#Everything about the chairs just fits them

[paarthunaxx]

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 CALL MY NAME, I’M YOURS TO TAME — 18+

larissa weems x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

status: completed

summary: You and Larissa Weems have been best friends since your years spent together at Nevermore. You have been meeting for tea every week since your graduation. But when the pharmacy in Jericho runs out of heat suppressants, you have to miss your afternoon tea with her.

And Larissa, being the dutiful best friend, pays you a visit instead.

tags: smvt, fluff, werewolf reader, in heat, kn0tting, decades of mutual pining, established friendship, soft larissa weems, larissa weems with a d1ck, shapeshifting, p in v, nickname mommy, nickname puppy

read here on ao3!

“Here is your tea, dear.”

“Thanks, Riss,” You take the teacup from Larissa’s pale hands and rub the pad of your thumb over the painted golden rim of the cup before setting it down on a pretty white saucer. “So, anything else to catch me up on this week?”

Larissa takes a long sip from her own florally adorned teacup and sinks into the armchair across from you. “Do you remember Morticia Frump?” She asks with the smallest hint of bitterness on her tongue. It doesn't come as a surprise to you. Larissa is a sweet woman, but you don't think you've ever heard her speak about Morticia without that resentment in her voice.

“Yes. Your roommate from when we attended Nevermore?” You nod and settle back into your own chair, folding one leg over the other. You notice Larissa’s gaze lingering on them for a flash of a moment, but don’t bother bringing it up. “You’ve spoken to her recently?”

Larissa gives a grim incline of her head and huffs a soft sigh through her nose. “Indeed. She called last night to request that I meet her child and consider enrolling her in the school.”

“And will you?” You ask curiously, lifting your teacup and taking a slow sip. There is just the right amount of sugar and milk mixed in. Larissa always makes the perfect cup of tea.

“I have a duty to look after the children of outcasts. I would not cast a young girl out just because I am not on the best of terms with her mother,” Larissa whispers. “I just wish I did not have to meet Morticia in order to enrol her daughter. I’m afraid it will be too painful to see her again.”

You send a sympathetic smile in her direction and shift forward in your seat. Leaning across the coffee table, you reach out to squeeze her knee. Her breath hitches at the touch as she watches you like a hawk. “It’ll be okay, Riss. Everything happened so long ago. And if she annoys you… Just think about all the different ways you’d like to fight her, then tell me all about it next week.”

Larissa giggles at that and places her large hand over your smaller one which rests on her knee, giving it a gentle pat. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, which you mentally blame on static. “You are right. There’s no point in being so absorbed in the past.”

“I usually am right,” You tease with a soft laugh. “Be the bigger person.”

Larissa raises a neatly plucked eyebrow at that. An amused smirk dances across her painted lips and she quips, “Pun intended?”

You snort around another sip of tea, almost spitting the stuff everywhere. You manage to choke it down and the two of you burst into a fit of giggles. After your laughter trails off, you spend another half an hour catching each other up on everything that has happened in the past week. Just like you have been doing every week for… well, years.

Larissa has been your best friend since you both attended Nevermore. Many times you have looked at her and wondered if there could be something more between you, but you don’t even know if she would want that. If she even likes women. And you’re terrified to risk your friendship by asking her out… No matter how much you adore her.

When the teacups have been drained and the grandfather clock pushed up against the wall starts to chime the hour, you sigh and lean back in your chair. “Time for me to get going.”

Larissa tsks softly, a playful pout poking out her lower lip. “Shame. Time always flies by so quickly with you.”

“I know,” You agree with a short nod. “Maybe we should start doing sleepovers instead of tea.”

“Maybe,” She whispers. A soft pink blush dusts across her pale cheeks and she averts her gaze, clearing her throat. She nudges her empty cup of tea out of the way and rises from her chair, towering over you. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

Oh, how you'd love to climb her like a tree.

You follow her out of her dimly lit office and walk by her side as she leads you through the school to the large front entrance. You fit in some more idle chatter along the way through the familiar hallways, before coming to a stop on the stone steps outside.

“Until next week, dear,” Larissa leans down to wrap her arms around you, giving you a tight hug.

“See you then, Riss,” You stretch up on your tiptoes to hug her back, taking a moment to enjoy the scent of her sweet perfume lingering in your nose.

“I’ll be counting the minutes,” She whispers in your ear. There is such conviction in her soft voice that it feels as though she truly means those words.

She gives your waist a gentle squeeze and you reluctantly pull away from her. You can feel your heart hammering in your chest as your brain immediately cries out in protest at the absence of her warmth. With one final goodbye, you turn away from her and make your way down the steps, bracing yourself for the walk home in the bitter afternoon air.

ᥫ᭡

You hum a soft tune to yourself as you bustle around your apartment, struggling with the bundle in your arms. You snatch up every pillow and blanket you can find, tossing them onto the bed to be arranged into a nest later. Each of them have been picked out specifically for the purpose of nesting, every one as warm and comfortable as possible. The pile on the bed is almost bigger than you, and you stand and stare at the mess of blankets with a proud smile on your face. Although you have your suppressants, it still feels comforting to bury into your nest during your heat, even if it is just to nap or read a book. Like being wrapped up in a warm hug from La—

You startle at the sudden shrill ringing of your phone from where it rests on your nightstand. You place a hand over your thundering heart and puff out a breath to calm yourself. In a few long strides, you cross the room and snatch the phone up to answer it. “Hello?”

“Hello! This is the Jericho pharmacy calling,” The familiar voice of Mrs Jones, the pharmacist, comes from the other end of the phone. “We are so terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but we will not be able to refill your prescription for suppressants at the moment. Our supplier has had a stock issue, and we have to wait for more to come from a bigger supplier in the city.”

“What?” You swallow hard, your eyes widening. Panic splits through you like branching lightning, your hand curling into a fist around the phone so hard you almost shatter it. “How long will that take?”

“Around a week and a half,” The pharmacist informs you.

“A week and a half? But… My heat starts tomorrow, and I don’t have any suppressants,” You whisper. “I haven’t gone through a heat in years. You don’t even have enough to get me through the week?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m so sorry. We can fill your next prescription free of charge as an apology for the delay. And if you need scent blockers, we can have them dropped outside your door.”

“Alright… Well, thank you for telling me. See you in a week and a half,” You hang up and toss your phone on the bed. Scrubbing your hands irately down your face, you mutter one word.

“Shit.”

ᥫ᭡

Sleep doesn’t come easily to you that night. Even wrapped up in the bundles of pillows and blankets that have been arranged for your nest, you can’t stop tossing and turning. Anxiety floods through your veins, making your body feel cold and your chest tight. It’s been so long since you allowed your body to go through a heat. There will be years of pent up energy in control of your body, and it's terrifying. You turned to the internet, searching through outcast forums to find out whether it will be more intense when it comes. Every werewolf in the world seems to be in agreement.

The longer it’s been, the worse your next heat will be.

By the time morning comes, you haven’t slept a wink. You sigh and force yourself out of your bed, shuffling to the kitchen to shove a cup of coffee down your throat. As you stir the sugar cubes into your favourite mug, your gaze happens to drift towards the calendar pinned up on your wall. On the square for that day, there is a large red circle with a little teacup scribbled in the middle.

“Shit,” You hiss for what feels like the millionth time in the last twelve hours. You stand there and stare at the doodle of the teacup, pondering whether you should still try to attend or call Larissa up and tell her you can’t make it to tea that day.

You know if you venture out of the house and your heat comes on, any alpha nearby will be able to smell you from a mile away. There may not be that many in Jericho, but even one would pose such a great danger to you… Never mind the werewolf students at Nevermore.

It would also be incredibly embarrassing to go into heat right in front of your best friend, and have her drive you home as you gush all over the seats of her car and whine in need. You shudder at the thought of what Larissa might think of you after something like that.

Before you can even make a proper decision on what to do, an odd feeling shoots through you. You feel your knees going weak, a sticky liquid clinging to your thighs and soaking your shorts. Another curse slips out as you clutch onto the edge of the counter, gasping at the coiling sensation twisting through your lower stomach. Your whole body shakes and you grab onto the counter for dear life.

Looks like you definitely won’t be seeing Larissa today.

You abandon your coffee, letting it go cold on the counter as you drag yourself back into your bedroom. It’s a difficult trip. Your legs threaten to give out beneath you the whole way there, your mind screaming at you to lay down with them spread and just hope an alpha happens to come along. Your brain has never felt so fuzzy before. You’ve never felt so stupid.

The moment you make it back to your room, you throw yourself into the nest. Your clothes are off in an instant. Flung carelessly in a heap in the corner. With trembling hands, you reach into your nightstand and grab a small purple bullet vibrator, fumbling around to switch it on. The trusty little toy has been used many times in the past while you thought of Laris— of… stuff. As soon as it makes contact with your aching clit you whine and arch off the bed, your body flooding with relief now that you finally have some friction. You bring yourself to the peak within minutes. And again. And again. And again…

But it’s not enough.

You shove your fingers inside while stimulating yourself with the bullet. Two isn’t enough. You add another. Not enough. You sob and writhe, your stupid mutt brain and your body aching for one thing. A quick glance at the alarm clock sitting on your nightstand shows the time Larissa should be waking up for the day. You know you should let her know while your brain still works somewhat.

You lick your dry lips and reach out for your phone. Reluctantly, you switch off the vibrator and set it to the side while you call Larissa. She answers almost immediately.

“Hello, darling,” Her sweet, sleepy voice comes through the other end of the phone. “Are you alright?”

Biting back the soft whine that bubbles up from your chest proves almost impossible. The sound of her voice sends another flash of desire through you, your essence coating your shaking thighs. “Larissa,” You whisper hoarsely. “I… I can’t… Make it… Today…”

Concern rings clear through her voice as she hears you panting. “Oh? Is everything alright, dear?”

“Yeah,” Your fingers gravitate towards your swollen clit, rubbing at it slowly as you listen to her speak. You gasp before you can bite back the sound, and clear your throat. “Yeah. Just… Don’t feel so good. I’ll see you next week?”

“Okay… Get better soon, alright? Do call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” The words come out in a breathless mumble before you hang up the phone and chuck it to the side. Just the memory of her voice has you growing wetter by the second, your fingers coated in your juices as you desperately try to satisfy yourself. Flashes of her face shoot through your mind, of her large hands and long fingers…

The vibrator is snatched up again in an instant.

You spend the next hour pleasing yourself without a break. Overstimulation makes your body jolt and twitch, but you can’t stop. You can’t. It just isn’t enough. Your mind is well and truly mush at this point, shown in the way your gaze drifts towards the door and for just a second, you consider opening the door and letting your scent waft out. Waiting for the first alpha to come and claim you.

For a moment, you seriously think about it. It would make your heat more bearable. Yes, said alpha might do horrible things to you, and you don’t really want that, but…

Before you can do anything stupid, the doorbell rings.

Sobbing in frustration, you set your vibrator down again. You force yourself up on shaky legs, not bothering to put pants on. You simply tug the oversized t-shirt down over yourself and shuffle to the front door, yanking it open.

Standing there in front of you is Larissa. Clutched in her hands is a wicker basket stuffed full of gifts. Teabags, cough drops, a couple of face masks, some flowers and a small teddy bear. “Hello,” Larissa greets you with a bright smile. “Since you aren’t well, I thought I would bring—” As soon as she catches sight of you, her words trail off. “...Oh.”

“Larissa,” You gasp. You have to grip onto the door frame to keep yourself upright. Your cheeks are flushed beyond belief, your eyes glazed over and distant. There is a thin layer of sweat on your skin, not to mention the wet patches on the back of your long shirt and your thighs. “I’m in heat.”

Her own cheeks flush when she hears those words. “I… I thought you didn’t go into heat. I thought you took pills.”

“I do. Pharmacy ran out.” Those are the only words you can manage before another tidal wave of need crashes through you and you whimper, sinking to the ground.

“Oh, my darling…” Larissa coos and invites herself inside. She closes and locks the door behind her, sets the gift basket down on the coffee table, then lifts you gently from the floor. She pulls her coat off and folds it over the back of the couch, then slips her feet out of her high heels. “Come on, my sweet. Let’s get you nice and comfortable, okay?”

You know there is no comfortable for you right now, but you don’t dare mention that to her when she is being so sweet. So attentive. You feel yourself getting more wet.

She scoops you up into her arms with ease and carries you to the bedroom. Her chest rumbles a little when she clears her throat upon seeing the vibrator carelessly left on your soaked sheets. Thankfully, she says nothing about it and carefully sets you down.

It kills you to have her so close. You just want to rut against her milky white thigh and have her praise you, you want those long fingers inside you, you want her mouth on you. You’ve loved her for decades, but you’ve never felt such intense need for her in all that time.

“Larissa,” You whimper again, but you have nothing to say. You just need her attention.

“Poor thing,” She whispers. She hesitates for half a second before reaching out to brush her fingertips over your slick thigh. “What can I do for you, dear?”

That simple touch over your thigh alone makes you jolt and gasp. “Don’t… ask me that,” You plead. “You won’t like the answer.”

Larissa leans closer, her larger frame looming over yours as she reaches her free hand out to cup your chin. Her fingers are so gentle as they tilt your head back, as though she is handling something as delicate as a porcelain doll. “What can I do for you, dear?” She repeats in a firm whisper.

You melt as you’re forced to stare up into her sapphire eyes. It feels like you could become nothing more than a puddle in a pile of blankets if she continues this. “I…”

“Tell me,” She urges. Keeping her gaze fixed on you, she dips her head and presses a sweet little kiss to your jaw. “Let me help you. Tell me how.”

As pathetic as it is, the very little resolve you had left snaps as soon as you feel her lips on your skin. “Fuck me,” You pant, raising your hips unabashedly.

“Are you sure?” She asks, her grip on your chin growing slightly firmer. “Are you sure, sweetheart? I’ll do that for you if that’s what you need, but I don’t want you to regret it later…”

“Larissa!” You groan before breaking out into a pathetic ramble. “I won’t regret it. I have loved you since we were teenagers, you’re the love of my life, there is literally nobody else in this world I would rather have help me with this. You must know that. You must have picked up on how much I love y—“

Before you can even finish that word, her lips are on yours.

Both of her hands move to pin your hips to the bed, forcing you to keep still instead of uselessly writhing around. The sheets beneath you become soaked almost to the point of ruin as she kisses you hard, her tongue brushing against yours desperately. You struggle to keep up with the searing heat of her kiss, but she doesn’t seem to mind as she takes complete control. Your hips fight against her hold, and as a result she pins you down harder.

“Riss,” You whine against her lips.

“I know, darling,” She shushes you, one of her hands drifting from your hip to between your legs. You gasp out as her fingers press against you, teasing between your folds. “I know. Give me a minute, okay?”

“Can’t,” A soft sob slips past your parted lips as you pant, the pure desire for her making your body shake. “Can’t. Need you to knot me.”

“You need to wait a moment for my powers to work,” As though trying to sate you for the moment, two of Larissa’s long fingers slip inside you while her thumb rubs at your clit. When you gasp and arch into the feeling, she coos softly and begins kissing along the column of your throat. “My poor puppy. So desperate, aren’t you?”

All you can do is whine, unable to decide whether you should arch into her kisses or her fingers. Another orgasm rips through you as she circles your clit, your body squeezing around her fingers as you gasp and squirm.

“That’s it,” Larissa praises, lightening her hold on your hip. “That’s it, sweetheart. Ride it out.”

You don’t need more convincing than that as your hips move wildly through it, taking everything those digits are giving you.

But you still need more. More sobs leave you and you stare up at her pleadingly. The ability to form words on your lips has left you entirely. All you can do is whimper like the pathetic little thing you are.

“I know, puppy,” She suddenly slips her fingers out of you, making you whine louder. She shushes you firmly and you fall silent in an instant. She straightens up to her full height and begins hitching her skirt up to her thighs, unclipping her stockings and pulling down her panties. Your whole body seizes up at the sight of the penis beneath her skirt, hard and already leaking. She seems to have taken size into account, knowing you will be stretched with the knot. It isn’t too long or thick, made perfectly to fit in your tight hole.

She’s so damn considerate you can’t believe it.

Larissa lays back against the mountain of pillows you have set up, giving herself a tantalising stroke before patting her lap. “Come here, pup.”

You don’t hesitate, scrambling across the bed and setting yourself on one of her large thighs. You fight the urge to rut against it, knowing there is a much better reward waiting right there for you if you’re a good girl for her. She rests her hands on your hips and carefully guides you over here. The leaking tip of her cock rubs against your folds, teasing your clit.

“Are you positive you want this?” Larissa questions in a gentle whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It won’t hurt,” You assure her and cup her cheek. A little smile twists at your lips as she leans into the touch and sighs. Even if she hadn't created her cock to fit you perfectly, you would be so soaked and opened up by this point she could fit inside easily without hurting you.

“Okay. Relax for me, dear,” She nods. She surges forward to capture your lips with her own again. Her big hands pull you closer, and as she distracts you by kissing you like a woman starved, she slips inside you. Both of you gasp in unison, the sensation unfamiliar to each of you. She groans as your tight pussy clenches around her, taking her time to sink deeper and deeper inside you.

That isn’t going to fly with you.

Without warning, you slam your hips down and sheathe her fully inside you. She moans in surprise and chokes out, “Darling—”

Finally getting what you’ve wanted this whole time, you don’t stop. You fuck yourself feverishly on top of her, taking her cock deep inside you over and over again. You keen and whimper as your lips trail down to her neck, sucking and biting at every inch of pale skin you can reach. Even as your mind starts to blur, you have to force yourself not to sink your tiny fangs into her throat and claim her.

“Darling, please, slow down—” Despite her pleading words, her hands continue to guide your hips at the brutal pace you have set for yourself. Her head tips back against the headboard, harsh pants leaving her parted lips every second. “Gods, you need to slow down—”

The stretch of her cock inside you is like pure heaven. To finally be filled, and have her doing it, is the most exhilarating thing you could ever dream of. Having her hit that spot deep inside you, hearing her moans and knowing you are the cause of them. You’re sure you’ve had this wet dream about a hundred times over the past couple of decades, but fuck none of those dreams could ever compare to the real thing.

“You want me to slow down?” You pant in her ear, willing to do whatever she wants even that means slowing down when you just want her to fuck your brains out.

“Gods, no,” She whispers and pulls you down as she starts meeting you halfway in quick thrusts.

You moan in sheer delight, melting against her chest as she fucks you hard. Like she’s been holding back these same feelings for just as long as you have, and now she finally gets to let them out. She holds you tight to her chest with one hand while the other squeezes your ass, kneading it appreciatively between her fingers.

“Riss, I—” You gasp as yet another climax starts to bubble up in the pit of your stomach. You can already feel this one is more intense than the others, and not just because you’re far beyond oversensitive at this point.

“That’s it,” Larissa coos, “come for me, darling. Let me feel you coming around me like a good pup.”

That is all the encouragement you need. This orgasm crashes through you like a tsunami as she pumps into you hard enough to fill the room with harsh slapping sounds. Your nails tear into her shoulders, sharpening into claws that rip right through her nice blazer. Clinging onto her for dear life, your whiny moans fill the room. All you can do is keep riding her and taking her with every deep thrust as your body jolts and writhes under her hold, your whole being on fire with the pleasure she gives you.

“You want mommy to knot you, sweetheart? Want me to fill up that sweet little pussy?” She pants. Your body tightens around her cock at the sound of those words and she giggles, gripping your hips and dragging you down even harder into every snap of her own. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Yes,” You pant, nuzzling your nose into her neck and becoming pliant in her hands, allowing her to do whatever she wants with you. “Please please please. Please knot me.”

Moments later, she gives you exactly what you want. She moans sweetly into your ear, her thrusts growing sloppy before she buries herself all the way inside you. She gasps and pants as her release pulses through you, the base of her cock swelling and keeping her stuck inside your pussy.

