#thanks to fanfics | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chosopie · 1 month

Text

PART 2, CONQUERER - RYOMEN SUKUNA

RECAP: After Sukuna invades your nation and kills the man you were betrothed to, he decides to take you as his queen. You comply to his requests to keep your little brother Yuji safe.

SUMMARY: You had just been wedded to Sukuna, and now it was time for your mating ceremony.

cw: battle for dominance, oral sex (f receiving), doggy, hair pulling, riding, slight choking, breeding, reader is inspired by helen of troy

: ̗̀➛ part 1

The ballroom in the heart of your palace remained lively with people dancing, singing, and eating heartily. Lots of women would wear outrageously flashy or expensive dresses that would, in their hopes, catch the new King’s eyes. They did not know Sukuna, for he would not even bat an eye at those kind of women. He has come so far to defeat every neighboring nation just to get to yours. He brought death and destruction with his footsteps, and let war sit on the right side of his shoulder just so he could have you in his hands, the woman kings and noblemen from every nation sought after. Your beauty was like no other in the world—so captivating that men would wage wars against each other to have your delicate hand. Your previous fiancé did just that, and quickly failed when Sukuna came lurking behind his careless back.

Tonight, you had just hosted the largest banquet anyone has ever seen. Such a lavish event is fitting for the union of the most beautiful woman in the world and the greatest conquerer man has ever seen. Sukuna patiently waited for you in his quarters, his muscular and broad body covered in a black silk robe with gold embroidery. On the other hand, your handmaidens were bathing you in soaps and fragrances that were made with the finest and rarest materials people can only dream of getting their hands on, yet here they were, being used to bathe your soft body. The girls patted you dry with a big and fluffy towel, then helped you slip onto your sheer nude lingerie that had diamonds around your chest, making your skin glisten in the warm lights. On top of that, you draped a large white silky robe over your body, the cool fabric sending a shiver down your spine.

You passed through the thin curtains and Sukuna was sat on the bed, waiting for you. He looked up, eyes immediately locked on your figure that was barely covered by your garments. He couldn’t help but envision your fully naked body, but he quickly shook those thoughts away upon realization that in a few seconds, he would be able to feast on your bare body. It would be all his.

“Come, woman,” Sukuna gestured you to move closer to him with his pointer finger.

You scoffed. “I have a name. Did you not know?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re going to forget your name after tonight,” he smirked.

“I’d like to see you try,” you slid off your robe, exposing your body that was barely covered by the lingerie. Sukuna’s eye’s wandered on your chest and down to your plump hips and thighs. You walked towards him, his eyes remained fix on your body as he watched each and every movement you made.

Sukuna looked up at you, his hands stroking your sides and tracing every curve. His touch was warm and it made you burn with excitement. This man was capable of making you feel so much. You could fear him, and at the same time lust over the fact that he could destroy anything within an arm’s length. The power in his hands made you tremble with arousal.

It made you wonder whether you were doing all this just to protect whatever remained of your nation and your baby brother or if you were just as power-hungry as the greedy conquerer beneath you.

You pushed his hands away and slowly took off your lingerie while holding eye contact with him. There was an intense warmth that radiated off his body. You lifted up your arms to cup his face and push it towards the heat of your pussy. To your surprise, he didn’t protest. Instead, he put his hands on your hips for support while he buried his face into your cunt, his hot tongue lapping at your wet folds. You legs shivered and the pacing of your breath quickened.

“Sukuna,” you moaned, and he suddenly stopped. He moved back, but his face remained close to your wetness.

“Call me Ryomen,” he lowly said, before resuming his work.

His mouth was skilled in its work. He repeatedly licked and would occasionally bite on your clit, sending a wave of pleasure to wash over your body. It felt like electricity, the way the heat and arousal would travel up to your body with sparks. While he sucked hardly on your clit, he covered his fingers in your slick, then pushed them inside you. You gasped, your fingers tangled in his locks of hair. You moaned and writhed, pushing his head closer to you. At this point, your thighs were suffocating Ryomen, preventing him from breathing, but he didn’t care; his mind was solely focused on making you cum.

“Ryo,” you tried saying, the word smoothly rolling off your tongue. “I’m close.”

Ryomen felt his blood rushing. Most people who dared to speak of his first name would often say it with such fear for their lives, but the way your voice spoke his name made it sound so sweet like nectar was dripping from the tip of your tongue. He groaned against your pussy, the vibration making you hiss. His fingers kept thrusting and curling inside of you in such a fast pace that caught your breath. The pads of his fingers were rubbing your sweet spot while his tongue continued to play with your throbbing clit. The pleasure started to build up and you could feel it on your lower abdomen. You let out a moan before releasing yourself, your fluids coating his fingers and chin.

Your husband stood up and took his robe off, revealing his toned chest, abdomen, the big scar that ran in a straight line from his chest to stomach, and his lengthy cock. He grabbed your hand and placed it right on the scar, letting you trace it with your fingers along with the intricate muscles on his abdomen.

“See what you did? No one has ever been able to get this close to me.” He whispered.

“I know,” you smirked.

“Don’t get too cocky now, girl.” Ryomen warned.

“Me? Cocky?” He grabbed both of your arms and pushed you onto the bed. He held your arms behind your back, firmly holding them in place.

“Fuck you,” you muttered, but Ryomen didn’t hear because your face was pressed onto the sheets of your bed, muffling your voice.

“Arch your back for me,” he said into your ear, his chest pressed against your back.

Your face grew hot. Complying with his request, you arched you back and pushed yourself onto him, the wet head of his cock tapping your ass. Ryomen groaned at the sensation and slapped your ass. It didn’t hurt much, but it stung in a way that only got you more horny. He parted your legs and rubbed his dick on your folds, lubing it with your juices.

He was way too big.

This was going to be your first time and you weren’t sure if you could even take him. With his length and girth, it might end up hurting you. You propped yourself up and turned to look at him from the corner of your eye.

“It’s my first time,” you panted.

“Good,” Ryomen smiled. “Be honored. You’re my first as well. I’ll make sure you can handle it.”

That was the first time you’ve seen him genuinely smile. “That’s a surprise.”

“It is the culture of my homeland.”

Ryomen tightly held onto the soft flesh your hips, slowly pushing his dick in you. He starts thrusting with only half of his dick inside, but you already felt so full. His cock is so gritty is rubs every spot in your walls. Your pussy tightly clamps onto him, making his breath quiver. “You’re so tight,” he breathed.

It takes everything in Ryomen to not just thrust into you at full speed. He had to be careful with you, but every instinct in him is telling him otherwise. The sound of your pussy squelching on his length and the way both your fluids were dripping down your labia was driving him crazy. His mind was in a frenzy and his hands grew hot as he continued to feel up your ass.

“Too much,” you whined. “You’re too big.”

“If that was the case, why is your tight greedy pussy pulling me in,” Ryomen lightly chucked as he watched your pussy swallow his dick. The whole of him now buried deep inside you, making a small bulge on your stomach. His hand reached for your hair and tugged on it so you could face him. “Look how well your pussy is taking me.”

Your eyes were watery, not a single thought present behind them. Your mind was trapped in a haze of lust. All you could feel was the big surge of pleasure that came with each thrust. Beads of sweat dripped from your forehead and your back.

“Faster, Ryomen.” You dared to say.

“Finally. You can’t take that back anymore, alright?”

With no hesitation, Ryomen started thrusting into you hard and fast, causing your body to rock back and forth, your tits bouncing with you. He cupped your breasts, squeezing and kneading on them like dough. You could feel his dick twitching, eager to release its seed and paint the walls of your cunt white. He started panting and groaning, the pace of his thrusts getting sloppy and desperate. You could feel another orgasm following through, the tight feeling making your pussy spasm around his cock. A string of moans left your mouth as you allowed yourself to cum all over his dick, your insides tightening then letting go, milking his dick as he came with you. He looked at your shaking figure that glistened with sweat under the lights of the room. He groaned your name and laid his head on your shoulder, inhaling your intoxicating scent.

The two of you stared at each other with lust-struck eyes. He was sweating and panting, his cheeks lightly tinted red. With his right hand, he grabbed your neck and pulled you towards him for a messy and passionate kiss. Your tongues danced with each other, eagerly fighting for dominance while the mixture of your spit dribbled down your chin. He lightly squeezed your neck and you moaned into the kiss. You placed your hands on his shoulders and pulled him on to the bed. Your hands remained on his shoulders as you got into a comfortable position to straddle him. He cocked an eyebrow at you, amusement painted his face as he watched with intent.

