smut and stuff

torin, 19 | he/him | NSFW content (18+) Requests open | I write smut and fluff for bnha, hq, tokyo rev, and jjk9

[giving-eraser-head]

TORIN, 19, doesn't know how to fucking read

pronouns: he/him

hobbies: writing, drawing, reading, sleeping all day

currently thirsting over: bakugou katsuki, kirishima eijirou, ryuguuji ken, manjiro sano, wakasa imaushi

currently working on: kiribaku drabble

rules: please read before requesting

BNHA masterlist

haikyuu masterlist

tokyo rev masterlist

[twitone]

Lost Boys

When Wasuke inevitably dies and Yuuji inevitably has nowhere to go, Sukuna finds himself the legal guardian of his fifteen year old cousin. Now, for the low price of having to feed a kid he hasn't spoken to in ten years, Sukuna gets to go to parent-teacher conferences with the brat's history teacher.

Yuuji's history teacher, who's also a special ed teacher. Which is relevant because, as you explain to Sukuna, Yuuji has severe ADHD.

Also, he's failing the tenth grade.

...and you expect Sukuna to fix this?

At least you're hot.

Note: This is a much longer fic. Like uhhh....50k words longer. The first 3.4k are here, the rest is on ao3.

content: eventual smut, oral (m! and f! receiving), p in v sex, fingerfucking, semi public sex (not really but like a little). Also, feelings. growth. character development. you know how it is.

———

Sukuna checks his phone. Checks the building. Squints at the picture on Google Maps. Checks the building again.

Okay, yeah. This is definitely Yuuji’s school.

He blows out a long stream of air. Fuck. He does not want to do this.

Gritting his teeth and pushing his hair back, Sukuna walks himself into Whatthefuck-ever High School and presents his ID at the front desk. The school secretary looks him up and down, eyes widening at his tattoos. 

Sukuna almost bites back. He looks like he doesn’t belong here, no shit? Probably because he fucking doesn’t.

“Oh.” The woman relaxes slightly, eyes on his hair. “You’re Yuuji’s—”

“Guardian,” Sukuna cuts in quickly. “I’m here to see the,” he checks his phone again. “Yuuji’s history teacher.” He grinds his teeth.

“Ah. Parent-teacher conference.” She blanches; Sukuna gives her a look that could skin a cat. 

Parent-teacher conference his ass.

The secretary collects herself, or tries to. “She’s in room 126. Down the hall to the left.”

Sukuna grabs his ID and stalks off.

Parent-teacher conference, parent-teacher conference, why the fuck is he getting called in? Who cares how the brat is doing in school? As long as he’s eating and breathing, Sukuna’s doing his job fine.

Hn.

Worse than Wasuke, better than Yuuji’s parents, who forfeited early. At least Sukuna’s not bottom of the three.

Sukuna runs a hand over his face, then steps into the doorway of 126.

Ugh. Fuck this.

He raps a knuckle on the door.

Sitting at a desk across from him, you perk your head up. “Oh! Hello. You must be Mr. Itado—”

“Sukuna,” he interrupts coldly.

You frown, then check a paper on your desk and thunk your palm against your forehead. “Shit. Sorry. I knew that. Roster’s been updated.” You flash him an apologetic grin. “Been a long day.”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow. “It’s ten am.”

“Crazy how that happens, huh?” You stand up from your desk. “Here, just give me a second…” walking over, Sukuna sees that your desk is a complete fucking disaster, overflowing with papers. He raises his eyes to the rest of the room. 

Your classroom is almost trite: dripping in bright colors,stupidhistory posters, and those moronic inspirational pictures; shit like “Be the best ‘you’ you can be!” It’s like a mommy blogger’s dream classroom threw up. Sukuna takes the liberty of pegging you for a chipper idiot. 

He observes you as you look for whatever it is you need. Chipper idiot or no, you’re…not what he was expecting. Younger than he’d thought. 

And cuter, if he’s being honest. Actually—hotter. Way hotter, in fact.

It’s almost enough to lift his spirits. But not quite; he grows impatient while you rummage. Sukuna stares at a poster saying “CAUTION: DEADLINES ARE MUCH CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR” and tries not to kill himself.

His eyes wander to the wall behind your desk. You got a fancy-ass looking university diploma, there. Two, in fact. 

Sukuna’s eyes narrow. Looking at them makes familiar bile rise thick in his throat; he forces his gaze away and scowls at the floor. 

He can’t go there now.

“Got it!” You smile brilliantly at him. Okay, yeah. Hot. Pretty eyes, pretty smile, pretty…body, one he’d like five minutes alone in a broom closet with. Or maybe thirty minutes.

Damn. Just Sukuna’s type.

But he’s still fucking pissed that he has to be here.

“Please, come sit.” You seat yourself at one of the student desks, set up in groups of four. He sighs and folds himself into the seat across from you.

“Okay. So.” You flatten your hands on the desk. “I’m going to get right to the point, Mr. Suk—”

“Just Sukuna.”

“Okay.” You nod. “Sukuna. I’ll get to the point. Yuuji is failing my class.”

He raises an eyebrow. Okay? So what? Sukuna failed a few classes in high school, too. Gives him something in common with the brat, for once.

“Actually,” you continue, “he’s failing all of his classes.”

That gets Sukuna’s attention. “All of ‘em?”

“Yeah. We’re pretty worried; at the rate he’s going, he’ll have to repeat the grade.” 

Fuck. Sukuna runs a hand through his hair. “But the br— the kid’s smart, he gets good grades.”

Your face softens. “Well, he got good grades,” you say quietly. “Here’s his progress for this year.” You pull forward the paper you’d brought with you, tracing your fingers over the numbers. “Good first marking period, good second marking period, third marking period…” you smile shallowly at him. “Kind of took a nose dive.”

Sukuna narrows his eyes. Of course the kid’s grades dipped. His grandfather died.

“Look, I know there have been a lot of…rough transitions,” you say in a low voice.

Sukuna almost lets out a scoff. Rough transitions? You mean forcing Yuuji to move in with his older cousin, who he fucking hates? Sleeping on Sukuna’s couch for a week while he’d cleaned all his shit out of the spare room and gotten Yuuji a bed? Those kind of rough transitions?

“And we want to give Yuuji…what he needs,” you continue. “But we’re bringing this to you because his grades are falling so far below passing that, mathematically, he won’t be able to make them up,” you explain.

Great. Just what he fucking needs.

Sukuna looks at you, then looks down at the paper. Jesus, the brat’s getting a 32% in your class. What the fuck is Sukuna supposed to do about that?

He’s completely at a loss, and looks up at you angrily, as if this is your fault. Thankfully, you keep going, pressing your lips together in a determined smile.

“The other thing we have to consider is Yuuji’s enrollment in the special education program,” you add, like that doesn’t blow his fucking socks off.

“What? The brat’s special needs?” he hisses in disbelief.

Your eyes widen in shock, then narrow, simmering. “You didn’t know Yuuji has special needs?” you ask in a tight, careful voice.

“No the fuck I didn’t!” Sukuna snarls, defensive. “I got custody of him six weeks ago!”

You’re outright glaring at him now. “He’s your cousin.”

“So? Am I supposed to know his fucking life story?”

Your eyes flash. “You are his goddamn legal guardian!” you snap, pointing a finger at him. “If you can’t fucking look at his medical records and see—”

“Miss?” A student knocks on your door, peering into the room.

“Hold on,” you mutter at Sukuna, before turning to the student, anger sliding off your face. “Hey kiddo, what’s up?”

Sukuna tries to calm down while the kid asks you about an assignment. But fuck, Yuuji has special needs? Why the fuck didn’t he know that? Wasuke never said shit, and Yuuji sure as hell wouldn’t tell Sukuna something like that. But still, Sukuna should have known his cousin was…on the spectrum, or whatever the fuck is wrong with him.

Shit. He should probably look at the brat’s medical records. 

Fuck, does Yuuji need to go to the dentist or something? Sukuna hasn’t been to the dentist since the brat was in diapers.

He groans, running a hand through his hair. He did not sign up for this shit.

“Hey.” Sukuna looks up to see you standing in front of him, lips pressed into a hard line. “I was out of line. I’m sorry I yelled at you like that.”

Yeah, he wasn’t expecting you to curse him out. But Sukuna likes it when women bare their teeth at him, it just makes you sexier. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he says with a smirk.

“But also,” you slide into the desk across from him. “Don’t you talk to me like that again.” You fix him with a look. 

His smile widens, and he tips his chair back, balancing on two legs. “Yes, ma’am.”

You raise an eyebrow and give him a smile. Sukuna could eat it off your face. “Okay. Yes. Yuuji is in our special needs program. He has severe ADHD.”

He blinks. “So, what, does the brat run in circles around your classroom?”

You flash a quick smile. “Not quite, but you should see him in gym class.”

Sukuna lets out a snort. Your eyes dart to the door before you lean toward him and lower your voice. “Gym teacher fucking hates him,” you roll your eyes. “‘Too enthusiastic,’ whatever the fuck that means.”

Sukuna really laughs this time. “Sounds like an asshole.”

You wrinkle your nose. It’s adorable. “Just a dinosaur. But that’s between you and me.” Your eyes sparkle.

He smirks at you. This parent-teacher conference has been way more productive than he’d thought.

You glance at the clock. “Oh shit,I have to teach in five minutes. Okay.” You snap your fingers. “Can I go out on a limb here and say you don’t know that much about ADHD?”

Sukuna clicks his tongue. “What, you think I’m an idiot?”

“I’m pressed for time.” You shake your head, then give him with a serious, earnest look. “Listen, Yuuji is a sweet kid, okay? He tries really hard, he puts in a great effort.” 

You purse your lips. “But he can’t focus. He just…” you sigh, exasperated. “He fidgets, he doesn’t follow directions, he makes careless mistakes because he doesn’t follow directions, he loses his homework every other fucking day, which is crazy because most of it is digital…” you trail off. “He grasps the material, Yuuji’s a smart kid! When he listens, he gets it, but then, when he has to actually demonstrate it, beyond class participation…” you blow a raspberry. “He’s his own worst enemy, you know?”

Yeah, Sukuna knows something about that. “Is he…does he take anything for it? The ADHD?”

“No.” You shake your head.

Okay. Should he? Also, Sukuna realizes, why the fuck do you know that? Do you have access to his medical records?

He narrows his eyes at you. “How do you know about his meds?”

“I’m also one of the special ed teachers here, I’m in charge of Yuuji’s program.” You raise an eyebrow. “Lucky for you. Two birds with one stone, huh?”

“I’ll say,” Sukuna answers dryly.

You hesitate, then add, “If you’d checked his medical records, you’d also know that.” You look at him meaningfully.

Sukuna looks down, ears turning red. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles.

You tactfully skip over him. “Yuuji was doing really well, though. He’s not the only kid with ADHD, we have a plan, we were implementing supports, but then…” you shrug, smiling sadly. “Then it all fell apart when his…when your grandfather died.”

Sukuna stills. Right. His grandfather, too. Ashes are in his closet.

“The bell’s gonna ring, it’s annoying as fuck,” you say, eyes on the clock again. “But listen, I think we should find another time to meet, okay? To go over Yuuji’s plan.” 

Sukuna stands up, and you follow. “Or over the phone!” you add quickly. “You don’t have to come in again, I mean.”

He flashes you a grin. “Don’t worry, sweets, I’ll come and see you again.”

You bite your lip, eyes darting away from his. Fucking adorable.

The bell rings, and Sukuna jumps, scowling at the intercom. Your eyes widen. “Okay!” You clap your hands together. “No offense, but get out. I have to—” you gesture at yourself, “be a teacher now.”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow. “And what does that mean?”

“You have my email,” you shoo him toward the door, ignoring his question. “We can—hey!” You put your hands on your hips and frown comically at a boy who’d slipped into your classroom. “What did I say about coming in before the bell?”

The kid rolls his eyes at you. “Come on, miss, can’t I—”

“Unless!” you interrupt with a grin. “Unless you’re just so excited to learn about the Pax Mongolica that you want to do some extra work on it!”

“What?” The kid’s eyes just about bug out of his head. “Wait, I didn’t—”

“Because, listen man, I get it.” You nod sagely while Sukuna tries to keep it together. “Pax Mongolica, gotta be one of my favorite Paxes. So if you want to, say, come up with a primary source on—”

“Alright, alright! I’m outta here, see you in one minute.” The kid glares at you on his way out.

You turn to Sukuna with a small smile. “Bye,” you say in a softer, quieter voice. “See you later.”

“Sure thing, sweets.” He smirks at you. “I’ll shoot you an email.” Sukuna ducks out of the classroom, surveying the hallway for any hint of pink hair before making for the exit. The last thing he needs is to see Yuuji here. He’d rather sort out this shit at home.

Once he’s out in the parking lot, sitting safely in his car, reality sets in. 

Shit. Yuuji’s flunking out. And he has ADHD. And it’s Sukuna’s mess to clean up.

He runs a hand over his face, cursing Wasuke for not holding out for a few more years. At least until the brat graduated. Then all this shit wouldn’t have been dumped in his lap.

Sukuna clicks his tongue, eyes narrowed on the school. Wasuke’s two lost boys, together again for the first time in almost ten years. His only grandchildren, his responsibility once Yuuji’s parents fucked off and Sukuna’s went and died. Yuuji, eager to please, the last hope, and Sukuna, the deserter. The disappointment. The last fucking living relative to pin Yuuji on.

He shakes his head and turns on the engine. Failing all his classes, how in the fuck did the brat manage that? Sukuna knows he was rotten as hell during the three miserable years he lived under Wasuke’s roof, but at least he didn’t flunk out of high school. 

Just college. He grins wryly at himself in the rearview mirror.

Sukuna checks the clock on the dash. He’s still got a few hours until school lets out. When Yuuji gets home he’ll…talk to him. 

Fuck. 

Sukuna pulls out of the school parking lot. Maybe he should get shit-faced before the brat gets home. Or stoned. 

He stops at a red light, and your face flashes in front of his eyes. Ha. You’d probably kill him if he talked to Yuuji high out of his mind.

A horn honks behind him. Green. Sukuna sticks his hand out the window and gives them the finger.

He revs the engine and drives off. “Shit,” he snarls under his breath. He still has to figure out dinner.

Sukuna groans. This legal guardian shit is a fucking nightmare.

•••

It’s Cup Noodles, Sukuna decides. The shrimp kind. For protein. The brat should be grateful.

Sukuna’s boiling water on the stove when he hears the front door open. His grip tightens on his beer—singular. He’s allowing himself one, after the day he’s had. About to have. Having.

“Oi,” he calls out. “Brat.”

Yuuji sighs loudly. Fucking dramatic. 

He steps into the room, arms crossed, face suspicious. “What?” His eyes fall on the Cup Noodles. “You serious? Again?”

Ungrateful brat. “Take it or leave it,” Sukuna growls.

“We ate this, like, four times last week!” Yuuji protests. “Do you ever eat vegetables?”

Jesus, this kid is designed to piss him off. “While I’m buying the damn food,” Sukuna enunciates slowly, “I decide what we eat.” 

Yuuji huffs, stepping to the kitchen island and ripping one open. “Fine.” He sulks while Sukuna pours out the water. Setting the kettle on the stove, Sukuna grimaces. 

“I talked to your teacher today.” He looks up to see Yuuji staring at him, scandalized. “Your history teacher.”

“You were at school? Why?” 

Sukuna grins at him from across the counter. “Afraid someone might see me? Make you lose your street cred? I’m sure you have a ton.”

Yuuji looks down, tips of his ears going red. “We can’t all be underground racecar drivers in high school,” he mumbles.

“Damn straight,” Sukuna crows. “But even I didn’t fail all my classes.” He looks at Yuuji pointedly.

Yuuji’s face is defiant. “Yeah? Shouldn’t you have known that by now?”

Sukuna narrows his eyes at him. “What do you mean, brat?”

He shrugs. “You got a letter.”

“But I didn’t see no damn letter,” Sukuna hisses. “You wanna solve that mystery for me?”

Yuuji smiles maliciously. It looks wrong on him.

“Are you breaking into my mailbox?” Sukuna demands. 

“Maybe.”

Sukuna stares in disbelief. Shit. Didn’t realize the brat had it in him. 

Something clicks in his brain. “Any letters about the special ed program?”

Yuuji looks shocked. “She told you?” His head tips down toward the counter, eyes squeezed shut. His shoulders are tense, braced for impact.

Sukuna exhales slowly. This, unfortunately, is the limit of his cruelty toward his own flesh and blood. “Yeah, she told me.” Yuuji nods, still not looking at him.

He forcibly reminds himself that he is the adult here, whatever the fuck that means. “ADHD?”

Yuji cringes, then nods again. 

And that’s the last Yuuji will hear of it from Sukuna. He’s perfectly happy to never talk about it again. “Your teacher says you might have to repeat the grade.”

“What?” Yuuji jerks his head up. “It’s that bad?”

“Brat, you’re getting a 32% in history, and that’s your highest grade.” Sukuna folds his arms over his chest. “No shit, it’s that bad.”

“Oh my god.” Yuuji covers his face with both hands. “Okay. Okay. I’ll,” he sucks in a deep breath. “I’ll figure it out.” He pulls his hands from his face, looking determined. “I’ll figure it out.”

Sukuna nods. Good. 

Is this the end of his parental involvement? Sukuna clears his throat. “Do you want me to—”

“No!” Yuuji glares at him furiously.

Sukuna laughs under his breath. He didn’t know what he would’ve said, anyway. “Easy, brat,” he growls. “I was just—”

“Well, don’t!” Yuuji interrupts again, still angry. “What do you care, anyway?”

That glues Sukuna’s tongue to the roof of his mouth. 

Yuuji scowls at him. Then he grabs one of the Cup Noodles and storms off. 

Sukuna manages a swallow. “You want a fork, brat?”

Yuuji freezes. “No!” He slams the door of his room.

“Fucking overdramatic teenager,” Sukuna snarls under his breath. Then he takes a long pull of his beer.

Christ alive. He wishes he could call Wasuke to yell at him. Sukuna is twenty-seven for fuck’s sake, he can’t manage a grieving fifteen-year-old. This should be Wasuke’s problem.

Sukuna’s eyes drift toward the closet. Not helping.

He bites his tongue, tastes blood. What the fuck is he supposed to do about this? Yuuji said he’d figure it out, and he definitely doesn’t want Sukuna’s help. Is this the end of it?

Sukuna’s hand tightens on his beer. His stomach twists horribly. 

Why did he even offer? Nobody offered to help Sukuna when he almost flunked out after his parents ate it. Wasuke didn’t go to any fucking parent-teacher conferences. He didn’t “support Sukuna at home,” or whatever it is you expect him to do for Yuuji. Wasuke hadn’t supported Sukuna at all. Not in high school, not in college. Wasuke had him sink or swim, and then got angry when Sukuna sank. Maybe Yuuji just needs to learn the fucking hard way.

He forces himself to take a sip of beer. Nausea rolls over him.

His phone pings. Wearily, Sukuna reaches for it, then smirks as he reads the notification; an email from you. Subject line: sorry for saying fuck. He opens the message.

Sorry again for swearing at you. Incredibly unprofessional. Probably will not happen again. 

Here are some resources on helping students deal with ADHD. There’s a lot you can do at home!

I’m available to meet at these times, this week and next:

Your email signature, after your name, reads #GoHistory! #citeyoursources

Sukuna grins to himself, unease clean out of his mind. Unfortunately for Yuuji, this is not the end of Sukuna’s involvement in his academics.

He takes a step toward Yuuji’s bedroom. “Brat! Next time you go into my mailbox, you pay any bills you find in there!”

Then he picks up his Cup Noodles and walks around the kitchen island, sitting on the couch to schedule himself a date.

———

Read the rest here!

Anyway this is my magnum opus. I’ve never been so proud of anything in my life

[giving-eraser-head]

SO SO SO GOOD HOLY SHIT!!!!! I read the whole fic on ao3 and it is absolutely incredible-- and hits especially hard as an AuDHD college student studying special education OML. LOVEEEE this

[slamminslamminmcgill]

Lalo meeting reader at a night club and than fucking them and maybe he says something about their top scars

hiiiiii this is the perf prompt for me rn bc ive been hoeing around lately and i got IDEAZ

this ended up being really long (3,448 words 💀) so oopsie it's going on ao3 too :3

warning: choking, humiliation/degradation, mild transphobia, gloryhole, face slapping, facials, squirting

anatomical terms: pussy/cunt/hole, (t-)dick

The queer nightlife scene in Albuquerque left much to be desired.

There were very few gay bars located around the city, even less that were trans-friendly. Some were seedier than others, but you’d heard rave reviews via word of mouth about this one place. Generally clean, fair prices, friendly staff, but mainly that this was the place to go if you needed dick with minimal questions asked. Allegedly, the stalls in the bathroom had gloryholes cut between the partitions, and a closed stall usually meant that someone was game. It was a little dehumanizing, sure, but in all fairness the only thing you really needed from a partner was cock. You’d like a little more, but you'd take what you could get.

Unaware of what the etiquette was for a place like this, you figured it'd be suspicious to head straight for the back. So, you decided to have a few drinks at the bar. They were stronger than you expected, but maybe a little less inhibition would do you good. One drink to loosen you up turned into a few more to make your head spin. Eventually, you were sauced enough to go for it.

Your heart was racing as you entered the men's bathroom. It was bigger than you expected. For one thing, there were two long rows of stalls facing each other, leading to a separate area with sinks and vending machines. There were dim lights in each stall and above each sink and vending machine, mapping only essential landmarks in otherwise complete darkness. A few men much bigger than you were walking around. Some went from their stall to the sinks; some headed straight for the door. You kept your head down, not wanting to make eye contact and reveal yourself to a potential suitor.

You weren’t sure what you were looking for, in all honesty. You peered into every stall on the left. No holes. That must be the safe zone, for people who just needed to relieve themselves in privacy. Then, you peered into every stall on the right. Sure enough, the interior partitions each had a hole cut into them. That was the danger zone, for people who wanted to "relieve themselves" in a much different manner. You wanted danger, but not too much. You wanted to flirt with danger, not get drunk married to danger in Vegas and lose everything in your divorce with danger. Thus, you parked yourself in a stall on the end, that way you had only one side to watch.

You locked the door, hung your jacket on the hook, dropped your pants, and plopped yourself on the toilet. From there, all you had to do was wait. Wait like a sitting duck. Fitting, that's how you felt. To say your senses were heightened was an understatement. Every miniscule sound made you jump, and your heart stopped when the stall next to you closed. You could hear the stranger breathing next to you. They crouched down, probably to peer into the hole and check you out. You scurried up the back of the toilet, angling yourself away from exposure. Thankfully, the stranger took the hint and stood back up. You sighed in relief, relief that was cut short by the clinking of a belt. You could feel the tension brewing, pressure building and building, until you heard something slap against the hole in the wall. You didn’t have to look. You knew what it was.

Still, when you did turn to look, you liked what you saw. It was a fat, well-groomed, medium complexion, uncut cock, and it was already hard and leaking. You licked your lips and positioned yourself in front of it. You reached out and gave it a tentative pump, spreading the precum around with your thumb. The stranger pulled back a little, which made your breath hitch in your throat. No, c'mon, don't leave! You thought. You'd already come this far. You wasted no time taking it into your mouth. Safety be damned, a condom would've taken too much precious time, and you had none to waste.

You actually didn't mind sucking it raw. The cock certainly felt and tasted better without latex and stale lube in the way. Sweet glaze leaking from its slit, smooth and salty skin, a hint of aftershave, and just enough musk and sweat to activate your base instincts. The anonymity made more of a difference than you thought. You didn't have to worry about looking pretty, or whether or not the rest of your partner was as gorgeous as this one feature. You could just totally lose yourself, gagging, slurping, licking, softly moaning into them. All you needed to be was a wet, eager hole. You could do that. You could do that fairly well.

Your partner seemed to agree, letting out breathy sighs and grunts as you serviced them. At one point, they pushed on the wall that intercepted you two, trying to get themselves even deeper into your throat. They withdrew from the hole momentarily so they could stuff their balls through. You took the hint and ran your tongue along them, being rewarded with a deep groan. That was all the praise you needed. You figured this wouldn't be a place for small talk, or any talk for that matter. That's why it shocked you when the stranger knocked on the wall and asked,

"Sweetheart, can I come in?"

A rich, sultry voice with a slight accent caught you off guard. You tore yourself off and gasped, choking on your own spit. Drool pooled down your chin and onto your shirt as you coughed. You wondered if they could somehow hear your heartbeat. Adrenaline surged through you. What could you do? What were you supposed to do? Fight? No, they were probably bigger than you. Flight? You didn't exactly want to run, plus if you did, they could easily chase after you. The only remaining option was to freeze, but that wasn't a great choice either.

"It's okay. You don't have to." The stranger pulled his cock out of the hole and tucked it back in his pants. You let go of your breath when you heard the belt again. Okay, good, they weren't gonna force anything. Still, their next move surprised you. Two fingers snuck through the hole and tapped the partition. "I'm guessing this your first time doing this?"

"Yeah..." was all you said, but it was enough. It was enough to tell your partner that you were inexperienced, vulnerable, fresh meat.

The stranger chuckled. "Well, you're doing a great job. I really mean that." His voice was laced with more care than you'd expect to find a place like this, "And I'd like to do more, if you're willing, that is. I'd hate to not return the favor."

More? More than just sucking? More sounded like exactly what you needed right now. It also sounded like the dumbest thing you could possibly ask for. What was the plan for when he found out you didn't have a cock? You didn't have one, but maybe you didn't need one. Maybe he'd be into it. "Don't stick your dick in crazy" was a bit of street smarts you'd picked up over the past few years, but you'd never heard "Don't let crazy stick its dick in you". That was a good enough excuse.

"I mean, I'd like to. It's just... nerves. Sorry. I'm not really sure how this works."

Another laugh from the stranger, gentle, warm, and a little condescending. Fair enough, you were pretty clueless. "Oh, you sound cute. Tell you what. I'll come out and knock on your door. You let me in, and I'll show you how this works. We're gonna have some fun together, alright?"

As stupid as it probably was, it did sound fun. You stood up, pulled your pants back up, and took a deep breath, trying to sound as confident as possible. "Okay... okay, sure..." Nailed it.

Though you couldn't see it, you could hear your partner's smile in his next line. "Good boy."

Oh.

Oh fuck.

You barely had time to let that echo in your empty head before you had another sound intercepting it: a knock on the door. You fiddled with the lock, and cracked the door a tiny bit, taking your first glimpse at your partner. He was way hotter than you were expecting. Tall, dark, and handsome was not an exaggeration by any means. His more defining characteristics were a big bushy mustache and a single sliver streak in the front of his hair. Plus, his floral shirt was unbuttoned just a little more than it probably should've been, just enough to make you salivate.

He could see you through the opening you had made, and he leaned in to get a better look. When his eyes met yours, he smiled. "I was right. You are cute. Still wanna do this, pretty boy?"

Yes. Yes you did. You pushed the door open all the way, letting your partner size you up. His eyes trailed up and down your smaller, curvier form, and he stopped when he got to your spit-covered shirt.

"Oh, sweetheart, look at you! You made a mess of yourself. You were really getting into it, huh? That's adorable." He asked as he breached your enclosure and locked the door behind him. You blushed, and he quickly took note. "Aw, it's okay. Don't be shy, baby." He rested his hands on your hips and fiddled with the bottom of your shirt. "You did a really good job. I'm serious, y'know. Such a good little cocksucker."

Before you knew it was happening, he pulled your shirt off over your head. You panicked, "Wait, wait... I can explain."

Holding your shirt in his hands, your partner backed off to take in the sight of you. He was confused by your hesitation, until he saw your chest. The two thin scars across your pecs caught him by surprise. He squinted at them to get a better look in the low light.

"¿Qué chingado? (What the fuck?)" He stared for a moment until the realization hit. You could see the lightbulb go off in his head when it did. He was interested, more so than before. "Ohhh... Oh, ya veo. (Oh, I see.) You got something I don't, eh?" It wasn't really a question. He knew the answer.

You didn't expect him to know, but you were glad you didn't have to explain. "Y-Yeah..."

He hung your shirt on the hook and grabbed your hips again, pressing his body against yours. He wanted to know more. "You wanna tell me about it or you want me to see it for myself?"

His question went right over your head. All you could think about was how gorgeous he was, and how good his cock felt in your mouth. You spaced out thinking about how good it'd feel somewhere else. Luckily, you snapped out of it once you realized he'd gone quiet. "Sorry, what did you say?"

The stranger chuckled again and leaned down to brush some of your hair away from your ear, ensuring that his words made their mark. "You got an extra hole, don't you, chico?" His other hand snuck between your legs and squeezed your crotch. No bulge, just as he suspected. He snickered. "Is that why you were nervous? Don't be. I like it. Can you show me what I have to work with?" He tilted his head to kiss your neck, and rubbed his hand over your clothed pussy.

You whimpered and held onto his biceps. The stimulation he was giving you was somewhere on the border of "too much" and "no where near enough". Regardless, there were too many layers in the way. You sighed. "Yeah... Yeah, I can... I can do that, just... Just lemme..." Your voice trailed off as you nudged your partner off you and went for your own belt. You backed up against the wall, the most wiggle-room you could get in such a tight space, and dropped your pants and underwear to the floor.

Your partner wolf-whistled at the sight. "Oh, now that's a good boy. You like that?" He reached out to take hold of your neck. "You like showing off for me, huh? You like being a slut?"

"Ah... y-yes..." You whined and squirmed in his grasp. His other hand cupped your bare pussy, slipping some fingers in between your lips and tracing the length of your slit. You were already soaking wet, which only egged him on.

"Aw, how cute! Someone's excited! You do like being a slut! I figured. I mean..." He slid his fingers inside and his thumb stroked your t-dick. Before you could make a sound, he started to choke you. "Why else would you be here, huh?"

He fingered you roughly, wetness splashing against his hand, as he cut off the flow of oxygen to your brain. It allowed him to cloud your mind with desire, to take over your entire being.

He kept interrogating you. "I think I know why you're here. You came here because you needed cock, isn't that right? God didn't give you one, so now you have to go beg strangers for a taste of theirs? Is that it? Are you really that desperate?" He let go of your neck when your face started to change color. "Well, c'mon. Answer me, boy."

You stuttered, but at least you were honest. "Yes! Yes, ah, I need... I need cock... Please... Please, I want your cock, ah..." You stopped begging and your body stiffened. There was a slight problem in your approach. You made it known, "What, uh... What's your name?"

Your partner chortled, a more genuine laugh than his others had been. "Oh, te putito lindo... (Oh, you cute little whore...)" Once he composed himself, he pulled his hand away from your cunt and slid his wet fingers into your mouth. As you sucked him clean, he whispered in your ear again. "You can call me Lalo."

That got another pathetic sound out of you. When he felt that your work was sufficient, he pulled his fingers out. His hand flew to his pants, hastily pulling himself out again. He picked you up by your waist, wrapped your legs around him, and pushed you back into the stall divider. "So, what was that you said? You want what?"

You gripped the back of his shirt and begged once more. "I want your cock... I want your cock, Lalo... Please..."

"How do you want it?"

What? What the hell does that mean? Why was this guy making you solve riddles before fucking you? "W-What do you mean?" you stammered.

Lalo pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes locking with yours. You couldn't look away, let alone run away, and that's just how he liked it. "What I mean is, you want it in that special hole, yeah? You want me to fuck you like that, right? Like the little pussyboy you are?"

It was amazing how someone you had met less than 15 minutes ago could read you like a book. Not only that, but he had read you well enough to write a comprehensive book report about you and your deepest desires. You had never been so hot and bothered. You moaned desperately. "Oh my god, yes! Yes, please y- mmph!"

"Shh... shh... Cállate. Be quiet." Lalo had pressed his hand over your mouth to silence you. His voice was a dark whisper. "You gotta be quiet, okay? You don't want everyone in here to know what we're doing, do you? Or..." While he had you distracted, he used that as an opportunity to slip his cock inside you. "Maybe you do. Whore."

He started to rut his hips into you, fucking you up against the stall. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you mewled and moaned into the palm of his hand. It was good that he had thought to muzzle you, otherwise you'd probably be broadcasting yourself to the whole bar.

"That's it. There we go. I knew you'd like this." He took his hand off your mouth to slap you across the face, the shock and the sting making you squeak like a dog toy, something he found very amusing. "Haha! See? I knew it. Pussyboys like you are all the same. You're all sluts." He replaced his hand with his mouth, forcing his tongue onto yours, aiming to take you for all you were worth. He broke off to continue mocking you, though not before covering your mouth again. "That's okay, though. I like it. I like boys who know what they are. And you, my friend, are the perfect little cocksleeve. You know that, right?”

You couldn’t answer verbally, so instead, you answered physically. You nodded, and your walls contracted around him, spilling liquid pleasure with his every thrust.

Once he felt you leaking, he started laughing. “Oh, nene, ¿qué paso? (Oh, baby, what happened?) It feels too good? You’re just a hot mess, aren’t you?" His breath and his movements got more erratic, and he let out a few noises of his own. "Oh, you're perfect, chiquito. You're perfect for me. I should take you home and keep you for myself. You'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd like being a little sex doll for me? God, I could spend the rest of my life in this tight little hole."

That honestly didn't sound half bad. Actually, it sounded fucking amazing. For now, at least. Maybe the post-nut clarity would change your mind and make you realize that no, you shouldn't indulge a stranger who literally just said he wants to keep you as a sex doll, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad. It surely seemed better than sucking off randos through a wall. You couldn't believe you hit the jackpot on your first night out.

Lalo couldn't believe that he hit the jackpot, too. He had come across the perfect little plaything: a sweet, naïve little boy with a needy little pussy and an insatiable craving for cock. He didn't even know he'd been looking for you until he found you, but now, there was no chance in hell he was letting you go. He already had you right where he wanted, and he thought that if he gave you what you wanted, you'd give him everything else that he wanted. He stopped for a second to reposition himself. Apparently, the new angle was even better. When he started back up, you were practically screaming into his hand. Whatever words and wails of pleasure were completely incoherent, but Lalo knew what they meant.

"Getting close, huh?" He had asked a rhetorical question, and you nodded to confirm his suspicions. "Good boy. Let it all out."

He clamped down on your mouth and slammed into you with all the energy he had, until you finally reached your peak. You clung onto him tightly, stifled sobbing as you squirted onto his pants. He gave you a moment to breathe, but then started right back up, teasing you all the while.

"Hey! You got me all messy! Dirty boy! Oh, you're lucky you're so cute." Lalo took his hand off your mouth so he could grab your waist, though instead of using it as leverage to fuck you even harder, he pulled out and set you on the floor. You were confused by this until he said, "I gotta get you back, though. Can't let you get away with that."

One hand gripped your hair, holding your limp body upright, and the other took care of his own need. The sight in front of you reminded you of how this encounter began: a dick in your face. Up close, yet a lot more personal. Lalo grunted and growled as he stroked himself, and groaned as he came all over your face. Some had gotten in your hair, some in your mouth, but you didn't care. It made you feel desirable.

When Lalo was done, he braced himself against the side of the stall, panting harder than he had in a while. The second he had enough air to speak, he did. "Carajo, chico. (Damn, kid.) You're the best I've had in a while."

He could tell you were out of it, mouth agape, head lulling from side to side, probably dizzy and discombobulated. But, that only made you seem more precious in his eyes. He smiled, knelt down to your level, grabbed your face, and kissed some of the cum off your lips. His next line was exactly what you wanted to hear.

"You're mine now."

[strang3lov3]

Jet Stream

Joel has his fun with you after learning his shower head has a jet stream setting.

Part two of my miniseries for @noxturnalpascal Can be read as standalone but check out the first part Lather ! Thank you @merz-8 @noxturnalpascal and @tightjeansjavi for all their brainstorming on this fic!

tags-soft dom!joel, maybe not so soft dom! joel, overstimulation station, pet name (good girl, sweetheart, honey, darling) crying, fingering, multiple orgasms both clitoral and vaginal, smoochin’, praise, blowjobs, snuggles

notes- thank you for your patience with me! Hope you’re all having a lovely start to your February, please harass me and spank me to get part 3 and my Valentine’s Day one shot out by next week ❤️💖

Kindly edited by @papipascalispunk ❤️❤️❤️

Masterlist

Joel wakes up early, even on Saturdays. Taking advantage of the little pleasures in life, he watches squirrels and chipmunks run up and down the trees in his backyard, listening to the birds chirp while the sun rises. When the sun rises, he’ll take his morning shower and sigh in relaxation under the hot water. Let it wash over him for a little too long before he scrubs his body. 

But not this Saturday. Today, that steady pelting of water on his back and chest feels like a trickle compared to what it’s usually like. Joel’s been noticing this for a while, maybe you have too. He stands in the shower, annoyed at the glacial pace of the suds sliding off his body. After what feels like an eternity passes, he shuts off the water and examines the shower head closely. Yeah, that’ll do it, he thinks. Limescale. It’s built up around the shower head, into all the grooves. This commonly happens when hard water runs through a house. It’s an easy fix. 

Joel unscrews the shower head from its fixture then dries off. He goes downstairs and grabs a bucket and a jug of vinegar from his cleaning supply closet. He soaks the shower head in the vinegar-filled bucket for about an hour before taking the shower head out, using an old toothbrush to scrub the grooves and holes in the shower head. Joel hears a creak upstairs and quickens his scrubbing, he doesn’t need you coming downstairs and scolding him for over-exerting himself. Yeah, yeah – he should be asking you for your help and all that, but you’re too pretty for a chore like this, he thinks. Besides, his shoulder is getting better. Not quite as tender as it was a week ago. As Joel wraps up the finishing touches of cleaning the shower head, he notices some etched words that were previously covered by the limescale – Rain, Shower, Jet Stream.

Well, would ya look at that. A mischievous grin forms on Joel’s lips. His brain has been fucking addled thinking about you. You, and the way you came on your own fingers, whimpering his name. How after, you pushed your fingers past his lips, how sweet your arousal tasted on his tongue. How he’s been yearning to touch you, fuck you, but his stupid goddamn shoulder is still hurting. Hurting, but healing nonetheless. God, is he addled. But now, with this nifty little jet stream setting, he can have you melting in his hands in no time. It can do all the work for him, leaving his shoulder unharmed and without disruption to its healing process. He wonders, how many times will he make you come?

–

The day goes by as normal. It’s evening, Ellie’s not home. You’re on the couch with Joel after eating pasta for dinner. You’re knitting a blanket using mismatched yarn, just trying to find some use for the odds and ends. Joel’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch and bouncing his leg, twiddling his fingers. He looks bored, anxious. Seinfeld is on TV, Joel loves this show. He rented the series DVDs from the library in Jackson and claimed to have scratched them when they were past due. “Joel, quit,” you scold him. He’s bouncing the couch. 

“My bad,” Joel says. You can feel him staring at you. He’s touching his hair. You turn your face to look at him, raising your eyebrows expectantly. Joel wears an anticipatory look, but stays quiet. You turn your attention back to the TV and he’s now combing his fingers through his hair, sighing loudly. “Hmmm…” he hums, “What’s a guy to do…”

You drop your knitting needles in your lap. “What, Joel?”

“Oh, nothin’,” he says. Joel kind of just gestures to his hair and shrugs, like you’re supposed to know what he’s asking for. You do, of course, but he can use his words. “Ahem,” Joel clears his throat, now twirling a finger around one of his curls cheekily, making a real big show out of it. He’s smiling now.  

“Do you need me to wash your hair again, Joel?”

“If you’d be so kind, darlin’,” he grins. 

You finish the row you’re currently knitting before wrapping up your work and putting it into a basket and under the end table next to the couch. After pausing the TV, you stand up and Joel outstretches his left hand to you, which you take in your own. He groans loudly as you pull him to his feet where he stands in front of you. There’s something about him today. When you washed his hair last week, he was bashful and awkward. Today, he’s confident with his sly grin, that teasing look in his eye like he’s working an angle. Maybe he’s just excited for another shower blow job, which you’ll happily provide again. You smile too, he’ll be 0 for 2. 

When you and Joel arrive at the bathroom, he locks the door just like last time. He’s unbuttoning his jeans, not bothering to hide the bulge in his boxers. You don’t bother with the formalities of your partnered shower as you and Joel undress yourselves. It’s unnecessary at this point, after the fortuitous, amatory events of your last one. Joel notices your smirk before he turns on the hot water. He can tell you think you’re gonna pull one over on him again. That’s fine, you can believe whatever you’d like.

Joel opens the shower curtain. “After you,” he purrs, offering his hand to you as you step into the tub. You stand underneath the stream of water, wetting your hair and letting the hot water warm your skin. It feels stronger today for some reason. “Pressure’s different,” you tell Joel. 

“Is it now?” Joel asks, feigning ignorance as he joins you in the tub, cock already half mast. You step closer to him, reaching for it, feeling him grow harder in your hand. Massaging his cock, tracing your fingertips around his thick head and along the veins of his shaft, you bite down on your smile. “Yeah, that’s nice, trouble,” he sighs in pleasure, “Aren’t you something?” 

“Feel good, Joel?” you murmur. 

“Mhm,” Joel hums, “Feels just wonderful, sweetheart. You’re too good t’me.” 

Shampoo and conditioner can wait. You take the time to massage his cock a while longer as you wrap your free hand around Joel’s neck, toying with the curls at the back of his head. They’re not quite wet yet as you’ve been hogging all the hot water, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He lets you stroke his member as he holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, leaning in to kiss you softly. As you deepen the kiss, gently biting his plump bottom lip, Joel pulls away, removing your hand from his member.

“You done yet?” he asks you. 

You’re almost offended. Asshole. You were enjoying that kiss. “Not quite,” you reply, leaning forward to kiss him, touch him some more. 

Joel pulls away from you as he blocks your hand. He grips your wrist  and holds it behind your back as he spins you around, your back now facing him. “Well you’re gonna have to be,” he says. “The lady’s ’sposed to come first. That’s how we’re doing things from now on.”

“Yeah, right Joel. You can’t touch me, your shoulder is still fucked up.” you squirm away from him, but he keeps his hold on you. Gentle, firm. 

“Worry about yourself,” he warns in a tone much less teasing than before. He winces as he uses his bad arm to reach for the shower head, “Y’think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?”

“I…” you trail off as he hovers the shower head above your torso, peering over your shoulder as he watches the water fall down your curves. He hums softly as he focuses the stream over your breasts, feeling you begin to twitch as the water teases your nipples. 

“My shoulder is healing, actually. But yeah, it is still a little fucked up,” Joel continues, “Don’t need to touch ya anyhow.”

Ohh, you’re getting it now. Joel thinks he cracked the code. “I appreciate the thought, Joel,” you chuckle. “But if you’re planning on using the shower head to make me come, just go ahead and put it back where it belongs. I’ve tried that already.”

“Figures,” he teases. “You wanna know somethin’?”

“What’s that, Joel?”

“Water pressure on this thing sucked lately, so I was cleanin’ this thing out this morning,” he begins. He keeps your arm behind your back as he sits both you and himself down on the shower bench, keeping your back pressed firmly against his torso. “Does this hurt?” he whispers before continuing. You shake your head no. “Good,” Joel says. “Anyway, wouldn’t ya know it, there’s a jet stream setting on this thing.” Joel nudges a foot between your legs and taps you. “Open ‘em. You stay like this for me.”

He’s speaking with such authority, such a commanding tone. You’re almost nervous. You could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice last week just how severely you pissed him off with the way you touched yourself in front of him, knowing he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. How you further taunted him when you pushed your fingers past his lips, dangling the premise of tasting your sweet cunt over his head. You should have known he’d retaliate.

“Was not a fan of how you got yourself off without me, pretty rudely, might I add. Told you I wanted to help, you fuckin’ deviant.”

Yup, you’re correct. He’s still fucking pissed. He did a good job keeping a lid on it until now. “Joel,” you breathe. 

“So yes, you’re right. I can’t touch ya yet,” he continues in a low voice, “S’why we’re gonna see what this does to ya, sweetheart.”

Joel keeps the shower head on the rain setting for this part. With his free hand, he cups the back of your knee and has you set your foot on the bench where you and Joel sit. This way, you’re nice and open for him to do as he pleases. He brings the shower head lower, hovering it over your torso, down your tummy, then your pussy. It’s a nice sensation, warm and gentle. When you lean your head back on his shoulder and sigh softly, he ups the ante. Momentarily, he futzes with the showerhead and switches it to the jet stream setting before bringing it back to your center. He starts the stream at your inner thighs first, working his way inward until the stream is massaging your lips, first one side and then the other. Slowly, he twists his wrist, getting your pussy used to the new sensation. He can’t see much from this angle, can’t feel anything either. He’s waiting for you to jolt and moan to know when he’s struck gold. “Shhh…” Joel quiets you when you do just that. “Oh yeah, this’ll do just fine, hm?”

Fuck, it’s intense. It’s very intense, almost too much. “Joel, fuck,” you cry. You should not have fucked with him. 

“Just relax,” he instructs, “You’ll get used to it.” But you’re not getting used to it, not even close. It’s a powerful, nearly electric sort of feeling that takes you wholly as you jerk and stutter in his hold. “Mm-mm, you stay here. Quit your squirmin’.”

“S’too much Joel,” you whine. 

“S’kinda the point,” he mumbles, “But you’re doin’ good, sweetheart. Jus’ let it happen.”

Joel rotates his wrist, directing the stream of water in tight, steady circles on your clit. The striking, uncomfortable and intense feeling is beginning to dissipate as your pleasure begins to build. Joel’s hot breath is on your neck, his torso rising and falling steadily. You can feel his warm, stiff package pressing against your lower back. “Joel, it feels so good,” you breathe. “Please don’t stop.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t dream of that,” he replies.  The movement of Joel’s wrists never falters, though he knows it’ll be sore in the morning. You move your hips in tune with his movement, eyes squeezed shut and moaning quietly, your open mouth pressed against his neck. He wonders if maybe you haven’t quite realized the circumstance you’re in, what he plans to do to you. “Your wish is my command, sweetheart,” he mumbles, wearing a smug grin.

Joel lets go of his hold on your leg to touch your breasts with his free hand, kneading your flesh. When he teases your nipples, the sensation of it all is heightened. Within moments, you’ve reached your peak. It’s intense and the feeling lasts long as Joel, with the help of the shower head, helps you ride out your high. Joel gives you a moment to catch your breath as he points the shower head at the floor, letting you relax against him. After a minute passes, you try to lean forward to get up, but Joel stops you by wrapping his strong arm around your torso and keeping you pressed tightly against him. “Ohh, you’re not goin’ anywhere. We’re not done yet,” he coos as he kisses your cheek, your temple. 

“I know, but it’s your turn.”

“Oh, not quite. We’re way past turns and bein’ square and even and all that,” he says. “Yeah, that went out the door with that little stunt you pulled on me last week. So let me spell it out for you, darlin’, I am not finished with you.”

“Joel, what are you–” Joel cuts you off by bringing the shower head back to your pussy. Reaching out for something, anything, your hand finds purchase in his hair, tangling your fingers in his curls as you tug gently. “Joel, fuck,” you pant. 

“Not goin’ easy on ya,” he warns. “S’that alright?” Your heart swells. Always the gentleman, Joel is. You nod against his cheek. “Then you stay just like this for me,” he instructs, whispering quietly against the shell of your ear, “Just like this. That’s all ya gotta do, s’real easy.” He tells you this like he’s giving you a choice, but subtly, he places his hand his back on your knee, keeping your cunt exposed to him for his use. Then Joel, realizing he has a better idea, gently pushes your leg off the bench. Potentially against his better judgment, he takes your own free hand and places it on your knee. “Be a good girl,” he murmurs, trusting you with this privilege perhaps too early in tonight’s endeavor. But he knows you, you’ve always been all bark and no bite – he’s not worried about you. Not a bit. 

“I’ll be good, Joel,” you whimper, eager to make this easier on yourself. You’ve never felt a sensation this intense before, and you know to tread carefully with Joel. Especially given what led you to this mess you’re in with him. 

Joel smirks, he’s right as always. Already you’re so docile, so well-behaved, so pliant. 

He finds your clit with the fingers of his left hand to help him with the shower head in his right hand. After finding that sweet little bundle of nerves with the jet stream, Joel traces along your lips momentarily before pushing a finger inside your warm, wet pussy. “Joel, oh my god,” your right hand leaves its place in his hair and you reach for his bicep instead, not exactly sure what your goal is here. You just need Joel’s comfort, to touch him, feel him, hold onto him for dear life as he delivers you deep and powerful pleasure just moments previously unknown to you. 

“I know sweetheart. Can’t do anything about it, huh?” he taunts, pushing in another finger. He curls them slowly, savoring the feeling of your wet heat pulsing around his knuckles. “Y’look very beautiful like this, ya know.” Joel quickens the pace of his fingers. You moan as you beg him for mercy of some sort as he fucks you on his fingers, while torturing your poor, overworked clit with that shower head. It’s sensual, satisfying, and nearly painful all at once. “Doin’ so good. I know you’ve got another one in ya.”

“I don’t know, Joel, I’m– I’m–”

“Take it easy. Focus right here,” he says, curling his fingers faster now. You’re a mess of panting and whimpering as Joel works his magic, stroking that sweet spot inside of you he made short work of finding. You’re soaking his fingers with your arousal as he touches you, a second orgasm washing over you quickly.

You’re panting, heart pounding as you try to come down from your high. “Please,” you breathe heavily, “Please Joel, I– oh–”

“Not quite sure what all that beggin’s for, sweetheart. Told ya what you were in for tonight,” Joel whispers in a honeyed voice. “You got one more, though.”

No way. It’s not possible. This is too much, you’re certain you’ll be satisfied for an eternity after this. “Joel, I don’t think I can,” you cry, hot and salty tears of overstimulation rolling down your cheeks. “I don’t–”

Joel interrupts you. “Yes, you can,” he says. Joel pulls his fingers and the shower head away from your pussy, giving you another moment to breathe. You’re still breathing heavily, shaking and trembling slightly. Poor thing, not used to all of this. It’s a lot on you and Joel knows this. “I’m right here, I got you,” he coos. He adjusts the way he’s holding you for a moment to look at your face, wipe away your tears. His brow furrows as he searches your face, rubbing his thumb back and forth over your jaw. “Breathe, baby. S’okay. Ain’t gonna break.” 

You nod, stutter out some incoherent response. Joel’s eyes are warm and soft as he calms you, kissing your lips and your nose. 

“What do you think?” he asks, “Reckon you got another one in ya. Just one more, hmm?”

“Okay,” you agree with a small smile. “Okay.” 

“Attagirl,” Joel praises. He brings the showerhead back to the space between your thighs but you catch his wrist, pulling it away from your body before he has the chance to use it on you again. 

“Want your fingers,” you request in a soft voice. “Can you just use your fingers on me?”

Joel nods. “We can try it,” he offers. “Was startin’ to get cold anyway. Why don’t you switch it back to the regular setting and put it back where it belongs?”

You nod and follow suit, playing with the settings before settling on the regular shower feature. You stand up to put the shower head back, letting the water wash over both you and Joel. On your way back to sit with him he holds your hips, steadying your shaky legs. You sit back between his legs, spreading your own. You gasp softly when Joel cautiously brings his right hand to your pussy, starting out with slow, careful circles on your clit. He groans in pain and shakes his head. “Does it hurt?” you ask.

“Mhm,” he answers. “Why don’t you help me out, hm? Use your own hand? Kind of your specialty, ain’t it?” Joel reaches for your hand and then stops suddenly. “Or,” he says, “What if we try something new?”

Oh, man. You’ve experienced a lot of firsts tonight, you’re not sure you can handle another. 

“That poor clit of yours is all worn out huh?” Joel asks. “C’mere. Turn around and face me,” Joel helps you up and then has you straddle his lap, his rock hard cock is between your bodies, the tip all blushed. “I’ve gotten pretty good at doin’ things with my left hand.”

You’re quick to retort. “Except for getting yourself off,” you tease.

“Oh, yeah. Rub it in,” he replies. He snakes his left hand back between your bodies, his middle two fingers pushing inside you. “Was thinkin’ could see how it works out. How’s this feel?” Joel curls his fingers inside of you in a repetitive come hither movement, stroking your g-spot.

“Good,” you tell him. It does feel good, if not a little unfamiliar. 

“Just focus on my fingers,” he instructs. As Joel works his fingers inside of you, you rest your forehead on his own. Breathing steadily, focusing on the feeling it stirs inside of you. It’s a new, different sort of pleasure. “Good girl,” he praises in whispers, “So good for me. You’re almost there.”

You begin to rock your hips into his hand, ignoring the way the hard material of the bench feels on your knees. Your clit is still untouched yet, here you are, that familiar feeling beginning to bloom in your tummy. Nothing’s ever made you feel the way you do right now, here in Joel’s arms. You’re liquid in his hands as your last orgasm begins to build, It’s deeper inside you, a slower build to ecstasy as Joel fucks you on his fingers.Your climax washes over you in waves, white-hot pleasure coursing through your through your body. “Oh my god, Joel,” You come with gasping breaths and moans for the last time, your fluttering walls choking Joel’s fingers and your arousal pooling in his hand. 

Joel holds you tightly in his arms as you come down from your high for the last time tonight. You’re not sure how much time passes, but when you feel ready, you lift yourself up on your knees and reach for Joel’s cock, guiding him to your entrance. 

“Woah, woah–” Joel stops you. 

“You don’t have to do a thing,” you try. “Just let me–fuck. I need you, need to fuck you.”

“After all that? You still want more?”

“Wanna take care of you,” you plead. You want him so bad, need to feel him, need to be closer to him, you need to watch his face. 

Joel smiles sadly as he shakes his head. “You know I can’t give that to ya,” he strokes your cheek, continuing, “God knows I wanna feel you too, sweetheart. We can’t get ahead of ourselves with my damn shoulder and all that. Just give me a few more days, hon.”

You nod in agreement. He’s right, unfortunately. 

“And then I’m all yours,” Joel reaches for your ass and lifts you up, then sits you back down on the bench after he stands up. He stands in front of you, holding his heavy cock between his thumb and first two fingers, bouncing it slightly. “Stay right there,” he says. “You just sit all pretty-like for me, just like ya always do.” 

Joel reaches for the back of your head and guides you to be closer to him, parting your lips with the tip of his cock. He tastes salty, heady and masculine. You cup his balls and squeeze gently, playing with them for a moment before gripping the base of his dick. Joel pushes into your mouth slowly. You swirl your tongue around his tip and his shaft, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks. You love the way he tastes, how he feels, how he jerks his hips slightly when you trail your tongue along an extra sensitive spot of his member. 

“So good,” he praises, “Always so good.” 

Joel maintains eye contact with you as he draws in and out of your mouth, watching you with warm, adoring expression. He loves your eyes, how you watch him as he fucks your mouth. 

Moments go by and Joel’s squeezing his eyes shut, his movements starting to become frenzied. “M’close, hon,” he warns. You reach for his hand with your own and squeeze it a couple of times as if to tell him it’s okay, that he can let go. Joel does just that. He comes with a deep groan, his soft tummy and his chest heaving as he breathes heavily, loudly through his nose. His thick, heavy cock twitches in your mouth as ribbon after ribbon of his hot spend coats your tongue and your throat, which you swallow with pleasure. Joel lets out a strangled sort of noise when you begin to pull your mouth off of him, but first licking his head a couple of times. “Too much, too much,” he warns urgently. Interesting. He can dish it but he can’t take it. But you keep your thoughts about Joel’s overstimulation threshold to yourself. “M’not done with you sweetheart, I promise,” Joel says as he comes down from his high, his breathing now beginning to steady. “Few more days and you’re in trouble.”

Your insides flutter at the prospect, what a welcome threat. You smile as Joel takes your hand and lifts you to your feet, shuts off the shower and reaches for your towel. He helps you to dry off, then dries his own self off before helping you to your feet. Still holding your hand, he takes you to his bedroom and lifts up the covers. You get underneath and Joel tucks you in, walks around to his own side of the bed and joins you. Knowing what you need after all of this, he doesn’t bother asking before pulling you into his side, kissing your cheek and the top of your head. Holding you close and telling you what a good job you did. Making sure you’re okay, asking if you need anything, water, a snack. Whatever. “No,” you tell him before closing your eyes. 

Just as you’re drifting off to sleep, Joel whispers in your ear, “Hon.” 

“What, Joel?” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep. 

“We forgot to wash my hair.”

[toxicanonymity]

No outbreak au where reader sends joel either nudes or a video because she's being extra bratty due to joel neglecting her for work. Cue a grumpy frustrated joel ready to come home give his girl exactly what she needs.

daddy Joel one shot

2.4k / joel miller x f!reader / master list

Summary: You've been bad. See ask.

WARNINGS: Big girthy age gap, brat-tamer-ish Joel, use of "daddy" and pet names, DDLG vibes (dom daddy / little girl) , Joel is rough with you, hair pulling, hand swatting, manhandling, degradation, blow job, unsafe p in v, blindfold, dubcon breeding.  NO use of Y/N.

You get bored and send Joel a sexy picture.  You don't have class and don't expect him home from the office until 5:30 or later. He works at headquarters nearby most days. You can sometimes bait him home for lunch, but not lately, and it upsets you.  He’s working on a big project and says he just can’t get away. He’s warned you--he needs to focus.  

He texts you back. "What the hell are you doin’?" When you don't answer, he sends a video.  You squeeze your thighs together before you open it, anticipating a stern warning about what he’s gonna do to you when he gets home.  Usually, the video is from his office with the door closed.  Occasionally, it's from the bathroom if he wants to show you what you do to him instead of tell you what he'll do to you. 

But when you open this video, he's standing outside in front of a chain link fence and cement is being poured in the background.  He’s wearing the shirt and tie he left home in this morning, but also a hardhat.  He has one hand on his hip with the sleeve rolled up.  "Tryin' to piss me off so I toss you around? That it, baby doll? 'Cause all ya gotta do is ask daddy real nice."  He points a finger at you.  "You better cut it out." A crane starts beeping in the background as he ends the video. 

You send your own video back. "I just miss you, Daddy." You're still on his bed, lying on your side, pouting.  Your nipples are poking through your thin, lace camisole.  Joel starts typing but stops and doesn't ever send anything.

- 

Around 6:00 when you hear Joel park in the driveway, you look out the window.  He comes around the front of his truck toward the house.  His face is tense, his tie has been loosened, his forearms are pumped up.  He’s unbuckling his belt as he walks, which sends a rush of need between your legs.  Downstairs, the door opens then slams shut. His boots thud across the floor until he takes them off.  As he makes his way up the stairs, his unfastened belt jingles and his feet land loudly with each step. 

The bedroom door is open.  His hands are clenched into fists when he enters and crosses the room.  As he reaches the bed, he stops and puts his hands on his hips. His body is tense. He demands, "'the hell is wrong with you?" He stands next to the bed and glowers at you as he unbuttons his pants. The intensity in his eyes goes right between your legs.  He continues, "You know how dangerous a construction site is? Gonna get me killed sendin' shit like that." 

You sit up. "Sorry, Daddy," you say quietly as you sit up. You reach out for him. "I didn't kno-" he firmly grabs your wrist then throws your hand away.  

His chest heaves. He grabs you by the hair and makes you look at him. 

"Course ya didn't. . .Don't think about anything but this cock, do ya?" 

Unsure if the question is rhetorical, you shake your head timidly, as best you can with his fist still holding your hair.

His face remains stern as he tugs you toward the edge of the bed. "On your knees." He releases your hair and you nod. 

You fall to your knees on the floor. One strap of your cami falls down, exposing your breast. You don't fix it. 

You reach for the growing bulge in his pants. He swats your hand away, then abruptly and firmly takes your chin in his hand to look up at him.  He gives you a small shake as he does it.

"Daddy's in charge. Daddy knows best." 

You nod. 

"Gonna be a patient little doll, aren't ya?"  You nod again. 

"Good girl."  He rubs the front of his pants, depriving you of feeling how hard he's getting for you.  He sucks in a chest full of air through his nose. With his free hand, he grabs your breast, pushing it and kneading it flatly into your chest. He growls.  You look straight up as he looms over you, massaging your breast and his considerable bulge at the same time. "What am I gonna do with you?" He looks you over and shakes his head in disapproval. "You're too bored, aren't ya? Lie here thinkin' about this cock all goddamn day.” You salivate watching him stroke his pants.  “I told ya, you need a hobby."

Maybe that's what you do some days--the days you don't have class. Better than being back with your family.

"I'm not bored," You shake your head. “just miss you sometimes.” 

"Now, listen. You wanna stay here? You better get pregnant or get a job. Are we clear?"

You swallow and nod hesitantly.

“Spoiled brat like you don’t want a job,” he adds.  "So I’m gonna be nice and help ya with the first option.”

He releases your breast and urgently unzips his pants. "’Cause I’ve waited long enough for it, baby. Daddy knows best." He pulls down his boxers and wraps his veiny hand around his commanding cock.   You nod.  You wet your lips and pry your eyes from his cock to meet his gaze. 

"Look at you. Already droolin', aren't ya?" His voice is dark and low. He's snarling.  "Open that dirty little mouth." You do as you're told. He puts one hand on the back of your head and steps forward to put his cock in your mouth. You long to lick and suck the tip, but you're not in charge. You open as wide as you can and he guides his cock between your lips. He keeps going until it's nearly to the back of your throat, then he lays it onto your tongue. "Go 'head, now."

You bring both your hands to his cock to hold it steady.  Having it in your mouth makes you throb with desire. You seal your lips around the smooth shaft and begin to suck. 

"Good girl."

He holds your head in both hands and guides you on his cock. You suck and lick the underside strongly. His hips rock into you.  When you try to let some of his shaft out so you can suckle on the tip, he grabs your hair as he pulls your head back toward him.  "Watch it," he says coldly. Instead, you suck from the back or your throat. The fullness of your mouth and throat prickles your eyes with tears.  You're so wet, you long to touch yourself.  You take one hand off his cock and start to reach down, but he catches your hand and brings it back to where it was.

“Nuh-uh.  Don’t you dare. Not unless Daddy says.” 

After a minute of sucking his cock, you begin to taste his precum, one of your favorite tastes in the world. He says, "That's all, baby." He takes it from your mouth and it hits your chin on its way down.  

—-

Joel steps out of his pants and leaves his stiff cock and balls hanging over his boxers.  You sit there on your knees awaiting instruction. He crouches down to the floor and firmly grabs you by both arms. "Get up," he growls and forces you to your feet with an emphatic shake of your arms at the end.  Then he looks you up and down and pushes you backwards onto the bed. You catch yourself with your forearms and elbows.