“You’re mine, now,” She whispers possessively into your ear. You’ve never heard her use that tone with you before, and it makes you shiver with another wave of need. If she wasn’t already stuck in you, you’d be riding her all over again just for that. She brushes some hair back from your sweaty face and kisses your temple. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

“I’m yours,” You repeat in a brainless whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, darling,” Larissa sighs, brushing her nose against your cheek. “I love you so, so much.”

She holds you for a long time, rubbing her hands up and down your back and praising you in a gentle voice. When she can finally pull out of you, she does so slowly, not wanting to hurt your sensitive hole. She curls a finger inside you to feel her own come filling you, and shivers at the feeling of her own stickiness on her fingertip.

“Just beautiful,” She murmurs and casts her blue eyes up to your face. “Do you feel better now, pup?”

“Yeah,” You nod, still a panting mess -- but a satisfied panting mess. “Thank you, Larissa. You… You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. But I wanted to,” She scoops you up and holds you close to her chest, before slipping her long legs over the side of the bed and carrying you bridal style towards the bathroom. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?”

“Larissa?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Did you really mean it?” You ask nervously as you peer up at her. “When you said you loved me?”

“Of course,” Larissa smiles down at you. Her eyes shine with sincerity, and you can tell there isn’t a hint of dishonesty in her words. “I’ve loved you for… a very long time, sweetheart.”

There is a flutter of hope deep in your stomach as you swallow down a lump in your throat. “You have?”

“Yes.”

You can’t even bring yourself to say all of the things you want to as she perches you on the edge of the bath and begins running the hot water. As the steam fills the bathroom and she pours scented liquid into the water, all you can do is stare at her. At the red lipstick smudged across her beautiful lips, at her flushed cheeks visible even beneath her pale foundation. Her hair is still neatly pinned into place, she still looks eternally graceful despite the slight dishevelled appearance around her. This woman loves you. This… this goddess, standing before you, loves you.

“Larissa?” You clear your throat.

“Yes?” She chuckles, clearly amused by your line of questioning.

“After my heat ends, would you like to go on a date with me?” You blurt out before you can talk yourself out of it.

Larissa watches you for a long moment, a smile twitching at her painted lips. Eventually she nods, reaching out to caress your face. “I would love that.”

She bathes you with a great deal of care, making sure to be delicate near your swollen clit and cum-filled hole. You soon convince her to join you as another rush of heat goes through you, and she knots you again in the bath. Then she has to wash you all over again. Over the course of the next three days, the two of you can’t stop fucking. A couple of decades of pent up desire makes itself known in the course of a few days. During some point in those three days, she creates a set of long canine teeth for herself, sinks them into your throat and marks you as her own. At the end of it, you’re both utterly exhausted, but you’re happy.

So fucking happy.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x you #larissa weems fanfic #larissa weems fanfiction #larissa weems x reader fic

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Yandere! Male! Stripper x client! gn! reader

Ehh it feels so weird writing another yandere after MONTHS of only writing about the pre-implemented boys. So, enjoy!

Also, Dino isn't human. Just putting that there so ya'll aren't put off!

Also, extra long fic as an apology for the delay.

Notes: Inherently sexual talk, exploitation, implied coercion (not to the reader, and not elaborated. Only mentioned) Cryptid(?) Mentioned is not accurate, more like a self interpretation.

Yandere! Stripper name: Dino (Dee-no)

The music was so loud inside the prestigious strip club named "Tease." Red lights that hurts to look at if you're not used to it, the smell of alcohol, smoke, and sex lingering in the air, and how can one forget the display of skin exposed?

In this strip club, almost everything is allowed as long as it's consensual.

That comes with a lot of loopholes that a lot of clients exploit, but the way the club only panders to those who have a lot of money, aka the upper echelon of society, means that they get to get away with their... faults, most of the time.

Prestigious in name, their workers and strippers were pampered yet were overworked in a sense that they are obliged to do thing even if they're not in the contract. For example, sleeping with their clients.

It's called the "Special golden shower". Despite it's unfortunate yet intentional name, the client will order from an array of drinks on a menu, and one of them is the "Special golden shower" or SGS for short. This 5,000$ splurge of money is a way to order a stripper for a night. And, if you add 5,000$ more, the stripper is theirs for 24 hours. Of course, the club isn't stupid enough to not throw in freebies. The client can rent a "special" room, in which there's a stripper pole on a stage, a king sized bed, sanitized toys, and contraceptives. There's also alcohol, even food if they want. And the add on for 5k$? They can take out their choice of stripper from the club.

The stripper? Forced to accept it since the split of the money is 50/50. That's 2,500 for a night. If lucky, 5,000.

There's also a special incentive to those who "booked and hooked" clients the most every month. Straight up 3,000$ bonus.

Now who would say no to that?

And the stripper who consistently got number 1 spot for the male strippers, and possibly overall, is Dino.

Nobody knew where Dino came from. He just came to Tease one day, wanting a job as a stripper, saying that he fits their criteria with so much confidence.

And he did. His body, obviously a product of rigorous work out, is lean yet muscular. His hair was luscious and smooth, obviously well groomed. A smooth, angular face that's universally handsome, and stature that rivals even to those in beauty pageants.

Also, his demeanor that's always a "yes-man" made him the perfect employee.

The Tease management love him. He rakes in so much money because he pulls in so much clients. Like an idol, he has loyal fans that goes crazy whenever they knew Dino would have a show. Money upon money, they would scramble to get the SGS bundle. And those who underwent Dino's "care", they would say it was the best sex they had in their entire life. Hell, they said they felt so tired and so weak afterwards. Some even had to get a wheelchair.

Well, that was the rumors anyways.

But this honestly made you curious.

"Hey! Did you hear that the owner's kid is visiting?"

"Really? Why?"

"I don't know really. But this means we need to put on a show. Like a really good show."

Dino paused from washing his face, hearing his other stripper-mates talk about the owner's kid.

He grabbed his soft towel and patted dry his face, intrigued by the news. So he went to his chair and started to slowly put his skin care routine while eavesdropping on the conversation.

"Shit, do you think I can bag 'em? Maybe they'll order the SGS."

"You sure the kid isn't ugly or something? I don't want to fuck some ugly ass--"

"SHUT YOUR TRAP DUDE. Do you want to get fired or something?"

Dino rolled his eyes and decided to shut the conversation from his mind and continued to do his skincare.

'Foolish humans, really. Can they be so conceited in face of such a large sum of money?'

Dino isn't exactly human.

When he's finally of-age, he decided to leave his hometown and mingle with the humans. He's always been so fascinated with them, seeing these people that holds no kind of power at all yet almost dominated earth.

His parents warned him that they are nothing but greedy and destructive. Did he listen? No.

When he finally got to the mainland, he got swept up by the wrong crowd. And naive Dino, got plunged into the night life.

The once bubbly and kind incubus is no more.

At least, with his current lifestyle, he gets fed regularly with sexual energy and life force to the point that he doesn't need to drain that much energy at all. Besides, he enjoys the attention sometimes. If the people weren't creeps.

His parents were right. Humans are disgusting creatures who will spend so much money just for a night of pleasure. And they don't even need it, it's a want.

Their stares, their words, their touches... It's absolutely vile.

But then, Dino is a hypocrite. The money that came from it was too good to be true that even though he doesn't like it, he continued to be Tease's number 1 employee.

He sometimes dream of what his life once was. A hopeless romantic, someone who will find the perfect partner, and promise eternal love with one another. Respecting boundaries, safely and consensually explore kinks and plays, and Dino would only feed on their sexual energy and not anybody else.

That's now a far fetched dream.

The door creaked open, making him snap out of his train of thought.

"Show's in an hour. The owner's kid will be watching, so be presentable... As much as a stripper can be, and give them a memorable time." The stage manager said, before leaving them once more.

Dino sighed and put on his latex micro shorts, kinky boots, and his leather straps. A little bit of perfume, and a sweep of his hair. Some glitter, and he's done.

As expected, a lot of people came for Dino. He tried to squint his eyes as he leaned on the pole. The blaring lights didn't allow him a clear vision of the people on the audience. So he can't tell who's who at all.

The money kept raining as he did a back bend, ascending to an Ayesha. He wanted to bag the owner's kid so much. Maybe they'll give more money.

So he amped up the allure, and admittedly, he raised his charms by using his powers.

More money raining on him, he decided to just give the ultimate show he can.

As expected, he heard the bell that someone ordered the SGS bundle for him.

"You lucky dog." The stage manager slapped his ass, making him glare at him. "The owner's kid booked a 24 hour SGS bundle for you. That's 5k. But that must mean nothing to you since you always get 'em."

Dino smirked, it worked well.

So, he cleaned himself up and went up to the special room.

He saw you, and he's genuinely surprised. He thought you were gonna be some... "Facially challenged" person, but he finds you very pleasant looking. Attractive even.

"Hello, i'm Dino." His smooth voice came out of his mouth. "And may I ask your name, master?"

He smirks. Most clients liked it if he called them master.

You frowned a bit before waving him off.

"Please don't call me that." You said, a bit overwhelmed. "Honestly, i'm only here to shake off my dad. He's really strict, and thinks I shouldn't go anywhere near Tease. So..."

Dino blinked. He didn't expect the owner to be a "wash-hand" type of person. Wash-hand as in he tries to keep his reputation clean but his work involves something "nasty" in society's standard.

"Really? And you're already an adult. So what's with his business breathing down on your neck like that?" For the first time, Dino felt comfortable talking with a client. He sat down on the stage's ledge and looked at you.

"Ugh. I don't know." You twirled your hair with your fingers. And this action didn't go unnoticed by Dino who was looking at you intently. "He's not the best person. He thinks that if I go near here, i'll turn into a... Whore."

Dino was flabbergasted. "What the fuck? What kind of father..."

"I know right?" You raised your hand, annoyed. "I hate him so much."

He started to examine you. True to your words, your outfit is on the conservative side. The only skin showing is your hands, neck, collar bone, and face. In all honesty, you stick out like a sore thumb.

"Hey, you know..." Dino cleared his throat. "With you booking me, that means that I will do whatever you want. Um, so are you here to rebel? Maybe loose your virginity to me or something?" Dino tried to laugh, wanting to lighten the mood. "Or are you secretly not one already?"

"Oh no. I'm not here for that." You stopped him from saying more. "I'm just here to piss my dad off, spend his money in here. I mean, it will still be his really. And renting you for 24 hours will make him go crazy. So uh, help a poor person here?"

For the first time, he didn't dread SGS. Somehow, that lifted a heavy weight on his shoulders even just this once.

It's a well needed break that he welcomed.

"Yeah, sure. Why not. What could go wrong?"

Everything went wrong.

Dino panted, gripping the counter as he washed his face again and again.

But somehow, he can't get rid of the fluster he's feeling right now.

It's been months since he first met you. And true to your words, you both only hung out. A natural friendship born out of helping each other took place. You were his rest, and he was your hero.

He's content with that.

"Like hell I am." He spat out, glaring at the mirror as he brushes his hair back.

That only lasted for two months.

The way you talked to him like he's an actual person and not a sex toy-- it was so refreshing that he started to look forward to your every booking.

Yes, you regularly went back to Tease to book him again and again to piss off your dad who can't do anything. After all, he's all bark and no bite.

It was dangerous.

The more he learned about you, the more he wanted to dig more. At first, he thought you were just a spoiled human who wanted to rebel against your father. But in reality, you were a person who was swallowed by FOMO, and been left out so much because of your upbringing.

He felt pity at first, and that pity turned into a need to save you from your father. He wanted you to experience things you wanted to. Like alcohol, sex, or just to party in general.

As bad as it sounds, he desires to drag you down and influence you to the night life that he knows. Which is darker than the standard. He wants you to know how it feels, he wants you to feel what he knows...

Until that want turned to wanting you.

When did it all start? This heavy feeling inside of him?

His buried innocence was surfacing once more. His hopeless romanticism is eating him alive every time you talked to him. He felt like you were saving him from the wretched world he knows.

Classic knight saves the princess trope, he knows. But god does it feel good to be treated like a person for once. He felt so alive around you and your understanding and non-judgmental personality. He loved that you didn't feel disgusted every time he touches you, or winces at his clothes.

He aggressively rubs the towel on his face and throws it back on the hamper before marching to his chair. He started to quickly apply his skin care routine. The unwanted excitement of seeing you again was bubbling beneath his skin.

He needs to be more beautiful. More handsome, exquisite.

More. And more.

Your damned eyes. Your eyes that he can't forget about at all.

"Fuck!" He almost broke the mirror when he threw his moisturizer bottle at it. "I'm so far gone..."

Your eyes that didn't hold any affection for him.

He can feel it. The need to take you against your will. The hunger for that life force and sexual energy that he desperately needs. But he shouldn't. He really shouldn't.

After all, you kept booking him again and again without any sex. He's about to keel over and just take you then and there just to get what he needs. Especially that it's the first time in so long that he's gone so long without an abundance of it.

He's loosing control. Quickly.

"Hey, Dino. The owner's kid is here again. They said you're booked again for them. Just making sure you know." The stage manager said, breaking the silence in the empty dressing room. Dino nodded and grabbed his boots to wear.

He's going insane.

He wants to be the only one in your eyes. He wants to be your every firsts.

So he'll doll himself up more and more just for you to look his way with unbridled love that he so desperately craves.

And maybe, you'll save him from this hellhole he created once and for all.

#lizzaneiaelizalde #yandere writing #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere imagines #yandere boyfriend #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere fic

[emptywwwriting]

Morning Patrol

Paring: Jackson!Joel Miller x Fem! reader

Summary: It's your first patrol shift since you joined Jackson. When your friend, Jesse, calls out sick you have to go on the patrol alone with Joel Miller.

Warnings: Horrible Writing, HUGE age gap (33 years LOL), reader smokes cigs,  reader is also lowkey a horse girl (shut up), smut will be added, edited this @ 3am sry for mistakes lol, no use of y/n

A03 Link: Morning Patrol

Word Count: 3.8k omg...

First writing ever. I'm sorry if it sucks LOL. I wrote this because I’ve been replaying TLOU2 and it re-awoken my love for these characters.

Idk if I will make this a story or not, it depends on the feedback I get. Correct my grammar/spelling if you see anything wrong, feedback is much appreciated. Also, this is a no-Ellie AU not for any reason, in particular, I just didn’t know how to combine her storyline into this. Please read the warnings!!

It's freezing this time of year, cold frosted winds that are carried by the slopes of the mountains swirl the small town of Jackson, freezing everything over. Even the small wooden stove that usually warms your bones isn't cutting it. Yet you have to stop your eyes from fluttering close while you sit next to the open flame. With only your undergarments to cover you, you're balled up as small as possible sitting on the floor next to the heat. Your alarm had gone off 15 minutes ago, but you’d been procrastinating since. It’s your first patrol shift ever since Jackson took you in nearly 4 months ago. This idea was suggested, rather drunkenly, by Tommy at a bonfire just last week.

…

“It’s about time you start pulling your weight here,” Tommy mumbled with a beer resting on his lips, tilting his head towards you.

Your head snapped up to meet his gaze angrily.

Jesse had arranged a get-together by a bonfire following a town event, inviting Tommy, Joel, Dina, and a few other lookout guards. The hangout was calm, warm, and cozy, with everyone sitting around enjoying their drinks, sharing funny stories, and discussing unusual experiences. As a fairly new member of the town, you were unfamiliar with most of the people there. Jesse, who had played a key role in bringing you into Jackson, made sure to introduce you to Dina, with whom you had formed a close bond. She introduced you to the wonderful team of people who manage all of the horses that Jackson uses. Having grown up around animals, and having extensive knowledge of them, you felt right at home. 

However, not everyone was as friendly. Tommy, in particular, seemed to have a strong dislike for you. Ever since the night shift had found you, he had been suspicious of your presence in the town. Tommy constantly questioned you about your past, making you feel like a criminal rather than a newcomer just trying to fit in. While you understood the need for caution in a town as advanced as Jackson, Tommy's suspicions seemed to linger longer than necessary, this pissed you off. Despite your efforts to become a part of the community and form relationships with Jackson’s people, his distrust towards you made it difficult. You couldn't help but feel like an outsider, even when you are trying to enjoy a casual gathering. 

Jesse let out a cough next to you in an attempt to break the tension. Tommy’s brother, sitting next to him, didn't look away from his bottle, staring awkwardly into the brown glass. Jesse adjusted himself upright in his chair and began.

“I mean you can always come with us on a morning patrol shift… if you feel like it of course,” he added quickly, before staring into his own beer bottle.

You hummed in response. 

Still mad at Tommy, you shoot him another hidden glare before finishing your drink quickly.

“I think it would be a good start for you, hell of an early shift but usually a quiet one.” He looks over at you. “Just me and Joel now, another person couldn't hurt.” Jesse finishes.

Tommy's brother, Joel, grunts from across the fire agreeing.

You stare into the open flame thinking about his words.

“You up for it?” Jesse prods.

“Yeah, I'll do it.” You reply.

Tommy lets out a huff but you choose to ignore it. 

Still basking in the awkwardness from Tommy's comment, Dina and Jesse yawn and start collecting their stuff murmuring their goodbyes to the rest of the group surrounding the fire. Tommy and Joel stomp out the flames before falling into quiet conversation, as you follow Dina and Jesse towards the housing strip.

…

You finally force yourself to get up, the cold air wraps around your body as the stove's heat leaves your skin, you quickly get dressed. Sliding your thickest sweatshirt over your head and thick pants onto your legs. Stepping into your boots, you grab a beanie, gloves, and your backpack, making sure that your revolver is with you. After extinguishing the stove's flame, you exit your house and start down the quiet road.

You thought that things were quiet at night, they are even more quiet at four in the morning. Not a soul is awake at this hour, you've never seen the streets of Jackson so still. None of the town's Edison bulbs were on, only the occasional lamp that came from a house's window illuminated your path. Your mind wanders to the patrol, and you recall how just yesterday Jesse called out sick. A horrible stomach flu had torn its way through Jackson, particularly the school kids and teachers. Jesse got it after participating in a snowball fight with the school children, and Dina was now stuck taking care of him.  You had been sick with it nearly a week ago, the aftereffects still haunting your body. Your stomach gurgled with hunger, feeling as if it had sunk in. Chills racked your body at night, but you had no fever and could keep food down, sometimes. You didn't want to leave Joel to do the patrol alone, even though you know he could.

You have never talked with Joel before, just knew of him. His gruffness made itself apparent when he entered a room. He is a very respected man in the small town and it makes you feel like you know him to an extent. You have to admit that his large size and powerful aura make you slightly scared of him, yet it intrigues you even more. You often catch yourself staring at his aged and calloused hands gripping a beer bottle, or while cleaning his gun, and would have to force yourself to look away; But for such a strong and large man he was so quiet. It made you nervous to go on patrol with him. It's not that you dread the patrol itself, nor does it mean you don't want to be alone with him, but you dread the awkwardness of it.

You are both very quiet people, it's bound to get awkward. With someone chatty like Dina, you could rely on her for conversation for hours, and there would never be a dull moment. But with Joel? Who knows.

Finally, you arrive at the greenhouses which are next to the exit of Jackson. In the moonlit shadows, you see Joel, hand near his mouth, a lit cigarette between his fingers. The tip of the cigarette glowing red illuminating his face in an auburn glow. The sight makes your stomach flip, or maybe it's the virus. He catches your eye as you approach, now a few feet from him.

“Mornin.” He mumbles, voice groggy with sleep.

“Morning” You offer back sounding weak.

His peppered beard nearly sparkles in the dim light, his nose sculpting his face beautifully. Towering over you even at a distance.

Fuck he’s hot.

“We should head out a little early today so I have time to show you all our check-in spots,” He says after another puff.