Lowering yourself on Ryomen, you felt his cock slowly stretch you out again, easily sliding in because of how his cum had filled your walls. You repeatedly bounced on his dick, the tip hitting your sweet spot more effectively. Both your moans filled the room’s quiet atmosphere. Your grip on his shoulders tightened as the warm and hot sensation took over your body once more, your nails digging into his skin, surely leaving marks. There it was again, his cocky smile showing on his face at the sight of you using his dick to get off. It was pathetic to see you try and dominate him in this position, but you just looked like a desperate bitch in heat. He would have never expected you to be so needy for him, after you had put so much effort to convince him with your little facade that you were so angry that he had forcefully taken you as his wife. Deep down, he knew that you had been waiting for this.

Quickly enough, your legs grew tired, but you didn’t want to stop—you were getting close again and you didn’t want to lose the momentum. He notices the way your chest heaved and how your legs trembled from exhaustion. He wraps his arms around your waist, and pushed your body onto his dick, then lifted you up again. This went on, and he was doing all the work again, moving your body up and down with ease while he thrusted into you in sync.

“What a pathetic attempt,” Ryomen laughed. You opened your mouth to say a remark, but the only thing that you could muster up were more moans.

“Did I fuck the brains out of you already? Tell me who you are.”

All you could muster up was a pathetic whine. He was right and you hated it. How could someone inexperienced make you instantly forget your own name with his cock?

“See,” Ryomen triumphantly smiled, baring his teeth. “I fucking told you.”

: ̗̀➛ part 3

#rev.writes #thank u sm for 200 followers!!!!!#ryomen sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #sukuna smut #jjk smut #ryomen sukuna smut

2K notes · View notes

lex-the-flex · 5 months

Note

coriolanus snow being jelly/ needy and demanding attention,,

been obsessed with him lately tehe <3

“You’re staring again, Coryo.” You announce through your focused state.

"Sorry, Y/N. Can't help it." He says, tossing his pen on the table.

Closing your notebook, you let out a sigh, rubbing your face in mere frustration. Leaning back in your chair, the study room’s ticking clock provides a low level profile for getting work done. But in this case, you were far more than ready to give up.

“It’s not fair! Why must our professors give us an essay and two projects to work on? Do they think we’re robots?!” Arachne questions, throwing her history book on the table.

Turning to face Coriolanus, you widely opened your eyes, hoping he shared the same annoyance at Arachne’s endless complaining. Thankfully he did. Offering you a small smile, you turned back to the study group.

“Because we’re preparing for the 10th Hunger Games. We need to know the importance of the games.” Clemensia replies.

“Besides, we’re all going to be mentors next year. So this is vital for the University. They accept any students who wish to be mentors.” Sejanus adds, leaning onto the table.

“Okay, Mr. Plinth Prize. Please spare us of your wisdom and can we please go get dinner before the mess hall closes?” Arachne asks, standing from her chair.

“Yes please! I’m starving.” Clemensia responds, grabbing her bag.

Standing from your spot at the table, you notice that everyone has practically bolted out the door: except for Coriolanus.

“You okay, Y/N?” He asks, grabbing his bag.

“Yeah, just exhausted, that’s all. I feel like I’m reaching my limit, Coryo.” You respond.

Following Coriolanus to the mess hall, you were so deep into your conversation that you stopped paying attention to the stairs. Upon reaching the second to last bottom step, the sole of your shoe got caught, and you started to fall forward towards the carpeted floor.

Unable to stop yourself, Coriolanus jumped in and leaped forward. Swiftly catching you in his arms, you couldn’t help but yelp at the action.

“Are you alright? What happened?” He asked.

“I’m alright. I think I just slipped.” You reply.

Glancing up at Coriolanus, his worried face and scrunched brows made your stomach turn with excitement. His icy blue eyes were forever locked onto your own e/c orbs and his once neat blonde curls were now draped over his forehead.

Keeping his arms gently around your forearms, the echoing ambiance of the mess hall seemed to fade, until Arachne interrupted.

“Oh what do we have here? Some new lovebirds in our midst no doubt.” She teases.

“Leave them alone.” Sejanus called out.

Finally letting go of Coriolanus, the two of you fixed your uniforms and promptly headed to get dinner. Waiting in line for your food, you couldn’t help but feel Coriolanus’ grip on your shoulders. As your heartbeat slowly started to return to normal, you refused to let Arachne’s constant jokes get in your head.

After all, you had better things to worry about.

Returning to the study room, Coriolanus offered to carry your meal, so once he opened his paper bag, you rested your hand on top of his to make sure he didn’t let go.

“There. Thanks, Coryo.” You replied.

Briefly pulling your hand away, Coriolanus wouldn’t let you. He wanted to keep you here, with his hand in yours. But he hesitantly let go, as he knew that the study session was almost over.

Finishing your meals, you let Clemensia proofread your essay, to which she found was brilliant. After a while, you noticed that Coriolanus slowly moved closer to you. And after a few minutes of concentrated silence, his fingers began to brush along the trim of your jacket. Facing him, he promptly motioned toward his pile of notes.

“Can you explain this to me, Y/N? I don’t know what this line means.” He asked.

Leaning closer, you ended up sitting on the edge of your chair. Offering his hand on the small of your back, Coriolanus gave you his full attention as you started to explain the poem to him.

#thanks anon!#thank you lovely anon #thanks for the request!#Coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow fic #Coriolanus snow request #tom blyth #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes

2K notes · View notes

eddiesghxst · 8 months

Note

eddie throwing his back out giving you everything he has and ofc it hurts like a bitch the next day and he wants you again and again and again

🫶

ITS GIVING OLDER EDDIE HELLO

18+ — MINORS DNI

————

the next morning eddie’s making breakfast and he dramatically groans whenever he reaches up to grab something from the cabinets until you finally crack and ask, “what’s wrong, baby?”

he just jokingly glares at you and goes, “you destroyed my back, that’s what’s wrong. the last time i had this much sex was in my twenties, i’m not equipped for this.” he grumbles, reaching back to rub at his lower back.

you roll your eyes, stepping forward to slink your hands around his waist, pressing your body up against his back and kissing the bare skin between his shoulders, “for what it’s worth, even though you’ve got a shitty back, your refractory period makes up for it,” you joke, patting his stomach and kissing his back once again, pressing a smile into his skin when he grunts in response.

“don’t have much of a choice, do i? i’ve got a succubus for a girlfriend.”

you hum, “that’s weird, last i remember it was you asking for one more round, wasn’t it?”

you stretch onto the tips of your toes to rest your chin against his shoulder to peer down at his skilled hands hard at work preparing your meal, and eddie doesn’t bother glancing at you as he responds, “not sure, things start to blur after the third big-O.”

you hum as a teasing smile spreads across his lips, “whatever you say, big guy.” you playfully nip at his shoulder and he hisses, batting you away as you giggle, turning to lean against the counter beside him so you’re facing him, “when you’re done with this, come and i’ll give you a massage for your achey old man back, hm?”

eddie glances away from his task to look at you, “that pretty little mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble.”

you tilt your head with a sly grin, voice smooth and sultry as you speak, “is that a threat, musnon?”

eddie let’s out an exasperated noise and looks at you with narrowed eyes, “can a man cook in peace, please? or at least without you trying to get in my pants like i’m some harlot,”

you raise your eyebrows and motion down to his crotch, the unmistakable print of his hardening length pressing against the seam of his sweatpants, “seems like he enjoys it.”

eddie playfully shoves you away then, muttering for you to get out of the kitchen and you giggle, yelping when he swats at your behind, “ow! what was that for?” you whine, rubbing at your sore cheek. eddie grins, dicing a few onions and dropping them onto the stove, “for being such a goddamn minx. get out of here before i accidentally set this house on fire.”

and even though his back hurts like hell, he still ends up drilling your shit, but you have to take over midway because eddie’s poor back really might just croak on him and he swears if that happens, you’re paying for his medical bill <3

#🫶 anon #<< i think ? lol #NEED HIM WANT HIM #HELLO QUICK BLURB #THANK U NONNIE I WILL BE THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR A LOOOOOONNGGGGG TIME #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #drabble #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson smut #older!eddie #older!eddie munson #eddie munson fluff

5K notes · View notes

swiftispunk · 1 year

Text

say it with your hands | joel miller x f!reader

part two

pairing: joel miller x afab!fem!masseuse!reader

word count: ~5.6k (how did this happen)

rating: 18+ minors dni

summary: post tlou/we are in jackson. ellie convinces joel to see the town masseuse. it goes mostly okay.

warnings etc: smut, awkward!joel, joel being kinda mean to himself, age gap implied, involuntary boners, lots of sexual tension, oral (m receiving), sunshine!reader, pet names (sweetheart, sugar, sweet girl, darlin’), little bit of POV hopping dw about it, probably bad massage technique descriptions idk what i’m doing sorry. NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: the first of the two soft and sweet joel fics! we are fixing our man’s back whether he wants it or not. god this was sooo cathartic to write actually as someone who wants nothing more than to give this man some goddamn peace. and also as someone who wants to bite his tummy.

special shoutouts to vee, ziggy, nicole, sam and @pedgito who gave me some much needed advice with this.

inspired by this ask <3

Joel Miller does not need a massage.

Sure, his lower back aches most hours of the day and the tension in his shoulders makes it hard to raise his arms above his waistline and fine, being on his feet for too long sends shooting pains up his spine and into his neck. And yeah, okay, maybe right now he’s hunched over the kitchen table after reaching down to tie his boot lace, frozen where he stands with a palm pressed to his back, groaning out a symphony of agonized grunts.

But he does not need a massage.

“Uh, Joel?”

Shit.

Ellie, catching him in his compromised state, that same supportive hand on his back holding him together as he tries and fails to straighten his wretched, old spine.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” he says through gritted teeth, because he sure as hell isn’t going to get away with lying, not looking the way he’s looking right now.

Plus, it’s not the first time she’s found him like this, his aging muscles giving out on him, weakened by time and overuse. It’s hardly a rare occurrence to find Joel clutching at his lower back like he is right now, bemoaning every minor movement or gentle stretch, cursing each time he arches it just so - trying in vain to breathe some life into it - only to find it causes the same excruciating pain.

Still - Joel Miller does not need a massage, goddamnit.

“You should really get it checked out, dude,” Ellie chides him - again, not for the first time.

“No,” he repeats, voice strained as he slowly but surely straightens himself out - now that he’s got a point to prove.

“Maria told me there’s a lady who does massages, she can get you an appointment if you just - ”

“I don’t need a massage,” Joel insists, though the achy moan that catches in the back of his throat when he curves his back up just a little too far kind of gives him away.

It’s just that Joel can’t stand the idea of some stranger’s hands all over him - poking and prodding and pointing out all his various problems.

He can do that just fine by himself.

“Suuure, you don’t,” Ellie says with a roll of her eyes, crossing the room to offer Joel a supportive arm, helping to escort him down into one of the kitchen chairs.

“There, we go,” she lauds him for the simple act of taking a fucking seat. Now he’s the one rolling his eyes.

“Don’t patronize me,” he grumbles, but he’s softening the words with an arm around Ellie’s waist, honestly grateful to her and all the unyielding assistance she offers him.

Not that she should fucking have to.

It’s that thought that has him reluctantly agreeing to let her book an appointment when Ellie implores him again, “Will you just go? Please?”

“Fine.”

Joel Miller does not need a massage, and yet here he is at your door, note from Ellie with the address and time Maria’d given her, sighing deeply and steeling his nerves before finally knocking.

You answer the door and Joel is surprised to find he doesn’t recognize you, or at least, he’s never properly noticed you before. He’s also surprised to find that you’re much younger and, honestly, prettier than Joel had been expecting, having been picturing some crotchety old hippie-dippie type, maybe with prior experience pre-apocalypse.

Instead, there you are, all smiles and welcoming gaze, throwing a new wrench of unease into the gears of Joel’s anxious brain - the very worst kind of wrench, at that: attraction.

God help him, he’s never going to survive this.

“Joel Miller?” you ask, already expecting him.

You know of him of course; everyone knows something of Tommy Miller’s mysterious older brother. You’d heard all the rumours - good and bad. Murderous former smuggler...caring, attentive father...surly old man...doting elder sibling - Joel Miller, as you know him, is something of an enigma.

But standing in your doorway, head low and shoulders hunched, face contorted in obvious discomfort, you see nothing of the esoteric killer you’d been warned about. All you see is a man - a man in need of serious help.

You notice he’s also strikingly more handsome up close, having only ever encountered his face from a distance. Now you see him for real - all patchy bearded and grey haired, hook-nosed and strong jawed; Joel is gorgeous.

“Yeah, uh, my kid - ” he clears his throat before going on, “Uh, my kid and Maria? Sent me here,” Joel stammers, eyes fixed on the note in his hands. “I have an appointment, I guess.”

You smile warmly back at him as his - almost helpless - brown eyes meet yours. “Come on in, Joel.”

You lock the door behind him as he obeys; Joel’s your last client of the day.

Your set up is right there in the living room, massage tables foraged from various supply runs, separated by dividers you’d built yourself, handmade candles filling the room with the aroma of lavender of peppermint.

Joel assesses the scene nervously, looking exceptionally out of place in the centre of it all, awkwardly wringing his hands together.

“So,” you begin, guiding him with a gentle hand over his arm towards one of the beds. “What’s bothering you today, Joel?”

“Uh - back. My back.” He gestures towards it as best he can with his limited mobility.

“Anywhere specific?”

“Uh...all of it?” he says like a question, embarrassed to admit it.

You smile at him again, hoping to put him at ease. “That’s no problem. We’ll get you sorted out.”

It’s a promise, one you plan to keep. Joel nods back at you, attempting his own smile in return, still looking visibly tense standing in the middle of the room uncertainly.

“Okay, well, I’ll just step out of the room,” you say kindly when Joel stays quiet before you. “You - just undress to your level of comfort, and I’ll be right back.”

He nearly chokes, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead.

“My level of...what?”

You give him another smile, because you get it. You’re used to this reaction from your clients in Jackson. It’s new territory for most people who come to see you, having spent the last twenty years experiencing various levels of suffering, many too young to know the process of receiving a professional massage.

Well, semi-professional in your case. But still.

Joel, however, looks old enough that he could have very well been to a masseuse before the outbreak, but something about his reluctant discomfort tells you that whether today or twenty years ago, Joel Miller is not the type to seek out help for anything.

“You can strip down completely, or just to your boxers,” you say patiently. “Lie down on your tummy and cover your bottom half with the sheet on the table. I’ll come back when you’re decent.”

You give him one last encouraging smile and duck into the other room.

Joel stands dumbstruck beside the bed, breathing shallowly. He doesn’t know what exactly he’d been preparing for, but getting naked for a pretty, young stranger sure wasn’t it.

Because Joel doesn’t wear boxers - he’s in his late fifties, and has spent the majority of his life up until now on the run to some degree or another. Not to mention the fact that he rarely finds himself in scenarios where he has to take his jeans off in front of another human being. Commando’s just how he lives, it’s habitual.

So he has to make a choice - he could run for it, leave you waiting in the other room till you finally figured out he’d taken off. Or he could suck it up - and see through what he’d fucking come here for.

He sighs, long and agitated. Then he strips off his boots and clothes, leaving them in a messy pile on the floor. Exposed against his own good will, he situates himself face down on the bed, shoddily trying to cover his ass with the sheet, straining his back when he reaches around too far doing it.

Fuck.

He can’t contain the laboured sound that catches in his throat, finally succumbing and planting his face into the semi-circular pillow in front of him.

“You okay?” you call from the other room, hearing the strained noise from where you’re waiting.

“Fine,” Joel responds, sounding anything but. “M’decent,” he adds, feeling anything but.

You make your way back into the room to find that he’s followed your instructions perfectly, although the sheet looks a bit twisted up over his lower half. No problem, nothing’s exposed that shouldn’t be, and either way, you’re getting an impressive view of his broad back, tan and weathered with time, faded scars lining the thick arms he has glued against his sides.

Keep it professional, you tell yourself.

You approach his side slowly, making sure he hears you coming, not wanting to startle him. You take a moment to set your faithful kitchen timer to one hour on the desk beside the table, the same desk covered with a combination of bottles of homemade and collected massage oils.

“So,” you say as you coat your hands with the oil you think Joel will like the most - an all-natural one you made that smells like eucalyptus and patchouli. Your slick fingers finally making contact with Joel’s deliciously broad shoulders elicits a full-body twitch from the man. “Did you do anything in particular to hurt it?”

Joel tenses as you run your hands gingerly over his back, spreading the cool oil over his skin and feeling your way for any noticeable areas of concern, not applying too much pressure just yet.

“Got older,” he mutters gloomily.

You smile even though he can’t see it, aching to take away some of the sadness in his voice. “We all get older.”

Joel’s heart pounds as you feel your way over his sides, pressing into his lower back gently, pinky fingers brushing the edge of the sheet. You glide your fingertips between his shoulder blades then, finding plenty of tension there. He’d been telling the truth - the damage seems to consume the entire landscape of his back.

“You don’t look old,” you say while you continue getting to know his muscles in slow, calculated movements.

“Don’t need to lie to me,” he grumbles in that same somber tone.

“Well this is more than age anyway,” you say, feeling just truly how fucked-up his back is. Deep-seated knots twist his muscles from his shoulders to his glutes, buried far below his skin. “Are you on your feet a lot?”

“Was, before I got here.”

“Hm,” you say around a knowing smile. “Weren’t we all?”

Joel hears the undercurrents of a painful backstory behind your words but he doesn’t pry, still trying to slow his heart rate and fucking relax. He has to admit he’s finding it harder to focus as you begin to apply more pressure, concentrating your fingers into the flesh of his lower back now, where you’d felt some of the most glaring snags, kneading into the knots there methodically, calming his muscles and his mind.

“That feel nice there?” you ask quietly, sensing the tension leaving him, wanting to help him just the way he needs.

Joel sighs as your expert touch begins to loosen some of the strain in his low back, a blissful release suddenly spreading throughout his body from the place your fingers touch. His eyes fall closed as he lets slip a tiny moan of pleasure.

“That feels amazing, sweetheart,” he breathes.

He goes tense again, eyes flying open. Because he hadn’t meant to say that.

But you hardly mind, burning pleasantly at the way his Southern drawl cloaks around the endearment, flattered more than anything and understanding to a fault. He’s just comfortable, and you’re glad he is too. That means you’re doing your job right.

So you just keep working into the area that had made him so relaxed a moment ago, pretending he’d said nothing at all.

“Where’d you learn how to do this?” Joel asks curiously after a long moment, genuinely interested and also trying not to get too lost in the feeling of your touch - to stay focused and keep you talking so his stupid big mouth doesn’t get away from him again.

“My mom did it,” you tell him, palms digging deeper into the flesh above his ass, gliding them up in long strokes along either side of his spine languidly, back and forth till you feel the twists in his muscles giving way to you. “She taught me a lot before she died. Then I just read everything I could; books in the QZ I grew up in, more from the library here. Self-taught, really. Council was nice to enough to let me do this as my job.”

“Why do you do it?” Joel presses, voice coming out more wrecked than he intends, as your fingers discover a particularly tricky spot between his shoulder blades.

“I like helping people feel good,” you tell him. “Plus I think it’s the only thing I’m actually any good at.”

Joel’s not sure about the only part but he definitely agrees you’re good at it.

Then he can’t help it; your obvious kindness coupled with the movements of your palms on his back have Joel descending into an unexpected state of peace, melting into the spongey mattress of the table, face smushed against the hollowed pillow. He realizes, as your fingers work slow miracles over him, how long it’s been since anyone’s had hands on him - let alone meticulous, caring ones like yours. It sparks something in him - something long denied, buried as deep as the knots in his back.

He’s not sure how much time is passing - could be hours, could be days. For once, he’s fine not knowing.

His breath catches when your fingers wander back down towards his low back and find a tough bundle of knots there. Another moan slips his lips as you lean into it, unwinding the the pain to the best of your ability.

“There?” you ask, smoothing out the muscles with measured strokes that have Joel’s brain going fuzzy.

“Right there,” he whispers gravelly, butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the sound of his low voice.

You continue to work your fingers into that same spot, repeating the motion on the other side of his back, where you find similar knots mirrored there.

From then on, Joel is putty in your hands, every cluster of agony breaking apart at your firm touch. Joel’s eyes flutter closed again as he finally gives his mind permission to lose himself in the feeling of being cared for. And it’s heaven, finally, as you erase all the pain he’s been carrying for months - hell, maybe even years.

At least until he feels his cock beginning to stiffen under him, jutting uncomfortably against the mattress and -

Shit.

Fucking - shit.

It’s fine, he tells himself. He’s on his tummy after all, it’s not like you could see. You wouldn’t have noticed his eyes popping open again or the way he’s balled his hands into tight fists at his sides. You can’t hear his thoughts, can’t hear the way he’s screaming in vain at his cock to behave.

He’s not even aroused, goddamnit - or at least, he doesn’t think he is.

So he lets your hands keep working, but it just keeps making him harder, every tender graze of your fingers on his touch-starved skin taking on new meaning, deep relaxation giving way to some intrinsic craving he barely feels conscious of.

“I think I want to get some spots around your shoulders, Joel, do you mind turning over for me?”

God-fucking-damnit.

“Uhhh…”

“It’s just easier for me to reach certain spots - is everything okay?” you ask innocently, noticing the way he’s tensed up under you again.

Joel sighs deeply, as though he could will his stupid cock to soften if he tried, instead of it growing harder still at the soft sound of your sweet voice.

Once again, he’s faced with a choice. Lie there in protest and be forced to tell you the truth, or give in and turn over and be forced to show you the truth.

Somehow, the latter seems easier than trying to find the words to explain himself.

Against his better judgement, he rolls over onto his back with a sigh as you step back and remove your hands from him. Joel chances a glance down his body and yeah, there’s no denying it, his semi-hard cock is tenting the sheet, noticeably so.

Fucking hell.

You fight for your life not to react.

Of course, Joel doesn’t know you’ve read all about this - there’s an easy decorum for this kind of thing. For one, it’s perfectly normal for men - you know this. And all the books say the same thing: don’t make note of it, don’t make it sexual, and don’t mention it unless the client seems uncomfortable or says something.

Not making it sexual is already proving to be a bit of a challenge - Joel’s naked front is even more beautiful and broad than this naked back, his chest a sprawling panorama of thick pectoral muscles over a luscious tummy that’s just a little too...distractingly biteable. You take note of the aged scar that lines his one side, ragged and grisly looking, although healed with time.

What’s more, it’s clear he’s well-endowed beneath the sheet, even when he’s not fully erect. You pointedly avert your eyes before you start thinking about it too much.

You’d be more than happy not to mention it but the problem is that Joel seems visibly embarrassed, his eyes continuously darting downwards when he thinks you’re not looking, giving you no choice.

You’ve got to put this man at ease.

“Hey, Joel, don’t worry about it,” you say soothingly and Joel just about dies with mortification at the acknowledgment. “It’s super normal.”

“Yeah fuckin’ right,” he grumbles.

“It’s true - it’s perfectly natural. You’re just relaxed - it’s a good thing.”

He shakes his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling and very much not on you standing over him, practically right above his eyeline.

“M’sorry,” he groans, his face burning red, hands still squeezed into fists beside him. Hard and naked in front of a beautiful, sweet, kind, young woman. He’s never felt more vulnerable in his whole goddamn life.

You offer him a smile even though he’s still not looking at you. You hope he can at least hear it in your voice.

“We’ll just both pretend we don’t see it,” you say, applying more oil to your hands and beginning to work your thumbs into the flesh above his shoulders. “Deal?”

Joel takes a deep breath and tries.

Your fingers are convincing enough all on their own, Joel’s focus going foggy again when you run your hands over the tight lumps in his shoulders and neck, tips of your fingers tracing over his bare chest, the both of you feigning indifference to the very real presence of his now very hard cock under the sheet below you.

Joel lets his eyes slip closed again and now you’re the one trying to slow your heart rate, reminding yourself for the hundredth time to keep your thoughts professional.

His shoulders, you find, are almost worse than his lower back when it comes to finding bunches of knotted muscle, no doubt worn and torn from years of gun slinging and backpacking and who-knows-what-else.

“What did you do for work before all this?” you ask in that same honey-sweet voice that has Joel falling deeper into a peaceful trance below you, a tiny moan escaping his lips as your thumbs dig into the muscles where his neck meets his clavicle.

“Contractor,” he answers you, voice coming out a quiet whisper, the most he can muster at the moment.

“Working man,” you sigh, realization washing over you. “You’ve been carrying some of this tension a long time.”

For some reason, Joel feels like he could cry at that.

“You got no idea,” he says instead, voice thick.

It’s quiet for a long while then as you maintain your steady motions on his shoulders and upper back, trying and failing not to ogle at that perfect, wide chest and that supple belly, his hard cock still staring you down intoxicatingly from under the sheet.

His face, too, is difficult not to marvel at - strong lines softened into a restful state, lips parted slightly and eyes sealed shut, his moustache bristling with each lengthy breath that passes through his open mouth.

Because now Joel is the most relaxed he’s been in a long time, he thinks. Even his backstabbing dick, glaring up at him, isn’t enough to deter him from the sense of calm you’re inflicting on him. The scent of your burning candles and the tender touch of your hands on his skin a downright sedating combination.

He’d do anything you say if you said it with your hands. Hell, he could kiss you for making him feel this good and so what if his cock twitches at the thought of that?

Eventually you both just forget about Joel’s erection - or, at the very least, get used to it being there.

The two of you would be content for it to last forever, but then your kitchen timer is going off beside you, a loud ding cutting through the haze - that’s an hour, done in the blink of an eye.

Your hands linger on his skin as you step back, Joel groaning audibly at the loss.

“That’s our time,” you tell him, wishing it wasn’t true.

“Shit - already?” Joel asks, eyes slowly opening to shoot you a devastating grin, otherwise too blissed-out to move.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him smile. You’d done that.

“Afraid so,” you say like it’s the worst news in the world, which it kind of is. You soften it with a smile back at him.

“I think I might need a hand gettin’ up here,” he admits, feeling as though he’s been fused to the table, his brain fuzzy from the hour of relaxation and the seemingly uncontrollable arousal between his legs.

“Of course,” you murmur, happy to keep finding ways to help the man, bracing a hand behind his neck and gripping his arm with the other, slowly pulling him upright, the sheet shifting slightly on his lap, exposing the hairs on his lower belly, an enticing trail leading to his still-hard cock.

You’re face to face now, Joel sitting up on the table and stretching his back experimentally, you standing in front of him, still grasping his arm like you forgot to let go.

“How do you feel?” you ask him faintly.

Joel smiles for real now, a contented, lop-sided thing. “Better’n I’ve felt in a long time, sweetheart.”

You beam back at him. It’s the best kind of compliment, making someone else feel better; you live for it. And hearing it in Joel’s tantalizing drawl, another charming pet name slipping out once again, it’s enough to make your heart soar. You could die happy knowing you’d made Joel Miller feel good.

You’re still gripping his arm you realize, finally making to pull it away. But Joel, surprising both you and himself, catches your wrist in his hand before you can - holding you there.

“You really don’t accept payment for this?” he asks inquisitively. “’Cause I kinda feel like I owe you my life right now, darlin’.”

His gentle tone softens the intensity of his words, but you find yourself brightening at them nonetheless.

“Helping people is enough for me,” you shrug.

Joel looks back at you with something akin to adoration, eyes narrowing.

“You’re a sweet thing, aren’t you?” he hums in wonder.

There are those damned butterflies again - stronger this time and paired with an unexpected spike of arousal at his tender tone, so different now compared to the surly, grumbling man he’d been when he’s first come through your door.

“J-just happy to help, that’s all,” you say breathlessly.

Joel’s big hand on your wrist spreads out on your forearm and moves up over your elbow. You watch it carefully - curiously - feeling its heat against your skin, welcoming it.

“Real sweet…” he repeats, voice husky and low, looking and sounding totally serene, almost far away. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, doesn’t really think he can stop; that thing that’s buried deep inside him suddenly rising to the forefront -

Desire, he realizes. Radiating out of him and straight into you.

Joel’s touch is making your head spin a bit - even though you’ve had your hands all over him for the last hour or so. Now his face is closer than it’s ever been to yours, the scent of the fragrant oil on his skin mixing with his undeniably masculine musk, competing for ownership of your nostrils. His cock is still rock hard and very much there under the sheet and your eyes won’t stop flitting down to it no matter how hard you try.

Joel’s eyes follow yours there, his fingers coiling a little tighter around your arm, a charged energy flowing through you where his skin meets yours, so different now than it had felt a moment ago.

Because Joel’s right - you are a sweet girl, most of the time. And you do love helping people. Perhaps it’s that instinct that has your next words falling from your lips before you can stop them,

“You know, Joel,” you say, voice matching his low timbre, tilting your head slightly so his eyes meet yours, your hand drifting to the edge of the sheet, ghosting over his veiled cock. “I could help you with this too, i-if you’d like.”

Your eyes dart down to his hard length beneath the sheet again, just to make sure he knows exactly what you mean.

“Z’at right?” he breathes with a welcome smirk. “What, like, some kinda happy endin’ or somethin’? You do that for anyone who comes in here?”

You smile back at him. Truth is, you’ve never done this with a client before.

“Mm-mm. This would just be for you, Joel,” you say, voice dripping with sincerity and seduction. “I just want to help. I wouldn’t feel right sending you home like this.”

An hour ago Joel might have been shocked at the offer. Now his skin prickles at the thought, heart racing in the good way as your fingers grip the fabric invitingly. It would be rather unfortunate to have to leave your place in the state he’s in.

His eyes appear to glaze over completely then as you slowly pull back the sheet, his cock finally springing free. Joel doesn’t feel embarrassed about being exposed anymore, kind of wants to you see it, to see what you’d done to him.

You, meanwhile, have to fight back a gasp when you see his cock revealed at last; it’s as big as you’d deduced from the towering tent it had created under the sheet, stiff and thick and begging to be touched. Just like the rest of him.

“Can I...?” you ask, hand hovering over it, eyes flipping between it and his face. You’d thrown professionalism to the wind - that much is clear - but you’re still desperate for his approval, to know this is really what he wants.

Joel’s thoroughly charmed by your asking permission, faint smile now glued to the corners of his lips; you clearly don’t know that he’s already surrendered to you more than he has to anyone in a long time. He doesn’t need to think twice.

“Please, darlin’.”

He sounds so earnest, almost pleading. Who are you to deny a man in need? You keep your eyes fixed on his face as you reach out to wrap your fingers around his cock, watching for the moment his lips fall open at your touch.

Joel should have seen it coming. Your hands had worked miracles over his back and shoulders - of course they’d do the same on his dick. Palms still slick with residual massage oil, you pump his length in long, firm strokes, coaxing out hearty drops of precum as you squeeze around him competently. You press a hand to his chest - that chest you know so well now - and lay him back down on the table. Joel, defenseless as your fist continues to stroke his aching cock, obliges willingly.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he sighs as he fans out on the table once more, giving your hands tenancy over his body for the second time that day.

“Is that good, Joel?” you inquire softly, fingers gripped tightly around his cock now, focusing your strokes towards the tip so his head falls back against the face cradle.

“Fuckin’ amazin’, sugar,” he hums, voice escaping him in a breathy groan.

Your heart flutters at the praise, and it’s all the encouragement you need to duck down and flick the tip with your tongue enticingly.

Joel just about loses it, his head snapping back up to take in the sight of you leaning over him, hand held around the base of his cock and lips now wrapped around the tip, the taste of his salty precum hitting your tongue as you swirl it over his slit with expert care.

“Christ,” Joel growls, the sound sending sparks flying to your core as you smile around him, beginning to move up and down over his length, wetting it from base to tip and causing Joel to moan out a symphony above you.

Not for the first time that day, Joel is losing focus, your mouth driving him even crazier than your hands. But there’s just one problem -

“Darlin’, wait,” he says, his words getting caught in his throat when you lick a thick stripe along the underside of his dick.

“What, Joel?” you ask, hand still clutched around his cock, voice sickly sweet as you stare up at him wide-eyed and wet-lipped. Joel groans noisily at the sight.

“You’re not gonna make me lie here naked while you keep all those clothes on, are ya?” he manages, voice gruff with unrestrained lust.

You smile. He’s right - it’s hardly fair at all.

“Of course not,” you assure him. You step back and Joel hoists himself up on his elbows to watch you hungrily as you strip off your shirt and jeans, marvelling at you in just your panties (no bra, not in this world), as you stand before him without an ounce of diffidence in your stance.

“Goddamn, you’re gorgeous, sweetheart,” he says reverently, shaking his head in near-disbelief.

“Can I finish taking care of you now, Joel Miller?” you ask him alluringly, taking a moment to coat your hands with a fresh layer of massage oil as you do.

Joel barely chokes out a, “Yeah - yes,” before you’re bending over his body again to take his cock back in your mouth, sucking and bobbing on his length in earnest as you run your hands over his belly, leaving sleek streaks of oil along the tan, fleshy skin there.

Joel marvels at the curves of your topless body over him - doesn’t want to ever look away from it - but it’s hard; he can’t stay focused as your slippery hands find his cock again, working the base while your mouth works the tip, that skillful combination again making him see stars, elbows giving way under him so he splays out onto the table once more.

“Fuck me, your mouth, sweetheart,” Joel groans, as his big hands tangle in your hair, his touch sending a tingling sensation down your spine and making wetness sprout between your legs. “Don’t stop - fuck - don’t you stop.

You moan softly around him, causing Joel’s hips to buck up into your mouth of their own volition, momentarily making you choke in the most perfect way, spit mingling with precum mingling with oil and it’s exquisitely messy, Joel’s fingers knotting tighter in your hair and giving you the confidence to increase your pace on him, desperate now for his release.

And Joel feels it coming - tight heat knotting in his gut as his cock hits the back of your throat over and over -

“Darlin’, I’m - I’m close - ” he tries to warn you.

“You can come in my mouth, Joel, it’s okay,” you tell him truthfully, voice hoarse and sultry when you pull off of him, just for a moment, glancing up at him with a smile that’s maybe too eager.

Joel doesn’t mind it in the slightest. “Fuckin’ Christ, keep goin’,” he grunts and you suck him back down, moving with intent now - intent to finish, to taste.

He doesn’t make you wait long, heat in his core erupting at the feeling of your lips locked around him, coming streaks of spend down your waiting throat when you pull off him to stroke him fervently, coating your taste buds and filling your mouth as he groans out a string of curses above you.

Joel’s eyes stay fixed on the ceiling when he comes, but you make sure he’s looking back at you again before you swallow his seed, just so you can catch his awestruck reaction when you do.

Then, you can’t help it - it’s right there, so close, how could you resist? - you kiss your way over the trail of hairs on his lower belly, taking the opportunity to nip lightly at the squishy skin of his tummy.

Yep, you’d been right. Way too biteable.

“Shit, sweetheart,” Joel laughs breathily, skin glossy and muscles gooey, melded into the massage table - probably forever. “Now you gotta let me say thank you somehow.”

Yeah, right. At the moment, you’re not sure Joel can even move.

“Well,” you say, finding your discarded clothes strewn on the floor and slipping them back on, Joel watching you unabashedly. “You could come back. Same time next week?”

Joel smirks, head titling towards you from its place on the cradle to give you an endearing little wink.

“It’s a date, sweet girl.”

END.

joel miller taglist -

@milla-frenchy @bellaramseymyluv @iconictragedies-reads @tieronecrush @moriartyyouwhore @devilmademepostit @wednesdayday @serenaxpedro @technicolourrry @scarlettstarletts @wroetospidey @princesapedro @kittenkes @youbetterstopstop @javier-penas-wifexx420 @casssiopeia @lavenderslace @beardsanddetectives @zoannearts @bigboiseason123 @mc1503 @lunapascal @livinxdeadxgrl @leeeesahhh @stephredstan13 @djarinsgirl @love-the-abyss @daemonnix96 @mydailyhyperfixations @sexygaypalpatine @worhols @pr0ximamidnight @pepsimunson @montenegroisr @detectivedaughter @huffle-punk @pedropascalismahdad @cutesyscreenname @jae-michael @casual-obsessions @sundaypub @imyourlittlescarlet @take2-pastelnap @beskarandblasters @midnightswithdearkatytspb @westeros-needs-me @obsessive-mannerism @wild-hearts-runfree @scuba-seamus @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jellybeanxc @ethereal-soft @johnwatsn @joelsversion @strang3lov3 @fea-bonita @the-queen-of-fools @pedgeitopascal @pedrit0-pascalit0 @oneofutoo @ikigailereve

#top contender for favourite thing i've ever written #thank you for the inspiration non #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #the last of us smut #tlou smut #just gonna post this and walk away lol #i can’t keep looking at it #joel miller #joel miller fanfic

5K notes · View notes

ao3-shenanigans · 2 months

Text

Nothin’ more humbling the rereading the first fanfic you wrote

#we come a long way and thank goodness for it #ao3 #fanfiction #archive of our own #fanfic #fandom #writing #ao3 shenanigans

4K notes · View notes

talaok · 7 months

Text

Needy

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Joel needs his fix of you, and he doesn't care if it makes you late.

Warnings: smut| oral sex (f receiving) and coming untouched. Joel is a little more sub in this one and he's obsessed with eating you out.

a/n: guys, i have a confession to make, i do not know what this is, i wrote it tonight and boy i'm so tired that i'm honestly not really sure about what i typed, but i was in the mood and i like this thing of Joel tuesdays im doing so... hope you'll enjoy.

"you look gorgeous, baby"

It didn't take a genius.

The way he wrapped his arms around you, pressing his body to yours, the way he whispered in your ear, the way he didn't break eye contact, looking at you from the mirror as he kissed your neck...

Joel Miller might have been a hard man to understand many times, but not when it was about sex.

"Joel" you stopped him immediately, neglecting the shimmers of pleasure he had ignited inside of you from such a small gesture "We don't have time"

If he heard you, he didn't show it.

His kisses only grew hotter and lower down your neck.

"Baby I'm serious" you breathed, feeling one of his hands travel down your sides "We're gonna be late"

Even with a bad ear, he should have definitely heard that, but his only response was a low groan and an attempt to hike up your dress.

"Baby-"

"just a peek" he murmured, sending a shiver up your spine "Just wanna look at her"

Even if your natural response was to roll your eyes, hearing him so desperate was doing things to you.

"please" he breathed "I'll be quick"

And after a moment of silence, as you considered what he'd just said, you finally huffed out a "fine"

It's just one peek after all, what could go wrong?

He had turned you around and was on his knees before you had time to blink, and your dress was pulled up to your belly before you could take a breath.

You watched him as he held your waist like you were a long-lost treasure he'd just found, and as his eyes trained on your clothed core with so much hunger and lust to turn them completely black.

And then slowly, oh so slowly, his right hand came to help, removing that torturous piece of fabric obstructing his view of (as he referred to it) "the most perfect pussy on the planet"

"fuck" he groaned, his pupils dilatating so much they were one with his iris.

You let out a small chuckle at his amazement

"There, you saw it, can we go no-" you tried to speak, but were quickly interrupted

"just a kiss"

He didn't even sound like himself, but like he was in a trance.

"just one" he breathed, leaning closer

You sighed, before agreeing

"one"

And he didn't even answer you, he just went straight to it, groaning loudly as he kissed you right on your clit.

"Joel..." your hand found his hair, as a shock of pleasure coursed through you.

"just another one" he murmured, not giving you time to protest before his lips were on your core again, this time forcing a whimper out of your mouth.

"baby-"

But another groan of his interrupted your train of thought

"fuck you taste so fucking good" his eyes glanced up at you "I could eat you for every meal"

"Joel we're gonna be la-"

"let me taste you a little better" he growled, "just a bit, ok?"

But again, before you had time to give him a half-hearted excuse, he'd dived in, taking your pussy in his mouth like it was his lifelong duty.

His tongue was now swirling over your bud, your hole, and along your slit, making you forget all about your plans and the people waiting for you at the restaurant.

"shit baby" you moaned "f-fuck"

His hold on your waist got tighter, and soon, you realized his definition of "a bit" was much different from yours, as he didn't look like he had any intention of stopping, and to be honest, you were more than happy about it.