He wraps a big hand around his cock again and looks at your desperate, hungry face. He's still wearing his shirt and tie.  He leans over you to yank your sleep shorts down below your knees. Then steps one foot between your legs, pressing his foot down on the shorts to take them off completely.   He spreads your thighs, then kneels between them. He puts his hands down on the bed near your arms and hovers over you. His tie falls onto your chest. He supports himself with one arm while he unknots the tie, slides it out, and drops it onto the bed. He unbuttons his shirt, and you marvel at how the muscles of his supporting arm stretch the fabric. As he finishes the last button, you reach out for his bicep. 

He catches you by the wrist again.  "What are you doin?"  He throws your hand down. 

You're quiet. 

"Who’s in charge?" He stands up and takes off the button-down. Your desire throbs as his chest and biceps emerge in just a tight undershirt.

"I forgot," you say. “You just look so nice.” 

He fumes, "Forgot who’s in charge? Alright, know what?" He grabs the tie. "Let's remove temptation. C'mere. Sit up."

—-

You sit up on the bed, and he ties it as a blindfold around your eyes. “There ya go.”  His hand on your chest pushes you down on your back again. He sits up on his knees to look between your legs, and he marvels at your glistening cunt.  “Drippin’ all over the place, baby.”

He holds his massive cock above your cunt, gripping it loosely with just two fingers and a thumb on the lower half of the shaft.  He drop the smooth tip heavily onto your clit, then he rapidly moves his cock it up and down, hitting you clit and teasing you with the rhythmic contact.  You whimper, and tension swells in your abdomen.  You gasp and bite your lip.  You tilt your hips, trying to catch it with your leaking cunt.  

“Good girl,” he says, then notches it at your entrance.  He begins to push inside, and you gasp at the stretch.  He doesn’t wait.  He pushes in a little more.  Once he’s far enough in to stay in, he braces his hands on the bed above your shoulders then shoves his length into you with a drawn-out groan that makes you twitch around him before your walls have fully made room.  You can only imagine the look on his face.  He pushes furthe, as deep as he can, with all his weight behind his pelvis. Your body's still trying to catch up. "God damn," he sighs. "Loosen up for Daddy.” You try your best to relax. 

He slowly retreats then slams his thick length to the hilt with a low grunt.  "Good girl.”  He repeats the motion, sliding into you, splitting you open with the help of your ample slick. The smooth fabric of the tie feels nice, but you wish you could see how hot he looks.  His face of pleasure is one to behold. 

“Please let me see you, dadd-.”

"No," he replies coldly without hesitation. He punctuates it with a powerful thrust into your depths. “Not this time.” He pulls back most of his length.  

Your lip trembles and you bite it to keep from crying.

He sighs loudly as he fills you up again. "Keep takin' it like a good girl, and next time you can watch." 

He braces himself with a forearm on the bed near your head as he keeps pounding you. He urgently pulls down your camisole so  both your breasts are out.  He palms one hungrily as he thrusts into you and breathes heavily. He plants his mouth on your neck and sucks hard.  Then he aggressively kisses your lips and your mouth thirstily accepts his.   At this angle, he’s grinding into your clit.  Your hips lift and your back arches as he kisses you and presses against your most sensitive place with each thrust.  He feels you getting close and breaks the kiss with a moan.  

“Go ‘head, baby.   You can come.” He fills you with his cock a few more times, then you whimper as pleasure pulses outward from your clit, making you spasm around his length.  

“Oh, Daddy,” you whimper as you come.  “Ohh,” you moan. Your waves continue and your hips lift into his.  

He groans as your cunt chokes his cock.  Then his breathing becomes heavier, more desperate.   “That’s right, baby,”  he breathes.  You would give anything to see his face.  But even without the view, you can feel his climax approaching in his voice and breathing. He lays a massive hand on your lower stomach.  "Gonna fill you up,” he pants.  "Make this belly round."  He moans and his cock begins to twitch.  “Show everyone who’s Daddy’s good girl.” He slows his hips.

“Fuck,” he says between heavy breaths.  He retreats one more time then slams all the way into you and his cock begins to pulse massively.  

You moan, and your cunt twitches again.  “Oh, Daddy.”

He quickly puts you in a mating press before plunging to the hilt again, filling you with a huge load.  One more thrust as he empties his balls and you gasp and pant.  He stays in position and sighs, then begins to catch his breath.  “Good girl,”  he whispers.  “You can look now.”

You move the necktie up to your eyebrows and watch him hovering over you with his face pink, hair sticky, neck vein bulging. His eyes sparkle as he looks at you.  He lays a hand on your stomach again.  His chest is still heaving under his white understhirt, and his biceps stretch the sleeves. “Fuck, you’re pretty,” he says.  “You’re gonna be the death of me, baby,” he laughs.  His face darkens.  “‘specially if you don’t stop textin’ dirty when I’m workin’.”

“Sorry, Daddy,” you whisper earnestly.

“I forgive you. Know why?”

“Why”

“‘Cause you took this cock so good.” He rocks his hips into you one last time, making you gasp as he pushes his cum deeper.  Then he very slowly pulls out.  He puts a big pillow under your butt. “Don’t you move, now. ” He lays down next to you on the bed, head in his hand, and watches you look at him with affection.  He kisses your cheek and says, "that's my girl." He gently strokes your chest and fondles your breasts, occasionally kissing you. 

"Are you still mad," you ask. 

"I don't think I can stay mad at ya, baby." He closes his eyes and kisses you long and deep. “Take my cock too good."

-

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! Every comment and reblog means a lot and also helps me recognize you in the wild on Tumblr. (Plus, unabashed dope(amine) addict here 😫 )

Love you guys. 🖤🖤🖤

You can follow @toxicfics for notifications and @toxicrecs for fic recs.

Ask was from April, ty for your patience Anon 🖤

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore  @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339   @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy  @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk  @filthfairy  @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles  @harriedandharassed  @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy  @cutesyscreenname  @weddingfairy  @pedropascal-whore  @spideysimpossiblegirl  @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst

and @bunnyskisses

[giving-eraser-head]

OH MY FUCKUNG GOD THE 'ur gonna have to get a job or get pregnant' FHJKRSUTD

[sinsofsummers]

sensational

6.9k | joel miller & f!innocent!reader

this comes from this request. a few liberties were taken with the details (the reader knows that sex exists, but not much else), just fyi!

summary: thanks to becoming an orphan at age 13, you've lived the rest of your life oblivious to all the world can offer. now that you're in jackson, joel miller ignites something in you that only he can give answers to. warnings: slight angst (mentions of parent loss), innocent!fem!reader, age gap (joel is 56, reader is 25), kind of pervy!joel, smut (18+, mdni!!!), fingering, grinding, reader watches old pornos with joel, slight praise kink, no use of y/n. note: i planned originally to have this be just one part, but even though it ends in a way that i like, i could maybe be convinced to write a second part teehee

You used to love the rain. The way it cascaded down your skin in little droplets, cleansing your body from a hard day's work, and the way it made your hair look so perfectly disheveled.

You craved the rain, until it became nothing but a reminder of the night your parents died.

It had been years at this point, but you would never quite forget how young, and small, and unsuspecting you'd been when they told you to run. How cruel, that time might pass, you might change, but with one smattering of rain, you returned so swiftly to the worst night of your life.

The three of you had been living alone, making your way...somewhere, but they never told you where. Your parents' only wish was to keep you safe, that much was clear. So it shouldn't have been a surprise that upon an ambush by at least ten clickers, after both your parents had been infected, that they'd insist that you run.

"Please, darling," your mother had pleaded, a lump in her throat as she formed the words. "Don't make me beg. I need you to run. Promise?"

Your father was somewhere else, but you could hear him yelling in the distance, in a fight for his life. You were too young, even at thirteen, to understand that those were the sounds of a dying man.

"I'll be right behind you," she'd choked on the last phrase, and in hindsight, you knew she was lying. But in the moment, you'd believed her. You couldn't see the bite she was hiding on her arm, her fate already sealed. "I'll come for you, my love," she insisted, "but I need you to go. Head for the woods."

It was the last time you saw her. You'd turned tail and had run as fast as you could for the woods.

The last thing you heard was a gunshot. A single shot, echoing around you in the trees. It may have been impossible to know, but you didn't need to turn back. Your parents were dead.

If you hadn't found Jackson, who knows how long you might have lasted. Nearing your twenty-first year, you'd proven valuable to the community, and they'd welcomed you in. Jackson was the first home you'd had since you were five.

It hadn't occurred to you that you were years behind your peers in terms of...well, everything, until you met Joel.

Rugged, tan, and sporting a perpetual frown paired with an ever-present crease between his brows, Joel Miller was your patrol partner. You weren't exactly sure why, and he didn't seem particularly pleased about it, but then again—he never seemed particularly pleased about anything.

It hadn't struck you as anything to be proud of, or to boast about to the other young women in Jackson, but they certainly loved coming up to you and expressing their jealousy when they felt so inclined.

"What's he like on patrol?" they'd ask, their eyes wide and lips curled in smirks as they waited for any insight you could give them on his mysterious personality.

All you could ever say over the next four years was a quick, "He's quiet."

Maybe that was why the two of you worked well. He wasn't much of a talker, and after you'd lost your parents, you hadn't been one to waste any breath on conversation, especially when you had survived alone with your own thoughts for almost eight years.

Silence was your mutual understanding. No talking meant no questions, and no questions meant no problems.

And this worked. Until it didn't.

-- -- --

It started like anything started. Quietly, hardly a bother, until it sank into the marrow of your bones and demanded that you address it.

More literally, it started in your shoulders. You'd been on patrol with Joel, a quiet, "Let's go," his only words to you that morning. They were his only words to you every morning, and that day was no different.

Patrolling with him was easy. Like you'd said—no talking, so no problems. You rode next to each other on your respective horses, and there was nothing more than a glance or two toward each other when necessary. It was the only form of communication that the two of you shared.

His big brown eyes had always startled you, looking so inviting in the contrast of the white snow during the winter, but they never showed you more than he allowed you to see. And all you saw of Joel was his dedication to sleep, patrol, eat, and repeat.

You hadn't felt the desire to look that closely at him until some of the girls in Jackson asked you how big his hands were, or what he looked like up close.

"You know," one of them had crooned, not realizing you were unsure of their intentions, "what does he look like without that big old coat on?"

You'd shrugged. "Why should I know?"

Another one wiggled her eyebrows. "Doesn't it get...lonely out there? Nothing but you, the snow, and a big man like Joel to keep you company?"

The faces of those girls, the glint in their eyes, it was something you couldn't quite decipher, as much as you wished you could. So one day, you'd asked the man himself what it all meant.

When you said it for the first time, it was so quiet that you could hardly even hear yourself.

Joel grunted, the only indication that he'd heard you.

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn't find a reason why. This was just Joel. He seemed to know everything there was to know about life; surely he could help you understand this. "Why do the girls in town keep asking me what it's like to patrol with you?"

He didn't answer for a second, but then shrugged. "They botherin' you?"

"No." You weren't quite sure that was true, and knowing him, he could probably hear the lie in your voice. "They're just kind of...belligerent."

His eyebrow cocked. "S'a big word," he mused. "Sure you know what it means?"

Your cheeks grew hot. "Yes," you insisted sharply. "I do read, you know."

He murmured a response, but the wind carried it away from you. You rode in silence for a bit longer before he said, "Don't let those girls get in your head. I think they just wanna get a rise outta you."

"A rise?"

Joel nodded and brought his horse to a routine stop. This was where the two of you always stretched your legs. He reached up to help you down your own mount and set you on the ground gingerly. "You know," he said, as if you should know, but with no regard for the fact that you didn't. "You're still kinda new here. Seems they're still pretty dead-set on embarrassin' you."

"I'm not embarrassed," you insisted again. "I just...is there a joke I'm not getting?"

"Any reason you chose to talk so much today?" was his only answer, which made your stomach clench.

There was no reason for you to be offended, as it was your typical routine to remain quiet unless absolutely necessary, but you couldn't help the way your lips curved downward. "Sorry," you mumbled, "forget I asked."

He was quiet again as the two of you walked at least two hundred paces, stretching out your sore muscles in the snow. It used to be comforting, the silence. It wasn't maddening, it didn't ever bother you if Joel was in his thoughts. You weren't even sure at times if he had any. But all that had changed now; his brow creased more than it usually did, and you wanted nothing more than to ask him what he was thinking.

Joel was the one constant in your life now. Maybe it was a—well, probably it was a trauma response from losing your parents, but you couldn't help it. You didn't need much from anyone, just someone to stay. Joel was strong enough to take care of himself and was smart enough not to make any rash decisions. As far as you could tell, he'd stay.

So how could you be so embarrassed by asking these questions?

"I forgot how long you said you were...alone out there," his grunting voice filled the space between you once more. It was quiet, and he sounded hesitant, as if he wasn't sure how to speak.

"Since I was thirteen," you said mechanically, so familiar with others in Jackson asking the same question.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath. "And you're how old?"

"Twenty-five," you said, feeling oddly small in his presence.

He shook his head. "That's a long time to be alone," he muttered, blowing out a breath.

You huffed. "Yeah, well, I survived. And besides, I've been here for four years now, you know."

"I know."

Again, the silence. Infuriating.

Then, you couldn't help it. "What's...'spooning,' and why do those girls ask me if we've done it?"

Joel stumbled, reaching out for balance. His hand found purchase on your shoulder, and you caught him awkwardly. "You don't even know what spooning is?" He sounded incredulous, as if you'd asked a juvenile question.

The warmth from his hand was astonishing, and distracted you from your embarrassment, if only for a moment. It sank through his glove into your coat, and down toward your skin. Something about the weight of his hand on your shoulder, even for a second as he removed it quickly, was enough to send you spiraling.

Your face burned. "Never mind," you said quietly and mounted your horse again. How stupid could you get? You scolded yourself. You'd ventured too far into this conversation, and now you didn't know how to get yourself out of it. "I was just...never mind. We should get back."

He nodded, but his face still looked somewhat pinched. "Yeah. S'getting dark."

The sun was still up. No intention of sinking beneath the horizon for at least a few hours. You rode again in uncomfortable silence, this time letting it fill the space. You foolishly thought that maybe if you were quiet long enough, he'd forget that you'd made a fool of yourself, that you'd exposed yourself to the truth: that you knew hardly anything about...anything except for survival instincts.

When Joel spoke again, it surprised you. "I didn't mean to tease ya," he said. "It's just kind of a surprise that you're not...that you don't..." he looked over at you, and there was some type of pleading in his eyes, as if he were begging you not to make him say it.

"That I don't what?" you said dumbly, hoping you didn't sound as childish as you felt.

He pondered his next words carefully, and then he hummed, "If you want, I could...teach you some stuff."

"Like spooning?" You felt a warmth in your face as you watched his shoulders hunch with a soft laughter. Your own shoulder burned where he'd touched it, and something bloomed in your gut.

He chuckled. "I don't know about all that," he said, "but I'll help you get...back on track. Would hate for someone to take advantage of your...innocence." It sounded sinful, the way he said it, and the something in your gut pulsed.

"You don't have to," you shook your head, but you didn't even believe the words as they came out of your mouth. "I'll just ask someone else."

"Darlin', don't trust anyone else to give you straight answers. I'm older'n half of everyone in Jackson, anyway." He flashed you a look. "I'll help. Whatever you want to know."

You bit the insides of your cheeks, your stomach turning strangely. "Anything?"

He nodded dutifully, but his eyes had already left yours. Joel Miller, ever the professional. "Whatever you want."

-- -- --

Joel liked to consider himself someone who would never again suffer the shock of surprises. After having lived through and seen more shit than any normal person could, he thought he'd experienced it all.

That is, until her pretty lips had opened and asked him to teach her about all she'd missed. Until she asked him to teach her.

He hadn't really seen her as the picture of innocence until he'd heard how long she'd been alone, surviving with no one and nothing besides her own thoughts and the clothes on her back.

The least her parents could do was teach her how to shoot, he'd thought when he first met her. It was a curiosity that was quickly resolved, as she'd proven herself valuable to Jackson.

Tommy had wasted no time putting them on patrol together. "It'll be good for you," his brother had reasoned when he brought up concerns. "You know, to talk to someone out there. I know she's on the young side, but you don't gotta fall in love with her." He'd flashed an apologetic smile when Joel had scowled. "You're scarin' everyone, Joel. Bein' all quiet and shit...it's—"

"It's what?" he'd asked gruffly. "I don't do it on purpose. I'm a grown man."

This was all true, and he very much didn't do it on purpose. With no one around whom he deemed worthy of his conversation, Joel Miller had become the quiet, introspective version of himself that everyone decided to become scared of all of a sudden.

The way he saw things? It wasn't his fault everyone in Jackson was boring. Or childish.

But her. With her unmistakable will to survive and those eyes that could burn fierce with ire one moment, and soften with curiosity the next...it was only a matter of time before he agreed to do whatever she asked.

He should have seen it coming, especially considering her past. Every time he thought of just how...unsuspecting she was about...everything, he had to shake his head, clearing it of any thoughts that threatened to take advantage of her.

But being ignorant of spooning. He had to clear his throat every time he thought of what that might mean for himself in this particular arrangement. If she knew nothing of something so...palatable, he could hardly help himself when thinking of what else she might be unaware of.

He tried to be patient, and he tried to be respectful, but at the end of the day, he was Joel Miller. From the moment she looked at him with those wide eyes, he was lost.

-- -- --

"What I would give to give that man the ride of his life," one of the girls next to you hummed at breakfast the next morning, her eyes presumably glued to Joel, who'd just come into the cafeteria. You didn't look up at him, instead casting a confused glance toward the girl who'd spoken.

"Ride where?" You cursed your quick instinct to ask questions, as the girls erupted into a fit of giggles. Face burning, you looked down again at your plate. "Never mind," came your almost instantaneous response. You were getting used to having to apologize for your ignorance, and people rarely—especially not these girls—offered their kindness.

One of the other girls snickered. "Why don't you ask him? I'm sure there's nothing much to talk about out there anyway," she said, smiling widely. Her next words were nothing short of a drawl, the complete essence of mockery. "'Joel, what's it mean to ride?'" she pinched her face in what you assumed was an impression of you, and it only made your eyebrows furrow despite your stomach sinking in utter horror.

And then there he was. He'd called your name, and now he was standing behind your left shoulder, hand outstretched to save you.

You were sure his hand had never looked quite as appealing as it did now. The calluses on his palm were raised and visibly rough. For a moment, you stared at his fingers and wondered what they might feel like against your cheek.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, that something arose in your gut once more before you heard him murmur your name again.

"Come on," he grunted, but there was a gentleness to it that made the hair on the nape of your neck stand on end. "Time to go."

The girls at your table were silent when you took his hand gingerly and let him lead you from the cafeteria. You noted the swift wave of cold that hit your hand as soon as he dropped it, just a second later. Clasping your hands together, you hoped in a fit of desperation that you might preserve some of the weight and warmth of his touch on your skin. It failed.

"Thanks," you said later, when the two of you were outside the community's borders. Jackson felt a bit too stuffy for any real admissions of gratitude, you'd decided. It turned out to be a good conclusion when you felt the delicious churn of your stomach at the idea of being alone with him once more.

I'm sure there's nothing much to talk about out there anyway, one of the girls had said. Doesn't it get lonely out there? You were reminded of another's teasing, and this time your cheeks burned at the memory. Nothing but you, the snow, and a big man like Joel to keep you company.

He was big, you considered. When he stood next to you, his frame was almost larger than life, and his shoulders were sinfully broad when you watched him walk in front of you on previous patrols. The sheer size of him was enough to send you into a heady descent.

As usual, Joel didn't answer for what felt like ages, and you'd begun to wonder if he could see where your train of thought had led you. Then:

"You could have told me they were bein' that outrageous," he grunted, keeping his eyes forward. "I woulda helped you out sooner. S'no fun feelin' left outta everything."

It was...odd to hear such words come from a man like Joel. Although, you reminded yourself, you'd hardly spoken to him in the four years that you'd been in Jackson; who was to say he wasn't normally like this? A quiet, brooding older man, yes; but maybe he was naturally like this. One to offer his help.

"If you wanted to help, you would have made an effort four years ago." You let your words hang in the air. You didn't mean for them to come off sharp; it was simply the truth. "I don't need your help," you added, tightening your hands on the reins of your horse and swallowing roughly. "It was fine. I am fine."

He flashed you a look as if to say, is that so? You couldn't help but notice the way the corners of his eyes creased, the only sign of amusement. It was all you could do to keep your eyes on him, although you weren't sure how you were going to explain the way your mouth went dry at the sight of his big brown eyes.

"Besides," you insisted quietly, "you're not my dad."

Joel cleared his throat. Looked down, shoulders tense. Inhaled. "No," he said decidedly. "No, I'm not."

Emboldened by this clarification, you inquired, "So what did those girls mean earlier? Riding, I mean?"

If you could have guaranteed the image of Joel's eyes going wide in surprise to remain in your head for the rest of your days, you would have done it instantly. His forehead was creased as his eyebrows lifted, and despite his position facing away from you, you could see it all.

The way he seemed to wrestle with himself before answering, the way his hands seemed to clench in his gloves. "So, uh..." he started, and then paused again. Mustering up whatever courage he needed, Joel finished, "Well, ya see, when a man and woman love each other very much—"

"Joel." Oh. You couldn't help it when a breathless chuckle left your lips.

He was silent, and when he finally answered, it wasn't a question. "What."

"I'm not fucking stupid. I know how reproduction works."

Joel's chest rose and fell in a deep sigh, and you couldn't ignore the look of complete relief that washed over his rough features. "Thank fuckin' Christ. Didn't know if I had it in me for another sex talk. I'm too old to be doin' this."

"Believe it or not, my parents did leave me with the basic information." Swallowing roughly, you continued. "And I know...I know that men usually...take. It's an assertion of power, from what I've...seen."

He shook his head. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised that you've run into your fair share of dirtbags, even in the middle of the world goin' to shit." He ran a gloved hand through his hair, and you secretly enjoyed the way it stood up. "Anyone ever, you know...take...from you?"

Hearing your own words regurgitated back to you left you feeling fluttery. Shaking your head, you got down from your horse; you'd reached your typical resting spot. "No," you said firmly. "They never wanted me."

Joel nodded. "S'good," he said, and it bothered you to no end that you couldn't understand the emotion in his voice. "So..."

By now he was standing next to you, closer than you were used to, judging by the way his coat sleeve bumped yours as the two of you walked, stretching your legs. "So," you said, thinking up a way to make this conversation less awkward. "I just hate feeling like a kid again. I'm twenty-five, for fuck's sake. There's more than just survival when it comes to living. I just want to know what I'm missing out on," you confessed with a hand on your stomach.

When Joel brushed by your side again your stomach flipped. And what the fuck is that about, and why do I keep feeling it? You asked inwardly, but you were too nervous to ask. Bombarding Joel with questions, especially after you'd just started talking to him on patrol after four years, seeming to be the wrong path to take.

He shrugged, eyebrows still furrowed in thought. "There's nothing to miss if you don't know what you're missin'."

"Yes," you admitted, "but that doesn't stop any of those girls from making me feel like I'm..."

"Innocent?" he murmured, and you thought you weren't meant to hear it until he turned to look at you.

Those big brown eyes, they just won't quit, a voice nudged you in your head.

"I don't want to be innocent," you groaned, throwing your head back. "God, not in the sense that they see me in. Sounds like a damn curse."

The sound of his rumbling laughter, however quiet, sent a shock down your spine and you nearly tripped in the snow. "There's pros and cons, I s'pose," he offered. "It's like I said: I'll help you get back on track. If that's what you really want."

"It is." You stopped walking, took a look around at the landscape, otherwise empty with the scattering of trees. You swallowed, pressed one. "So...riding. It's a part of reproducing, then?"

He chuckled again, but this time it didn't come off as demeaning. It was like he was teasing you, but good-naturedly. "Let's not jump too far ahead of ourselves, yeah? Start with somethin' smaller. Then we'll work our way up."

Joel's eyes were piercing when he held yours in his gaze. If someone watched this conversation, you were sure they'd be able to see the blush blooming on your cheeks.

"Learnin' takes time, ya know," he mused, his growling voice nearly a hum that could have warmed you from the inside out.

You'd made it to the edge of the woods now. This was normally where you turned back, heading for home. But neither of you moved. The bubble of something pulsed again, and you swallowed roughly before whispering hoarsely, "So where should we start?"

-- -- --

If Joel were a better man, he might have warned her what the curse of innocence in a young woman could be. He might have shook his head, stepped back, and told her to ask someone else. He might have taken the reins and turned the two of them back toward Jackson.

If he were better, he wouldn't have stepped closer to her. If he were a better man, he wouldn't have looked into her sparkling eyes and let the question slip. Fuck it all.

"You ever been kissed, darlin'?"

-- -- --

You swallowed. Don't make a fool of yourself, you begged yourself before answering with a quiet shake of your head. "Not many contenders out there. Not any good ones, anyway."

He'd leaned closer to you with his question, and now you could practically see each line of age in his face. Joel's expression was unclear; he could have been pleased with this information or...or maybe there was pity in his eyes. "No," he said with an understanding nod. "No, I suppose there wouldn't have been."

He lifted a gloved hand to his mouth and you watched as he traced it along his lips. The gray strands in his hair glinted off the sunlight, blinking pleasantly in your eyes. That something pulsed once more in your stomach, and there was a sort of realization that came with it.

Joel, you thought. Joel is making me feel like this.

"Will you kiss me?" The words were out of your mouth before you could reel them in.

But instead of laughing, or scoffing, or giving any sign of mockery, Joel Miller inhaled quietly. "You know how much older I am than you?" he asked.

You nodded. "We're both adults, Joel. Besides," you felt a ghost of a smirk come to grace your lips, a feigned confidence coming to save you in this moment of truth. "I thought you told me to ask you these questions."

He sighed. "You're right."

"So? Will you?" you asked, with a small, "please?" coming out afterward.

He moved slowly, something you were equally thankful for as you were frustrated with, but his forehead met yours soon enough. His eyelashes brushed against your cheek, and he let out a shaky breath, letting it fan deliciously across your face. The knowledge that he was just as nervous as you were was not only a comfort; it was perhaps the most attractive thing you'd ever known.

And when you lifted your chin, just a hairsbreadth from his lips, your eyes fluttered closed, waiting for him to meet you in the middle. It only took a moment before he was closing his mouth over yours, and Joel Miller was kissing you.

He was gentle, of course, but there was something restrained about his kiss, the way he slowly slotted his lips over yours as if you might crack under any more pressure. It only made you want more, more, more...

You pressed your hands to his chest and curled them into fists, tugging his jacket to lessen the distance between your bodies even more. You didn't know how you were doing this, how you'd managed to find confidence in what could have easily been a humiliating experience. Your first kiss at twenty-five? With anyone else, it might have been a nightmare.

With Joel, it was turning out to be the most delightful dream.

"So soft, baby," he pulled back to whisper against your mouth. "These lips are so soft for me."

You hummed your response and pulled him back to you, letting him see that you wanted more. That incessant pressure was building, and it wasn't until he had his arms sliding around your waist that you forced yourself to pull back, head spinning. "Joel."

He blinked. "What? Too fast?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, darlin', you're just so—"

"No, that's not it." You managed a weak smile, but the look in his eye, the question and the undeniable desire—is that what it looks like?—quivering in his brown irises, nearly made you collapse. He waited for you to continue, his hands never leaving you, a courtesy you were grateful for. "I feel...hot." Your cheeks warmed. "Um, there's this...pressure."

His lips closed in a tight smirk, and he squeezed your hips. "Where, baby?" he murmured, and you could have sworn you saw stars outlining his head at the sound of the pet name. "Show me," he cooed.

"Um." You paused, unsure of just how. But with his hands on your waist, his heavy, warm touch melting you on the spot, you took one of his gloved hands in yours and guided him to your stomach. "Here. Kind of."

"Yeah?" he said, and you forgot about the cold. About your horses waiting to be mounted, about your other responsibilities in Jackson. All you could see were his dark eyes that had somehow grown darker as you pushed his hand down, down, down...

"Fuck, babygirl," he cursed, and let his hand rest on the crux of your thighs, just barely pressing on the source of the tingling sensation. If anything, it made it worse, and you let a breathy whine fall from your lips. "You're gonna be the death of me, huh?" he groaned.

You couldn't form words. Just one kiss (a very good kiss, mind you) and a heavy hand on your core was all it took, apparently. You could hardly look anywhere but his face, your mouth dropping open as your hips moved of their own accord, grinding into his hand before you realized you were doing it. "Joel—" you whimpered, and he pulled his hand away.

There wasn't enough time for you to feel jilted, as he tugged you back to your horse and practically launched you onto it himself. "We're goin' back," he said firmly, "now."

Swallowing, your throat dry and rough, you pressed a hand to your cheek, feeling the heat swimming under your skin. "Did I do something wrong?"

You could hardly see him shake his head as he mounted his own horse, looking back at you to make sure you were following him. "'Course not," he called over his shoulder. When you caught up with him, the two of you shoulder-to-shoulder, he continued. "Look, darlin', f'I'm gonna be givin' you your first kiss and makin' you feel that good..." he sighed, his dark eyes finding yours. "I'm not doin' it in a fuckin' snowbank."

-- -- --

The entire ride back to Jackson was painfully long, silent but for Joel's mumbled directions, despite the fact that the two of you had taken this same route countless times in the four years that you patrolled together.

Your eyes were trained forward, and you knew his were as well, but it took everything in you not to glance at him even for a second. If you did, you were afraid that the pressure building in the crux of your thighs would never go away.

It would be unfair to say that you were completely unaware of what might happen when you got back to Jackson, but you still didn't know much, which left a nervous bubble rising in your gut. It wasn't like there were any books left in Jackson that you could read about it, or any movies that Maria would allow to remain in the community's borders.

Again, you got a wave of feeling like this should have concerned you, or at least made you a little anxious. But with Joel pulling ahead, his strong back the only thing you could look at, you felt the knot of tension release in your stomach. This was Joel. After four years—even four mostly silent years—of working together, you felt like you...knew him, somehow. That he couldn't possibly lead you astray.

Sure enough, when you were both within the borders, horses returned safely to their stables, the tension returned. Or had it ever really dissipated?

Joel hovered close to you as you left the stables. "Let's go, darlin'," he breathed, a gloved hand on your lower back as he guided you.

"Where?" you said, and you hoped it didn't sound as desperate as it did to you, the pressure getting worse. "I need—"

"I know, baby, I know," he cooed gently, his head on a swivel as if looking for anyone who might stop you. "We're goin' to mine. I've got the perfect lesson planned for ya, alright?"

It was all you could do to nod and let him push you forward through the snowy streets. If only those girls could see you now.

Once inside, you took a breath. There was no one around, and once the door closed behind you, the silence felt all the more heavy. "Ellie?" you asked, if only in courtesy.

He shook his head, and you bit your lip when you saw him smirk. "Just us, doll."

Joel shed his outer layers, and when he stood in front of you, you realized that this was the first time you'd seen him without his coat. Without his gloves, aside from that morning.

Your eyes snagged on his fingers, and you swallowed roughly when you saw the way they twitched, as if in anticipation for something. Or maybe he was holding himself back, you considered. His jaw did seem to have an impatient clench to it. Hands rough like you knew they would be, it didn't take long for your mind to wander into thinking of what it might be like to feel those hands on your skin.

With any luck, he'd give you the sweet release you craved, however it would unfold.

"See anything you like?" he teased, and your cheeks warmed.

"Sorry," you fumbled for a response, your eyes dropping. You'd meant to clear your head, but then your eyes were caught on his thighs. Specifically how hard the seams on his jeans were fighting to remain unripped. "Um, a lesson, you said?"

He nodded, reaching out a hand to take your own coat off, leaving you in the sweater and pants you'd had on all day. You were sure your hair was knotted and would be for days, but he only smoothed a hand down your face, letting you lean into his touch. His fingers were still cold, but your face was hot and it offered a dizzying sense of relief.

"I could never teach you all this," he murmured, his thumb rubbing back and forth in an absentminded swipe across your cheek. "Not without getting...distracted," he finished, pressing his other hand to your waist. Underneath the thick layer of your coat, his hand felt like a hot iron scorching your skin, despite there still being a few layers of clothes between your bodies.

"Distraction is okay," you breathed, lifting a hand to cup his on your waist. "Right?"

He shook his head, a chuckle lifting from deep in his chest. "Not tonight," he whispered. "Tonight, I want to stick to the plan."

"Which is?"

Wordlessly, he removed the hand on your waist and entwined it with your own, tugging you toward the living room where an old television had been placed on a rickety-looking shelf. "Sit," he directed, and you did so without hesitation. He paused, biting back a smile at your eager cooperation, and adjusted himself.

It occurred to you that as much as you were affected by him, he was experiencing a similar effect from you. His pants, already tighter than sin, seemed to have become even tighter, as a bulge began to grow while he stood just a few feet from your face.

"Joel—"

"No, no," he waved a dismissive hand and went to the television to grab something. He came back with something you recognized: a VHS tape. "Don't worry 'bout me, sweets. Tonight's just for you."

"We're gonna watch a movie?" you asked, trying to ignore the way your heart sank a little. You had been hoping that the two of you would kiss some more, and maybe even...you didn't even know the name for it.

"Not just any movie," he grinned, putting it in to watch. The video started. "A special one."

When the scene opened on a man and a woman in the throes of passion, you gasped. "No way," you whispered. "I thought Maria—"

He shrugged, sinking down on the couch beside you, his knee bumping yours. "She must've missed this one," was all he said.

The woman looked to be enjoying herself, as her scene partner kissed her neck, dragging his tongue from the dip in her clavicle to the curve of skin where her neck met her ear. A cartoon-ish moan left her lips, but you didn't pay it any mind. The sight of it made your thighs clench together subconsciously, the lick of pressure rising again in your center.

"Joel—"

"Shh," he said gently. "C'mere, darlin'." With no more than a heavy hand on your waist, he tugged you closer to him, situating you over his lap. "Comfortable?"

You almost said no; you knew that this wouldn't be an acceptable seating arrangement in the cafeteria (or anywhere public, for that matter), but when his hands landed on your thighs, you nodded swiftly. His fingers curled around your skin, and you could feel every pulse of his heartbeat through his fingertips, poised as if he might spread your legs from where they were squeezed together between his own thighs.

Something hard and solid nudged at your core, and you couldn't help it when you leaned back into his chest, head tilting back to rest on his shoulder. A breathy moan tumbled from your lips, and your stomach fluttered when you felt his chest rumble with a chuckle.

"That quick, baby?" he whispered, his breath fanning over your neck. "You really are a sweet young thing, aren't ya," he teased, pressing his nose to the joint between your jaw and your neck, "fallin' apart for me already?" He rocked his hips forward, his bulge pressing harder against you, and it nearly sent you into a spiral.

You swallowed, your throat dry. The sounds of the movie seemed far away as you opened your eyes and looked at his beard, peppered with gray and scratching at your chin when he leaned over you. "Joel," you whispered, bringing your hands to cover his own on your thighs, "I-I want to know everything." You'd never meant anything more fervently, more desperately, than this.

If you'd known how addicting this could feel, being so close to him, feeling his hands on you, perhaps you would have been embarrassed at the way your hips began rubbing yourself on his lap, hoping for—you didn't even know what could be after this. You just knew that the way you felt was the most intense thing you'd felt in your entire life, and you wanted to keep feeling this way, as long as you could.

Joel tutted, squeezing his hands on your thighs. "Oh, look at you," he groaned, a deep, carnal noise that made your chest constrict, "you're a natural, doll." His lips brushed your shoulder, and he darted his tongue out to lick a small strip up your neck.

Your heart swelled with the praise, and it was all you could do not to squeeze your eyes shut. "Please," you begged quietly, as if someone might hear you.

"I know, baby, I know," he crooned, dark eyes locked onto your own as his hand crept closer—to your waistband—closer—unzipping your pants—closer...there.

Your hips lifted from his lap with the heady sensation of his fingers pressed to a bundle of nerves between your legs. "Joel—!" you squeaked.

You felt him smile against your cheek. "So wet," he murmured, "so slick for my fingers, baby." He began rubbing that spot in tight circles, a slow, torturous pace. "Let me know when you're gonna come, yeah?"

"When I..." you trailed off. You'd never...how would you know? "I don't..."

Joel hummed in your ear, rocking his hips again and releasing a guttural groan. "S'okay, pretty girl," he reassured you, "I'll be gentle. Lemme know when it feels like it's too much. "I've gotcha."

You were too far gone to doubt him. This was Joel. He wouldn't let you fall, as much as you felt like you were going to slide to the floor at the feeling of his hand coming up from your leg to caress your breast, rolling a nipple between his fingertips. A strangled mix between a cry and a moan left your lips, and with one more kiss to your brow paired with a quick swipe of his finger over your ever-sensitive bud—

Something gave way and you jerked your head back, digging into his shoulder. Your legs spasmed and you squeezed your hand over Joel's, holding his hand in place underneath your panties.

"Fuck, doll, just like that," he encouraged you. "Look at you, eyes rollin' back for me. Shakin' like a good girl." His hips tensed beneath you and you felt his chest shudder as he released a punishing moan. "Got me feelin' like a damn teenager, comin' in my jeans."

His fingers stilled, but his hand didn't move. Your legs slowly stopped shaking, and the solid mass beneath you was softening. You let out a sigh, your eyelids fluttering closed. Your cheeks were flushed, you could tell; but this time, it wasn't embarrassment that brought the warmth to your face.

"You okay?" he murmured, carefully removing his hands from their places on you. "Feel alright, darlin'?"

Your head turned, nestling into the crook of his neck. Nodding quietly, you shifted in his lap. "I...I didn't know it could be like that," you shivered.

Joel paused the video, the living room falling quiet around you. Swinging a hand under your legs and tugging you to a more comfortable position over his lap, he raised his fingers to his lips, glistening with the remnants of your desire. Your jaw slackened when you watched him open his mouth, lapping at the tips of his fingers.

"Trust me, doll," he said with a glint in his eye. You whimpered in anticipation as he reached to brush a strand of hair from your face. "I've got so much more to teach you."

tysm for reading! you made it to the end!

[joelscruff]

name (javier peña/reader)

woke up with this idea in my head and had to write it. it's just a short little thing but hopefully the javi stans like it ~~ rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: smut, doggystyle, dirty talk word count: 628 (this is just a drabble)

You don't even know his name.

He's got you bent over the edge of his bed, the tips of his fingers pressed firmly into the soft skin of your hips. You're completely naked, laid out in front of him bare while he towers over you still fully clothed, his cock hanging heavy through the zipper of his jeans and pressed ever so gently against your wet core. And you can't remember his name.

All you can remember is that he's a DEA agent and that he'd offered to pay you for some information. You'd spoken to him briefly at the bar for about twenty minutes, told him what he needed to know, tried not to be too obvious as your eyes scanned the length of him in the booth. He was a lot older than you, had a mysterious but friendly quality that made you feel safe with him. He smoked during the whole conversation and you'd been drawn to the way his lips wrapped around the filter of his cigarette, the way his gaze dropped to your mouth every so often as you answered his line of questioning.

He'd slipped what you were owed beneath the table then placed his hand, solid and firm, on your thigh.

"How about you come home with me for a little bit?" he'd murmured, tilting his head and stubbing out his cigarette, eyes dark.

And now here you are, hands gripping the sheets in his bed tightly as you feel the wet tip of his cock at your entrance, silently seeking permission as he leans down and presses a kiss to the back of your neck.

"I d-don't remember your name," you gasp out as the head slips inside, wide and hot.

You feel him smile against your skin and he clicks his tongue, leaning back so he's standing over you, the end of his cock laying still inside your cunt.

"You don't remember my name," he echoes back, then slowly begins to slide his cock further inside you, long and thick.

Overwhelmed by his size, you bury your face in the fabric of his duvet, inhaling his masculine scent. You feel his hand on your back as he presses his palm flat against your spine, pushing you down further into the mattress.

"I've got my cock buried in your sweet little pussy and you don't know my name, huh?" he finds this funny, chuckling to himself as he continues to push inside.

"I f-forgot," you whimper, fisting the sheets.

He bottoms out then, his full length stilling inside of you. You moan at the fullness and release the material from your grip, upper body suddenly relaxing now that you've taken all he has to give you. He leans down again and kisses the tender spot behind your ear.

"My name is Javier," he whispers, "But you call me Javi when I'm fucking you good like this, yeah?"

You remember now, remember the way he shook your hand and told you what it was, but you'd been too distracted by how large his hand was compared to yours that you'd barely registered the name. Even then, in those first few seconds of meeting him, you somehow knew you'd end up in his bed.

"Please move," you whimper, shuffling back a bit and whining at the sensation of how stuffed you are with his cock, "Please."

"What's my name, baby?" he murmurs, hands gripping your waist as his thick fingers splay against your lower back, "Whose cock do you have deep inside this pretty pussy right now?"

"Javi," you breathe, closing your eyes.

"That's right," his hips suddenly snap back, cock leaving you completely before slamming back inside so deep that you see stars, "And Javi's gonna take care of you, baby."

[shoyoist-deactivated20250509]

having horrible horny thoughts about telling best friend hanma no guy has ever made you cum so he takes it upon himself to be the first because he deserves it and wants to be your first something :,( eats you out like a starved man and his strokes are immaculate someone help 💔💔

— 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄 !! : hanma shuji.

cw: f!reader. college au(?). you're inexperienced, shuji is secretly in love with you. pussy eating, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstim, edging, he makes you call him daddy. if this makes no sense its bec i wrote w my clit.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ . ｡˚ ♡ "i dare you to tell me somethin' that'll make me laugh."

“no guy’s ever made me cum.” you’d told hanma. a not so innocent answer to a rather innocent dare, you admit. but he’s your best friend, nothing less (and nothing more). it’s fine.

and there was an awkward, momentary silence for a few seconds. he’d fallen still, holding the cigarette he’d been about to take a drag from in mid air, amber eyes flickering with an emotion unreadable to you.

“say what, dollface?” he asks — using that petname with you again, that your exes always hated — and the disbelieving tone in his voice embarrasses you, brings a flush to your cheeks and ties a knot of humiliation in your guts.

you squirm on the back of his motorcycle, as he turns his head to look at you, leaning against the fence right by you, where he’d parked the vehicle. 

“i—” you stutter, flustered. “no guy’s ever made me cum before.” just something funny that’d slipped out your mouth, during a lazy game of truth or dare you’d played during his smoke break after class.

“that’s fucking funny, doll.” he does laugh, but it’s awkward. “you serious?”

“yes.” you’d answered. truthfully.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ and now, you’re splayed out between hanma’s legs, on his bed in his room, his long and lithe fingers bullying their way into your cunt for the third time. “h—ah! wait!”

he’s leaning against the headboard, one arm hooked around your waist, hand firmly on your thigh and holding your legs spread apart, fingers in your pussy as he chuckles lowly at your whines.

you’d question it — question what the fuck was happening, if he just wasn’t so fucking hot and making you feel so fucking good.

“that’s it,” he smirks, as you drop your head against his chest, grabbing onto his wrist, desperately trying to close your legs as he effortlessly draws another orgasm out of you. “that’s it ... ya look fuckin’ cute when you’re cumming.”

he laughs when you try to look up at him and scowl, eyes fluttering and rolling back into your head when he uses the hand that’s not busy fucking your pussy to land a slap on your clit. 

you moan again, and he laughs. “see? atta girl, so pretty when you cum. tellin’ me nobody’s ever seen you like this?” 

you dont answer, too busy trying to blink back the wave of dizziness that’s washing over you with the bliss hanma’s giving you, on his fingers alone.

the inked kanji on the back of his hand flashes darkly, sin bobbing up and down between your legs, shiny with your slick, as hanma curls his fingers into your tight, clenching walls and rasps into the shell of your ear, “asked you a question, dollface.”

“nobody,” you gasp, for some reason so nervous yet so turned on, by the demanding, challenging edge to his tone. “nobody, hanma— ah!”

“tch, it’s shuji, sweetheart.” he pinches your clit, laughs when your knees jerk up at the sensation. 

his voice goes a little softer as he continues, thinking you wouldn’t notice the hint of jealousy and longing in his voice with the state you’re in. “gonna keep me just your friend, just your ol’ buddy hanma-kun even after i take you on my bed, fuck you on my fingers ’n make you cum over ’n over again?”

“a—mngh, ’m sorry, shuji,” you whine, too enamoured by how he feels to argue, and his heart jumps at how sweet his name sounds off your tongue. “f—fuck, feels so good!”

“would feel better if i were usin’ my tongue. or if you were on my cock.” he laughs when your expression visibly scrunches up in embarrassment, cooing at you and telling you how cute you are as he grips your waist and turns you around to straddle him, legs shaky with the effect of your previous orgasms. “want me to do it, yeah?”

“mmm,” you answer though you’re not sure what he means, holding onto his shoulders for support. he holds you steady, and slides himself down onto his back onto the mattress, pushing your legs further apart around him and cupping your ass, pulling you forward — and you realize what he’s about to do. “shuji, no, i’ve n—”

you cut yourself off, but hanma picks your sentence up anyway.

“never been eaten out before?” he asks, sounding both unconvinced and pissed off at the same time, and you sit there as he stares up at you, so fucking embarrassed—

“my doll’s been gettin’ treated like shit, huh?” he breathes, gold eyes tracing your figure down. “sweet lil’ thing, i’ll show you how y’should be treated, a’right?”

“mm,” you let out a sound, so shy when his voice goes all sympathetic. it makes your pussy go slick with want, your heart beating faster with anticipation. “mkay.”

hanma doesn’t hold back. he tightens his arms around your hips and waist in an instant, pulling your cunt down on his mouth, nose pressed just over your clit as he inhales deep into you, letting out a needy growl as he opens his mouth and takes you.

your hands scramble to find a hold on the headboard as he rocks you forward, trapping you on your knees with your thighs plush and warm around his face, drinking in your cunt — devouring you like a man starved. “fuck,” he slurs into your heat, muffled and hot. “shit, baby, s’ fuckin—good.”

his tongue grazes your clit, curls around it and sucks, and you cry out, squirming in his arms, one hand leaving the headboard to get down and curl your fingers into his hair and tug, stuttering his name out in a pleading chant. “shuji, shuji, shuji — fuck!”

the moan he lets out when you pull at his black and blonde locks thrums against your cunt, and when he sucks at your clit again, slurping loudly and grunting praise into you, it’s enough to make you cum again. “ah, shuji, cumming, cumming!”

“i know,” he hisses, and when you look down at him, the rise of his cheekbones, his nose and his mouth are soaked with your wetness— and his eyes are blown wide, the gold of them almost lost in the darkness of his want. “i know, baby. i know.”

“please,” you hiccup, tears blurring your vision, hips trembling as you try not to collapse over hanma’s face.

your cunt aches, empty despite the way he shoves his tongue up your fluttering hole, and you dont want another orgasm without it. “fuck! shuji — shuji please, need your cock.”

“mm — what’d you say, dollface?” he grunts, licking at your clit, yanking you back in when you try to lift yourself off him. “cant just get all you want like that. say it right f’me.”

“w-what?” you sob, unsure what he means but so needy to obey, because you just need him to stuff you full and fill you up already.

you dont know if it’s wrong or not, to want your best friend’s dick inside you so badly, but you’ve gone this far, havent you? he’s giving you what you want.

“you g’na do as i say?” he smirks, watching how you nod and keen when he tongues at your abused clit again. “then say ‘i love you, daddy, i only want you ‘n your cock from now on’.”

huh? — it takes a second or two, but the words put clarity in your head, somewhat, when you hear them. 

swallowing back the shaky whine of acceptance bubbling at your throat, you manage to ask instead, “you want me to tell you i love you?”

there’s a small pause, before hanma’s grip on your hips tightens again. 

but this time, he pulls you off.

it urges you back to your position straddling his hips, as he sits back up, leaning on the headboard once more — and though his hard-on brushing hot and heavy through his jeans against your messy cunt is distracting, you pay attention to his expression instead.

hanma stares at you, face wet with your slick and hair messy with your hand tangling through the dyed locks. “so you ... dont?”

it’s a sudden flipside to the multiple orgasms he’d just sent you through, and it disorients you just a little. 

but the look in his amber eyes, black and blonde hair stuck to his forehead and framing his face, the warmth in your heart as you contemplate an answer — and the desperate ache in your empty cunt, it all convinces you to say you do.

“i do.”

there’s yet another damned pause, as you sit on hanma’s lap, naked and with his dick hard under your ass, your palms flat against his bare chest — if someone’d told you before that a dumb game of truth or dare after class would lead you to this situation, you’d laugh.

but — but this is shuji. he’s rough on the exterior, a major tease, a man notorious and famous on the streets; but really? he’s sweet.

he buys you coffee, takes you out shopping, takes you to the salon, pays for your takeout. he always tells you he'll fuck your exes up if they hurt you or make you cry (and they have done so, but you've never allowed him to beat them).

he goes with you to the library, even though he doesn't even care for spending hours on assignments or work. to be fair, he does leave you in there and go out to smoke after only a few minutes, but he always comes back to drop you home.

he's so nice to you, despite himself. and turns out, if you'd just ask, he'd fuck you too.

he’s your best friend. nothing less, nothing more, but you decide it now, trembling from the euphoria he’s giving you. you want more.

it’s possessive and spells desire, how he’d pulled you in here to make up for your ‘stupid shit exes’, telling you he would make you feel good if nobody else has done it before.

it’s all so sudden, but it makes sense. he’s been just your best friend this whole time, but you want more.

“i do love you, shuji.”

hanma lets out a breath, when you repeat it. “really, now?” he mutters. “not just sayin’ that so i’ll give you my cock? dont play with my heart now, doll.” he chuckles, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes.

“i do.” you mumble, shy again under the intensity of his piercing stare. “and i guess ... that’s why it never worked with anyone else. when you were there this whole time.”

“hah,” hanma laughs, steadying his hold on your waist before bringing one hand up to pat your cheek. ”y’ telling me no other asshole could make you cum, ‘cause you were busy wishin’ it was me?”

“no!” you blurt out, but when he grins wider, slides his hand down from your cheek to pinch the soft flesh of your tits, the electric shiver that courses down your spine says otherwise. it would be a lie, to say that you’ve never wanted him. “yeah, m-maybe.”

“fuck,” he hisses at that, eyes going even darker, like the dubious confirmation you’d given him was all he needed, like it was a love shot and a stroke of lust in one — and he yanks the buttons and zipper of his jeans open, tugging the fabric apart and pulling out his straining cock.

it’s big — unsurprising, but still a sight to take in, and you whimper tearfully when he grabs the length in his hand and taps his head to your clit, letting out a breathy chuckle. “biggest cock y’ ever seen, mhm?”

and you’d want to keep from boosting his ego, but the way you stare is answer enough. “n-need you in me, shuji.” you beg, and he just laughs again, rubbing the pearl of precum that swells at his tip across your slit, teasing. “say what i told you to say, then. if y’love me.”

call him daddy? “do i really have to?” you whine, pushing forward and grinding up on his cockhead. it ellicits a rough moan from him, that makes your clit throb when you hear it — but hanma remains adamant.

“you hafta, dollface.” he smiles, showing you teeth. “you’ll do it, if y’ really want me so bad.”

and god, the layers of pleasure he’d drowned you in are too sharp, too overwhelming for you to refuse and stop this right now — you want, need his cock. right now.

fine. “i—i love you, daddy.” you mumble, eyes skirting down because you cant bring yourself to look him in the eyes. “and i-i want only you. only your cock, and only you. i love you.”

and it’s like hanma has been waiting for this moment his whole life.

“shit, baby,” he huffs, pulling your tits flush against his body as he grabs you by the waist and by the back of your neck, dragging you in and meeting your lips with his in a starved kiss — fuck, he hadn’t kissed you until now? 

you realize it, with both a pang and a fluttering in your heart, but the thought is soon knocked out of your head, as he kisses you again, tasting the lingering essence of yourself on his tongue, tasting him, catching the scent of cigarettes and men’s cologne on his mouth and neck as you lean into him, letting him savour you whole. 

“god, i love you.” he groans, as he lines his cock up at your entrance, sliding sin and punishment over to your ass again and sheathing you down on him. “loved you f’so long now, baby. d’you know how i’ve felt? ‘n now y’re fuckin’ telling me all those assholes you dated never made you cum. fuck.”

“mm, sh-shuji!” you cry, and he moans in your ear in reply. “s-slower! please, please—”

“‘m too big for you?” he rasps, voice hoarse with pleasure. god, he’s wanted this forever. your tight, velvet walls clenching around him, wet and hot and your body on him, so pretty and all his.

“cant slow down, sweetheart.” he hisses. “consider this your punishment. for playin’ with my heart like that, for so long.” you’ve got your arms wrapped around hanma’s neck, trying to control the pace at which you sink down on his cock, but he rolls his hips up and pushes all the way into you anyway.

“a—haah! shuji!” your moan is saccharine in his ear, and he swallows back a curse, knowing that it’s not going to be long before he’s cumming, filling you all up.

“say sorry, baby.” he growls, pulling out before shoving back in you again, putting stars into your eyes with the sharp slap of skin against skin, the harsh kiss of his tip against your cervix. “really didn’t think i loved you, even when i was fuckin’ knuckle deep in you? callin’ you my dollface and telling you y’re pretty ‘n driving you around, and sucking on that sweet lil clit?”

you cry out, when he bites at the side of your neck, feeling even more embarrassed, feeling stupid — because god, you were stupid to miss the signs. to think he was just like that. when he only ever was that way with you. “‘m sorry, sorry. please, i’m sorry.”

“hmm,” he lulls, kissing the marks of his teeth that he’d left on you. “cant be mean with you, can i? too fuckin’ sweet for your own good.”

your mouth is on his cheek, lips sliding down his jaw in desperate kisses, needing him more even when he’s right here, when your body’s pressed to his and his lips are on you and his cock is all the way in your cunt. “mmngh,” you try, too dizzy to answer properly.

“now let’s teach ya how it feels to cum on a big, fat cock, yeah, dollface?” he says, starting up a hasty rhythm with his cock, up and down into you as you struggle to stay sitting up on his lap. “poor lil’ doll’s never even done this before?”

“never.” you keen, lost in the way his cock is so long, so thick, reaching all the sweet spots deep in your cunt in one fucking go. “n-never came on a cock before.”

“yeah, i know.” he says, all sympathetic again, and it sends heat rushing to both your face and your core. “g’na beg daddy to let you cum all over his cock?”

“mhm,” you moan, and he smiles, brings you in for another kiss as he speeds up. “then say it, baby. say what y’need to say to have your way.”

“mm, daddy, daddy—” you sob, trying to kiss him back as he hums into your mouth, forgetting your embarrassment at having to call him that, because fuck, it was starting to feel fitting. “please let me cum on your cock, please, please—”

“only if you’ll let me fill this pretty pussy all up.” he stutters, voice turning all raspy as he goes even faster, bouncing you up and down so hard as he nears his high. 

he loves the way you beg. loves the way you call him by that name. so cute, and almost pathetic, for him. it’s a fresh change. one he wants to hold on to. “yeah? you’ll let me do that, baby? let daddy fill your cunt up with his cum?”

“yes,” you gasp, vision going cloudy with both tears and pleasure as you feel the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter all over again. “fuck, anything! anything, daddy, just please.”

“please what?” his laugh is now hoarse, as he looks at your blissed out face from under his lashes, eyes lidded and heavy with lust and pleasure.

the bedsheets under you are soaked, but neither of you can care — you moan again, sucking in a breath and falling into hanma’s chest, tired but so, so desperate to cum again. “please, shuji. please. need to cum on your cock. need you to cum in me.”

and he does. 

hanma watches, vision hazy as his cock slides out of your cunt milky and drooling, and pushes back in — pushes in so deep he hits your cervix again and he cums, leaking hot, white ropes of seed into your tight, wet cunt — and it makes you cum, too.

“fuck, tryna milk me all up, huh?” he heaves as he maintains his pace, gritting his teeth and grabbing your hips when you try to meet the rhythm, pussy fluttering and sucking him in like you’ve needed him as much as he’s needed you. “pretty, pretty lil’ pussy — all mine, yeah?”

“all yours, shuji.” you sob, and he stares as your head tilts up, eyes rolling back in your head as they fall shut, drowning in the pure heaven of cumming while stuffed full of his big, big cock. “a-hnngh, all yours.”

“yeah, that’s right.” he growls, wrapping punishment around your throat, hauling you back in to kiss you, sloppy and open mouthed, as sin slips down between your bodies — pressing into your pulsing clit with his thumb as he continues fucking up into you, pace relaxing slowly. “that’s right. y’re all mine now. forever.”

an: hilarious how this was supposed to be only a short drabble but now it's a whole ass fic under venus's god tier ask </3

[trafalgar-temptress-deactivated]

hi so sorry to bug u 😭 just wondering if u’ve heard of a kiribaku oneshot where the reader was thinking of breaking up w bakugou but bkg brings kiri into the bedroom to fuck him while the reader watches… it was something like that and i can Not find it 😭😭😭

i have not! maybe one of my followers can help? or maybe the queen - @kingkatsuki might know?

[giving-eraser-head]

is it this one???

[vagabondingsarchiived]

I don't like anyone better than you(it's true)

alpha!ran x alpha!mikey x alpha!draken x omega!reader

summary - when you go to visit your brother in prison you catch the attention of a few touch starved alphas.

cws - omegaverse, there's scenting and breeding, and rough, posessive sex, readers brother is an addict in prison, dub!con bordering on non! con the first time but tbh reader's into it they make her feel safe, she's just nervous. unhealthy behavior, ran/mikey/draken use their gang connections to keep an eye on reader while they're in prison, daddy, alpha, god, choking, impact play, spitting, praise, degradation, yandere, offscreen violence, so much smut, they genuinely come to care for you.

You shift your weight nervously, holding the phone to your ear. Your brother looks bad, even by prison standards. He’s lost weight, and the circles underneath his eyes are purpled. 

“I’m fine.” He mutters. “How’re you, how’s mom?” 

“Mom’s,” you trail off, “Drinking a lot but keeping up appearances.” 

“So normal.” He cracks a grin. “And you? How’s work?” 

“Good but a lot.” You press your lips together. “I’m just really worried about you, are you safe, are you eating enough?” He sighs. 

“I’m fine, I already told you.” He shrugs. “You’re the one who has to deal with mom, I’d rather be on the inside.” You nod. “And what the hell are you doing here, anyway?” You droop a little.

“I, I can handle being here. I can’t handle the idea of you serving a six-month sentence without any visitors.” 

“It’s dangerous for you to be here.” He says firmly. 

“Well, I’m not going to stop coming.” You retort, with as much venom as you can muster. He seems to relent a little at that. 

“I don’t like the way even the guards look at you,” he says, expressing his annoyance with an eye roll, “It’s disgusting.” You sigh and change the subject. 

“Well, I sent you some money, so-” He rolls his eyes, “Stop I mean, just use it, okay, fuck your pride, this is important. Just a few more weeks.” He nods, and the guard signals it’s time for him to go. 

“See you next week.” He nods to you warily. “I’ll uh, I’ll spend your cash, just be safe for me, alright?” You stand and give him a little wave before he disappears on the other side of the glass. There are a few more people visiting, but the guard waves you through the open door, your shoes squeaking on the cement floor. He leads you down an unfamiliar hallway, it must be closer to where the prisoners are staying because you can smell the pheromones all around you. This was, after all, a prison for Alphas. Not a place you’d ideally like to be lost in. 

“Oh ah,” you stop and turn to the guard, “This isn’t um, this isn’t the way I came in.” The guard just shrugs, and opens a door, ignoring you. 

“This way.” He says firmly.

“Thank you.” You say politely, hands folded in front of your body as you enter what you thought would be a hallway, but looks like some kind of interrogation room, with a table and no windows. You let out a little terrified squeak as you make eye contact with three of the most terrifying-looking men you’ve ever seen, you whirl around but the heavy door closes behind you, and the handle doesn’t budge. They stare at you like you’re dinner, served up on a silver platter. You bang on the locked door, ignoring them to the best of your ability. “Um, Hello,” you call down the hallways, “It’s, there’s been a mistake, I think-” 

“Don’t bother, sweetheart.” The tallest alpha says, and his voice is low and rasping. You turn around and flatten yourself against the door. “He ain’t comin’ back until we get what we want.” You swallow. 

“She’s shaking.” The other man has candy-colored hair that’s been growing out at the roots, lavender fading to black. “That’s fuckin’ adorable.” 

“W-what do you um, what do you want?” You manage, voice betraying your fear. “I do um, I do have some money, I could give you, but the guards have my wallet and things-” 

“We don’t want your money.” The shortest man says, and his dark eyes bore holes into you. “Move away from the door.” You listen, scooting just a little to the left, still flat against the door. “I’m Mikey.” He says, sounding bored, “That’s Draken, and Ran.” He gestures to the other men, you swallow and nod to them. “We run this place.” You nod. 

“N-nice to meet you.” You stammer and Ran chuckles. 

“So what the hell is an omega doing here,” The tallest one, Draken, speaks first, “What the fuck was going through your head when you got out of bed this morning?” 

“I-” You swallow, all moisture promptly leaves your mouth at the anger in his tone. “I’m sorry,” you blurt, and he softens a degree. “I, there’s no one else to visit my brother.” You jiggle the door handle but it won’t budge. “Please, I-.” You whisper. 

“Relax sweetheart,” Ran smiles, his pronounced canines glinting in the fluorescents. “We’ve got a deal for you, I think you’re gonna want to take it.” 

“What’s the deal?” You whisper, hands shaking so badly you clasp them together to stop their trembling. 

“You’re gonna be a very, very good girl for us,” Draken drawls, “And we’re not gonna kill your burnout brother.” Your mouth goes dry. 

“I, um,” you take a short shallow breath, “I’m n-n-not sure,” 

“Baby’s having a panic attack,” Ran coos, “C’mere sweetheart, calm down.” Ran strides across the room to you, monstrously tall and lanky, “Gimme your hands,” His orange prison shirt is unbuttoned, and when he leans forward it swings open, revealing a colossal tattoo covering half of his chest. He smells like cigarettes and pine trees, and you’re so terrified you can hardly move, but somehow you summon the will to hold your hands out to him. He flattens them between giant palms and leads you over to the table, which is chained to the floor in the middle of the room. 

“Good omega,” Draken repeats, putting a hand on your shoulder and starting to slip your jacket off. “Just do everything daddy says and it’ll all be fine.” You nod. 