“Sounds good to me!” You say eagerly, slightly embarrassed at your peppiness. 

He tosses the cigarette into the snow, before stepping on it with his boot, turning away from you and towards the gate. You're suddenly very thankful for Jesse's illness, given now you get to be alone with possibly the hottest man you have ever seen. 

Fumbling for the key he unlocks the gate, before having to open a set of precautionary doors, that you remember entering just a few months ago after night patrol found you nearly dead.

“Watch your step.” Joel throws back at you as you exit the final gate and start up a path of icy rocks.

“Got it.” You retort.

Looking up you can see the moonlit glow of the frozen rocks, a long path up into the cover of the forest. It's eerie, too quiet, and too steep. You would not know what to do without Joel here. Even though his presence puts your mind at ease, it's still terrifying while dark. You had almost forgotten what it's like to not be in Jackson. A whole year of struggling to survive on your own forgotten in a handful of months.

I’m spoiled. You think.

You know Jackson has spoiled you but it's not like you don't deserve it.

 The thoughts of your life before, outside the walls of Jackson, creep into your mind and you become nauseous.

“How long will we be out here?” You ask, trying to get your mind back to Joel.

“Well-” He sighs. “Depends on how many stragglers we have to get through. If the weather holds up and there's nothing out of the blue, the whole watch will be about 8 hours.” 

“Eight hours?” You repeat shocked.

“Yep, a whopping eight hours.” He says sarcastically. “Forget how you outbreak, kids never worked a normal job.” He chuckles to himself.

“I was born as soon as the outbreak started, I think that's hard enough.” You say smiling. He huffs.

“I’d take eight-hour shifts over an infection any day.” You smile.

“Yeah me too.” He replies.

It's quiet again and the awkward tension seeps back in making you more uneasy. The sound of his boots crunching the snow under him fills the air, and you're now closer to the woods. You follow Joel a few feet back, studying his frame while he can't see you. 

Why can’t you think of anything to say and why is he so quiet? You pray for Joel to say something, anything, and when he doesn't, you force yourself to talk.

“Do you like your shifts with Jesse?” 

“Jesse's good, a little woman crazy but he's fine. At least he's a good shot.” He lets out a huff.

“Yep, that sounds like Jesse.” you smile to yourself.

The conversation goes silent again and you begin to wonder if it's just this awkward in your head. The path evens out as you enter the brush, and Joel turns his flashlight on, illuminating the now even darker path. As the forest thickens the moon becomes less and less of a help, your eyes strain, trying to make out the terrain. 

Crunch Crunch Crunch

Focusing on the sounds of snow and wind you space out, now trying to ignore the awkwardness between you.

“How old did you say you were?” 

you didn't 

Joel asks awkwardly.

“Twenty-five.” You reply, 

“Jesus.” He says under his breath.

“How old did you say you were?” You ask playfully.

He laughs, seemingly embarrassed.

“Too old.” He says shortly.

You laugh and begin walking closer behind him. When finally in the complete cover of the woods Joel climbs up onto a large rock, one nearly bigger than you. After getting himself up right, he reaches a hand down to you. He looks majestic like this, so tall above you looking down with a rough and large hand extended. Even his thick wool coat can't fully conceal how large his biceps and chest are. You want to take a picture of him. 

Him saying your name, snaps you back into reality, grabbing his hand quickly, he hoists you up onto the rock. His powerful tug launches you faster than you expected. Your foot lands on a chunk of ice and you slip slightly before he holds you up with the hand he was holding. Dangling from his strong  grip you quickly try to find some kind of footing grunting in pain.

His other hand comes down to the collar of your clothing grabbing it and pulling you up. You reach for his arms for stability and take a breath before opening your eyes to look up at him. You're a mess, knees weak, one arm on his bicep the other on his flexed forearm staring up at him like a hurt puppy. You snap your head back down and release him, brushing yourself off. He slowly lets go of your jacket collar and hand before huffing out a chuckle

“Told you to be careful.” He beams down at you.

Your face is so red it's warming you in contrast to the freezing night air.

“Not my fault you flung me over the rock.” You laugh lightly looking down to hide your face. Not only were you red but you are trying to hide the grimaces you are making from the shooting pain in your ankle.

“Whatever you say darlin'.” He laughs.

And, oh that made your stomach do actual flips. You freeze as he starts down the path again, you're trying to comprehend the nickname, and why it sounded so good coming from his lips.

Darlin’....

 Shaking your head you follow after him promptly. The wind picks up and your hair starts whipping onto your already red cheeks. It is cold, and the wind makes you feel even more miserable. Joel's hair, which had only grown since you joined Jackson, moved in the crisp breeze, he seemed to notice the wind picking up, and he started walking faster.

“I think we are getting caught in a storm.” He says defeatedly, pushing forward into the dark night. 

Your heart drops as you push to keep up with the older man who is somehow faster than you, your ankle screaming at you to stop.

“Let's turn back.” You suggest sighing, you pause for a moment to take the weight off of your foot. 

This earns a quick,

“No, too far back, we are closer to the first check-in.” His voice becomes more strained as the terrain gets more steep and the wind picks up. You quickly start following after him again, in a limp.

“How much further?” 

“Half a mile.” Joel quips.

“Focus on the trail. The wind is getting stronger, we have supplies at the check-in and can camp out there until day shift comes.” 

His strong legs take large strides up the mountain. You continue to follow, the wind nearly knocking you over at some points. The gusts of icy air start picking up fallen snow, blurring everything in a cloud of white dust. Your ankle only seems to be feeling worse as each twist and turn gets harder and harder to trek. In a panic, you grab Joel's backpack so as not to lose him. He yells something at you about the path you think, but you can't hear, the wind is screaming in your ears too loudly. Your ankle feels warm. Twigs and branches snap, each making you jump, you slip only slightly, catching yourself before continuing hot on Joel's trail. Your knuckles are white from the grip you have on his bag. Frozen in place. 

Finally, you see the outline of a shed, Snow, and ice slinging into the side of it from the wind. You see the back of Joel's head raise as he spots the structure before his pace picks up even more and you're practically being dragged. Noticing this he blindly reaches back, taking hold of your forearm and dragging you to the front of him, his warm chest pressed against your back. The wind slams into him, blocking it from you. He pushes you slowly, now noticing your limp. Step by step you make your way to the wooden shed. You hear him breathing ruggedly in your ear, your gasp and breaths fill the air along with his. Finally at the door moving you to the side yet not taking his hands off you he opens the door and shoves you inside. The sound of whirling wind, snow, and branches snapping disappears outside of the dark room, muffling the chaos nearly completely. 

Joel puts a large wood plank in the shed's lock and takes a deep breath before turning to you. He looks you up and down.

“You okay? You slipped a few times pretty good back there.” He sighs trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah, I think I'm good.” You breathe deeply and try to think. “I twisted my ankle a little though.” You sigh.

Throwing down your heavy bag you plop down on the dirt floor next to it. You definitely did something more than twist it because the pain is radiating up into your knee, making it hard to hide your discomfort. 

Inside the shed is small, there's enough room for you, Joel, and a small stove with a plastic crate filled with what looked like ammo and food and first aid, underneath it. Joel looks down at you and you meet his gaze. The feeling of his chest against your back lingers on your skin and in your thoughts. You push your thighs together and look away, hoping he can't read your mind. He kneels in front of you grabbing your ankle suddenly.

“Shit!” You hiss trying to pull your leg back up to your body.

He takes hold of your leg again, this time underneath your knee. You move around trying to find a comfortable position.

“Stop squirming, I need to look at your ankle.”

As he wishes you hold as still as possible as he pulls your pant leg up and begins to untie your boot. Gently he slides off the shoe and pulls your sock off halfway. Unveiling your ankle beat red and swollen. Joel cringes at the sight of it and gently puts your leg back on the ground. Reaching behind himself he grabs the plastic tote and opens it looking for what you assume to be painkillers.

“It's really not that bad, I'll be okay, just need to lay off it for a bit.” You sound defeated.

“We have pain killers in here, you can-” 

You cut him off “I'm okay, and I'm not wasting Jacksons supplies.”

He looks at you, at your ankle, and then slowly up your body. 

“You're not going to be able to walk back down with that.” He says.

You go to disagree with him but you stop yourself because you know he's right, there's no way in hell.

“Im sorry, I-” 

“Not your fault.” He cuts you off and places the small crate at your legs for you to prop your foot on.

“I know I just- I feel like the town already doesn't like me, hell I know Tommy doesn't. And I just don't want to be a problem.”

“Tommy’s a paranoid old man,” He begins. “I love my brother but his suspicions get the best of him sometimes, he loves Jackson, and wants to keep it safe, don't take it personal kid.” His eyes show you his sincerity, and you look down, still ashamed.

He looks up at you saying nothing sympathy written across his face. He groans as he gets up from his knees now looking down at you, examining.

“I hope day shift brings up a horse. We gon’ have to carry you if not.” 

You cringe at the thought of the issues you're causing but know he's right.

“As for this storm,” He walks around the room and cracks the door open slightly before having to slam his body on it to get the wind to stop pouring through. 

“Yeah-” He breathes heavily, locking the door back. “That's gonna hold up for a while.” He puts his fingers on the bridge of his knows like he's trying to figure out what to do.

Joel then spends the next twenty minutes doing something you may call nesting. As you watch, you can sense the anxiety pouring off him. He paces back and forth, seemingly unable to calm down. While he doesn't say anything, the worried look on his face speaks for him. It's as if he's trying to distract himself from the nervousness that looks to be consuming him. He checks and double-checks the locked door, and starts a fire in the small stove, he meticulously tends to it. The pacing continues, with Joel occasionally glancing at the door, as if expecting the weather to magically change.

At this point you're lying on the ground head on a Joel’s pack, just staring into the fire.

“Jesus sit down Joel.” You finally tell him, getting tired just from watching him.

He pauses his pacing and looks at you as if he didn’t know he was even doing it. Mumbling an apology, he walks over to you and sits against the wall a foot or two from your head. You two sit in silence for a while, listening to the fire crackle what sticks were left in there, while the wind whistles through the small shed.

“You got any more of those cigarettes you had earlier?” You ask shyly, like you are doing something bad. You meet his gaze craning your neck up while he looks down confused and surprised.

“Didn't know you smoke” He huffs, reaching into the backpack under your head, he grabs a small white beat-up box and pulls from it, a neatly home-rolled cigarette.

You hum, admiring his strong hands digging through the box.

“Don't tell on me.” You smile looking at him sheepishly. He rolls his eyes before sticking the cigarette in his mouth and bringing a match to the end of it, lighting it and inhaling deeply. Taking it from his mouth he brings the cigarette to your lips until you open them, sticking it between them. Your stomach does cartwheels as he focuses on your lips wrapped around the smoke. Inhaling deeply you lock eyes, staring back into his. He takes the cigarette in front you and lets it rest in his hand as you both exhale.

“How long until they come for us?” You sigh after gently taking the cigarette from Joel’s hand and sticking it in your mouth again.

“Day shift starts at 1:30, and it’s still dark out,” He takes the smoke from you and takes a drag before exhaling.

“So we still have a while sweetie.”

You hide the smile that forces its way to your face by adjusting your body so that your head is now closer to his thigh.

You both take turns puffing on the cigarette until it gets too short to hold, Joel tosses it into the stove, and wipes his hands on his pants. You however are plotting on how to get closer to him. Too shy to say anything, but too desperate to not be closer you casually scoot up more and place your head on his thigh before turning away from him, pretending to get comfy. He gets stiff at this and you get nervous.

shit was that too much?

Frozen in fear you listen and wait. Slowly he relaxes and you hear his head thump against the wall. You let a breath out you didn’t know you were holding, and begin to relax. It was nearly 15 minutes later when you started to hear a small grumble coming from the man under you, he was snoring. You smiled to yourself, proud that you had managed to lay on him and not weird him out, maybe he likes it as much as you do. When he wakes up you'll think about testing your luck again, for now though, you need to rest. Closing your eyes you drift to sleep on his thigh, thinking about his hands all over you.

#tlou smut #joel miller tlou #tlou game #tlou hbo #tlou part 2 #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #tlou2 #smut #eventual smut #joel miller x reader #light angst #age g@p #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #fanfic

[sophiamarieispinkbunny-chan]

More in depth analysis about the Spy x Family Manga Cover Chairs and Bonus Artworks (Or me just overthinking Endo’s decisions in everything and as always long post, please bear with me)

So I wanted to talk about something that I noticed about the various designer chairs that is featured on all manga covers.

Endo did say that he thought about how each chair matches the personality of the character, regarding it’s style, design or the color.

But I like to talk about something different about the chairs-it’s size or the seating capacity and how it reflects the characters relationship with others or their views about relationships. Also, I’m going to share something significant about the comedic bonus arts that also feature the chairs.

This focus mainly about Loid, Yor and Anya‘s Chair (including Fiona’s Chair) and the bonus illustrations that came with it.

Volume 1-Loid’s Chair: Le Corbusier LC2

There are two versions of this chair in the manga/anime, the love seat and the one seater. Loid is seated in the one seater chair in this cover, it means no one can sit there with him that reflects how reluctant he was in letting other people in his life. He wasn’t open for relationships (You can notice that those who are like him, intelligence assets; Franky, Fiona, Handler all sit in one seating capacity chair).

The bonus artwork was Anya sitting on the chair copying his pose. She’s the most fitting person to be in this seat because she can see through Loid’s mind, she basically knows who he really is and she likes him for that. Anya was fond of spies and she was excited about being part of his mission.

Volume 2-Anya’s Chair: Marshmallow Sofa

Anya’s chair has a large seating capacity and she was sitting at the middle, waiting for the empty spots on her both sides to be occupied. This depicts Anya’s anticipation for forming relationship with other people, about her wanting parents, a family, to be there for her.

The bonus artwork was drunk Yor lying face flat on Anya’s chair. This artwork, for me, reflects Yor’s unwavering affection for Anya and Anya’s appreciation of Yor. Even drunk, she’s determined to protect her, as if she was her real daughter as seen during the castle chapter. She is fond of Anya.

Volume 3-Yor’s Chair: La Chaise (Featuring Fiona’s Heart Cone Chair)

This is the chair I wanted to talk about and I have to use Fiona’s Chair for this analysis for Endo said that Fiona is designed to be Yor’s contrast and we can clearly see it in their chairs.

The seating capacity of Yor and Fiona’s chair greatly differ. Yor’s chair was big, Endo pointed how it didn’t even fit the cover, and even though Fiona’s chair is big too, she’s the only person who could sit in it. Other people can fit Yor’s chair but not with Fiona. I analyze this as Yor being open to genuine relationships and selfless while Fiona being closed off and selfish.

We know Yor’s motivation for being an assassin was for Yuri, for the sake of other people, and what is Fiona’s motivation? Clearly it was mainly for Twilight to marry her, love her and it was evidently show with all that stuff hiding behind her chair. I’m sure she experienced a lot of traumatic stuff that led to her being a spy but I don’t see other praise worthy and selfless motivations from her that was aside Twilight’s affection. Don’t get me wrong, she’s an interesting character and she isn't a bad person but I’m not really a fan of her personality just like I don’t like Yuri’s obsession with her sister.

In Yor however, she has nothing under or behind her chair. Just that blood that wasn’t even behind or below her chair. She wasn’t faking anything about her personality. It’s true that she accepted her marriage to preserve her assassin job but she genuinely wanted to marry Loid because he was the one who acknowledged her selflessness and that was enough for her to completely entrust her life to him. She welcomed Loid and Anya to her life because her longing for a companion to share her life with is as big as the size of her chair.

The bonus art in Volume 3 was Loid sitting on her chair. Despite the comedic set up of these illustrations, I think the people who tend to sit on the chair on the bonus arts were the ones who gets the person on the cover the most.

That is why Anya is in Loid’s (Because she can read his mind) Why Yor is in Anya's (Because Yor lost her parents at a young age too and she knows how to care for Anya because she did that to Yuri) and why Loid is in Yor’s chair (Because Loid understood her self sacrifice because he too, is the same as her) Also why Anya and Bond are in the bonus of Volume 4 because the two of them get each other, being both experimented on.

I also have some analysis about Volume 5-12 and the bonus artworks as well, but I might post them in another time since I haven't seen the translated bonus artworks in Becky and Emile and Ewen's Volumes.

But let me know if this analysis makes sense to you.

#spy x family #spy x family manga #anya forger #loid forger #yor forger #twilight #twiyor #spy x family anime #sxf anime #sxf manga #sxf thoughts #sxf analysis #The chairs are really playing significant roles in their character #Endo must've spent a lot of time thinking about it #Everything about the chairs just fits them #I'm excited to see who's going to be on Volume 13's cover #But my hunch would be either Henderson or we will repeat a character

[uncanny-tranny]

Hey, you're being lied to about what fitness constitutes. If you can't work in an hour-long crossfit slog, but you can work in a five-minute walk, then that is still fitness. If you can't use your legs but you can do arm circles every now and again, that is still fitness. If you're moving around at work, that's still fitness. It can be intentional or incidental, but here's the best part: your body doesn't care if you're dedicating specific work-out times. It doesn't care if the "only" fitness it gets is your nine to five on your feet. It doesn't care, fitness is fitness is fitness. Some of us do it differently, but the end result is more or less similar.

If you can do any type of fitness safely, your body isn't going to care if you're doing it like an Olympic athlete or if you're just a casual.

#fitness #gentle reminders #i hate hate hate the idea that fitness must be done Intentionally and in a Hegemonic Way #like... fitness is whatever you make of it and whatever you do #your body isn't going to be like 'well you walked for fove minutes but you didn't do shoulder presses at the gym so it doesn't count 😊' #if you want more specific forms of fitness then SURE you might want to do more specific exercises and activities #but if your goal is overall movement for however much if your body then... you don't Need to be THAT specific #and your goals may be specific for only parts of your body and that's GREAT! #a wheelchair user may for example do more arm exercises so they can use a manual chair for instance... #...and to many people i've noticed they don't think it 'counts' because the chair user isn't using 'all' of their body... #...but it's like... using your arms in non-powered chairs can be really important so like. it's still fitness. #you don't actually have to equally focus on everything if you don't want to or can't #all this to say that fitness is Not hegemonic and you don't need to feel shame about what you do or don't do #even a tiny tiny TINY amount is significant and matters <3 #this is definitely something i've gotten more passionate about since becoming a ~gym bro~ #because you see just how different people are and what they want out of fitness #and it's taught me a lot more about my own disabilities and how i work with (and even against) them to find balance #this is what i love about those fitness video games too! because they're often made to be engaging and fun! #i LOVED just dance as a kid and that was fitness merging with video games (and i loved video games (still do!)) #and i HIGHLY recommend people get video games like just dance or that one nintendo ring game because of these elements! #it combines the comfort of home with movement with engaging music/story/video game elements #and things like that make me believe in peace and love and care on planet earth <<3

[secondpersonpoetry]

Franziska Linkerhand, Brigitte Reimann

#do you ever start reading a novel and not even get past the first page before shrieking 'LEON' #incredibly niche content. this is for real just for me #and i understand this HOWEVER it bothered me and rotated in my brain so much i NEEDED to come put this here. stupid!!! hrrrggggghhhrrrh!!!! #and i was just going to put the verdreifachen line and i'm not happy with how it's edited but it's FINE everything's fine it's just. #LEON. #and like granted does this totally hold true no i don't think so it just slots into the terrible terrible universe of quotes i have for him #but i can't articulate it right. also we're throwing this into the Heimat thesis breakdown pile for leon &wherever the brainworms r crawlin #<- that is the one i mean thank you. yelling into the void ash & alice u will never be forgiven for starting this ily #ich möchte mein Leben verdreifachen / um nachzuholen / die lange lange Zeit / als es dich nicht gab #do i put this on the actual hockey blog to have the breakdown there and figure out what i mean? maybe. #but then i KNOW i'd have to translate it so people can read it and already i wouldn't know if i want to say my life in triplicate #or my life thrice over and if it's there was no you or you weren't there. save me translation theory save me (smacks me with a steel chair) #also it is SO raw. #i'm not afraid of the present but the memories i can't fight back against the pictures in ur head i can't see a pain i did not share w/ u.. #and i do think the reason it hits so hard as a c/l to me is maybe the idea of this not as i didn't know you then at all #but that they did grow up together. and it's that he didn't have him in the way he does now he doesn't know him like he does now and now #he has to think about the life he had with connor&he want to do it once / twice over now to know to make up for the time he missed with him #but it also falls into the one in every dream i have of you you are making breakfast that even when i dream i'm dreaming of you inside them #(the life thrice over) #anyway. multitude of others it could be however bc it's auf Deutsch it got assigned leon even if it may not fit as perfectly. OH TIME LOOPS #THE JAMIE/TREVOR DUAL TIME LOOPS FIC OH MY GOD YEAH THAT'S THIS HOW DID IT TAKE ME SO LONG TO GET TO TIME LOOPS WITH LIFE THRICE OVER yesss

[criminalamnesia]

HIIII!!! I just wanted to say that i really love ur writing! I've read ur traitor series and I can't wait for part 4! I'm a new author, and english isn't my first language, so it's sometimes very hard for me to write bcs i'm stil not that good, but ur fics have helped me improve<3💗!

thank you so much!🫶 im glad you’ve enjoyed the series! and speaking of part four, here it is :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

simon didn’t turn to watch you leave the gym.

he stood there, eyes forward, mask clenched in one fist. he could feel the blood drying on his skin. he made no move to wipe it away.

he didn’t blame you for your anger— he couldn’t. he understood the rage. had felt it himself a time or two.

but he couldn’t take everything lying down.

did he deserve your wrath, your fury? yes— and he knew that. there was no making up for what he did; he realized that, but why couldn’t you understand?

he’d never fully taken his walls down around you, and that was no fault of your own. he was a guarded man, and his past gave him every right to be.

he had been burned and broken too many times. he’d seen the people he loved murdered because of him.

he swore he would never let that happen again. he put those walls up, and you knocked some of them down.

but there were some you’d never gotten through, at least, simon told himself you hadn’t. there was always something he was holding back, a piece of himself he wouldn’t give freely. he told himself it was because he couldn’t stand to love you so deeply and then watch you leave.

but really, it was because he needed an out. he needed a way to justify his leaving if something ever happened— and that’s what got him here.

simon trusted the 141 with his life. he trusted his captain with his life. price had never led him astray; john knew his face well before any of the others. well before you.

and when someone you trust so deeply, someone you’ve followed for years, tells you that the person you love has betrayed your team?

you can’t help but believe them. and that’s what simon did.

the evidence was coincidental at first. wrong place, wrong time. but then, everything started to seem like more than a coincidence. pieces of a complicated puzzle were fitting together. things only you and the rest of the 141 would know were leaked.

and all the signs pointed to you.

and although he didn’t want to, simon couldn’t help it. the second price had confided in him that you may be the rat, simon began to distance himself. you had been confused, but he had offered no explanation.

price was the one to question you first. it was a heated conversation in his office, consisting of him showing you the evidence and you becoming furious at the accusations.

johnny came to you next, buttering you up with his flirtatious and unarming words before asking if you’d leaked information.

then there was kyle, who pleaded for the truth. he told you that a case was being built against you, and that if you came clean now, things wouldn’t be so bad.

simon never tried to talk to you about it. the other men would tell him what you’d said, but he had never gone to talk to you himself.

maybe it was pride. simon wasn’t trusting, not after his past. he had let the 141 in, had let you in. and now you were a suspected traitor, and he was angry at himself. angry he hadn’t seen it sooner; angry he’d let you in at all.

but maybe it was hurt. hurt that you’d done this to him, to the team, after knowing everything they’d been through. after stitching up wounds on the battlefield and taking bullets for one another. after sharing simon’s bed and whispering you loved him.

all he knew was that he trusted price. and as evidence built, so did the distance between the two of you, until you were tied to that chair.

and simon had taken his hurt, his anger, out on you. he wasn’t proud of it, and he knew now that he was wrong. but he was still a little angry. angry because you couldn’t see his side of things— not like he could see yours.

so, he was an ass. he didn’t apologize. he snuck flowers to your bedside but kept his distance. he told you to watch your tone because you were still part of the team, and speaking to price like that was only something an outsider would do.

and he told you that he’d spared your life because he had. anger had consumed him, and truthfully, you were lucky he hadn’t done worse.

even if he’d smothered his feelings for you with rage, he still harbored love for you, and that’s why some part of him held back.

he knew you would probably never forgive him. he had made his peace with that.

but he couldn’t stand the fact that you couldn’t understand why he’d done what he did.

the creak of the gym door opening broke simon from his thoughts. he pulled his mask back on before turning around and making his way to the door.

it took one firm knock on the door for price to answer.

the door clicked open, and price sighed when he saw simon, scrubbing a hand over his unruly beard before letting the taller man in. price turned, walking back to his desk chair, while simon closed the door behind him and locked it.

“this is a bloody mess,” the captain said, falling heavily into the chair. it squeaked at the sudden weight, old leather crinkling and crackling.

“doc came and saw me earlier, ‘fore she left for the night. told me about some new injuries, and yelled at me for letting that happen.”

simon didn’t speak. price’s eyes met his, and he sighed again.

“fuckin’ hell, simon. what the fuck did you say? doc said she had to stitch up both their hands.”

“doesn’t matter what I say,” simon spoke, eyes still on the captain “they won’t fuckin’ listen.”

price shook his head. “that’s not true, ‘nd we both know it,” he sounded tired as he spoke, dark bags under his eyes. he paused for a moment, then spoke again.

“spoke to laswell after you left earlier. she said she’ll try to speed up the transfer process. tryin’ to avoid more fuss, and im not fightin’ it any longer.”

“they’re part of our team,” simon spoke, tone rough.

price shook his head. “they are, but I can’t keep doin’ this. can’t keep pushin’ off transferin’ because of you lot. it may be better for us, but not for them.”

the room fell quiet. simon inhaled, exhaled. his fists clenched at his sides before quickly unfurling once more.

he didn’t have a right to be mad at you for leaving, but he was.

“laswell say anythin’ else about tha’ transfer?” simon asked.

price leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “not much. no word on where or with who, but even if she knew, doubt she’d tell us. for their sake.”

simon gave a small nod and made to turn, but froze as price spoke again.

“she did say she didn’t know if it would go through. they’d have to pass another eval.”

they both knew what that meant. if laswell said that, then she didn’t believe the transfer would happen. kate wouldn’t outwardly say it, but price had known what she’d meant.

pushing the transfer through wouldn’t matter if you couldn’t pass a physical and psychological evaluation— and laswell didn’t think you could.

although he wouldn’t admit it, price was unsure, too. torture was something that took an incredibly devastating toll on the mind and body.

but torture at the hands of your team? there was no telling the damage that that would do to someone. to you.

an honorable discharge was more likely. and, if that was the case, then your rage would likely grow tenfold.

you career, your livelihood, taken from you by the hands of the men you trusted the most. your family, cutting you up and pushing you out.

damned by your team and your country, regardless of everything you’d done for both of them during your service.

you were just another cog in the machine, one that had been damaged and discarded, and a discharge couldn’t make that any clearer.

he thought back to what you had said in the gym earlier, before you’d left.

‘you should have killed me.’

maybe he should have.

thanks to everyone for your patience! also just incase you didn’t see my post about it—

im no longer doing a taglist! my side blog @troiastitans will reblog my works from now on, so if you want to know when I post, follow that account and allow notifications!

as always, thank you for the love! (also I hope you all enjoyed a little peek into simon’s head!)

#cod mw2 fic #captain john price #gaz call of duty #soap call of duty #ghost call of duty #captain price #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #johnny mactavish #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #John price #simon riley x gn reader #simon riley angst #ghost x gn reader #ghost x you #ghost angst #ghost x reader #ghost cod #141!reader #141 x reader #task force 141

[the-californicationist]

They Help You Practice

Task Force 141 asks you to be the bait for a secret assignment. So, they make you audition for the role. You end up getting gangbanged by the whole team and loving it!

TW: gangbang, vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex, gay sex, degradation, explicitly consensual, spit? please check AO3 link at bottom for full tag list

You let yourself into his office, shutting the door behind you, and stood before him at a sharp parade rest, waiting to be informed about your fate. 

“Sergeant, thank you for coming. There is no need for formalities. This is just a chat.”

You moved to a more relaxed rest and nodded. 

Price continued,

“This is going to be quite the ask. Would you be willing to perform duties which are…outside of your current scope?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded just as you should have, as you were trained to, but Price was hoping you would understand exactly what you would be getting yourself into. 

“I need you to go undercover to a Konni restaurant cover in Minsk…as bait. Am I making myself clear?”

A pause. But, to your credit, you didn’t flinch. You did raise an eyebrow and ask a clarifying query,

“What kind of bait, sir?”

“Our next target, Dimitri Sokolov, will be at the Black Pearl bar in Minsk tomorrow, and we won’t get a better chance to lure him away from his bodyguards. He almost never makes public appearances, so he must be making an exception. Sokolov has,” he paused for a moment, trying to find the words, making general, suggestive motions over his own chest, “particular tastes in his women. You just so happen to have the right profile for the job. Again, this is not an order, Sergeant. I need to know if you’re willing to accept.”

“Yes, sir,” you tried to appear fully in control. You knew your breasts were large, but you had never been asked to use them as a weapon. There was a first time for everything, you supposed. You would do anything to help the team.

The captain loved your composure. He knew you would be perfect for the job. 

“Good. Let's brief the team.”

Price walked with you down to the meeting room at the end of the hall and found Soap, Ghost, and Gaz sitting in the desk chairs every way except the way they were designed, lounging over the furniture like big cats, melting into the various surfaces they encountered. They fixed themselves when the captain walked in. 

“Gentlemen,” Price opened, “this is our bait. Her code name is Rabbit. Rabbit, this is Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”

You nodded politely and resumed a semi-formal rest position. 

The men had noticed you around the base but hadn’t been formally introduced. You were a desk rider, but still, you were hard to miss. The baggy military clothing had almost managed to conceal a bounty of soft curves, but your lush body persisted beneath it, and the outlines of your feminine form made heinous suggestions in the fabric. Unfortunately for them, you didn’t hang around the gym or the common area enough for them to have generated a fully accurate image of your enticing body, but they were certain it was delicious. They watched you like peckish wolves. Waiting hungrily, shifting in their seats in anticipation. For what, you weren’t sure.

“Rabbit is going undercover for us to take down Sokolov, Vladimir Makarov’s new shipping controller. He has a particular penchant for,” Price paused just long enough for anyone to understand his true meaning, “certain types of women. Rabbit fits the mold, so all she needs is the gear and the training.”

Price cut open three large cardboard boxes to reveal slinky dresses and a number of questionable garments. 

“I’ll need to try them on,” you offered, “Do you want me to get changed, Captain?”

“Sounds good. Come back in when you’re all set,” he smiled, enjoying the view as you left the room. 

Ghost crossed his arms, clearly with quite a mouthful to share and but refusing to. Gaz stared down at the knife he was playing with, bashful. But Soap would not be cowed, and as soon as you left, he said,

“Feeding her to the sharks like bait, Captain? I dinnae ken any of us was so expendable.”

“Soap,” Price warned, “the sergeant is more than capable of handling -”

“I wasnae askin’ about the lassie’s capabilities. Send her in to slit his throat with a knife in her hand, for all I care. But to send her in unguarded, unarmed? No. It’s not right,” Soap crossed his arms. 

“He’s got a point, Captain. Why take the risk of losing an operative?” Ghost spoke coldly. 

Price furrowed his brow at their short-sightedness,

“And do what, exactly? Have the Russians scurry back underground at the first hint of an assassination attempt? We’ve failed that mission three times, boys. I’ll not have this go south again.”

“I’m sure she is capable, Captain. But, is Rabbit committed to this plan?” Gaz asked. 

“Sure,” Price tried to sound reassuring, “we spoke in my office. She agreed to come down here. Besides, she’ll have you three as backup. You won’t let anything happen to her.”

Gaz did not seem convinced. All three soldiers wore a scowl on their faces, and even though Ghost’s was obscured by his mask, his body language communicated his displeasure. Price carefully ashed his cigar to renew the glowing tip, taking a long drag while they waited for you to return. 

You were back without too much of a delay, but when you walked in, your colleagues were visibly stunned. They didn’t recognize you at first. A short black dress had replaced your camouflage fatigues, showing off miles and miles of smooth, shining skin. Your thick thighs stretched the silky fabric, and your ass threatened to escape from the edge of the dress with every step you took. Your new heels clacked sharply against the cold concrete, making your legs flex and tense, showing off your well-formed musculature. You did not miss squat day very often, apparently.

But, the assets you were trying to use for this particular mission were the real stars of the show. Your heavy breasts battled against the low dip of the dress, providing a deep display of cleavage, hinting at pink perky nipples hidden just below the line of the black silk. Your tits jiggled as you struck the floor with each careful step, making the room full of men breathe a little heavier at the sight. 

Soap’s big mouth betrayed them all,

“Christ in Heaven. There you are, bonnie.”

Ghost backhanded him hard on the shoulder. Price glowered.

You had put on a little more makeup than might be socially acceptable in an office setting, making the suggestive outfit complete. Finally, as you stood at the head of the meeting table, you took out your task force regulation braid and pulled your fingers through your hair, breaking up your long waves as they spilled down your neck and back. 

You smiled,

“Well, do I look the part?”

Price coughed, inhaling too much smoke on accident. Gaz hadn’t moved since you walked in the room. He just stood there, dumbfounded, arms held at an odd angle as if frozen in time. Ghost cleared his throat to save them,

“Yes, Rabbit. You clean up very nicely, don’t you?”

“Well,” you sighed, “this is sort of the raunchiest outfit I found in the box. I was going to go with something a bit more casual, but I thought I’d better be noticeable if we’re going to nail this asshole.”

Gaz finally came out of his locked state, aghast,

“Noticeable? Sweetheart, this is more than noticeable. Goddamn.”

“You think it’s too much? I don’t really know what would get his attention,” you shrugged, looking shy as you confessed, “I don’t get asked out very often.”

“You could go out with me, lassie,” Soap edged his way closer to her, slinking around the table, “We’d have a hell of a time, so we would.”

“Don’t listen to Johnny,” Ghost stood in front of him a bit, snaking an arm around your cinched waist, “He thinks takin’ his birds to the dog races is a good date idea.”

“Well, isn’t it?” Soap protested.

Gaz grabbed your hand tenderly, examining your fingers like they were a precious work of art,

“Maybe you could come with me to Berlin next weekend, babes. There’s a killer music festival going on, and we could have a really good time. How does that sound?”

“Boys,” Price interrupted, “I’m sure she has plenty of work to finish here; can’t just be galavanting off with you muppets. In fact, why don’t you stop by my office after this mission, bunny rabbit, and we can work on your projected shipment dates together? You know, I used to be a logistics man, myself.”

Ghost rolled his eyes at the Captain,

“Please, logistics? You drove a truck back and forth on base delivering food to the canteen twenty years ago. I’ve read your file.”

The men all started talking over each other, forgetting your presence in favor of coming out on top of the dog pile. You smiled to yourself, eager to push more of their buttons. 

Slipping one skinny strap down your shoulder, you spoke through the din,

“You know, this dress can be strapless. Do you think Sokolov wants it up…” you locked eyes with Captain Price, seeing his throat swallow hard as he watched you in the silence you had created, “or down?”

The other soldiers were stunned, unable to look away as you slipped both straps off of your shoulders and tucked them into your dress. One strap was still partially visible, and Ghost slowly moved one gloved finger up your arm, tracing your skin lightly, and finished tucking it in for you. He lingered, caressing the side of your breast as he removed it. 

“You gonna be able to seduce this Russian bastard, Sergeant? Or, do you need some practice?” Price asked with a low, threatening tone. 

The whole room held its breath waiting for your answer. The four men towered over your short frame, casting shadows over you like black spells, hoping you would relinquish your control over them. All of their eyes watched as you slowly, achingly lifted a hand and traced it up Gaz’s canvas pant leg, stopping when you discovered the heavy head of his cock, hardening down toward his knee. With the back of your hand, you pet it like a skittish animal, reveling in its smoothness and warmth. Your eyes found his as they fluttered, blood rushing through his body in a panic,

“I think I could use some practice, Captain.”

You felt Gaz’s rod leap at your answer. He bent down to kiss your mouth, slanting his lips fiercely against you. 

Soap came up behind you, gripping your ass through the silk of your dress roughly,

“We’ll help you, lass. We’ll help you practice, won’t we, boys? Jesus, you smell so good,” he buried his face in your neck and sucked against your skin. 

Ghost found your other hand and held it tightly, using it to steady you from Soap and Gaz’s assault. Price moved Gaz out of the way, earning himself a glare, and peeled the dress off of you in one fell swoop, revealing the expanse of uncovered skin underneath. 

“Holy shite,” the captain breathed, whispering his lament, “Sergeant, where are your knickers?”

“I guess I forgot them, Captain,” you blushed, batting your eyes up at him, doing actual damage to his psyche.  

He didn’t have much time to savor the moment though because Ghost was shoving him out of the way to pick you up by the thighs to lay you on the table. The giant knelt between your legs, pulling you by the knees until your ass was hanging off of the low wooden planks. He lifted his mask just enough for you to see him lick his lips over sharp, white teeth before feasting on your wet folds, letting the cloth of the balaclava hide most of his efforts. 

Ghost created a soothing, yet electrically wet warmth in your core which made you keen loudly, only to be muffled by Price’s smoky kiss. You could taste the burned tobacco on his tongue and your skin was scraped by his thick mustache. 

Gaz’s voice got your attention. He had freed his cock from his pants and started to stroke it, standing by your side and playing with your breasts with his free hand as Price savaged your mouth. He tugged on your nipple and told you,

“You know, Rabbit, you’re going to have to really put yourself out there tomorrow. Show him these gorgeous tits of yours. Make him think you’re hungry for his cock,” Gaz rubbed his head, hard and hungry for you, “Can you do that? Let us see how good you can be, princess. We need you to ace this mission”

You felt Ghost dip his hard cock between your pussy lips, distracting you from Price’s tongue in your mouth. You broke the kiss and looked up at Ghost, dazed, into his masked face,

“I promise, sir. I’ll be good,” you looked around at all four of the men, reaching out to grab Soap’s cock that he was stroking for you, “Will you show me how?”

You didn’t give Soap time to answer. The Scot gasped as you devoured him, sucking him down into your throat, making yourself gag as he fucked your throat in and out in long thrusts. He tangled his fingers in your hair. Ghost matched his rhythm below you, pounding his cock into your wet hole. You thought you could feel something on his dick. Was he pierced? You could see your slick gleam on his lips and chin where his mask was still askew. 

“Yeah,” Ghost smiled haughtily, “you like those piercings, don’tcha baby?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond. Price pulled your head away from Soap’s dick, kissing your mouth lewdly again before giving you an order,

“Open your mouth wide for me, love.”

You obeyed. Then, he spit onto your tongue, warm and bubbling, before shoving your face down onto his own fat rod. It made your lips burn with its cruel girth, even though it felt relatively soft, and you thought fleetingly that there was no way your poor little cunt was going to be able to take him, Ghost was big enough to be filling, but the captain was carrying around a true weapon. 

He pulled your head off of him roughly, watching as the strings of drool connected your tongue to his cockhead, growling in short, lustful breaths. 

