his eyes as you’d done once prior, engulfed by embarrassment as you remember Sarah after the intimate moment you shared. 

“Well, I’ll be down here for a bit longer, then headed ta’ bed. You just uh, let me know if ya need anythin’ right? You know where my room is.” 

A small smile across his face implies a very different definition of ‘needing’ something, depending on how you view it. But as you ascend the stairs to help deal with Sarah once more, part of you knows that you’ll be asking him for some more help, cleaning, before night's end. 

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel x reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #pedro x reader #pedro pascal #cowboy pedro #cowboy joel #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction