#and trust me you don't want spoilers! you will be on the edge of your seat it is intense and so so gut-wrenchingly good | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starrierknight · 7 months

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𝟎𝟏𝟎. 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 ❛𝐧❜ 𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲

“Here's to alcohol, the rose colored glasses of life.” ― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned

MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER 23' | AO3

wc— 8.8k

pairing— dom!gn!reader x lightweight!sub!gojo

cws/tags— dubcon, sex under the influence, drinking, humiliation, mild dumbification, friends to lovers (with a healthy dose of mutual pining), in vino veritas, frottage/dry humping, cum & spit as lube, handjob, reader has boobs/AFAB reader, tit-fucking, overstimulation, edging, multiple orgasms, cum eating, dacryphilia, mix of praise & degradation, petnames: “slut” + “needy” + “cutie”, major spoilers for the horror film ‘Saw’ (2004), netflix n chill type beat

As the warm, sunset hues gradually dimmed and dusk settled in, you found yourself lounging on the plush couch, accompanied by your cat. With the Netflix menu at your fingertips, you eagerly searched for the perfect film with the perfect plot twist to heighten the evening's atmosphere.

It’s October, after all. The perfect time to embrace the unexpected.

From the distant corner of the room, the familiar click of the front door echoed, signalling Satoru's arrival for your movie night. Satoru stepped in, shedding his jacket and slipping off his shoes, the weariness of his day evident in his movements. He lifted his blindfold off and tossed it over his shoulder. After placing his travel bag and jacket down, he made his way to the couch, collapsing beside you without a word, his attention fixated on the television.

The sudden movement caused your cat to startle and gracefully leap off the couch, retreating to a safer distance. A soft chuckle escaped you, breaking the tranquil ambiance, and you turned your focus to Satoru.

"Long day?"

He hummed in affirmation, the day's fatigue evident in the lines of his face, though his gaze remained fixed on the Netflix options. A beat passed before he let out a sigh, a note of weariness accompanying his words.

"A very long day," he confessed, his exhaustion palpable. He made a vague gesture towards the television, groaning playfully. "Do we have to watch another horror movie?"

You couldn't help but smile at his weary demeanour. "It's October. It's, like, a crime to not watch horror during October." You sighed and stretched out on the couch, a touch of playful reproach in your tone. "Don't tell me you're getting bored of them," you teased, giving him a gentle nudge.

He made an exasperated noise, although it carried a half-hearted quality.

"Okay, fine. But if I have nightmares tonight, I'm blaming you. I don't sleep well enough as it is," he joked, crossing his arms and allowing himself to relax on the couch.

The weariness of the day seemed to lift a little as the familiar comfort of your home surrounded him. He closed his eyes, finding solace in the quiet and the purring warmth of the cat that had rejoined him on the couch. The cat settled on his lap, seeking both company and warmth against the encroaching evening chill.

Amused, you couldn't help but snicker. "A sorcerer afraid of horror movies? Now that's a plot twist. Aren't you used to much scarier things in your line of work?"

"And I would have thought someone with free time would pick up a hobby or two," he retorted with a playful grin, absently stroking the cat's head as she purred contentedly. "Besides, most movies are a pale comparison to what I have to face day to day."

You snorted. "Was that a jab? It better not have been a jab." Your grin widened as you continued flicking through the various options Netflix had to offer. "Trust you to get bored of horror films."

"Can you blame me? I deal with curses and evil spirits all day long. I'm allowed to want to watch something light and fluffy from time to time, like a real man," he retorted, a hint of mock defensiveness in his voice.

His gaze remained shut, as if he were still savouring a mental escape into a different world. "Don't laugh, I'm serious," he added, pretending to be stern.

You chuckled and quickly stifled it with your hand, grinning. "Oh, I'm not laughing. Promise."

His head tilted, and he finally opened his eyes, turning in your direction to gauge your playful expression. "You know I can hear you, right?"

You continued to laugh, attempting to stifle it unsuccessfully. "I’m your friend! I'd never laugh at you."