“Alright, boys. Make sure she’s good and ready for me. You know the drill,” Price barked, and then he was gone. 

The drill? You looked for him, confused, and only found Gaz, who was now slapping his long dick on your cheek, knocking for entrance. He let you take his head into your mouth, having a much easier time than you did with your captain. You bobbed your head up and down dutifully, not realizing just how long his cock was until he tried to force it into your throat. He held you down for a moment, moaning shamelessly, before releasing you to let you breathe. 

“You alright, babes?” He laughed.

You nodded, moaning. Ghost took himself out of your wetness and pulled you off of the table. Soap hopped up to lay where you were, and you moved to ride him, making sure to get right to the edge with him to let Ghost back in. You’d never taken two men at once, much less four, but there was a first time for anything, and you were a quick learner. 

Spearing yourself onto Soap felt like someone had created a warm, custom, living dildo just for you. He was a perfect fit, and you both cried out in pleasure from the sensation. Ghost slapped your ass, hard, and you screamed, clenching around Soap’s cock. Soap moaned darkly. 

“Keep suckin’ that big cock, baby. Need to teach you how to multitask,” Ghost threatened as he bent to eat your asshole, wiggling his tongue into the tight rim to gain entrance.

He started to fuck you with it, his long wet muscle moving in and out as Soap thrust himself up into you, hitting your g-spot every single time like magic. You took Gaz back into your mouth and tried your best to take him deeper into your throat. Every time you did, you would gag, and your muscles would involuntarily clench, and the whole room would moan. You started to come, feeling yourself flood around Soap, whose mouth had latched onto one of your nipples, suckling like he was trying to feed from you. 

You could see Price out of the corner of your eye. He had lit another cigar and was smoking it, stroking himself, still not at his full capacity. You were scared of him. He looked like some sort of demon, breathing fire, as big around as your forearm. He wasn’t as long as Gaz, nor as delightfully curved as Soap, but he made your legs shake without even touching you. When he did touch you, rising from his chair when he wanted to fondle you, pinching a nipple, pulling your hair, forcing your head down on Gaz, it lit you up like you were kerosene and he was the match. 

Suddenly, Ghost’s tongue was gone, only to be replaced by his heavy head. He was going to fuck your ass, and there was nothing you could say to stop him. You’d only done anal once or twice before, and you knew it might hurt. He went so slowly that you could feel each and every piercing as he popped them into you, one by one. Then, as he pulled back out, you felt them pop as each one went through you again, raking himself in and out gently, as careful with you as he could be. When you were more pliant, he began to throw his weight into each thrust, and Soap started to groan below you from the sensation. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Johnny boy,” Price threatened, his voice full of stern warning. 

You weren’t sure what he was warning him about until Soap pulled his cock out of you and came all over your stomach, Ghost’s thrusts making the fluid smear between you two, rubbing your bodies together. Ghost pulled out next, and you felt his hot, thick ropes spray onto your ass cheeks, melting down your thighs. 

Gaz abandoned your mouth and took over for Soap, feeding himself inch by inch until he found your end, leaving some of his cock out in the cold. He fucked you faster than the others, not caring to move out of the way as Soap rolled off of the table, whining like a whore the whole time. 

Captain Price came around to your face, holding your chin in his hand, looking down at you without pity,

“Garrick’s got a long cock, don’t he, love? You’re being so good for my men, such a good girl. Sweet little slut, hm? You’re going to do so well on this mission. Those areholes won’t know what hit ‘em.”

He grabbed your hair fiercely, hurting your scalp, forcing you to turn and look back at Gaz. Price took a long puff from his cigar, blowing it past your face, 

“Baby, he could fuck you for a hundred years. He’s not gonna come until you scream his name.”

You heard Gaz moan louder at Price’s suggestion, so you did. You screamed for him over and over, not caring who might have heard you, begging for him to come in you. 

“He’s not allowed to come in you, love,” Price kissed your open panting mouth, “But, don’t worry. It’s about to be my turn, and you’ll be feeling my fuckin’ come drip out of your cunt all night long.”

Price’s voice made your blood run cold with fear. He wasn’t making threats. Those were clearly promises. Predictions of the future. His cock was tucked back into the band of his pants, but it lay in wait there like a serpent, eager to strike.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Gaz pulled his long shaft all the way out of you, his come shooting onto your lips and ass, feeling him use his hand to rub it into your skin, making you sticky. Your captain gave him a warning look, and you realized they had done this sort of thing before. Perhaps many times before. As you watched Soap and Ghost comfort each other, breathing close together, touching themselves, you wondered if they ever fucked each other as well. Picturing the four of them rutting into each other made you hungry, deep in your belly, starving to witness such an act. 

Finally, it was your captain’s turn. The look in his eyes made you tremble. You knew he wouldn’t be cruel, not on purpose anyway. He wasn’t a heartless man, but he wasn’t one to hold himself back from what he wanted either. You knew that he would fuck you the way he wanted to, as hard as he wanted to, no matter how much complaining you might do about how his cock would stretch you out - even to the point of pain. 

“On your back, love. Legs up. Spread that pussy open for me,” he commanded. 

You did as he told you, opening yourself up shamelessly, letting your folds spread wide. 

He walked around the table to gaze upon your form, staring at your pink flesh like it was a hot meal, and he was starving. He moaned, rubbing his hand across your sticky mons, 

“Mm, that’s my pretty little Rabbit. Now…” he paused for effect, sinking three fingers into your hole roughly but ever so slowly, twisting his arm as he did, corkscrewing his knuckles into you, “...I want you to understand that there’s a reason I’m last in line, love.”

You cried out from the pressure of his huge hand. It felt like you were going to tear. Then, after a few hard thrusts, he released you. The emptiness you felt was heartbreaking. You looked for him, pleading with your eyes for him to return to you. He pulled his cock free from his waistband, unable to connect his finger to his thumb as he wrapped around it. You whined involuntarily, something animal in you recognizing its fate. 

“Shh, baby, I know,” he drug out his voice, “I know…”

He positioned the heavy shaft on top of your body, measuring himself from base to tip, reaching your navel. As he slapped it against you, it made a loud thudding noise, slamming into your muscles like a fist. Price was so heavy. You’d never even imagined a man could feel like he was pure, warm, thick marble. Your pussy seemed to understand the panic you were feeling, flooding itself, preparing for the upcoming invasion. 

“I’m so fuckin’ eager for you, love,” he slapped you again, quick taps right to your swollen clit.

Then, he put his head inside of you, squeezing himself in. He left it inside of you and started to pump himself with his hand. Between the vibration from his fist and the fact that it felt like you were sitting on the end of a steel bat, you couldn’t hold back your keening, loud and high-pitched. 

Price began the steady, slow march forward, swelling harder and harder by the moment, making your walls feel like they might break. It seemed as if all the blood in your body was rushing down your belly and up your legs, hurrying to your core. 

Your eye were wild, full of your fear, tears forming at the corners of your eyes,

“I can’t, please! I can’t. It’s too big, fuck…”

Price didn’t stop. He just kept feeding himself in and pulling himself back out, wetting his cock’s skin with your soaking hole. 

“You can, and you will, love,” the captain growled, “Now, shut that pretty mouth and take it.”

Your cheeks were wet and your eyes burned, he was so deep within you that it felt like he was thrusting into your throat. You couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly, Soap grabbed your hand, kissing your palm, using his tongue to lick your skin,

“It’s alright, bonnie. I’m here, lass. Breathe with me, lass.”

He bent down to kiss you, but he didn’t quite connect, letting his lips graze yours featherlight. Soap breathed in and breathed out in steady, measured beats. You felt yourself begin to relax. It had such an immediate effect that you heard Price groan, able to slip himself a bit deeper than he had done. 

It was like a chain reaction, the more relaxed you became, breathing with Soap, feeling him suck and lick your nipples softly, the more Price was able to squeeze himself in. 

Finally, you felt his hair at the base of his cock, thick and curled, and as he sighed, he settled inside of you, impossibly pressing against your whole body, making a clear outline of himself in your lower belly. He rubbed it, almost fondly, and you felt every inch of him throb against your walls, his head bullying your womb.

You cried out again from the strain. Ghost and Gaz joined Soap. Gaz began to suckle from your breast on your left side, fondling himself as he did so, getting hard again. Ghost was at your head on the end of the table, and he bent to kiss you, upside down, his tongue running all the way down your throat, long and slippery against your own. 

He pulled away, petting your cheek as Price began to grind himself into you,

“You alright, Rabbit? You enjoying your captain’s cock, hm?”

“Mm hm,” you whispered, whimpering through your tears.

Ghost smiled, and his straight, white teeth looked menacing as he did, sharp, wolf-like,

“I know you are, babe. You’re doing so well. Look at him. You can see him inside of your cunt.”

He lifted your head by your hair, showing you the grotesque shadow of Price’s heavy rod as it shoved itself into you. You reached your hands down to it, feeling it through your skin. It was so unique. His size wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced, and your body was sending confused signals of passion, your orgasms coming in shattered, broken waves. Feeling incomplete. Too powerful, and yet drawn out like the last note of a symphony. 

As you touched him from the outside, Price moaned aloud for the first time. It shocked you. You looked up at him, managing to meet his eyes.

“Fuck,” you moaned, “You feel so good inside of me, Captain.”

“Mm, yeah?” He replied, using his hands to press yours down onto his cock, making you gasp, “You like it, baby? I’m gonna make sure you never want anybody else.” 

Price reached down and grabbed you by the throat, scaring away Soap and Gaz. He lifted you up, making his dick fit inside of you that much tighter with the change of angle. Then, he began the true performance. He thrust himself in with fast, punishing strokes, slamming himself into you. You were sure you would bruise, and you felt dizzy, almost like you’d pass out. 

Soap was at your side again, holding your hair away from your face,

“Look at you, lassie. Such a good girl for your captain. Takin’ that cock so damn well. Can’t wait to be back inside you, girl.”

He kissed your cheek, palm massaging his dick which was back to full mast, eager again. 

“Alright, Johnny,” Price grinned, “Since you asked so nicely.”

Without any strain whatsoever, Price lifted you up by your hips and held you in the air as he fucked you, bringing you around the table so that Soap could position himself at your asshole. Ghost’s earlier efforts had made it ready for him, and you could very acutely feel how much he was throbbing to be inside of you, pulsing as he fit against Price. 

“Ungh, fuck, lass,” Soap groaned as he began to thrust into you, pistoning with the captain, “He’s got you so tight for me.”

“Yeah? It feels so good. Mmm…” you whimpered, feeling more full than you’d ever been. 

Johnny was holding your breasts as Price lifted you up, brutalizing your pussy. Every thrust felt like an electric pulse, making you cock-drunk and mindlessly pliant. 

They worked in tandem for what felt like eons, pistoning in and out with each other. Eventually, after he had felt you come, Soap addressed his captain directly,

“Sir, I’m…please, sir, can I?”

“Can you what, soldier?” Price grunted through gritted teeth, testing his sergeant.

“Can I come, sir? Please, Cap…”

“Yeah, Johnny. C’mon, mate. Let her feel it.”

“F-fuck! Fuck…” Soap groaned, pushing himself flush against your asshole, pumping his come into you. 

He caught his breath while he was still in you, kissing the nape of your neck, and then he pulled away slowly. He helped Gaz replace him, holding your ass wide apart so his comrade could position himself inside. And just when you thought your poor pussy would have room to breathe, Gaz’s incredibly long shaft was piercing your hole again. 

You felt him sigh, his breath against your neck. He took over holding you up, and Price praised him,

“That’s it, Garrick. She’s all yours. Take it.”

Gaz reacted to his words in a way that made you rethink their entire dynamic. Then, you remembered how he had come when you said his name. He seemed to get harder and harder the more Price praised him, and you wanted to give him that same validation. 

“Gaz,” you whispered, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder, “It’s so big, baby. It’s like I can feel you in my throat. Oh, Gaz. Gaz!”

“Mm,” Price put his mouth to your neck, groaning, “That’s it, love. Tell him how much you like that long cock.”

“So much, Gaz. It’s so good,” you added. 

Then, Price took his left hand and wrapped it around the back of Gaz’s neck in a moment of surprising intimacy. As Price kissed the front of your throat, Gaz kissed your shoulder and nape. You felt like a peeled fruit being shared between them, a ripped rind, your juicy flesh being split in two; two halves of a ripe orange. 

Gaz lasted longer than Soap had when he fucked your ass, but Price’s attention seemed to spur him on. His movements were slippery, and you could feel the remnants of Soap’s come frothing around your entrance, easing his efforts.

“Captain,” Gaz whined, desperate for more of that approval. 

“C’mon, Kyle. She’s ready for you. Good lad.”

The use of his first name made Gaz thrust up into you with a feverish pace. He cried out as he came, hard, into you. Feeling him fall back out of you made you imagine the tendrils of a giant kraken, seeming to travel forever just to remove himself from your body, slithering out of you with a terrible squelching noise. 

Gaz let Price hold you again, and you turned, expecting Ghost. Price laughed at you, chuckling softly,

“Missing your masked man already?”

You looked at Price, feeling raw and used, waiting for an explanation,

“He’s a little…preoccupied.”

Price laid you back on the table, letting you turn your head to see Ghost, buried in Soap’s asshole up to the hilt, furiously jacking him off, slamming into him a little too roughly for your liking. It was violent, but Soap seemed to be enjoying himself beyond measure. 

Your pussy, though, disagreed with your assessment, clenching around Price’s cock while you watched Simon abuse his friend’s hole. 

“Mm,” the captain moaned, feeling your muscles react, “You like that, love? You wanna be fucked rough like that?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer. Price wrapped your legs beneath his chest in a full mating press and wrecked you, pounding into your body like a giant fist. You felt your bones shudder beneath his behemoth form. Just when you thought you might puke from how overstimulated you were, you felt him pause. Then, your pussy felt like it was leaking, and it was. Price’s come just kept milking its way out of you, his cock pulsing inside, making your walls throb. 

When he finished, he kissed you on the mouth, almost lovingly, reverently. He started to slide out of you, being extremely careful, and you’d never felt so empty in your entire life. It was as if you’d never be full again. You found yourself whining, whimpering for Price to return. 

“That’s right, pretty girl,” Price smiled, “Never gonna want anybody else, are ya?”

You smiled, shocked and in considerable discomfort. Gaz scooped you up off of the table, cradling you, sitting down with you in his lap in a large chair. He reached down for some water and handed it to you, helping you recover. 

Price was standing with his hands on his hips, panting from his exertion. Ghost and Soap were connected like two hounds, locked together, the Scot cock warming his tall lover, groaning on every exhale. 

“Well, what do you think, lads? Do we have a winner?” Price asked.

“Yeah, we fucking do, Cap,” Gaz pet your head, moving your sweaty hair out of your eyes. 

“Fuck yeah, mate,” Ghost growled, pawing at Johnny again, rabid for him. 

“Hear that, bonnie?” Soap managed to ask, still moaning in little breaths as he was being speared by Ghost, “Got  yourself a new permanent assignment.”

Price walked over to you, grabbing you by the face and kissing you once more,

“You belong to us now, love. Perfect little slut.”

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #call of duty #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #141 x reader #call of duty mwii #x female reader #x fem!reader #captain john price #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #the gang's all here

[verysium]

attractive things bllk characters (unintentionally) do?👀

i received this ask and decided to write this entire thing through a caffeine-powered fever dream. may have gone a little overboard. please pray for both your sanity and mine. thank you anon for your strong sense of imagination (or delusion, whichever you prefer.)

nagi lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, and you accidentally (or not so accidentally) get a good look at the droplets running down his abs and v-line. he also does the doorway lean while waiting for you to get ready. since he's so tall, he puts his one arm up on the top of the door frame while scrolling through his phone. when he feels drained of energy, he clings to you like a koala, face buried into the crook of your neck.

rin pushes his hair back when his bangs get in the way, and it shows off his ridiculously sharp side profile. sometimes you have to pause mid-conversation because the direct eye contact gets too intense. he has the brightest turquoise eyes in existence, and they stare right into your soul. pair that with the height difference and him towering over you. hang onto your ovaries because this man is about to snatch them. if isagi or sae are anywhere remotely close within your vicinity, he will personally drag your chair closer over to him. you know, the whole nick jonas chair pull thing? he also unintentionally clenches his jaw when pissed, the vein popping out and everything.

barou is polite to his elders. he holds the door open for others. he tips extra at restaurants. he is kind to service workers. he's just a gentleman overall even though he likes to act tough. he rolls up his sleeves while cleaning or cutting up vegetables, and you can see the veins bulging in his forearms. wears those form-fitting aprons where you can see the outline of his waist and the muscles in his back. he is not immune to raging pit bull moments, but he will calm down immediately when you ask him to.

kaiser requires physical touch to function. all concept of personal boundaries goes poof in his little ego-driven brain. he holds your chin so you look up at him while he's talking. also has that husky growl when he wakes up in the morning. he speaks german. what else is more attractive than that? if you stroke his ego, he will puff his chest out like an emperor penguin and flash that movie star smile. does not slow down his pace for you, and will laugh at your expense when you trip in heels and fall. but then he feels guilty about it and begrudgingly picks you up and carries you home. however, before that he will make you swear on everything holy to never tell isagi about his moment of weakness. (tbh kaiser is a menace and has some serious self-esteem issues. pls avoid dating a man like him in real life until he is fully mature. i still love him tho.)

reo mansplains but not in the condescending way. he does so in the "omg i'm so excited to finally get to share something with you and you're never going to believe it" sort of way. rambles on and on about his interests and gets that little glint in his eye when he's passionate about something. also not sure if this counts but he gets extremely depressed when you don't message him back within five minutes. what do you mean you were busy? he was out here dying from a literal famine. he needs your affection to survive. last but not least, he is good at styling. he knows what colors work best for you, and he will put together three new looks for you in record time.

hiori dreams that you left him for good and wakes up crying with his arms around you. will refuse to let you leave the bed even if it is just to get a glass of water. his rare moments of emotional vulnerability are what gets to you.

shidou does not condone any of your bad decisions. you want to get shit-faced and party until early morning? no complaints from him. you want to wear sexy outfits to the club? say less because he's about to enjoy the view and knock out the front teeth of every guy who dares to ogle you. i don't know if this qualifies as being attractive, but he would never be the controlling type. you can dress and act however you want. unfortunately for you though, this is also a textbook case of the blind leading the blind. if you get horrendously hungover, so does he. if you get pulled over, he's going to be too blackout drunk to even comprehend the officer's words. you can count on him for a good time, but not anything else. do not take any of his advice at face value.

oliver likes to show you off even if he doesn't notice it himself. any talk with his team, and he will find a way to make the entire conversation about you. at this point, the entire u-20 team is done with him. they placed bets that you two wouldn't last more than a month due to his philandering reputation, but the universe seems to think otherwise because you and oliver hit the six-month mark and are still going strong.

ness guards your drink with an unnecessary amount of protection. while you left to go use the restroom, he was looking left and right, and the hairs on the back of his neck were prickling every time someone even came close to your cup. he also shoos away any person who opens their mouth while standing next to your drink because apparently the condensation from their breath could be dangerous. definitely covers your cup with both hands even if it has a lid. no suspicious shit is happening on his watch.

yukimiya is well-read, and he wears glasses. he has a copy of every single classic out there in existence and will fangirl along with you over your virginia woolf collection. he was written by a woman with two cats and a wine glass. not much else to say.

loki absolutely clears the entire carnival/arcade game. you want that giant teddy bear that costs over three hundred ticket points? say less because he's about to win the whole damn pot. of all characters, i would say he's one of the only green flags. like celery green.

isagi always looks for you when he enters the room. intentionally or not, he always seeks your presence. if someone says a funny joke, he turns to you to see if you're laughing or not. also does that somewhat creepy stare thing where he just looks at you quietly while you do mundane tasks. internally he is screaming cus what do you mean you actually like him?

chigiri gives you that thankful little smile whenever you stand up for him. i feel like people don't understand how goofy he can get as he's canonically good at doing impressions/impersonations. also has the prettiest laugh. if he ever cuts his hair, i think i'm going to get a nosebleed.

noa unconsciously says yes to every question you ask of him. he'd be giving bastard münchen a hard time (and denying isagi's requests) but then immediately once you come over, he's automatically acquiescing to everything you say. the rest of the team is low-key shocked you can win him over so easily. when they confront him about it, he just shrugs and goes "y/n is always right."

kurona's entire existence is attractive. he's just perfect. nothing is ever wrong with him. will let you check out his shark teeth and lightly pokes your finger to leave an imprint. hopefully you'll always remember him that way. he's also quiet so he will listen to everything you say and give ample weight to your words.

sae is my baby girl so he gets a whole section dedicated to himself:

absentmindedly plays with your hair. when you're sleeping in his lap, he'll gently run his fingers along your scalp. sometimes in the morning when you're sitting up on the edge of your bed to do your makeup, he'll come up from behind you and brush back your hair. might also press a kiss to the back of your neck.

helps you put on your face mask. when he's shopping, he will buy you lotion along with his own skincare products. says that it was just a convenient store run but you know he personally made sure to get you the best quality ones.

this is canon because i said so: when he gets out of the shower, he slings the towel over his neck or his shoulder. he also involuntarily flexes his biceps when he bends down to grab something. has the world's most defined deltoids.

when you're stuck in large crowds at the airport, he puts his hand in your back pocket to keep you two from getting separated. if the TSA pat-down is anywhere too personal for his liking, he will openly glare at the officer once you've passed the security checkpoint.

bonus point: when you two brush your teeth early in the morning, he has that little bed head where his shorn-off bangs stick up in cute little tufts here and there. will have a dead look on his face, but his eyes soften when he catches your gaze through the mirror.