His nose was rubbing against your mound, you could feel his mustache tickling your skin and the way his tongue was tasting and savoring all of you was making you ascend to another universe, one where you didn't fall for Joel Miller's stupid tricks every time for example.

"J-Joel"

And usually, he was very talkative during sex, for being such a man of a few words he really loved to talk when he was inside of you, but not when his mouth was busy, never, when his mouth was busy.

Eating your pussy for him was like a drug, I’m not kidding, you'd never met any other man who loved giving head like Joel did, most mornings than not you'd wake with him between your legs and go to sleep the same way, and when he didn't get his fix... well, you ended up arriving late at the restaurant.

"oh my god" you moaned, gripping his locks with more strength as his lips closed on your clit, sucking it deliciously "Joel fuck I-"

And that's the other thing, not only was Joel obsessed with going down on you, he was also amazing at it. Sometimes you didn't even last a full minute.

"f-fuck baby I-"

And with one final stroke of his tongue, you were pushed over the edge and left wailing and crying as the orgasm took over your body.

He drank every single drop of your pleasure, not stopping to lick your pussy until you literally pulled him away by his head because you couldn't do it anymore.

"fuck" you exhaled, as your breathing tried to get back to normal.

He fixed your dress for you as he stood back up

"you're perfect" he murmured, a smile from ear to ear plastered on his face before he kissed you, letting you have a taste of yourself "fucking perfect"

You chuckled as you wrapped your arms behind his neck and kissed him again"We don't have time for me to take care of you too baby"

His lips pulled into a more shy smile now "yeah, that's not really necessary anyway"

You frowned, looking at him, before you let your eyes fall to his crotch.

A dark stain covered the front of his jeans.

"oh my god" you huffed out a laugh "go change"

"right away m'am" he nodded, giving you another quick kiss

"and wash your mouth a little bit"

And at that, he smirked

"not a chance, sweetheart"

Your head tilted as you rolled your eyes at him.

"You, Joel Miller" you cocked an eyebrow as you looked into his hazel eyes"are a gross, gross perv"

A lazy smile pulled at his lips

"Only for you darlin'"

2K notes · View notes

opluffys · 11 months

Text

-nsfw/smut-

face buried deep into the pillow, all of your sounds muffled by the material, you dared to utter a simple and incomplete sentence.

"s'too much,"

either he ignored you, or didn't hear you- honestly, you had no clue, but it was probably the former. you lost track of time as he continued to bully his cock into your cunt. and, you couldn't do it, you couldn't take him because he's always so fucking big.

"yeah? and you'll keep takin' it all."

he's so fucking mean it's not even fair, you can't even complain because he's filling all of your senses with white hot pleasure. your brain began to turn to mush as his dick stretched out your pussy, hands fisting into the sheets as you pressed yourself deeper into the pillow. his pillow. it smells like him, fuck, he's everywhere and you can't handle it.

ghost's fucking you well-past tears, past the point of begging, he's stressed- and what else could you do but offer yourself to him? you'd been more than happy that he agreed to such a thing, nearly pushing you into the bedroom.

you can't take back a gift, though.

"not gonna fit, simon," you whimpered, barely even able to catch your breath as you whispered to him, tears dampening the pillowcase.

he shushed you by pushing your head back into the mattress. his hands grasp at the fat of your hips now harder as he continued to feed his cock into you, his being mesmerised as he watched your smaller body desperately try and accommodate his size and girth. he had gentler moments, but he knew that you liked it rough, liked him, rough.

"i'll fucking make it fit." to emphasise his words, he gave a particularly rough thrust, finally allowing himself to bottom out inside of your warmth. he groaned lowly at feeling you squeeze him with a vice-like grip, hearing you give a weak moan back to him.

"see? see, love?" he snuck his hand underneath you and pressed down on your stomach, hearing and watching you gasp and twitch. "there we go, can feel me right there, can't you?"

you wanted to tell him yes, to affirm every single thing he would say to you. but you couldn't. all you could do was rock back and forth from the harsh movements that he performed. so, you settled with a nod.

"simon-" again, you tried to tell him that it his size was filling you to the fucking brim, making you see stars, making you feel so good, too good. it was red hot, you could feel every single prominent vein drag against your soft and wet walls before he slammed back into you- obscene and lewd noises filling the room. you wanted to cry, sob and ask him how he always fucked you so good, how he knew every single place to touch you and every single place to avoid.

"shh, just, fuckin' take me, yeah?"

yeah, he didn't need to tell you again.

#fanfic #smut #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod smut #cod x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #thanks for 4k notes!! :)#7k notes WHAT?!?!?! thank you all sm!!

13K notes · View notes

ma1dita · 3 months

Text

bedtime stories

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: bitch this was supposed to be a blurb. 2.4k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where night shift with him runs late, but you don't mind at all. You won’t admit a lot of things to Luke Castellan, but perhaps he knows something you don’t. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

warnings: none, banter and fluff on a night shift

a/n: Introducing luke castellan x trouble!reader… this is just gonna be ongoing blurbs and one shots of an idea in my head (and my latest hyperfixation) reader is essentially reformed unhinged bitch now camp mom and it’s enemies to friends to lovers. Working through reading the pjo series hehe

(posted 1/16/24, beta’ed by the lovely @ttulipwritezz @mrsaluado & @lixzey thank you bunches)

—

Dragging your feet across the dirt of the forest floor, you sigh to yourself in the quiet night air. It’s gonna be another long night and with the beep on your digital watch, you blearily peer at the time and sigh. Almost 11. Swaying slightly, you whistle a familiar tune as your nimble hands straighten out the deck chairs near the firepit, pick up trash to toss into the receptacle, and turn off the lights in the dining hall. All on the way to check Cabin 7, mind you, and the Apollo kids will undoubtedly loop you into singing a song with them before you shut the lights off and close the curtains.

Gods, your dad is definitely gonna hear about this in the morning.

It’s not like Mr. D ever really cares, or listens, more focused on droning on about missing his wife and playing pinochle even when you rattle off his…your to-do list for the week to keep Camp Half-Blood running and the younger demigods in mostly one piece. Honestly, he should be grateful he has you, and even if he is, he’ll never let you hear it. At least you’re Chiron’s favorite.

A shadow passes your field of view, and before you can rub at your sleepy eyes, strong hands pin you to the side of a tree on the dirt path you were supposed to take across camp.

Sorry, let’s correct that—you’re one of Chiron’s favorites. The other all-star camper stares at you like you’re a three-headed dog under the beam of his flashlight.

“Just me, Castellan,” you grumble, a bit winded as you blink harshly at the bright light. “Still doing checks.”

“You’re losing your touch. You making a habit of going to bed late?” Luke smirks, and it’s actually annoying how he always looks like he knows something you don’t.

“You always pin campers to trees?”

“Just the pretty ones.” His smirk turns into a sly grin that makes you roll your eyes.

“Okay loser, I’ve got cabins to check,” you drone as you push off from the tree. “6 cut into my time after staying there longer than I had to. The little ones kept asking these otherworldly philosophical questions and Annabeth just laughed at me while I tried to not pluck my eyelashes out one by one.”

Your clipboard taps lightly against your hip despite the aggression in your voice and Luke laughs much like his little sister, a burst of sunlight overflowing into the dreary and mundane. Your lips quirk upward before you can stop and remind yourself of who you’re talking to. The tall boy reaches behind him to scratch the nape of his neck and sighs, sucking at his teeth.

“You’re always doing the most, huh?”

“Who else is going to, my dad? He’s probably already out like a light.” Once, you found your dad asleep at his desk after dinner, snoring loudly instead of keeping watch. You started taking more night shifts after that.

“Well, no. You know I’m here to help you, even if you’ll never admit it.” Luke extends a hand to you so it’s easier to navigate the step back onto the dirt-trodden path, but there’s no fun in that, so you hop around him and start walking away. The sound of his footsteps fall and match yours as he follows you, both in tandem like the sound of a steady heartbeat.

“The day you catch me admitting anything about you is the day the Underworld freezes over. You should know that by now.”

“Woooooow, so I don’t get a thank you for singing the Apollo kids to sleep? You should’ve seen the look on their faces when I walked in and not you. They ended the song pretty quickly after I opened my mouth to croak out a chorus,” he says, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth and nudging your side as you both laugh.