A very mild, almost imperceptible scowl settled on Satoru's otherwise handsome features. He continued to stroke the cat on his lap, muttering under his breath, "Oh, sure, you wouldn't. I believe you. Absolutely."

You couldn't help but smile at his mock irritation and stood up, tossing Satoru the remote. "Pick a horror film we've not seen before. I'll be back in a second, I need to get some... supplies to make this more entertaining for you."

Satoru looked up with a bemused expression as your words sank in, his eyes tracking your movements as you made your way out of the living room, still cradling the cat on his lap.

"Supplies?" he asked blankly.

"Just pick out something!" you called over your shoulder, a mischievous hint in your voice, before disappearing into the kitchen.

Satoru did as you asked, perusing Netflix's selection of movies before eventually settling on a particular one. When you returned from the kitchen, he looked up from the screen, holding the remote out. However, instead of handing it over, he pulled it away before you could even attempt to retrieve it from him.

"I'll give it to you if you tell me what these supplies are," he challenged, an amused glint in his eyes.

You smirked, taking your hands out from behind your back to reveal a large bottle of vodka and two shot glasses. "The best kind of supplies, of course."

Satoru raised his eyebrows, visibly intrigued. With his head tilted forward once more, he gazed at you with a wide grin. "No way in hell am I touching that crap."

Your smile only grew wider as you plopped down beside him on the couch, placing the vodka bottle and shot glasses on the coffee table. You reached over and snatched the remote from him, determined to make the night more exciting.

"We are playing a drinking game, since horror apparently bores you so much. So, yes, actually—you are touching 'that crap'," you declared.

A touch of liquid courage couldn’t hurt, right?

Satoru let out a dry chuckle and pushed a stray lock of hair out of his face before speaking, his voice tinged with a hint of self-assuredness.

"There's not a single horror movie in existence that could hold a candle to the kind of nightmares I experience on a regular basis. But playing a drinking game is fine too, I suppose."

The cat on his lap meowed and nuzzled his leg, leaving a trail of white, fluffy cat hairs on his sweatpants. You reached over to scratch the cat under her chin, and she responded by nuzzling your hand and purring contentedly.

"Aw, you scared? You a scaredy cat?" you teased affectionately.

Her purring grew louder at your attention, and she rolled over on her stomach, presenting her fluffy belly to you, begging for more scratches. Satoru watched the interaction with a slight smirk, his reservations waning. He was always weak when it came to you, after all.

"So what are the rules of this drinking game?" he asked, shifting his attention from the cat to the impending movie night.

You hummed thoughtfully and glanced at the TV, noting that he had chosen 'Saw' (2004) for your viewing pleasure.

"Oh, excellent choice. I haven't seen this one. Let's see... There's a creepy doll, right?" You paused to think. "We drink when someone dies, when we see the doll, when there's a flashback, and... when someone begs for their life. How's that sound?"

Satoru hummed in agreement and nodded as he regarded your game proposal. "Fine by me."

He reached for the vodka bottle and poured you both a shot glass, raising his glass in a teasing toast. "To your health."

With a grin, he knocked back his shot, though his facial expression morhphed to betray his distaste for the vodka. You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, well aware of his aversion to alcohol. As 'Saw' began playing, you followed suit, knocking back your own shot and settling in next to Satoru, continuing to pet the contented cat on his lap.

The cat purred in response to your attention, adding a soothing background to the tension-filled movie. As the film progressed, you both quickly downed shots within the first half-hour, and while you were still relatively sober, a gentle fuzziness began to envelop the edges of your thoughts.

"Your rules are killing me," Satoru whined. "Ugh, I'll be shitfaced by the time the film ends."

In an attempt to keep up, he downed another shot, grimacing at the familiar burn in his throat. Despite his initial reservations, Satoru found himself enjoying the game more than he had anticipated.

You couldn't help but grin smugly, your fingers affectionately ruffling his fluffy, white hair. "Aw, you're such a lightweight. Don't pass out. That's no fun."

Satoru chuckled, leaning into your touch, savouring the sensation. He downed yet another shot—to drown out his nerves, though he wouldn’t admit it—and his laughter quickly devolved into a fit of amused coughs.