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock headcanons #nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #barou shouei #barou x reader #michael kaiser #kaiser x reader #reo mikage #reo x reader #hiori yo #hiori x reader #shidou ryusei #shidou x reader #oliver aiku #aiku x reader #alexis ness #ness x reader #yukimiya kenyu #yukimiya x reader #julien loki #loki x reader #isagi yoichi #isagi x reader #chigiri hyoma #chigiri x reader #noel noa

[shellshocklove]

wet nights | joel miller

pairing/AU: bfd!joel miller x female!reader – no outbreak

summary: getting beer spilled down your dress at your best friend sarah’s birthday party might not have been so bad– not when her dad can help you clean up.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 25 and joel is 47, reader is described as wearing a dress, swearing, use of pet names, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, exhibitionism, praise with a dash of degradation kink, one small touch of your clit, soft dom!joel, use of sir, cum play, no use of y/n

a/n: mom said it was my turn to write bfd!joel lol. basically this is just me wanting to write joel getting his cock and balls sucked bc it's what he deserves 😌 as always thank you to @dustydaddyyy for reading through this for me! and happy reading <3

main masterlist / ao3

Nodding your head to the beat of the music you gulped down a cooling sip of beer. The bar was stuffed to the brim tonight for Sarah’s birthday. Every chair and booth occupied, large groups huddled together against the walls, and a growing crowd of brave, seemingly deep enough down their drinks, dancers moved across the makeshift dance floor. Leaning against the bar right at the end, you were shielded from the continuous line of people looking for a drink to sate their thirst on this hot summer night.

You’d missed Sarah since graduation. She’d moved back to Austin to be closer to her father – a man you had still to meet even after all these years of knowing Sarah. You’d met in undergrad where you’d had a couple of overlapping classes the first year. She’d been one of those people where you’d just clicked, like a hand in a glove, you two just fit together.

Now you had moved to Austin. It wasn’t exactly planned, but you’d applied to a postgraduate program at the University of Texas, not necessarily thinking you’d get in– but then you had. Sarah had been ecstatic when you’d told her. You hadn’t seen her in person in over a year, but you couldn’t wait to live in the same city as your best friend again.

But first, her 25th birthday party.

Tonight would be your first night out as a new Austinite. Sarah had invited all her closest friends and family to her favorite bar to celebrate. You’d dreaded it a little, you weren’t gonna lie. That nagging anxiety had bubbled under your skin all week at the prospect of being the only one at the party who didn’t know anyone already. Sarah had told you not to worry though when you’d voiced your concern to her a few days ago – she’d introduce you to everyone – nothing to worry about, and she’d been right.

All Sarah’s friends had been extremely friendly and nice, and you’d been taken under their wing immediately. Quickly, your anxiety had melted away, condensing into nothing as you’d started to have a good time.

It was deep into the summer, and Austin had shown itself from its hotter side the last few days. Inside the bar everything ran hot, even with the AC on blast and with the amount of people who’d made their way inside in the last hour, looking for a good time on a Saturday night, it never stood a chance.

Trying to cool off you’d excused yourself from your new group of friends to order yourself a cold beer. One of the ACs blew cold air directly towards the bar, keeping the frantic bartenders cool as they pushed out order after order of drinks. You watched them from where you stood perfectly in the wind of the AC, glass raised to your lips when you felt a hard bump against your shoulder.

“Fuck,” you cursed as your full glass of beer spilled all down your front, staining your white summer dress.

“Shit– sorry, sweetheart.” You didn’t have time to react as your beer was lifted out of your wet hand and placed on the rough wood of the bar.

Looking up from your ruined dress you took in your beer thief as he reached across the bar for some napkins. He was older, forties maybe, maybe older if you were to take the sprinkle of salt and pepper in his hair into consideration, but he was gorgeous. A strong jaw and sculptured nose. Clad in a t-shirt and a dark pair of jeans, you thought he looked casual– not like he belonged to the rest of the birthday party. The material of his t-shirt strained against his bicep as he leaned back from over the bar – a stack of napkins now in his hand. Standing to his full height before you, you noticed just how broad he was, and it made a drop of desire pool in your core. 

The man’s previous frantic movements came to a halt as he took you in for the first time; his dark brown eyes rolling down your body and leaving a trail of heat. His fist full of napkins stalled when his eyes landed on your dress, quickly diverting them with a loud clearing of his throat.

“Um– here,” he said, voice strained as he handed you the napkins.

Pulling your eyebrows together in a frown, you looked down at yourself again. The fabric was completely soaked through, and you felt a prickling heat tickle your cheeks as you realized you now looked like a walking ad for a wet t-shirt competition.

“Oh shit,” you muttered, taking the napkins from the man as you tried your best to cover yourself.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart– bumpin’ into ya like that.”

Pressing the napkins to your dress you shook your head at him, “It’s fine– eh,” you looked up from your body.

“Joel,” he introduced himself.

“It’s fine, Joel. It was an accident. I’ll just go to the restroom and try to get the stain out,” you said with a grimace, and reached for more napkins.

“Let me help ya,” he offered as he placed a friendly hand on your elbow.

As Joel guided you through the crowd towards the toilets, hand hovering at a polite distance behind your back, he continued to apologize.

“I feel terrible– let me at least pay for it if it ends up needin’ replacin’.”

Inside the bar’s toilets, you jumped up on the stone countertop lining the wall, turning the closest sink on.

“It’s okay,” you repeated as you busied yourself with trying to clean yourself up, “This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten beer spilled all over me,” you said with a teasing laugh, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Standing beside you with his hip leaning against the stone and a knee popped, Joel huffed out a strained laugh, a laugh somewhere between embarrassment and relief.

“Yeah?” He questioned, eyes falling to your working hands.

“Tell you this much– I’ve had plenty of wet nights.”

A sound escaped Joel at your words, one he quickly tried to cover up with a cough, and you realize your innuendo a second too late. When you looked up from your hands, eyes wide, you noticed that Joel’s cheeks had flushed slightly, like he was embarrassed that he’d even caught onto the innuendo you hadn’t meant to make. 

“Oh! No, not like that–” you rushed, tone slightly mortified as your eyes met his, trying very hard not to stutter through the rest of your sentence, “I–uh... I only meant that I uh–... I‘ve had plenty of situations in which I’ve gotten wet–” 

At this sentence, Joel raised his eyebrows in a look that seemed half-surprised, half-amused, and your stomach dropped even further into your ass in embarrassment. 

“–with water!” you clarified quickly, before you scrunched up your nose in embarrassment, closing your eyes as you huffed out a laughing sigh, “There’s no way I’m getting out of this gracefully, is there?” 

You heard Joel’s chuckle to your side, deep and syrupy, like the stuff you’d liked to pour over your pancakes in buckets when you were a kid.

“You’d have gotten away with it if you hadn’t started explainin’, I think,” Joel told you, his tone joking, and you chuckled bashfully, nodding before you looked up at him. 

There was a moment in which you exchanged a look, before you felt the smile break over your face and you dissolved into embarrassed laughter, shaking your head as Joel laughed, too. 

“Off to a great start,” you muttered in between chuckles, “First week in Austin and I’m already making passes at handsome strangers in bar bathrooms.” 

“I never said I was complainin’,” Joel said jokingly, and you let out a chuckle, “First week in Austin, hm?” 

“Yeah,” you said with a nod, “Here for a postgrad.” 

“Smart and beautiful,” he mused, “Reckon I should spill beers more often if this is what I get in return.” 

Delicate wings fluttered in your tummy at his words as a feeling of excitement filled your chest. Looking up at him with a raised teasing eyebrow you said, “Not sure spilling beer on someone is the tried and tested formula.”  

“Well, that depends, really,” Joel answered back in a teasingly contemplating voice, “‘s it workin’ on you?” 

Your stomach dropped slightly at his words, and when your eyes moved to meet his, he was looking at you with a look that made your insides burn. 

“Maybe,” you told him with a teasing smile pulling at the corners of your mouth. 

You were never usually this bold, but there was something in the way he was looking at you and the syrup-y tone of his voice. You could tell he knew what he was doing, knew exactly what to say, and you wanted more. Biting down on your bottom lip coquettishly, you leaned backwards on your arms, giving Joel a full view of the soaked front of your dress, and more specifically, everything he could see underneath. 

“And what works on you, Joel?” 

You watched with some satisfaction as Joel's eyes ran over the length of your chest, before he quickly redirected them to your eyes.

“You’re making it very hard to be a gentleman here, sweetheart,” he almost whispered, his eyes as dark as the Austin summer night sky. You gave a noncommitted shrug as a teasing smile tugged at your lips. Then, you leaned forward so that you were closer to him, feet dangling slightly.

“I never asked you to be,” you told him, your voice low but not quite a whisper as you looked up at him through your lashes. 

Behind your rib cage your heart quickened with excitement as Joel’s darkening gaze bored into yours, and you knew you him right where you wanted him. His eyes danced over your face for a moment, before they flickered down to your lips. It almost made you stop breathing for a second, the tension in the air between you so thick you could cut it with a knife. There was just something about this man, something about Joel – and in this moment you wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anyone before. 

Maybe it should’ve scared you, the speed at which you’d fallen under his spell (or was it the other way around?), but right now, with Joel’s darkening eyes staring into yours, you couldn't bring yourself to feel any fear. You could only look at him, could only feel his breath fanning over your lips and the intensity of his gaze on your face.

“You’re trouble, aren’t ya?” Joel’s voice was low, not quite a whisper, but full of deep bass. 

You felt the expanse of his hand fall on your bare knee, rough and calloused over where your sundress had ridden up. 

“Nothing you can’t handle.” You batted your eyelashes semi-innocently, spreading your thighs slightly, which made Joel’s mouth twitch in amusement. 

“’s that so, darlin’?” He asked, taking his place between your legs, your face now only inches from his as he looked down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Mhm,” you nodded slightly, your hand falling over his to guide it slowly up your thigh, “Don’t you wanna find out?”

As Joel’s index finger made contact with the side seam of your underwear, he closed the space between you and pressed his lips against yours. The hairs of his mustache tickled your cupid’s bow as he dove deeper, lips rolling over yours. You sat up slightly when his other hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him, your core rubbing up against his growing bulge. You whimpered against his lips at the contact, and Joel inhaled it, consuming every breathy moan and whimper.

His hand slid slowly downwards to your ass where he gave it a nice squeeze, pulling you even closer when your legs came up to wrap around his waist. He licked at your lower lip hungrily, and you opened yourself up to him to allow him to deepen the kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. He was a great kisser, probably the best you’d kissed. His lips moved expertly over yours, soft and firm at the same time as he guided you through it.

The grip on your ass tightened again and soon you were half-way to hanging off the counter as he rocked his front steadily against your core, where your arousal had started to pool. The kisses turned needier then, shorter and desperate between quiet whines. You could feel the shape of him against you, hard and thick, and big. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you as you imagined yourself on your knees before him, the weight and taste of him on your tongue. He was so fucking hot, and you wanted him so fucking badly.

“Can I suck your cock?” you panted through frantic kisses.

Joel pulled back slightly, head tipped back to find your eyes. 

“You wanna suck my cock?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. You only nodded, head tipping slowly with the bite of your lip.

Joel tsk-ed, “Dirty girl,” he said and rocked his hard bulge against your core, which earned him a moan. It made a wicked grin spread across his face, like he’d just proved a point.

His hands left your body as he slowly stepped backwards – that same cocky grin adorning his features as he nodded towards one of the stalls. Jumping off the countertop, you almost tripped over your feet to follow him inside.

“Relax, baby– ain’t no need to get on your knees until after we’re inside,” he teased, holding the door open for you, bicep bulging against the fabric of his t-shirt. Fuck, he looked so hot.

“Ha-ha,” you fake-laughed at him with a teasing roll of your eyes as you stepped past him and into the bathroom stall. When the door clicked behind him, followed by the unmistakable sound of the lock turning, you felt a pair of strong hands land on your hips as he pressed his body against your back.

“I’m only teasin’,” he reassured you in your ear, his breath fanning over the shell and sending a tingle down your spine. Turning around in his hold, your own teasing smile spread across your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Yeah?” you queried with the raise of an eyebrow, “Well two can play that game, sir” you teased as you slowly sunk to your knees, missing the way Joel reacted to the title you’d assigned him.

From above Joel watched you, body relaxed and composed like he wasn’t about to get his dick sucked, but the lust in his eyes gave him away. Your teeth caught on your bottom lip as you fumbled with his belt, the sound of metal clinking bouncing off the tiles as you focused on popping the button on his jeans and pulling the zipper down. You couldn’t take your eyes off the shape of him hidden behind the denim, and it made your mouth water, your thighs squeezing together. You were mesmerized as you let your pointer finger run over the covered length of him, the cotton fabric of his boxer briefs soft under your fingertips.

For a moment, you couldn’t believe what you were about to do – suck a man you’d just met less than an hour ago off in the bathroom stall of some dingy bar? But then again, something excited you about it. 

Maybe it was Joel? Or maybe it was the thrill of it all– of maybe getting caught?

“Go on, darlin’, it’s okay– be a good girl n’ take it out f’me,” Joel ordered from above, his voice dropping an octave. You looked up at him, caught the way he studied you, gauging your every move and reaction.

Then something shifted in his eyes, a flash of insecurity making its presence known, “Or don’t– we can stop f’you want– if you ain’t feelin’ it anymore.”

You shook your head before he’d even finished his sentence. God, no! You sure as hell didn’t want to stop.

“I wanna keep going, Joel,” you smiled, your fingers hooking into the elastic band of his boxer briefs.

A genuine smile bloomed across his face then, his rough hand coming down to cup your chin, “That’s good, baby,” he said, swiping his thumb slowly over your skin, before he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Know you’ll be good f’me, won’t you?” he whispered against your lips, drawing a breathy whine from you at the praise.

“Yes,” you sighed, almost breathless as he kissed you again quickly before he murmured against your lips, “Yes, you will, darlin’– you’re gonna choke on my cock ‘n thank me for it, won’t ya?”

He was driving you mad with all these questions. In just a few minutes, this man had turned you inside out, pushed every button to turn you on– you were practically swimming in your panties, your mind clouded in hazy arousal. 

You didn’t know what to do, and not thinking clearly, you chased his lips.

“Nuh-uh,” Joel chuckled, pulling away slightly, “lemme hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you sighed again, “thank you for giving me your cock.”

“Thank you for giving me your cock, what?”

This manwas relentless.

“Thank you for giving me your cock, sir?” you tried, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip.

Pleased, a satisfied grin pulled at Joel’s lips. He rewarded you with a quick kiss before he pulled away, standing to his full height again.

You couldn’t wait any longer, you needed to touch him. Hooking your fingers into the elastic band of his boxer briefs again, you slowly pulled them down, revealing inch by inch of the base of his fat cock.

He was big, and the sight made your mouth water, but what excited you the most was the weight of his heavy balls.

“Fuck,” you whispered, eyes wide with fascination.

His hand found the back of your neck in a grounding hold as he guided you closer, your lips bumping against his tip. “Give it a kiss, baby… just like that,” he praised as you did exactly what he wanted, placing a kiss to his cock the same way you’d kissed his lips.

Over you, you could hear Joel release a content breathy chuckle, “That’s so good, baby, such a good girl.”

Egged on by his praises, you shifted a little on your knees, steadying your hands on his thighs as you pooled a blob of spit in your mouth that you let drip down the head. Joel watched you intensely as you used your dominant hand to slowly work the spit over his length, earning yourself a strained grunt. He grew even harder in your hand as you familiarized yourself with the weight and size of him in your hand. 

“Wanna taste it, sir,” you said and placed another soft kiss to the head, swiping your tongue over the slit to taste the precum that had started to pearl.

“Yeah?” he taunted, almost degrading, “You wanna taste my cock that badly?”

“Y-yes,” you whined, looking up at him through your lashes.

Joel watched you for a beat before he tapped at the hand wrapped around him, shooing it away as he fisted himself. “Open wide then, honey, ‘f you want it that bad,” he said, slapping his cock against the side of your face.

Your mouth dropped open in an instance as Joel stuffed his cock inside your mouth slowly. You opened up as wide as you possibly could, relaxing your jaw to accommodate the size of him in your mouth. It was a wide stretch, and the tip touched the back of your throat far too soon, making you gag around the head.

He pulled back to let you breathe for a moment, before he sunk back down your throat again, a large and grounding hand resting at the back of your head. The second time you were more prepared to take him, holding him in your throat for a few moments longer before you started to gag. Over you, Joel let out a strained grunt; the noise sending a bolt of arousal straight to your core.

After that, Joel let you take the lead.

You started out slow, taking the head into your mouth as you let your spit-covered fingers glide over his shaft in an experimental tug. Under your fist, a slick sound echoed off the tiles with every jerk of his cock. You made sure his cock was thoroughly coated in your spit as you set a steady rhythm. You let your tongue glide over the underside of his tip, his hips bucking when you dipped your tongue into the slit.

It was sloppy, and wet, and the noises coming from your throat were entirely too obscene as you started bobbing your head, taking him down your throat.

“That’s a good girl,” Joel praised you, helping guide his cock down your throat with the hand resting at the back of your head. “You love suckin’ cock, don’t you? Love havin’ a big cock fill up that tight throat?”

Suddenly, you heard the muted music coming from the bar grow louder before dying again at the sound of the door slamming shut. You stilled your movements in panic as you heard someone slip into the stall to your right. Your eyes met Joel as you slipped his cock out your mouth, but to your surprise he looked far from concerned about the new audience. 

Stretching his neck he turned his head in the direction of the occupied stall, while he wrapped his fist around the base of his cock. Even in his hands it looked big, and you started to wonder how you’d ever managed to fit it down your throat. A beat passed before he turned his head to look at you again, a wicked grin coating his lips as he bobbed his cock in your face, rubbing the head over your closed lips before he slapped it lightly against your cheek.