“Fuck,” Ran breathes, looking you up and down, “Been so fucking long since I’ve had pussy,” 

“Tough,” Mikey says sharply, from where he’s leaning against the wall. “I’m going first.” You’re still shaking and Draken starts rubbing your back, setting your jacket on the table. He slips out of his shirt, revealing broad shoulders and tattooed muscle. He’s got one tendril of hair falling out of his dark braid. 

“We’re not gonna hurtcha,” Draken practically growls in your ear, sending shivers down your spine, you feel his lips on your neck, and moan softly. Ran leans down and kisses you tenderly, cupping your face with one hand. Mikey clears his throat. 

“Easy, boss,” Ran straightens up, “We’re just calming her down.” He smooths your hair then Draken spins you around to face Mikey, who still looks bored. He walks over to you, hands in his pockets. He’s taller than you, but barely, eyes so dark they’re nearly black. 

“You got a boyfriend?” He asks, and you shake your head. “You a virgin?” You shake your head again. “Good.” He moves you then, so quickly you barely realize it’s happening, he bends you over the metal table, and yanks your skirt down to your ankles, your panties soon follow. You whimper quietly as he parts your folds and slips a finger inside you experimentally. “Fuck,” he looks at the other two men, “She’s fucking wet.” You moan with embarrassment and your hands fly to your face. Draken pulls them away, pinning them to the cool table. Ran rubs a circle on your back as Mikey scissors his fingers, and then roughly pushes himself inside you. “Oh my god,” he mumbles, “Oh my fucking god,” he throws his head back, sighing deeply. 

“Yeah?” Draken says, tightly holding your wrists. Mikey nods. 

“Missed this so fuckin’ much,” He says softly, before setting a brutal pace, you moan loudly, and Ran covers your mouth. “Good slut,” Mikey says, massaging your ass before burying himself inside you to the hilt and stilling, enjoying the way you feel wrapped tightly around him. He’s long, and with every thrust of his heavy cock you feel him nudging against that spot inside you that makes you see stars. You warble something out against Ran’s hand, and the tall man tangles long fingers in your hair, massaging your scalp. 

“You’re doing so well,” He says, “Such a good little lamb.” You sniffle a little, tears in your eyes. 

“You on birth control?” Draken asks and you shake your head desperately. He smirks and looks at the other two men. “Bet I breed her before you can.” 

“Go to hell,” Mikey chokes out, “I’m so fucking close,” his grip on your hips becomes bruising as you feel him get impossibly hard inside you, and then relax, finishing with a stream of violent swearing. You tremble on the table and Ran releases your mouth. 

“Please,” you whisper, “Please, please don’t hurt me.” Draken chuckles darkly. 

“I’m pretty big, baby,” he coos in his low rasp, “It’s gonna hurt,” You swallow. 

“Her pussy’s something else,” Mikey says, collapsing in a chair, not helping Ran hold you down. 

“It’s just been eight months on the inside,” Ran rolls his eyes, “All pussy is something else.” 

“I like this omega,” Mikey complains, “I’m keeping her.” You freeze just as Draken lines up behind you, 

“You’re scarin’ the poor thing,” Draken coos, rubbing your back affectionately. “Don’t worry, baby we’ll take such good care of you, now that you’re ours.” You shiver, and Ran squeezes your hand, pinning your wrists to the table. You feel him start to push his length inside you and your mouth drops open, and your eyes flutter shut. He reaches up and takes one fistful of your hair and then rests his other hand heavily on your lower back, groaning a little as he slowly starts to fuck you. “Oh my god,” he mutters, “How much d’ya think we’d have to bribe the guards to take her back to our cell?” 

“Too much.” Ran says icily. “But don’t worry, lamb, we’ll have our men keep an eye on you while you’re not here.” You’re barely coherent, Draken is fucking you deep and slow, with the patience of a saint, savoring every thrust, sending you closer and closer to your high without sending you over the edge. 

“Gimme her hands.” Draken snaps at Ran, who obliges, Draken folds them behind your back and uses them as leverage as he picks up the pace, “Fuck baby,” he groans, “I’m gonna breed this tight little cunt, make it fuckin’ mine,” he hits the last word hard, half snarling, feeling you start to clench down on him. “You wanna cum?” He says, taking his free hand and brushing some hair from your face, “You wanna cum, baby, ask daddy for permission.” 

“P-please,” you warble. “Please daddy,” 

“Jesus fucking christ,” Draken snaps, “Yeah, fuck yeah,” he rakes his nails down your back as you cum hard on his cock and he follows soon after. You’re crying quietly, and he sighs happily, tracing a pattern on your back for a minute before taking Ran’s seat when he stands. Ran pulls you to your feet and then knocks your legs out from under you, laying you on the table on your back. 

“I wanted to see your pretty tits,” he coos, pushing your shirt up as Draken pins your wrists above your head, “Since you’re such a pretty crier.” 

“She is,” Mikey breathes, leaning back in his chair. Ran cracks a smile at his boss, reaching down and playing with your puffy little clit, making you squirm on the table. 

“Tell me something,” He says to you, ‘What do you do?” 

“M-marketing and data analysis.” You mumble, trying to focus even as he teases you. 

“I didn’t know omegas could have jobs like that,” he coos, “And how much do you make?” He asks, draping your legs over his shoulder, watching your back arch up off the table. 

“Ninety thousand a year.” You get out, closing your eyes, lifting your hips into his touch. He chuckles darkly. 

“If you’re a good girl for us,” He smirks, “I’ll double it.” He pushes his cock inside you and you gasp at the sudden intrusion. He doesn’t fuck you like Draken, doesn’t start slow, he’s immediately thrusting with full speed and power, palming your tits with one hand, the other holding your legs while he pounds into you. “Holy shit,” he breathes, “Missed pussy so goddamn much,” he throws his head back, swearing, his hands sinking into the plush of your thighs. Your breath is coming in short sharp gasps, you’re barely aware of what’s happening around you, of Draken softly carding his fingers through your hair, of Mikey watching smugly as Ran loses his composure on top of you. 

“If you wanna cum,” He says icily, “Better start begging.” The words pour from your mouth, nearly unbidden, it just feels so good, and he reaches down, and closes his fist around your throat. “Go ahead, slut, cum for me.” He orders and you obey, your orgasm ripping through your body, feeling like you’ve tumbled over the edge into a free fall. When you’re aware again a  few minutes later, he’s cumming deep inside you and lightly slapping your face. “Say thank you alpha.” He instructs. 

“Th-thank you alpha.” You whisper, lying on the table. You’re only partially aware of Ran and Draken helping you back into your clothes. Draken takes your chin in one hand, gently but firmly. 

“You’re gonna come back next week, same time.” You swallow, glancing at them nervously, legs shaking.

“A-a-are you sure?” You ask. He laughs, looking at the other men. 

“We sure?” His voice drips sarcasm. 

“Yes.” Mikey says flatly, but he reaches for you, and the other men step away. He holds you tightly to his chest. He buries his face in your neck, sighing before letting you go. Your hands are still shaking so he takes them. “Same time, next week. No one but us will touch you.” You get an odd look on your face and Mikey cocks his head, expecting resistance.

“H-he’s not eating.” You blurt out, and they look at you, confused, “My b-brother, he’s not eating and he’s, he’s only 19.” You look down at your hands. “If I-I come back, c-could you make sure, make sure no one is taking his food.” There’s a brief silence. “I’ll be good,” you promise, looking up at them, desperately, “I’ll be so good for you.” The men exchange glances and for a moment no one speaks.

“Yeah,” Draken relents, and the other men look at him quickly. “Yeah, we’ll make sure no one’s fuckin’ with his food.” You let out a deep sigh of relief. You leave the room, and you’re ushered down a hallway, given your keys and wallet, and shove them in your pocket. Your first thought, when your car starts, is emergency contraception. You speed to the nearest Walgreens and don’t even wait until you get home to take the pill. 

You flop on your couch in your apartment, head spinning, and then jump into the shower, avoiding your reflection in the mirror, sure there will be bite marks and bruises. 

“Got a soft spot for the bitch already?” Ran teases, leaning against the wall and smoking while Draken curls a weight. 

“We’ve been in here for eight months,” Draken grunts, setting the weight down, sweat glistening in the late afternoon sun. “And she’s the first omega who set foot in this building.” He shrugs. “You don’t wanna be her favorite?” Ran chuckles, taking a long drag. 

“It’s a good point. Surprised Mikey even went for it.” 

“I’m not.” Draken goes back to curling the weight. “He’s used to gettin’ it whenever. In his world, pussy costs money and he’s willing to pay.” 

“Yeah.” Ran looks out at the setting sun. “Honestly, I didn't give much of a shit about the bitch, nice pussy, nice face, I like her tits.” He shrugs. “Thought it was cute though. That she was ready to do whatever for her little bro.” 

“Considering you’re serving Rin’s time.” Draken grunts, setting the weight down again. “Makes sense that you’d feel that way.” “Already looked into it, by the way,” Ran confirms. “She was right, there was a group of guys keepin’ him from the mess hall.” Draken stretches, setting the weight on the ground.

“Yeah?” He smirks. “How long are they in hospital for?” 

“Few weeks.” Ran returns his smile. “Felt good.” 

The whole week you’re on edge, locking your doors, jumping at every little noise. A few times you think you’re being followed. On Saturday morning you put just a little bit more makeup on than usual, wondering why you’re dressing up for them, putting on nice underwear, matching your bra. Your car doesn’t start right away, and you have a little panic attack before you realize you need to turn the key all the way. You get there early, and you feel like you’re being watched, handing over your wallet and phone to the guards, checking your coat. You're wearing a skirt again, and a soft sweater. Your brother looks better, you decide, a little less haggard, a little less tired. You feel a vague sense of accomplishment, chattering with him happily. 

“A few weeks,” You give him a warm smile. “And mom’s got a room for you, I’ve got a job lined up for you, everything’s gonna be fine.” He manages to crack a smile. 

“Yeah.” He looks down at his hands. “Warehouse shit, huh?” You nod. “Not bad.” He nods. “Am I stuck with the graveyard shift?” You shrug. 

“I don’t know, I can find out?” You offer, and he nods. 

“S’weird. Looking forward to something.” He leans back. “I’ve been so focused on surviving for so long.” 

“Listen,” you lean forward, attempting to close the gap he’s drawn. “Addiction is an illness, and you’re clean. You have a support system. We’re all here for you.” He nods, and the guard signals that his time is up. “See you next week.” You say quickly, and he smiles. 

“Yeah, of course. See you next week.” He stands up and the guards lead him away. Your

stomach does a backflip as the guard leads you down the hallway again, bypassing the exit. He opens the door and this time your hands are almost not shaking as you hear the heavy metal door slam behind you. They’re waiting, Ran’s sitting at the table, and Mikey and Draken are leaning against the wall. This time none of them are wearing their shirts and you suppose you can’t blame them, it’s an unseasonably warm fall. Somehow your legs carry you forward but you stop just short of them. 

“Whatsa matter,” Ran drawls, “You need instructions?” You nod despite yourself and he laughs genuinely. “Fuck that’s adorable,” he reaches a hand out like lightning and it curls around your wrist, yanking you into his lap. Draken pushes off the wall and pulls your sweater over your head, palming your breasts through your bra. Ran doesn’t even take your panties off, just slips them to the side and starts roughly fingering you, pulling a short gasp from your lips. “You can touch me,” he says, smiling evilly, and you reach forward experimentally, wrapping your arms around his neck. He decides, evidently that you’re prepped enough, shoving his pants down and bullying his cock inside you. You moan a little, half pain, half pleasure, and he wraps two muscled arms around your waist, setting a brutal pace. He doesn’t let you ride, he lifts your body up and slams it down on his cock. 

“Oh my god,” you repeat over and over again, “Oh my god, oh my god, fuck,” your mouth drops open. 

“Tell me you love it.” Ran says, “Tell me how much you love my cock.” 

“L-love it,” you choke out, “Love your cock alpha, thank, thank you,” you tighten your grip on his neck. 

“This pussy belongs to us,” He snaps, and you lift your head to hold eye contact with him when you nod. 

“Yes sir,” you gasp again, “Fuck, fuck-” you lose yourself in it, relaxed a bit now that you know they’re not going to hurt you, feeling an odd sense of purpose while pleasing them. 

“Cum for me.” He orders, “I wanna feel you cum while I split you fuckin’ open,” you whimper and he watches you lose control for a moment, babbling something incoherent while your orgasm overtakes you. He cums inside you a few moments later, tucking your body into his own, burying your teary face in his neck. Draken clears his throat. 

“We don’t have time for that shit.” He says. “You can cuddle her on the outside.” If you weren’t still cockdrunk that might have set off some alarm bells in your head. Ran gives you a little squeeze and then acquiesces. Draken pulls you to your feet, but your legs give out from under you. He catches you dexterously, cradling your body to his warm broad chest, and laying you down on the table, taking your panties off. Ran’s eyes are closed, he’s blissed out, but Draken turns to Mikey. “You’re fucking quiet.” The blonde shrugs. 

“I didn’t finish her last time.” He mutters, looking away. “I wasn’t sure we’d have half an hour.” Draken shrugs. 

“Didn’t realize you cared about that.” 

“I don’t,” Mikey says, still grumpy. “Hurry the fuck up.” Draken shrugs again and eases himself inside you, watching the expression on your face as he fills you up, watches you struggle to take it, squirming a little to get out of the way. 

“Where ya goin’,” he teases, “Too much for you, is daddy’s cock too much?” You nod, and he reaches out and wraps a hand around your neck, not exerting any pressure, but you freeze. “That’s a good girl,” he says, starting to fuck you slowly, “Stay still f’me.” He chokes you just a little and feels you clench down on him. “You like that,” he asks, “Like it when daddy chokes you?” You nod. He picks up the pace just a little, choking you harder, “Fuck, yeah,” he groans, “You ready for me to cum inside that pussy, fill you up?” You nod again, emphatically and he chokes you even harder as he finishes, feeling you struggle for air, squirming on the table but he closes his eyes, letting his own high sweep him away. By the time he lets go of your neck you’re gasping for breath, Ran runs his long fingers through your hair affectionately. 

“So rough,” He teases, “So rough with our sweet thing.” 

“Fuck off,” Draken snaps. “You slapped her last time.” Ran grins. 

“Did I forget this time?” He muses. “Hm.” Draken ignores him, plucking you off the table and holding you against his chest, rubbing your back. Mikey rolls his eyes, taking the shirt that’s tied around his waist and folding it on the floor. 

“Give her to me.” He says softly, and Draken obliges. Mikey takes you and sets you on your knees on his shirt. He arranges you so that your palms are flat on the concrete floor and glances at the other two men. “I wanna know how she sucks cock.” You swallow nervously. “Either of you still hard?” Draken shakes his head but Ran shrugs. 

“Mostly.” 

“Get over here and fuck her face.” Ran grins. 

“Don’t have to tell me twice, boss.” He moves across the room and kneels in front of you, “Not too fast,” he says, rapping your nose to get your attention. “No teeth.” You nod. “Say yes alpha.” He reminds you. 

“Yes, alpha,” you look up at him as Mikey starts to fuck you hard and fast, pulling hushed moans from your lips. You open your mouth and Ran pushes his cock inside, forcing it down your throat and you manage somehow not to gag, even with Mikey pounding into you. The second time you’re not as lucky, your eyes watering. 

“That’s it,” Ran coos, hands tangled in your hair, “Cry for me while you choke on it.” You don’t have a choice they’re both so strong, and after a few minutes, Mikey reaches around your body and rubs at your clit, it’s enough to bring you to the edge and hold you there. Ran pulls out, and cups your tear-streaked face, “You wanna cum, sweetheart.” 

“Yes sir.” You choke out, “Please, can-” 

“Ask Mikey.” He coaches. 

“Call me god.” Mikey snaps coldly, “Ask your god if you can cum.” 

“Please please god-” You beg, voice hitched and desperate, “Please, please please-” 

“Go ahead,” He snaps, “Fuck,” nearly cumming immediately at the sound of you begging for his divine mercy. Ran pulls out and then jacks off onto your tongue, groaning loudly as he watches you swallow. He pets your head, after, helping you to your feet as Mikey gets dressed again. You stumble, and catch yourself on the table, looking for your panties. 

“I’m keeping these.” Ran smirks, dangling your pink cotton panties in the air and then pocketing them. 

“Y-yes alpha.” You manage and he grins. Draken helps you get dressed, rubbing soft circles on your skin. 

“You’re not seeing anyone else.” He says darkly, and it’s half question, half order. 

“N-no.” You look up at him. “I’m not seeing anyone else.” 

“Good girl,” He praises, smoothing your hair. Mikey touches your shoulder, and you turn to look at him. To your surprise, he folds you into his body, crushing you against his chest, pulling you across the table. He sighs, one hand on the back of your head, looking at Ran and Draken as if you’re not even there. 

“We need to talk about shipments, and about how we’ll maintain control when we’re out.” 

“Hanma’s always game to go back inside,” Ran snickers, “It’s like a game to him how much he can break out.” Mikey nods. 

“Possible.” He says. Draken clears his throat and gestures to you. “I don’t care what she hears,” Mikey says flatly. “She knows not to cross us, don’t you?” He shifts you so that you can look at him. 

“I, I wouldn’t.” You say softly. “Do anything to hurt you.” You swallow. “I know you’re helping my brother.” Mikey nods, leaning down and kissing you tenderly, one arm around your waist, practically holding you up. 

“Time to go.” He says quietly and you nod, adjusting your hair and then scooting out of the room, leaving them alone. Mikey massages his temples. “Her brother gets out in two weeks.” He says. Ran smiles. 

“I think we could impress upon her the importance of her return by proxy.” Draken rolls his eyes but Mikey nods. 

“Use Chifuyu though.” He says. “Rindou will scare her so much she’ll be in the wind.” 

“Aw,” Ran grins, “My little bro isn’t scary he’s like, five foot ten.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and starts towards the door. 

“Worried she’s not gonna get home safe?” Draken says, raising his eyebrows. Ran shrugs.  

“It’s a dangerous world out there.” He pushes the heavy metal door open. “You, of all people know that.” He leaves the two men alone, heading to the yard. There’s a brief silence before Mikey speaks. 

“He’s right,” Mikey says. “She’s a nice girl. Bad things happen to nice girls all the time.” 

—

You’re making dinner alone in your apartment, a cool wind blowing outside your windows when there’s a knock on your door. You turn down the heat on your stove, and then make your way to the door peeking out before opening it. There’s no one in the hallway and your heart races. You close the door, and lock it, forcing yourself to breathe deeply. 

“It’s nothing.” You say out loud, alone. “It’s nothing.” You go back to your soup and put your headphones in. 

—--

A week later Ran is grimacing at breakfast when Draken and Mikey join him at a table, he pushes the oatmeal around the tray. 

“Ugh.” He shakes his head. “Can’t wait to eat normal food again, and,” he raises a finger, “Chifuyu says she cooks,” Draken smirks. 

“Of course she does.” 

“He also says she works a lot, she does live alone, she hasn’t been lying to protect a boyfriend. And she’s already spooked, jumping at every little noise, I got the feeling she gave us a little google.” 

“Has he made contact?” Mikey asks and Ran shakes his head. 

“I bet she’ll come if we tell her without him making any threats,” Draken says. “Remember how much she was shakin’ that first time?” 

__

This time you open the metal door by yourself, letting it close behind you. Your fingers are laced in front of you. They’re waiting, like always, and today your hands nearly don’t shake. 

“Hello.” You say softly. “I um, I’m not sure if um, you’re aware of what happens, when you type your names into a search engine.” Draken chuckles darkly and Ran smirks. “B-but I wanted to say that um, I appreciate you not um, not murdering me.” 

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Ran says, extending a hand, “Come here, sweetheart.” You tentatively take his hand and let him pull you into him. “We got somethin’ to talk to you about.” You nod. “You know your brother’s getting out this week.” 

“Yeah.” You say softly. 

“But you’re gonna keep coming to see us, like a good girl, aren’t you?’” You swallow nervously. 

“I-i-if that’s what you want.” You say quickly. 

“Good girl,” Draken rumbles, pulling you from Ran, smoothing your hair. Mikey rests a hand on your shoulder and you glance at him, he leans in and kisses you, cupping your face in two huge hands, moving you so that you’re pinned against the wall. As he reaches for the waistband of your skirt, an alarm blares, and shouting can be heard as footsteps thunder through the hallway outside. You let out a squeak, and Mikey whirls around, covering your mouth. 

“Shit,” Ran breathes. “We gotta go if there’s a riot.” 

“We can’t leave her here,” Mikey says, “Draken you stay.” He shoves your body at the huge man, who catches you dexterously, nodding. Mikey and Ran take off at a sprint, leaving the two of you alone. Draken moves quickly, turning the light off in the room and pulling you into the corner, sliding to the floor with you in his lap, your back against his chest. 

“What’s happening?” You whisper.