"Hey, you're the one trying to get me drunk off my ass," he accused with a lazy smirk.

You leaned closer, your tone conspiratorial. "I'm not trying—I'm succeeding, thanks."

As the movie continued to unfold, you both found yourselves inching closer to each other on the couch, stealing glances when you thought the other wasn't looking. The cat, purring contently, basked in the attention as you pet her, and occasionally, your fingers would gently brush against Satoru's, almost by accident.

Almost.

Satoru leaned in closer, his shoulder pressing firmly against yours as he downed another shot of vodka, the effects of the alcohol becoming more noticeable for him. You both sank deeper into the couch, the cat purring even louder as she wiggled her way into your arms, cradled by you. The euphoria of the moment began to envelop you—how could it not, with Satoru by your side?

Satoru, on the other hand, seemed to be feeling the effects of the vodka more profoundly. He made a show of yawning casually and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, his actions less coordinated than usual as he accidentally knocked the throw blanket of the back of the sofa.

"Smooth," you mumbled, a soft laugh escaping you.

Satoru hummed in agreement, the alcohol altering his inhibitions. His arm shifted, fingers now gently tracing patterns on your collarbone, sending delightful shivers down your spine. You could feel your body reacting to his touch, a combination of warmth, shivers, and a tingle of pleasure that made your senses dance.

He leaned in even closer, the proximity causing a playful struggle for space on your lap with the cat, who mewled in complaint. His breath brushed against your ear, and he whispered, "You say somethin’?"

Your lazy grin persisted as you whispered into his ear, "You can hold my hand if you're scared, y'know... No need to be strong for my sake."

The sound of your whisper ignited a fiery rush of heat through Satoru's body. The intimacy of the moment hung heavy in the air, and he didn't say a word or make a move, allowing the sensation of being so close to you to wash over him. If you were listening closely, you might have been able to hear the rapid rhythm of his heart hammering away behind his ribs.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice husky and low, his lips dangerously close. "I'm not scared," he purred, "I just wanna hold your hand."

Your teasing continued as you cooed to the cat, playfully chanting, "Scaredy cat, scaredy cat, scaredy cat," while showering her with drunken kisses to her fluffy head.

"Shut up," Satoru retorted, a hint of a grin on his face as he lightly tickled your neck with the tip of his finger.

The cat meowed contentedly in your arms as you continued to lavish her with attention. Satoru, not one to be left out, reached out to stroke her fur with his other hand. He pressed himself even closer to you, his cheek resting against your chest, and let out a contented sigh. The world around you seemed to blur as you sank deeper into the intimate cocoon you had created together on the couch.

You rested your cheek against Satoru's soft, white hair, the movie playing in the background mostly forgotten as you both enjoyed this newfound closeness. The effects of alcohol were evident in his lowered inhibitions, causing him to startle at violent scenes in the film, jolting against you. He did, in fact, grab your hand at one point.

"Aw, 'toru... You're so scared," you teased, a grin tugging at your lips.

Satoru pressed even closer to you, his body intimately connected to yours. His soft hair tickled your skin, and his fingers gently traced patterns against your flesh, creating a dance of touch and warmth.

He hummed in amusement and leaned his head back, his gaze fixed on the screen though distant and glazed. It was clear he relished being close to you, his words carrying a slur that reflected the relaxed state he was in. "’S true. I'm a scaredy cat…"

"Say it again... I dare ya," you encouraged, poking his cheek.

The alcohol was affecting his thought processes, his words coming out sweet and slurred. "I'm... ‘M a scaredy cat," he whispered, his voice barely audible, his gaze half-lidded and dreamy.

He reached up and gently placed a hand on your cheek, his fingers tenderly trailing over your skin. "You... You're so pretty," he murmured, the words filled with sincerity and a touch of awe.

The alcohol had loosened his tongue, allowing him to share a sentiment that perhaps he wouldn't have expressed otherwise. He had plenty of experience thinking of you as pretty, as gorgeous, as stunning—but saying it out loud? Now, that was uncharted territory. Acting on it? Only in his dreams, or those late nights he spent thinking about you when he couldn’t sleep.