“Open up,” he mouthed with another light slap to your cheek. His actions made a tingle of arousal spread throughout your body, and you realized in shock how much the thought of getting caught turned you on.

You did as Joel said and opened your mouth for him to feed you his cock again. He watched you very closely this time, letting you ease yourself down his cock at your own pace, trying your best to be quiet. When the very tip of your nose made contact with the thatch of coarse dark hair at the base and your lips were snug around his cock, Joel couldn’t help himself. The grounding hand at the back of your head held you down as he shoved himself as deep as he possibly could down your throat, his balls bouncing against your chin at the movement.

To your right you heard the unmistakable sound of a toilet being flushed and a lock being twisted. Your eyes welled up with tears, your vision fogging over as you tried your best to fight against your gag reflex. Over you, Joel watched you with a proud smirk on his lips. When the sound of the sink turning on echoed through the restroom, you allowed a whimpering gag to escape you as you squeezed your eyes shut.

It shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did, but the thrill of getting caught choking on an older man’s cock, a man who was essentially a stranger, made you wonder if you could come untouched. You were so close already, just a flick of your clit would send you off the edge of bliss.

Your eyes were about to roll back into your head when Joel finally pulled back. You gasped violently for air at the exact moment the door opened, filling the toilets with loud music for a moment before you and Joel were locked away again in your own little world. Like you were on autopilot, your hand slipped between your thighs to find your clit, and soon you were withering with your orgasm.

“Oh, there you go, honey, come all over those fingers f’me, just like that,” you heard Joel say, though the force of your orgasm made it seem like he was far away, like your ears were filled with cotton.

When you finally calmed down, you steadied yourself with a tug at Joel’s jeans – the fabric rough under your fingertips. Over you Joel fisted his cock as he watched you with a wild look in his eyes.

“Goddamn, baby, you’re so fuckin’ hot comin’ like that just from gettin’ your throat fucked.”

“Thank you, sir,” you managed to let out, your voice strained and hoarse.

Realizing he must’ve been close, you sat up straighter on your knees, ready to pull him off the edge too. Leaning forward, you stuck out your tongue, licking a fat strip up the seam of his balls to the underside of his shaft. His cock jumped in his hand as Joel let out a breathy laugh.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, “Look me in the eyes honey– look me in the eyes when you lick my balls.” Joel jerked his cock above your face as you continued to lick at his heavy balls – your eyes locked with his.

“Look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he choked out through groans, “Suck on ‘em, baby, suck on my balls.”

Blinking up at him you tried your best to fit one of them in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking greedily and lapping at the skin, before you moved on to treat the other with the same amount of love.

Joel’s mouth dropped open in a gape, his breath coming out quicker and more staggered. He squeezed himself harder at the base with each jerk before skating his thumb over the swollen head, massaging it. 

“Fuck,” he panted, “I’m gonna come, baby, I’m gonna fuckin’ come.”

Popping his balls from your mouth you hurriedly sat up in front of him, the tip off his cock brushing over the plump of your bottom lip with every thug of his cock.

“Please, sir,” you begged, “Please, come in my mouth.”

Joel wasn’t one to deny your request, especially not when you were sat so pretty in front of him with your tongue sticking out.

A second later, Joel shoved his cock in your mouth and came – balls drawn tight as he shot his load down your throat. The force of it made you gag a little at first, the restriction around his sensitive cock only making him come harder. He groaned above you as you sucked him dry, before he pulled back when it was too much, and caught his breath.

“Say Ah,” he said, a gentle but firm hand cupping your jaw. The squeeze of his fingers made your mouth drop open to reveal the cum coated on your tongue and where it pooled at the back of your throat. “Don’t swallow– Let me see, darlin’.”

Your smile fought against his grip. Sticking your tongue out the best you could, you let him see the state he’d left you in; chin coated in saliva, tears starting to dry on your cheeks, mouth puffy and fucked, and marked in this stranger’s cum.

“Pretty as a picture,” he tutted before he let go of your jaw, and with a pat to your cheek finally gave you permission to swallow.

After that it was like the spell had broken between you. Joel helped you to your feet, both of you giggling when your legs wobbled like a foal unsteady on its feet. He held you upright with a strong hand to your waist, while the other one traveled up the length of your body to cup your face, and bring it closer to place a slow and sensual kiss to your lips.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’d never done anything like that before?” You asked him a moment later as he helped you clean your face by the sink.

Joel gave you a look in the mirror.

“You don’t?” you exclaimed.

Joel gave you an infuriatingly casual shrug, “It ain’t your first time suckin’ dick that’s for sure,” he teased with a pinch to your side which made you jump.

Giving him a playful shove, you said, “I’m not lying! I’ve never had a one-night stand.”

“Well, the night’s still young,” Joel joked, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and dipping his head to place a soft kiss to the column of your neck.

You leaned into his touch, feeling the soft grip of his hands on your body, and the soft presses of his kisses as you watched the two of you in the mirror. You found that you liked the reflection looking back at you, and if you were lucky, you hoped he liked it too; maybe enough to want to see you again.

“I can’t go back out there like this,” you said after a moment.

Your dress had finally dried, but so had the beer – staining it yellow.

Joel lifted his head from your neck to rest his chin on your shoulder as his eyes scanned your body in the mirror. 

“I have a flannel in my truck I can borrow you?”

“More layers in this heat?” you questioned, already sweating at the thought.

A wide grin spread across Joel’s face, full of mischief, “I guess I’ll just have to take ‘em off of you later, then.”

Turning around in his hold, you wrapped your hands around his neck, your fingers toying with the hair curling at his neck as you met his eyes. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” you whispered, painfully aware of the wet stain of arousal soiling your panties and sticking to your cunt.

“No, it doesn’t,” Joel hummed, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. 

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked and brushed your lips over his.

A moment later Joel guided you out the restrooms with a protective hand resting at the small of your back. Weaving through the crowd, you’d made your way almost to the exit when you heard a shout of your name over the music.

“There you are!” Sarah shouted again as she moved through the crowd towards you and Joel, arms reached out to the sky.

“Oh! And you’ve finally met my dad!”

i hope this was okay and that someone liked this? as always feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! <3 i'm very curious to hear your thoughts about this! <3

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #bfd!joel miller #dom!joel miller #pedro pascal #*writing

[mommypieck]

𑄽୧ threesome with gojo and geto𔓘 ᰍ

kinktober day 20: porn star fucking!!!

✿ geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

✿ warnings: oral (fem & male receiving, fingering, ass play, basically couch porn casting

"So you want to be a pornstar," Geto states, sitting in his chair in front of you. You feel your body sweating all over, and you try not to wrinkle your dress more than it already is by holding the edges with your fist. Geto watches your every move and every expression on your face. You decided to try signing up for his porn agency when you lost your job, and porn is always a good way to get money. However, the first mistake you made was wearing a short flower dress to your interview, making Geto smirk as soon as he saw you in the door.

"Tell me about your sex life, y/n," he tells you, and your cheeks turn red. Of course, he would ask a question like this for the type of job you're trying to get.

"Um, I don't have… coitus that often," you say, looking down at your lap. Geto's eyebrows rise at the word coitus, you're certainly inexperienced, but he sees something for you. You're not too young to be naive about doing something like this, but he suspects you're not fit for a job like this.

"And your favorite position?" he asks, making you stutter. The door swings open, and you feel relieved that it stopped you from answering. Your face falls fast when you see the person in the door. You've seen him in the porn videos Geto makes, more specifically his dick. He flashes you a wide smile, his blue eyes blinking at you.

"Are you new here, love?" his question catches you off guard, making both men chuckle.

"Yeah, she's new," Geto smirks at Gojo, making him whistle. Satoru is used to a different type of women in this industry. He has seen loads of slutty girl ready to spread their legs, but you seem pretty innocent.

"Let me introduce you two," Geto says, standing up from his desk and walking in front of you.

"This is Satoru, Satoru this is y/n. We will be interviewing her today."

The mysterious white haired guy eyes you from head to toe, making you blush. You know exactly who he is, you've seen those porn videos, and you've seen that dick.

"Could you undress for us?" Geto asks as he reaches behind him to grab his camera. Gojo's eyes are still on you, and he takes in every inch of your body as you take off every garment. The last piece of clothing falls on the floor, and you stand naked in front of them.

"Is everything alright?" you ask them, your voice shaking. Suguru reaches his hand out, grabbing your boob to rub your nipple.

"Yeah, everything's fine. you are just so tiny." Geto's words should hurt you, but you feel so turned on right now, you don't care.

"Let's start with the interview," Satoru says, rubbing your shoulder, "Kiss me."

You blush, but you kiss him on the mouth. His tongue slips into your mouth right away, his hand creeping to grab your ass.

Geto focuses on the two of you while he massages your other cheek.

"Look at that tiny cunnie." geto coos at you, swiping his hand between your legs. He rubs at your slit, his thumb circling your clit. It's a simple touch, but it makes you moan out loud, which makes the men shoot a lot between each other.

"You're so responsive, that's good," Gojo says, rubbing from your arms down to your butt. He carefully examines every part of your body.

"Can you lie on the couch?" he asks, guiding you to the leather couch in the corner. You sit down on it, looking around the room. Gojo sits down next to you, throwing his hand around your shoulders and rubbing them. Geto stands in front of the both of you, the camera still on.

"Can you open your legs for us?" the question is so dirty, but Gojo's expression is welcoming. You shuffle so that your back is against the back of the couch, opening your legs.

"Oh fuck yes." Geto groans, getting on his knee to get a better look at your opening.

"Did you plan on eating her out?" Gojo asks Suguru, but he shakes his head. A normal interview consists of fucking and sucking cock, you've never seen someone get eaten out. Gojo smirks, "Well, I have to taste her."

Gojo's tongue dives right into your folds. He teases your clit with his fingers, tongue-swiping your juices. You hear Suguru sigh, "Satoru, this wasn't scheduled." But he doesn't stop him from pleasuring you. He gets next to you, pulling his pants down his legs. Your face bumps right into his hard-on, and he rubs it on your face.

"Open mouth." Geto says, sliding his cock right into your warm mouth. He lets you pleasure him at your pace, but it's hard with Gojo eating you out like a master.

"How am I supposed to know if she's good?" Geto whines, thrusting into your mouth. Your throat closes around his cock, and you choke due to his length. Meanwhile, Gojo pushes one of his fingers inside you, the other teasing your rim. You never had someone play with both of your holes at the same time, and it sure is overwhelming. With each swipe of Gojo's tongue and thrust of Geto's cock, you feel yourself nearing your orgasm.

"Are you gonna cum, sweetheart?" Gojo smirks when your hips stutter to meet his tongue. Geto is close to releasing too, even though your technique isn't the best, he adores how beautiful you look with his cock in your mouth. A wave of pleasure hits you, and you cum, hips rising and falling because of the stimulation. Geto follows shortly after, painting your face with his cum. Gojo smiles at the scene before him, scooping the cum on his finger to put it inside his mouth.

"I'm sorry, y/n," Geto says, looking sad, "We can't hire someone like you."

From the corner of your eye, you can see Gojo's eyes go wide with disbelief.

"I'm not hiring you, but come to our apartment tomorrow afternoon. We'll see what we can do with you in private."

taglist: @mcharris747 @huuuuut30 @krispsprite @bejewelledd @cawwn @veryninjanacho @jamayah @dngerwayz @nwptune @universlypiratecolor @ffakegucci @merachannie @d1lf-luvr @th3girln3xtdoor @nobody289x @iheartpieck @gia999 @kawasgirl @st4rrlighttt @candyeyeroll @7haze @banchangsbbbg @nigthmar3moon @softlilpeachxx @d1gitalbathh @jaenniii @armahnsie @satorustar @balenciagarette @erp1007

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x you

[fatphobiabusters]

It says a lot about society that a beach towel that actually fits me is labeled "oversized" on the packaging so that thin people can know which of a select few beach towels will make them feel all warm and cozy and small.

I already buy beach towels to dry myself off with because it's easier than looking for bath towels that fit me, so labeling a beach towel "oversized" because this world is made solely for thin people is just added cruelty. I've been using beach towels to dry myself off with even when I was in the low 200s weight range.

What's fucking wild is that 99.999999% of thin people are blissfully ignorant of what the world is like for fat people. They have no clue what it's like to have to check the weight capacity of a chair on a website before buying it or seeing everything that's the perfect size for you being labeled "oversized." They don't know what it's like not being able to find clothes that fit you at a regular store, thrift store, online store, or even those plus size stores that only go up to a 3XL and just resize thin people clothing.

They don't know what it's like being thankful to learn online that Plan B doesn't work for most fat people before you bought and assumed in a post-roe world that Plan B will be effective. They don't know what it's like to live in a world where everyone freely hates and discriminates against you without even having backlash from progressives and people who claim to support equality, because oppressing you is just accepted fact even to the people who fight for the rights of all of your other oppressed identities. They don't know what it's like to live in a world where hating you is so expected and normalized that it's ingrained into your own people to the point that you literally cannot trust that

anyone you meet

not a single person

who looks like you will share solidarity.

None.

Whenever a thin person suddenly becomes fat, that is the closest we have to a person realizing they've been living in the Matrix. The most intense epiphany you'll ever have is rapidly becoming fat and then seeing how this world changes for you almost overnight.

-Mod Worthy

#thin privilege #fatphobia #fat liberation #Mod Worthy

[seattlesellie]

dads best friend!abby scenario cause why the hell not.

cw: sexual themes mdni, age gap, abby’s a cocky but charming asshole, power dynamics-ish? : ・ෆ・┈・┈・ᕱ⑅ᕱ・┈・┈・ෆ・ :

— "Oh and honey? Doctor Anderson's coming over for dinner" Everything felt oppressively hot and everything felt impossibly tight. The food seared your tongue, humid steam rising from the vegetables on your plate causing your throat to constrict and your eyes to sting with tears. Your right hand was clenched in a tight fist, left hand gripping your fork like it might grow legs and run away if you let go of your grasp. Your tights were itching relentlessly, tank top strap kept sliding off of your shoulder and built itself a home down your arm. Your lipgloss felt too sticky and your palms too clammy, you felt agitated, uncomfortable and way too goddamn nervous.

You felt consumed.

You didn’t know why.

Sure, Doctor Anderson was attractive, with palms twice bigger than yours. She wore a tight fitted muscle tee that had you squinting then turning your head around fast enough to crack your neck, noticing a goddamn six pack poking through maroon fabric. And yeah, she had an intoxicating scent of pine and wood and a hint of pepper that made your eyes nearly roll back inside of your skull, voice silky smooth, thighs firm and muscular, eyes icy blue, a smile that made you melt and all that stupid jazz,

but none of these things were a good enough explanation to why you were feeling this way — dazed, stupid, all bothered.

She sat down on the dinner table’s leather chair in a manspread as if she owned the place, and her thighs bulked up even more, veins of her arms becoming more prominent. She always knew what to say, and when you cracked a joke about orthopedic surgeons she cheekily told you to “watch it” — which made you thickly gulp and sheepishly smile down to the floor like your idol from age thirteen just told you they want to marry you and have you forever.

You needed an ice bath, but she also wouldn’t stop goddamn looking at you, even when you made it clear that eye contact with the surgeon, your father’s best friend, was a task that you apparently couldn’t manage to complete.

Her look made you nervous, and when she narrowed her eyes you nearly choked on a carrot, and when your father asked you “What’s wrong, kid?” you couldn’t even answer because what was wrong — was that you had to cross your legs together cause of some aching down there, and what was wrong is that his best friend made you feel like you were losing your mind at 9pm with a fork glued to your palm.

So you lied.

“M’just... tired, I guess” you murmured, then fake yawned, then internally cringed at yourself for performing the worlds fakest goddamn yawn.

“Already?” he voiced, shifting his gaze towards a visibly amused Abby. “Quite the night owl, that one... usually”

"What can I say, dad, loooong day" answered you, with a syrupy voice she wanted to stick her fingers inside and lick.

Abby chuckled, then smirked at you even though the response wasn’t directed at her. Then, she looked over to your father who was gnawing on some overcooked steak.

“She’s a kid, needs to get her sleep”

You scoffed, which made doctor Anderson poke the inside of her cheek with her tongue. “What...?” she murmured cockily, cracking a toothy grin. Your tights felt tight again, glued to your hot flesh, then you realized why they fucking call them tights because dammit they really are tight.

“I'm not a kid, can, y’know... drink, and stuff. Plus... M'busy, with... College"

You sounded like a damn idiot. All Abby did was chuckle and tilt her head back slightly, leaning further back in her chair.

“T'aw, I know, What'ryou studying again? Fashion science?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. That bitch.

"Sorry I don't wanna go to medical school and spend seven years of my life sticking my hands down a corpse"

So you didn’t go to your room after that, caught up in a whirlwind of proving a point. You stayed stubbornly with your feet glued to the floor and listened to Abby and your father ramble and yap on about work shenanigans. Usually, you’d semi doze off at this point, go on your phone and occasionally throw a snarky remark, but this was different. She was different than any of his other friends. Abby was actually funny, she didn’t brag too much, and if she did it faded quick cause she really was that good.

Abby threw a reference to a book you thought no one else had read except for you. You timidly lifted your gaze and remarked, “Oh, i read that book, actually”

Abby smiled and flattened her hands on the wooden table. “Smart cookie, huh? Did you like it?”

You batted your eyelashes like a kitten seeking more strokes at the praise, not noticing that body language of yours.

But she did.

You talked about the book for a solid ten minutes. Your father was the one, surprisingly, to go on his phone and faux-snort when he felt excluded from the conversation ran by two intellectuals and a giant elephant who goes by the name of "Tension", in the middle of the room.

Abby made you laugh and she made you think and she listened to your anecdotes. It made you buzz with electricity, and it made you yearn for her attention.

it also made her long for yours.

Your father interrupted by showing Abby a picture from work. When her eyes lowered to his phone, she shot you a lingering gaze and a smirk. You, feeling a rush of heat to your cheeks, shyly looked away.

It was tight everywhere all over again.

So they talked more about work, Abby’s patients, their coworkers, Doctor Martha’s chicken pot pie, Doctor Johnson’s bizarre antics, the glass door no one bothered on calling to be fixed, blah blah blah, an endless stream of chatter.

And you listened, you listened with rapt attention, every ounce of your focus aimed at the prospect of another one-on-one conversation with Abby. Each time the older woman casted you with a quick glance, you flushed even harder. You waited, and waited and waited but your father was a blabber mouth, and you were oh so impatient,

you began mindlessly kicking the wooden table's legs.

Your sock-covered feet shifted restlessly from side to side, then you tucked them beneath your chair and resumed kicking, the movements gaining force. You curled your toes and continued to play with the table's handles. Abby winced, but you didn’t pay her any mind. You kicked again, with more force now.

You sighed.

Abby cleared her throat, and her cheeks suddenly bore a faint crimson blush. You couldn't help but notice, hm, must be the red wine finally catching on to her form. Ignoring, you kicked again, and the doctors back straightened and she stiffened in response. Your father asked her a question, and Abby… stammered.

“Yeah, that guys… uh— yeah”

You rested your chin on your hands and lightly tapped your fingertips against your cheeks thrice.

Then you kicked again, harder, you were bored and restless, waiting, give me some attention, Abby —

And then, you felt a pair of shoes encase your feet, ankles creating a cage around yours. It was then and only then that you had the startling realization: you hadn't been kicking the table at all. Instead, you had been unknowingly engaged in a game of footsies beneath the table with a goddamn world class surgeon.

And oh god did you want to die.

And oh god did abby sport a shit eating grin on her face that only you seemed to catch.

You froze, not even able to release your feet from her iron like grip. Unmistakably, she didn’t seem to release her grip either. So she kept them there, caged and locked.