He’s a terrible singer, to be honest. Not even the Fates would’ve expected that from someone who otherwise seems like a perfect boy. Sometimes you wonder what he’s done in a past life to have it so easy–to look like he’s been chiseled by Michelangelo, have the athletic prowess of ten Spartan soldiers, and the heart of a hero only legends could get right. He’s probably the closest thing to an actual hero here at camp. You often find yourself looking at him in hopes of finding a crack in the porcelain of his perfection, but any fault of his seems to just build up his endurance in his quest for glory.

Maybe that’s why your dad doesn’t like him, his aspirations for something greater than the camp that’s kept you safe all these years, though the multiple complaints and headaches the both of you have given him as squabbling teenagers must’ve added onto that. Sometimes, though, the way he helps ease your load prods a funny feeling you do your best not to acknowledge in your stomach. Luke walks ahead shining the flashlight onto the dark path so you both don’t trip. It’s there now, at the sight of him offering an arm for you to latch onto to hop over fallen branches.

Mental note: tell the satyrs to move that in the morning.

As you hurdle over the brambles, you let go immediately after you steady your feet, moving his hand that’s holding the flashlight back towards the path with no other words. You are your father’s daughter after all, and he knows this—stubborn and your name have the same face.

Moving further towards your destination, the light reveals a teenage couple entangled within each other’s arms at the base of a tree out there for everyone to see in the moonlight.

“Jeez, guys, alright— pack it up, wrap it up! Could’ve at least found somewhere private… It’s curfew already, if I see you two again it’s a citation.”

The boy blushes and mumbles an apology to you, scurrying back to cabin 7, and you raise an eyebrow at a sheepish son of Hermes who swears they were all in their beds when he was singing to them.

“I don’t wanna go back to my cabin, all the boys are gross…” the girl whines, cheeks flushed from embarrassment as she flutters her eyelashes at you and Luke. You sigh. What has the world come to that young demigods are entrusted to the care of two people who barely consider themselves adults?

“Well, if you’re still in 11 with this one,” you simper, blatantly pointing at Luke, “I can’t blame you. He’s gross. Come by mine tomorrow and I’ll get you privacy curtains, okay? Trust me Yvonne, you don’t think boys are all that gross if you like kissing them.”

She nods, smiling charmingly at the two of you, before brushing past Luke and winking, “See you inside!”

Your head swivels to look at Luke with a coy expression, “There’s no way she’s not an Aphrodite.”

Luke huffs as he clicks his flashlight on and off. His hands are always fidgeting, always searching for something to do. He’s more like his dad than he thinks, carrying the quieter traits of quick fingers and more obvious ones like his constant search for amusement. Talking to you consistently satiates that itch.

“Aphrodite isn’t the only god that attracts attractive people, you know.”

“Oh? Do tell, because if she’s one of you, your cabin’s gonna be extra trouble,” your mouth curves into a smile, and he thinks he likes it more when you’re trying to be mean to him like this because the back and forth between you two is a comfort Luke cherishes. The words have lost their bite over the years, and there are no more cuts and bruises besides an occasional wounded ego, but it’s still entertaining, to say the least. He can’t imagine a day without hearing the teasing lilt of your voice, always easy to prod at and always wanting to have the last word.

“My dad is the god of thieves and messengers. We’re fast, smart, charming, and also good-looking. Do the math.”

“Also apparently the ones with the biggest egos, but okay.” There it is. He shoves you and you trip over your own feet falling fast.

“Hey! Jerk.”

“Definitely a daughter of Dionysus, crazy as always, and clumsy too.” Luke’s nose crinkles at the sight of your crumpled frame.

“Your hand is like the size of my face, what the fuck was I supposed to do with that?”

A fleeting thought in the back of your mind reasons that maybe violence is the answer, but he’s still not finished making fun of you even after he helps you up.

“And vulgar! What a shocker.”

“Ugh. You better hope your dad stops populating because if there’s any more that come here and act like you? I’m quitting.”

Luke watches you gaze at the heavens, probably looking for a fuck to give and he snickers at how easily you give in nowadays. Maybe he’s the one losing his touch—usually you’d put up more of a fight to argue.

“You wouldn’t. You love this job. Camp. S’why you’re not as fun anymore, trouble.”

A noise of agreement leaves you as you glare at him and the stupid nickname back from when you used to wreak havoc just because you could, a direct juxtaposition to the honorary position you hold today. Finally following him up the front steps of Cabin 11, Luke opens the door and beckons you in, pushing at your hip with his knuckles.

Checking this place last has become a habit with Luke helping you out, and all the kids—Hermes’, minor gods’, and unclaimed, love it when you come to stop by before lights out. They especially loved the later bedtime, but hugs and cool stories from you were a close second.

“Everyone good and ready for bed in here? Sorry it took so long guys,” you say, visually scanning the perimeter and matching faces to bunks, seeing them all settled beneath their sheets, all except for one Luke Castellan. He’s still leaning against the doorframe, breath grazing your shoulder as he hands you a copy of his log from the other cabins he kindly relieved you from.

“What, no bedtime story this time?” He says through hooded eyes, and though he won’t admit it, he adores the sound of your voice. Luke does anything he can to get your attention to hear it more. It almost has a calming effect on him, and maybe it’s the fact that your dad can cause and cure madness, anxiety, and all alike, so something in him believes you do the same, powers or not. One look from him has you sputtering out snarky remarks; different strategies, same results—works every time.

“Castellan…” He grins at the look on your face, and tiny voices pop up from around the cabin, all asking for a bedtime story. Chris even starts a chant from his top bunk, making you want to hurl your clipboard at his head. Hypnos is calling your name at this point, and you’d do anything to crawl into your own safe haven in Cabin 12, but your heartstrings pull at the sight of the little ones pouting, hoping for you to tuck them in with a blanket of comforting words and stories of something more than what these walls meagerly provide. Camp Half-Blood only keeps them safe for so long, and not a lot of them make it out of here alive. You and Luke both know that being two of the oldest at camp, and his smug expression as he settles into his bed is confirmation that you’re about to give in.

“Fine. One quick story, and then everyone goes to sleep okay? Who wants to sit on the floor with me?”

You take your place sitting on the ground next to the foot of Luke’s bunk as he lays upside down on the twin-sized mattress, peering at you through one open eye as the younger children, mostly the unclaimed ones—drag their blankets and form a circle in the middle of the room, waiting patiently for you to start enchanting them with something to occupy their tired minds. Acting— that’s the gift your father had to give you; this time you decide to tell the story of Atalanta and the golden apples, how she ran from love and it still found her in the end, and how some stories can have good endings, despite what’s often found in Greek legend. Multiple tired eyes droop closed as you finish the story and carry the ones who’ve fallen into Hypnos’ embrace back into their bunks, tucking them in with kisses on their foreheads and it leaves you with a warm feeling that will help you brave the chill on your walk back.

Admittedly, this next part is your favorite part on nights like these. The overflowing cabin of rowdy pranksters and babbling children is as quiet as the secret you hold close to your heart, tiptoeing back towards Luke’s space and draping his blanket over his muscular frame, exhausted from another day of trying to achieve greatness. Your hand brushes a dark curl away from his forehead, fingertips ghosting his pale skin like a kiss you’d never have the guts to give. With everything you have in you, you summon thoughts of serenity and peace, hoping whatever keeps him up at night lets him rest for even a few hours. You don’t pray often, finding yourself spiting your father instead of honoring him on most days, but in the dim light of Cabin 11, you find yourself making time to do so for a pain in your ass called Luke Castellan.

Perhaps he knows something you don’t after all, the crease in his forehead relaxing as you pull your fingertips away.

“Sweet dreams, angelface.”

Mental note: Put his ass to work tomorrow for falling asleep halfway through the story.

It’ll only give him another excuse to ask you to tell it again a few nights later. You find yourself not minding that, a sliver of a smile pulling at your face as you walk towards the door and shut the lights off, a sleeping son of Hermes illuminated by the gentle shine of the moon.

You’d never admit that, though.

—

“you steady me and stir me

all at once.”

-Tanya Wright

ask to be added to luke/general taglist!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan x reader #pjo imagine #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x reader fanfic #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #luke castellan fluff #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

1K notes · View notes