“Could be a few things,” Draken responds, you can feel the vibrations of his low voice against your back, “Could be an escape attempt, could be a fight, but they’re gonna lock shit down.” He presses his lips to the top of his head. “And you’re on the wrong side of the visitor's wall.” You swallow, visibly trembling. 

“Oh.” 

“No one’s gonna touch ya.” He says, tightening his grip on you, his thick arms pinning you to his chest. “Mikey runs shit in here, and I’ve never seen him lose a fight.” You snuggle into his chest. “You’re so sweet,” he murmurs, rubbing your back, “Whatcha doin’ livin’ on your own, huh?” You look up at him. 

“H-how do you know I live on my own?” He cocks his head just a degree, and the obvious hits you. “Oh, ah, you’ve been-” 

“Keepin’ an eye on you.” He says, still tracing a pattern on your back with a huge hand. “Being around us might put a target on your back.” You swallow. “So answer the question.” 

“I-I-I work a lot,” you say quickly, “And dating is, dating is hard. I’m,” you squirm a little, “I’m quite shy. And anxious.” He kisses the top of your head again. 

“You feel safe right now?” You nod. “Good, sweetheart.” You feel his hands on your waist, rubbing soft circles, he smells so good, and his pheromones are so strong that you nearly drift off to sleep. Ten minutes pass, then twenty. “You wanna sleep?” He offers, and you nod, fully facing into his chest, he palms the back of your head, tangling his hands in your hair. You can feel him humming an old song, something you barely recognize, dancing on the edge of your memory as you slip off to sleep. You wake when he stirs, warm and heavy-lidded, and he helps you stand. “All clear.” He says, but you sleepily cling to his t-shirt. “You gonna miss me?” He teases, and you nod. 

“Mhm.” You mumble, and he laughs quietly. 

“Dontcha worry that pretty little head,” he stands and sets you reluctantly on the table. “I’ll see ya real soon.” He walks you to the visitor's exit, and you leave the building, stopping in your car for a few minutes, waiting until you’re coherent enough to drive.

That Wednesday, you pick up your brother, and he gives you a quick hug and a big smile in the waiting room. 

“They’re just finishing the paperwork.” He explains, sitting down, in the clothes he’d been arrested in, a wrinkled t-shirt and jeans. 

“You look good.” You take something out of your bag and slide it across the table. He breaks into a wide smile. 

“You made me a little lunch.” He says, opening it, “Oh my god,” you giggle, there are little chicken cutlets on a bed of rice, tucked in underneath a blanket of eggs. “Just like you made me when I was in middle school.” You shrug, returning his warmth. He starts eating right away, wolfing down your cooking desperately. A guard comes and taps you on the shoulder. 

“Is there a problem?” You ask, and the guard just shrugs. “I guess I’ll be right back.” You give your brother a wave, he looks concerned but he doesn’t say anything. The guard takes you down a new hallway, and you fidget nervously, he opens a heavy metal door for you and you enter the room, realizing it’s empty. You wait for a couple of minutes, not even bothering to check if the door is locked behind you, you sit on the table, swinging your legs. It opens a few minutes later, and to your surprise, it’s Mikey alone. 

“I, I brought you something.” You say quickly, and he raises his eyebrows. You take three little bento boxes out of your bag. “I wasn’t sure um if you’d want to see me.” He takes the box from you, slipping an arm around your waist and sliding you off the table, crushing you against his body. 

“Thank you.” He says softly, and he holds you, rubbing your back and burying his face in your neck for a full ten minutes, neither of you speaks, but there’s an odd comfort to being around Mikey. He smells like cigarettes and light cologne. “Just wanted to see you.” He mumbles. “Only have a few minutes.” He explains, leaning back and letting you go. “We’ll see you this weekend.” You nod. 

“Th-thank you.” You manage, and he inhales deeply, you see the dark circles under his eyes, the way his hands are shaking. You impulsively take them, drawing him into you. 

“You’re a good girl,” he says softly, and he feels you shiver with pleasure at his praise. “Our good girl.” You nuzzle into him, and he squeezes you before letting you go. “Take your brother home.” 

“Who um, who do I say I’m here to visit this weekend?” You ask, and Mikey shrugs. 

“You can say Kisaki Tetta.” He says, glancing at you over his shoulder before leaving with the lunches you brought. You take your brother home and help him get settled at your mom's place, telling him that if you had the room you would take him in, but after all, it’s just you in your one-bedroom apartment. It’s midway through the week when one of your co-workers convinces you to go out to a local bar. You’re nursing your drink, standing at the table while she chatters when someone touches your shoulder. He’s tall, obviously an alpha with broad shoulders and a tattoo you can’t quite make out over his shoulder. 

“H-hi,” You manage, aware of how he’s leering at you, smiling down at you, flashing his long canine teeth. 

“You’re so small,” he rasps, and for some reason, it feels so different from when Mikey, or Draken, or Ran comments on your size, it doesn’t feel protective, it feels predatory. 

“Um,” you squeak, trying to scoot around him. “I’ve got to get back to my friends.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t be like that,” he growls, a huge hand closing on your wrist as you try to get by, to signal to your friends that you need help, but you can’t see them in the crowd of people. You pull against him but it’s futile, he drags you through a side door and into the alley at the side of the bar. It’s cold, and you feel him shove you up against the wall, hands tracing your silhouette. He shoves a knee between your legs, forcing them apart. You gasp and claw at his chest.

“Please, I-” 

“You’re unmarked.” He cuts you off. “Where’s your alpha, huh, shouldn’t you be scented, protected?” You swallow. 

“I-I-” You go to say you don’t have one, and then briefly wonder if that’s true anymore. You don’t spend much time on it, though, because you hear a sickening crunch as someone’s fist collides with the alpha’s face. He slides backward, yelling something as you see three figures in the alley. 

“Save some for me,” you hear a familiar voice complain and you watch Ran Haitani, dressed in some ridiculous pastel suit, step over a muddy, slushy puddle. He flicks something in his hand and it extends, you see it’s a long black baton. 

“Be faster next time.” You see now, blinking in the darkness, a familiar grin. “Hey there,” Draken says softly, lifting you up off your feet. He nestles you against his chest, tucking you under his jacket. “You okay?” You nod, burying your face in his neck and inhaling deeply. 

“Let’s go.” You hear, and look up to see Mikey, looking bored. “Or they’ll rescind your out early on good behavior, Haitani.” Ran grins, shoes covered with the blood of the other alpha. 

“They’ll never get me again.” Draken rolls his eyes and you find yourself carried into a large luxurious car. Draken doesn’t deposit you on the seat though, keeping you pressed against his chest. 

“You’re shakin’.” He says quietly, as the car begins to move. 

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” Mikey says, and you shrink against Draken, “Going out on your own like that?” 

“I,” you somehow find  your voice, “I, just um, I didn’t think it would be dangerous.” You lift your head and look at him, “I’m sorry.” He softens as if he hadn’t expected an apology. “I won’t,” you swallow trying to think of what you could promise him, part of your brain processing that you’re suddenly alone with three extremely dangerous criminals. “Where are we going?” You twist in Drakens lap, and he allows you to move so that your back is against his chest. 

“Prison sucks,” Ran says, shifting uncomfortably. “And you coulda dipped, after the first time, probably wouldn’t have blamed you.” You press your lips together. 

“I didn’t want to leave you there, like that.” You say very quietly, “It was so hard, for my brother and you all seemed,” you look down at your hands, “Like you needed me.” You fidget, “I’m not, it makes me feel good. To be needed.” Draken is rubbing your upper arms. 

“We’re gonna take good care of ya,” He rumbles, tucking your head under his chin. “You’re ours now, no one’s gonna fuck with ya ever again.”  

“What’s a sweet little omega like you doing living on your own anyway?” Ran asks, and you have a moment where you try and remember if you’d mentioned to them that you live on your own, but then remember they’d mentioned keeping an eye on you. 

“I just,” you think about it. “I just haven’t found anyone who wanted me, like that.” It comes out sadder, more lonely than you meant it, but you feel Draken pause the pattern he’d been tracing on your skin. 

“Oh,” Ran says, and it’s one of the first times you’ve heard him speak without a layer of condescension to his voice, “That’s not true, sweetheart, you just didn’t notice.” He smirks, confidence back immediately, “You just needed real alphas, and those are hard to come by these days.” You feel Draken laugh, a deep, warm sound. 

“He’s right,” he says, and when he speaks you can feel his breath in your ear. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with you.” You hide your face, embarrassed at the praise, and he catches your chin in one hand, tipping it up, forcing you to look at him. “None of that shit.” He rumbles. 

“Th-thank you,” you mumble, nearly overwhelmed at his warm body so close to yours, “For saving me, a-all of you.” 

“You’re ours now,” Mikey says, his words cool and smooth. Draken feels the implicit order and releases you, handing you to the smaller alpha. “We take care of our things, don’t we?” He asks and Ran and Draken nod. Mikey smells like cologne and cigarettes, and he holds you so tightly it hurts a little. 

“What does that mean?” You ask, looking up at his dark eyes. “Where are we going?” 

“To your new apartment,” Ran chirps, “We can’t have you living in that tiny little place, in that terrible neighborhood.” He shakes his head, “You were kind to us so think of this as returning the favor.” Your mouth goes dry. 

“I um, I like my apartment.” You say, struggling just the tiniest bit in Mikey’s arms. “And, and I have plants there, plants that need to be watered.” 

“No you don’t,” Ran says, “You don’t like your apartment, it’s small.” You cock your head at him. “You’ve always wanted to get a place with more natural light, right?” 

“I mean, maybe?” You say softly. Ran grins. 

“I mean if I were you,” he says, leaning back in the seat, stretching his long limbs out over black leather, “I’d be so glad to be chosen by not just one alpha, but three.” 

“I do,” you say quickly, “I do, I feel so lucky-” 

“Good,” Ran says, and his smile widens. “You’re gonna love your new place. Betcha you’ll make a soft little nest there, huh?” You can’t help the warmth that gathers in your cheeks, you squirm in Mikey’s lap. Mikey tucks your face into his neck, exhaling deeply. 

“Prison sucks.” He grumbles. “I’m getting takeout the second we get home.” You sigh into him, dizzied by the pheromones in the car, consciousness floating up and out of your body. You barely feel him hand you to Ran, almost don’t notice that they carry you out of the car, up an elevator to a huge penthouse with an open floor plan and a wall of windows overlooking the city. 

  As soon as Mikey puts you down, Draken picks you up, his mouth on your neck, scenting you while rubbing little circles in your back. 

“We got you,” he murmurs. “You’re safe now.”

[ilyluffy-deactivated20240426]

𝐻𝐸𝐿𝒫𝐼𝒩𝒢 ~ 𝐻𝒜𝒩𝒟

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬: hakkai shiba and takashi mitsuya + tetta kisaki and shuuji hanma + kakucho hitto and izana kurokawa + shinichiro sano and imaushi wakasa

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut (minors + ageless blogs dni!! you’ll be blocked)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: gn!reader, consensual cheating, cuckholding, pet names, size kink, fingering

𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐀 & 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐘𝐀

it’s not like hakkai doesn’t have a nice dick. he’s huge the only problem is… he doesn’t know how to use it yet. sure he’ll learn with time but hakkai knows how needy you are and how badly you need to cum. who else would he ask besides mitsuya to satisfy you and teach him a few things along the way. of course mitsuya doesn’t mind helping his friend out. especially if it means he gets to have a taste of you. “make sure you pay attention, hakkai” mitsuya says casually, as if his cock isn’t buried deep inside you right now. “see [y/n]’s face? that’s good. means they like it”. hakkai’s in awe of the way your features contort with pleasure. it’s impossible for him not to take his own cock out and start pumping it as mitsuya fucks you. “soon you won’t need me, sweetheart” mitsuya chuckles as you squeal underneath him. “hakkai will learn how to treat you right but until then, let me make you cum. yeah?”.

𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐈 & 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐉𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐀

kisaki’s just doesn’t have the time to please you. he’s the head of one of tokyo’s biggest criminal organizations. what did you expect really? he thought his credit card would be enough to keep you occupied when he was busy but it becomes clear to kisaki that money wasn’t enough. you needed a good fuck. he can’t do it himself but he sends his most trusted subordinate to entertain you. kisaki knows that hanma is more than happy to fuck you but he also wouldn’t overstep. there was really no better candidate. “aw, is tetta’s spoiled little pet really that cock hungry?” hanma coos as he pounds into you from behind. he’s so much bigger than kisaki. it’s almost too much for you… almost. “don’t worry, sweet thing. i’m gonna have you cumming all night so tetta can focus on his work”.

𝐊𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐎 & 𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀

it wasn’t even kakucho’s idea. he was just discussing his troubles with izana. he was struggling to make you cum properly. no matter how many times you tried faking it for kakucho’s sake he knew all too well he wasn’t giving you enough. that’s when izana suggested that he step in. reasonably so kakucho’s hesitate but izana’s taught him so much. he could teach him how to do better for you. so, like always, kakucho follows izana’s lead. “heard that ‘cho wasn’t making you cum, pretty” izana smirks with his fingers deep inside your desperate hole. “servants tend to be like that but we’re going to fix that. isn’t that right kakucho?”. immediately kakucho nods as he watches izana’s every move. the noises you’re making are completely foreign to him but it’s clear that’s what you’re supposed to sound like when you’re getting fucked. “my servants going to listen to everything i say” izana continues. “when i’m done with both of you you’ll never have another failed orgasm”.

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐎 & 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐒𝐀

shinichiro’s been a virgin for so long. poor baby doesn’t know what he’s doing. porn isn’t enough to teach him the tricks he needs to have you creaming for him. wakasa on the other hand has lots of experience. with a pretty face like his how could he not. too scared of disappointing you, shinichiro hands you over to wakasa who can make you cum like you deserve. along the way shinichiro can take a few tips from one of his close friends. “can’t believe shin’s been neglecting a pretty thing like you” wakasa hums as he sinks you down on his dick. “he’s going to take notes now. ain’t that right shin?” wakasa says, gazing over at your whimpering boyfriend. shinichiro’s dick is already leaking. he only becomes more of a mess when wakasa bounces you on his cock. “and if he fails to make you cum again, i’ll always be here if you need me” wakasa smirks as you fall apart in his lap.

2022 © httphaitani — do not repost or translate my work. likes, reblogs, and comments are welcome

[sukisangel]

Today i’m thinking about softdom daddy katsuki🥺

Who always know what to say whenever you throw a tantrum or try to be a nasty brat with him. Who always look at you with soft eyes, before cooeing something along the lines of:

‘We talked about this before, I didn’t trained you to say stuff like that… what happened to my sweet baby? You just need a bit of attention and love, don’tcha?’

And you can’t help but stop everything you were doing before and look at him with those big and bright puppy eyes. Soon nodding your head and whispering a small:

‘mhm, yes… ‘m sorry, daddy…’

Which Katsuki soon answer you with a soft smile and an ‘I know you are, baby’ as he patted his right thigh for you to sit on, just so he could give you all the attention you were craving for.

Once you laid your head on his shoulder with your legs over his thighs, Katsuki doesn’t waste his time to plant a kiss to your forehead and whisper:

‘There you are, my sweet girl… daddy loves you’

i’m screaming I love this man🥺

[aetheternity]

My wifey, my best friend

Synopsis: Draken knew two things in his life for sure. One, that his best friend was a virgin and two, that he had a thing for his best girl. So he decides to kill two birds with one stone. 

Disclaimer: Fem reader, Unprotected sex, kinda not really a threesome, Oral sex (m recieving), and voyeurism are all present in this. (Minors dni) 

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[love-the-sin-n-the-sinner]

Crush <3

Imagine Bakugo with a crush

Warnings: smut, nicknames?(princess, baby), wet dreams,he fucks you in a skirt idk, afab reader, slight perv!bakugo, I probably missed something

(All characters are 18+/aged up)

He’s always so confident and sure of himself, until you walk into the room. He tried to ignore you of course, but your perfect face is just so… so…. Irritating. That’s it, you’re just irritating, that why he can’t keep his mind off of you. Poor boy is in denial

He stares at the back of your head, jaw tense, eyebrows furrowed, he just doesn’t get it. You take up so much space in his mind, your hands, your lips, your hair, your everything. The way you look when you train, like you could carry the world. Just so …. Powerful.

One day you’re running late for class, and in your rush you put on your old uniform which happens to be a bit to small. Your standing at Mina’s desk when he walks in, he can see the curve of your ass in the skirt, and he finds himself wishing it were juuuust a bit shorter.

Oh. Oh shit.

He takes a seat, processing his own thoughts as it finally seriously why’d it take so long dawns on him, he likes you. He really likes you. And the way your skirt hugs your curves ensures it’s all he can think about. With both his heads.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck-

“Kacchan, are you alright? You’re face is red.”

(Smut below)

—

That night he dreamt about you.

Specifically you bent over his desk in that skirt, moaning his name. God his name sounded so good when you said it, especially the way he imagined you begging with it.

Please please please, Katsuki… need you…

Need what princess?

Need.. fuck me… please

Of course he obliged, lining his cock up with your soaking hole before ramming his hips into yours, giving you no time to adjust to his size. His nails dug into your hips as he kept his ruthless pace. He couldn’t help it, the way your back arched so pretty for him, ass in the air while you screamed his name, just begging to be fucked dumb, how could he say no?

Ngh, you’re so tight baby, so good f’me

That send you hurling over the edge, clenching as you came on his cock. He followed seconds later, filling you with his cum.

He watched as the thick white liquid oozed out of your pretty pussy…

So fuckin perfect

—

The next day he couldn’t look you in the eyes.

[softfordabi]

Good Game

Summary: Katsuki decides to teach you a lesson when you tease him while he’s gaming

Tags: MDNI ageless blogs will be blocked, ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER 20, riding bakugo while he games, bakusquad hears you getting fucked and likes it, creampie, deku has a dom side, kiri is a sweetheart

Words: 3823

Warnings: exhibitionism, degradation, name calling, orgasm denial, crying, riding, creampie, dom/sub elements, name calling (whore, slut), daddy kink, choking, people listening to you get fucked over headphones, suggested gangbang at the end

“C’mon, baby, I gotta get on with the boys,” Katsuki said, attempting to remove your arms from around him, but was thus far failing. 

You knew he could pry you off of him if he really wanted—his large, defined, arm muscles proved that—but it seemed he was also hard pressed to push away from you. 

“Mm, don’t wanna,” you said, words slurred with sleep. “Wanna cuddle.”

“Woman,” Katsuki grunted, half-heartedly. 

Ever since they all became pro-heroes, Katsuki and his friends haven’t had much time to get together, so they make sure to have at least one gaming session a week. 

Today was Thursday, gaming night and the day that most of them were usually off patrol. 

But, Katsuki had initiated Cuddle Time not even thirty minutes ago. You weren’t sure what he was expecting when he tried to leave you so fast. Of course you would resist. 

You sighed deeply before throwing your arms up in defeat, allowing him to roll off the bed.  

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[dilfhos]

“Don’t run from this dick sweetheart.”

He grabs your hips, forcing them back down against the bed, his cock pummeling your plush walls. His eyes glint in excitement as your ass ripple with every deep thrust. He chuckles when your little fists curl into the sheets as you try you damndest to slide away to alleviate the pressure battering against your cervix.

“‘Ts too—Mm-much!” You sputter, licking at the drool inking from the corner of your open mouth.

He grunts, kneeling up on a leg for leverage.

“Nah baby, it ain’t enough.”

DABI, ATSUMU, SAKUNA, ARAN, SHIGARAKI, BAKUGOU, BAJI, ATSUMU, EREN, DRAKEN

itssdonnie©

[kingkatsuki]

Locked Up | Kirishima Eijirou x Reader

I apologise to all my other WIPs. Blame Kitten.

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, potential dubcon (just to be safe- Kiri lies a lot) but tbh he just proper fancies reader, no prep, no protection, creampie, panty theft. If I missed anything lemme know!

Word Count: 6.6k.

Musutafu correctional facility was a place where some of the most hardened criminals were incarcerated. The barbed wire fence that surrounded the building was designed to look intimidating, and it did– but nothing could compare to how menacing the men looked inside. There were men from all walks of life, some that had just been handed unlucky cards in life and been led down the wrong path, others who would never step free again– sentenced to serve the rest of their lives behind bars. Others were in for shorter stays, completing the final parts of their rehabilitation programs before they were integrated back into society.

And then there were men like Kirishima Eijirou.

You’d heard stories about why he was inside, rumours that constantly circulated around the cold four walls that were hard to ignore. News report after report backed up a lot of the outlandish claims, things you wouldn’t even believe were true unless you’d heard them so vividly spoken so many times. He was part of the biggest gang in Musutafu, Dynamight’s right-hand man. He’d been inside almost a year, and still had six left to serve, although he seemed confident that his expensive lawyer would have him out in two.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Kirishima smiled as he stepped up to the window, his calloused fingertips brushing your hand as he took the small paper cup from you, “Stayin’ safe in here, yeah?”

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[giving-eraser-head]

I love this so fucking much it's literally impossible to describe how good this is OHMYGOD

thank you for blessing us w this piece it literally gave me butterflies