“Alright,” your father sighed and cleared his throat. “Got some cuban cigars in the yard, shall we?” he gestured towards Abby, who was still holding your feet in her tight grasp.

“Yeah, go ‘head, I’ll just clear the table” she murmured absentmindedly. So kind and polite, huh?

You father chuckled and tapped abby on her shoulder, as he rose from his sit and straightened his back. “Nah, let the kid handle it”

Abby shot you a glance. Your pupils were dilated and your chest heaved rapidly up and down.

“She's not a kid, remember?”

Abby let go of your feet and you rose from the chair with such haste, you nearly had whiplash. When you lifted your plate, staying mute, looking like a deer caught in headlights as your father paced towards the yard, Abby gazed at you, and her eyebrow arched up in utter amusement.

“You uh, play soccer, by any chance?” quipped her, crossing her arms on her firm hard muscly chest.

You gulped.

“Huh?”

Abby lifted her wine glass to her lips, taking a sip that left a glistening sheen on her bottom lip. A chuckle escaped her.

“Jus’, y’know… with all the kicking, and everything. I mean, take a girl out for a drink before you do all that, yeah?”

You stood in shock, you didn’t speak, didn’t mutter a word, merely humming in response. Abby grabbed the plates from your hand, and then she grabbed the salt.

She furrowed her eyebrows and huffed. “M'just ’joking, smart cookie. If you wanna play, let's play"

Then you heard your father’s voice down the hall.

“Sweetheart?” he paced closer as Abby walked towards the sink. He leaned over the wall,

“forgot to mention it to you but, Abby’s staying over for the weekend”

#abby anderson fanfiction #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby smut #abby anderson x you #abby anderson drabble #dbf!abby #doctor!abby #abby anderson fic #abby anderson #tlou2 fic

[sunsburns]

friend or foe?

pairing: dodge mason x fem!reader

summary: dodge mason has always had a hard time trusting people, but then he found you, and you made his life a little easier to get by. however, after becoming entangled with carp's wicked game of panic, he's starting to doubt your loyalty when you gain more points than him during a challenge.

—or: dodge mason is convinced you’re a traitor after you knock him off the top three

word count: 1.8k+

warnings: SMUT 17+, p in v, unprotected sex, slightly public sex (in a closet at a party), mean!dodge... but let’s be so fr he'd do anything to win panic, dom dodge, no use of y/n, manipulative tactics, situationships, summer hookups, kinda friends with benefits (?)

a/n: the lack of dodge mason fics is unsettling and i knew i had to take one for the team and wrote this short fic i hope yall enjoy!

Dodge Mason is convinced you're working against him. 

In Panic, alliances were unspoken but understood. The game didn't officially recognize teams, but if you wanted to make it far, a little bit of teamwork never hurt anybody. Dodge thought the two of you had that kind of alliance. It was in the stolen glances you shared across the room, each one lingering just a heartbeat longer than necessary. There was a silent communication in the way your eyes would meet and hold, speaking volumes without a single word.

When you suggested he jump from a higher point on the cliff, promising more points, he believed you. And when he whispered the answers to the riddles hidden around Carp, he trusted that you wouldn't use them against him. The time you shoved him out of the way just before he could step onto one of Spurlock's bear traps—saving him from a potentially crippling injury—solidified his belief that you had each other's backs. The memory of the rusted metal teeth, camouflaged under layers of dirt, was a grim reminder of how close he had come to disaster. He owes you his leg, maybe even his life, this summer.

But gratitude turned bitter when you emerged from the farm with triple the items he had managed to gather. The look of triumph on your face as you snapped your haul with photos, pulling yourself from seventh place to the top three, was a knife in his back. Each item you produced knocked him, and the others, further down the rankings. 

Dodge felt his blood run hot the next day as you walked with a noticeable pep in your step, grinning from ear to ear. The pride radiating from you was like salt in a wound. As if to make matters worse, Dodge's anger simmered when he spotted you giggling on a lawn chair with Ray Hall at your side during the Players' Ball. 

You hold a plastic cup loosely in your hand, leaning closer to Ray to hear him over the music. Your short dress rides up as you lean in, but you don't seem to mind, bursting into another fit of giggles and playfully smacking his arm. Ray watches you with a sick grin, clearly enjoying your attention.

Dodge frowns. He had thought you were better than falling for Ray Hall's desperate antics. Seeing the two of you trade whispers and giggles like middle schoolers sharing secrets only confirms his suspicions. After the Walk the Plank challenge, he knew Ray wanted him to fail and had done everything possible to ensure Dodge wouldn't win. 

He had told you about it, but you had brushed it off. "You're overthinking it, Dodge," you had said. You swore that Ray was just trying to mess with his head, not that he actually wanted him to get hurt. But now, watching you laugh with Ray, grinning about your position in the top three, Dodge could no longer see you as a friend or an ally. You were an opponent. You were against him now. He's sure of it.

Dodge replayed the events in his mind, trying to pinpoint where things had gone wrong. Had he misread the situation? Were you playing him the whole time? The anger and confusion twisted inside him, morphing into a resolve. 

The game is ruthless, and so are you, it seems. 

"Uh oh, trouble in paradise?" Natalie slumps against his shoulder, the contents of her cup nearly spilling. Drunk as she is, she tries not to laugh when she spots you with Ray. "She's probably just trying to butter him up for Heather."

"Right," Dodge mutters, his eyes never leaving you.

"She's too sweet for Ray. He's all rough edges." Natalie frowns and steps away from Dodge, barely holding herself up. "I'm gonna go look for Heather," she says, but before she leaves, she pats Dodge on the back and leans close to whisper, "If you really think she's double-crossing you, remember: keep your friends close, enemies closer."

And close he kept you.

Chest pressed to your back, his arm circles your waist, free hand gripping your neck and chin, keeping your head up so it falls back against his shoulder. You try to hold onto something, reaching for the walls of the small closet as Dodge fucks you from behind to the muffled sounds of music and chatter from the other side of the door.

His hands had pushed up the ends of your dress, letting it sit high up on your stomach, your panties lost somewhere in the heated moment where his lips had once been pressed against your own, lipstick smudged on his mouth and your own. 

You're making noises that only spur him on; broken moans and cries and whimpers. Breathy praises of, "so good," and "yes, just like that," or "please, don't stop," and his favourite was your whisper of his name. "Dodge," where you were so gone that you couldn't think of anything else to say but his name. "Dodge, fuckfuck- Dodge. Mason. Fuck."

It makes him wonder, almost wistfully, what it would be like if neither of you had joined Panic. He imagines nights spent in the quiet intimacy of just the two of you, free from the game's pressures. Every morning, he'd wake up with you by his side, your presence a comforting constant. Each second of summer would be yours to share. 

Before Panic, there had always been something unspoken between you, a spark that ignited in stolen moments. Hidden kisses behind the diner where he worked felt like secret treasures, each one a promise of something more. The lingering touches when you'd pass him a pen in class sent shivers down his spine, a silent communication of desire. He had wanted you for so long, and he knew you felt the same. It was in the way your eyes would lock onto his, a shared understanding that needed no words.

While Dodge had his own reasons for taking Panic so seriously, he couldn't fathom why you would cross him the way you did. The betrayal cut deep, not just because of the game but because it was you. Maybe you enjoyed watching his heart crumble, deriving some twisted satisfaction from his pain. The thought tormented him, feeding his growing resentment and confusion. How could something that once felt so right go so terribly wrong?

"Fuck, Dodge-"

Your hands find a home in his hair, unable to find anything else to stabilize yourself with. His hand on your neck slides down from your collarbone to your chest and rests on your breast, fingers teasing your nipple through the fabric of your dress, the ghost of his touch has you shuddering. 

You turn your head and try to kiss him, but he dodges it and readjusts his grip on you, loosening his arm around your waist so his hand could trail further down to find your clit. The rough pad of his finger brushes over it a few times, eliciting whimpers from you before he settles for simply resting his finger on your clit. With each thrust, your hips are jostled against his finger just enough to send sparks of electricity shooting through your veins.

He pushes into you a little rougher, a little faster and holds onto you harder, hard enough that his hands will leave marks on your skin when he brings one of them back to your neck, squeezing. Dodge leans down to bite your shoulder so he can hold back his moans, shutting his eyes tightly so he can only focus on the way your walls are tight and wet around his cock, sucking him in with each thrust, pulsing as you creep to your orgasm and he works himself to his own.

"Dodge," you huff, "I- oh, oh,"

Dodge wonders if you know that he knows about your alliance with Ray. He wonders if it's true at all or if he's made it all up in his head and is causing himself to spiral with Natalie telling him things like the devil on his shoulder. 

"You-" he groans out, too far gone to string together a coherent sentence, a bit afraid that if he spoke he'd only call you a traitor and a liar. "You feel so good, baby." 

You try kissing him again, but he doesn't let you, your lips meeting the shell of his ear as he bites onto your shoulder again. You pout, tugging his hair once before dropping your hands to hold his arms.

"Please, Dodge." You whine, "Kiss me, please, I-" A moan causes you to stutter, "I need it- you so bad, please."

Then, there’s a savage thrust of his hips, one that has both of you crying out in surprise and pleasure: he freezes buried to the hilt inside you. "Yeah?"

"Yes, please," you gasp.

"Just how you need Ray, right?"

You falter, "Wha-what?"

"You heard me."

Dodge holds you by the hips, pulling his arms from your grasp and starts to pound into you again like a petty whore, as if you owe it to him to have your night ruined and his a little better as he chases his orgasm with your tight cunt.

And when it comes, his teeth skin into the skin of your shoulder again, muffled moans slipping past his lips, and he digs his fingernails into your sides, letting your unsatisfied whimpers coax him through it. Dodge keeps rolling his hips against your ass in shallow movements for a few seconds. His mouth is occupied with sucking bruises into your shoulder, up your neck and across your throat: he’s mumbling something incoherent, slurring words of "traitor," and "trusted you" into your skin. Each fresh bruise has you gasping for his name.

He stuffs his cock back into his pants, even tugs the ends of your dress back down to your thighs for your own sake, or maybe it's to embarrass you further. Dodge doesn't wipe your lipstick from his mouth before he presses his lips against your cheek, ignoring the way you weakly say his name, refusing to let you explain yourself. 

He pulls away and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Dodge never realizes that he should've heard you out until Heather Nill rushes up to his search of you, breathless and panicked even through the drunken gaze in her eyes. "Ray's lookin' for her. Nothing good."

Heather explains that Ray is on the hunt for you, furious after discovering that you had given him false information about someone who supposedly had intel on future challenges. The lie had cost Ray twelve points, getting him caught by a judge and knocking him out of the top three, bringing Dodge back up, his name right under yours.

He almost turns back, to find you in the darkness of some forgotten corner, where he imagines you, broken and tear-streaked. But the resurgence of himself in the top ranks fuels a different fire within Dodge, one that drowns out the empathy he feels for you. This time, when the next challenge looms, he can't afford any more distractions—not from Ray, Natalie, or even you.

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#i hope u guys understand this vision #like dodge is lowkey an ass #but i love his ass #loba try not to write plot with smut challenge #mike faist #panic show #panic tv show #panic #dodge mason x reader #dodge mason #dodge mason angst #dodge mason smut #mike faist x reader #panic x reader #x reader #challengers x reader #art donaldson #dodge’s cowboy hat #panic (2021)

[luveline]

we know that the criminal minds writers looooved hurting spencer but i would love to see bau!reader (bombshell!reader if you think it would fit) hurt and spencer losing his mind a little (ofc everything would end up being okay because we love fluff in this house 💗)! thank youuu <333

ty for requesting! ♡ fem, 1k

“Spencer, are you coming in?” 

The boy in question winces, the cellophane wrapped stems in his hand strangled by an anxious grip. Your voice is hoarse, quieter than usual, though that could be attributed to the thick wooden door between you both. He takes the door handle in his hand, readjusts his fingers, can't quite get himself to go in. 

“Spence,” you say, missing your usual cheer. “Please come in.” 

He opens the door slowly. It weighs a hundred pounds, each inch heavier than the last. 

You're propped up on the movable bed with a dinner table over your legs. Someone's brought you contraband, it seems, expensive soup from the fancy restaurant you like just outside of work. Next to it lies your phone, your chapstick, and a prescription bottle. The orange of it is too glaring to look at for long. 

“Nice to see you finally, heart-throb,” you say, sitting back, rolling your shoulders as you smile. “Where've you been?” 

Sapped by terror in the waiting room, mostly. “Sorry,” he says, offering no explanation. You deserve one, but he can't get the words out. “How are you feeling?” 

“Shot at.” 

“Is it bad?” 

Your eyes soften. “No. Wanna see it?” 

He does in an awful way. To alleviate his panic, sure, but to know what it did. To see what his stupidity resulted in. The unforgivable in stark scarring. 

You lift your shirt and shift your soft bralette up a touch to show him the wound and all its grim stitches. “It almost missed me. Guess I'm not as lucky as I think.” 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Not right now. They told me not to wear wire bras for a while, so you win some, you lose some.” You let your shirt fall back into place. He can see the indecision in your eyes. Not one for hiding like he wants to, you address the elephant in the room. “Now you've seen it's not so bad, can you look at me again?” 

“I'm looking at you.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

The thing is, Spencer doesn't, not really. Half the time you act like you're sharing a secret with him but he doesn't have a clue what you're talking about, and the intimacy is lost, and it's his fault. He's never been good or smooth or charismatic, he's never deserved your attention, and it's his fault you're here, hurting, his fault you'd been prone on the ground, his fault Morgan had to hold your side closed, his fault you almost died. 

“Spencer,” you murmur, “you know I don't blame you.” 

Of course he knows that. 

“You should,” he says tightly. He doesn't mean to get angry. 

“Well, I don't. So give me my flowers and sit down.” 

He bites the inside of his cheek. He's mad, but he gives you the flowers without any roughness, and you take them with a similarly thin thank you. 

Your reunion isn't going how either of you wants it to, it seems. 

Spencer sits in the chair next to your bed as you pick between the petals, admiring their colours, their softness. For a moment you're peaceful, but you close your eyes and press your nose gently to a small bud, and you ask, “Why are you acting like this?” Heartbroken. 

He could explain it in halves. You passed out in the back of the ambulance. Your surgery had unexpected complications. Hotch was so angry, and he still wasn't as mad at Spencer as Spencer was at himself. 

Seeing you hurt because of his mistake isn't a feeling he thinks he'll survive a second time.

“I don't get why you like me,” Spencer admits. “Not before, and especially not now. You should be pissed. This,” —he gestures to you quickly— “is my fault.” 

“It's not your fault, Spence.” 

“What would you call it?” 

You put your flowers down and stare at your lap. He's pushed you too far. Nice, he thinks to himself scathingly, to upset you in your sick bed, that's exactly what he should be doing to make it up to. Great going, Spencer. 

“Will you hold my hand?” you ask quietly. 

He hesitates, his heart skipping a beat like a missed step down the stairs. 

“Please? I just… this has been a lot. I'm not telling you to make you feel guilty, I swear, but it's been a lot. And so many times I wished someone was here. I wished you were here.” You turn your head away from him. “I thought you were mad at me. I'm still worried.” 

Spencer stands up. He feels every stretch of muscle as he does it. You raise your eyes to his, holding out your hands; you know him better than anyone else, he thinks. He overcompensates every time. 

“I'm sorry,” he says, crossing his arms behind your shoulders carefully. 

“I told you it's not your fault.” 

“For not being here to hold your hand.” 

Your hand curls in the front of his shirt. 

“M'not mad. Not even slightly. I mean, not at you…” He rubs your back with his thumb. “Why would I be mad at you?” 

“What was I supposed to think?” 

He presses his nose to your temple, eyes squeezed close in regret. “...You're right.” 

This is what he should've done the moment you woke up. Instead, he let his mind focus on detail, what flowers demarcates remorse, or if cellophane wrapping would be an imposition. Anything to forget how your hands shook as the adrenaline wore off. 

They're steady now as they wrap around his sides to rest at the small of his back. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, lips touching to your skin with each syllable, like fractions of kisses. 

“I missed you, handsome. Please– don't do that again.” 

He rubs your back. “I won't,” he promises. “I'll be here as long as you want me to be.” 

“Forever, then.” 

For once, your flirting doesn't make him blush. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[sttoru]

I was listening to 7 rings earlier and saw that post and my head immediately went to older bf suguru or satoru 😋

why not both hehe

tags; older bf!satoru/suguru x female reader (seperately). age gap (reader early 20’s, them early 30’s). suggestive. cult leader suguru yum. reader is depicted as innocent. nicknames ‘princess, sweetheart’.

GOJO SATORU

“satoru, are you. . sure? i mean it’s a lot of money and stuff,” you pout at your lover as he sits down on the comfortable chair in front of the fitting rooms. you’ve tried out a couple things by now—all which satoru has approved of. he recommends you to buy them all, but you’d feel guilty for agreeing. it’ll cost him a fortune.

satoru chuckles and leans back, manspreading with his hands limply resting on his thighs. he looks you up and down without an ounce of shame, “mhm. i’m completely serious when i’m telling ya to get ‘em all, princess.”

your shopping bags are piling up more and more. satoru bought you all the things you said you liked. or if he thinks a piece of clothing suits you nicely, he takes the initiative to buy it. the older man doesn’t look twice when handing the employee his black card.

“c’mere,” satoru gestures for you to come closer once the employee leaves to pack your purchases. he pulls you onto his lap the moment you’re close enough.

his hands run up and down your curves—feeling up the material of the dress you’re currently wearing. the sorcerer cannot wait until you’re home with him. he’ll have you give him a special fashion show with all the pretty lingerie he bought you.

satoru grins at the thought. your little squirms and whines of being ‘too sensitive’ makes him want to tease you even more. he doesn’t care if he’s in public or if anyone sees you; you’re all he focuses on.

“i jus’ wanna spoil my sweet girl—take care of her like she deserves,” the white-haired sorcerer whispers. a lingering kiss on your shoulder makes your breath hitch. he chuckles at your adorable reaction.

satoru holds you down on his thighs, hands firmly placed on your waist whilst he leaves kisses on your exposed skin. he’s got all the money and time in the world—all which he’s spending on his lovely girl.

“everything is yours. tell me what you want and i’ll buy it for you, baby. there’s no limit, ‘kay?”

GETO SUGURU

gentle fingers play with the strands of your hair. you lean into the touch, not really caring that people are staring right at you and your lover.

“your hair looks gorgeous like this, sweetheart,” suguru smiles sweetly. his legs are trapping you against him. your back and his chest touch—your head leaning on his shoulder. he’s completely got you under his spell with the way he’s holding you.

suguru had given you his card earlier and told you to spend it however you see fit. he would have gone shopping with you, though he unfortunately has to help a couple people who swear that they’re cursed.

he was still busy when you returned from your little trip. you didn’t want to bother him when he was working, but suguru excitedly invited you into the room once he spotted you. he wasted no time settling you on his lap and asking you all about your recent purchases.

“s-sir, could you please respond?” the shaky voice of a man snaps you out of your bubble. your gaze moves towards the poor citizen who’s groveling before suguru, the clear presence of a curse gnawing at his back.

suguru’s sweet attitude drops the moment that lowlife interrupted his time with you. his eyes darken and his grip on your hand tightens, showing just how much he’s holding back from murdering that man in cold blood.

he doesn’t want to scare you—no, he’d never kill someone in front of your eyes. he doesn’t want to taint your innocence like that.

“silence,” suguru’s sharp voice causes the man to shriek before he quiets down. a second passes before you feel your lover’s hand on your jaw, guiding your face back to his. the tender look in his eyes and the soft smile on his lips instantly returns.

suguru’s other hand slowly traces the diamond necklace around your neck, “where were we again. . . ah, yes—tell me what else you got, darling. i want to hear it all.”

#sttoru writes. #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk x you #gojo x you #geto x you #jjk fluff