"You're so drunk," you whispered, a smile playing on your lips as you looked down at him, his head resting against your chest.

Satoru emitted a grumbling noise in response, clearly feeling the effects of the alcohol, but then leaned in closer to your ear, his words laden with desire. "And you're so soft ‘n’ warm ‘n’ pretty. Wanna do more than just hold your hand..."

His words trailed off, a frown forming on his face as he struggled to find the right words. The alcohol had muddled his brain, his mind racing with lust-fueled fantasies that he found difficult to separate from his tamer conversation he typically had with you.

You were about to respond when a gunshot sounded from the TV, causing the cat on your lap to startle and scamper away in fear. The abrupt interruption made you burst into laughter, and you reached over to the coffee table, attempting to pour yourself another shot, albeit missing the glass.

"Oops," you giggled as you tried to regain your composure.

You lifted the shot glass to your lips and knocked it back, the burn of the vodka a welcome distraction from the rising tension in the room. You made a playful show of sipping it, and he noticed the few drops of vodka dribbling down your chin.

"Oh, I'll take care of that," he offered, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Leaning forward, he lapped up the remaining vodka off your mouth. His lips were soft against your skin, but the sensation sent shivers down your back, the feelings of lust growing stronger with each passing minute.

You blinked in surprise, caught off guard by his unexpected action, and gently batted him away. "Mm... 'toru, you're drunk,'' you mumbled in a half-hearted protest.

"So are you," he purred, brushing his fingertips down the column of your neck. "'M getting so, so tired of just holding your hand..."

His words were slow and deliberate, the effects of the alcohol manifesting in both his speech and movements. He reached forward and traced his fingers along your jawline, subtly urging you to lift your chin, as if he wanted to kiss you. His words were slurring together and he was practically glued to you now, doing poorly at hiding the raw desire in his gaze.

You let out an exasperated groan. "But the game... I wanna finish the drinking game," you whined, attempting to steer the focus back to the film.

"I wanna finish, too... But not in the way you're thinking of," Satoru replied, his words carrying a seductive tone, his gaze fixated on your lips. The alcohol had clouded his judgement, blurring the lines between desire and restraint.

He leaned in even closer, not fully registering your discomfort with the proximity. His primal instincts were taking over, fueled by the alcohol. He wanted to bite, to taste, to make you his.

You groaned again and prodded his chest, attempting to gently redirect his attention. "I wanna know who Jigsaw is, though," you grumbled, gesturing vaguely toward the television as the film continued to play.

Satoru's actions were fueled by desire and amplified by the effects of alcohol. He snickered and wrapped both of his arms around your body, his movements slow and deliberate. His touch was both tender and electric, each caress sending waves of heat through your body.

"He’s John Kramer," he whispered against your neck, his voice laced with desire that sent shivers down your spine. "Jigsaw’s name he took up after he was… Ah, what’s the word? Um… Oh, diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer."

A satisfied hum escaped Satoru, and his hands began tracing a pattern on your body, teasingly close to the hem of your t-shirt. The sensation left you feeling hot and yearning for more.

You turned your head toward him, a drunkenly exasperated look on your face. "How the hell d'you know that?" you muttered. "You've not seen this before..."

"I’m a genius," he quipped, his confidence bolstered by the alcohol.

He placed another kiss on your neck, this time closer to your jaw, and you could feel his lips tugging and nibbling at your skin, igniting a rush of pleasure. His half-lidded gaze was fixated on your mouth, a silent plea to indulge in the desire that had been building between you.

You couldn't help but sigh, your exasperation giving way to a soft laugh. "Prick... You worked it out," you admitted. “You always spoil the twists.”

Satoru chuckled quietly under his breath, his hand still resting on your cheek, his fingers continuing their sensual trail along your jawline. It was as though he couldn't make a simple movement without infusing it with an enticing quality.

His gaze remained fixated on your lips, their perfection and inviting allure captivating his attention. The alcohol-induced haze seemed to have amplified his desires, leaving him irresistibly drawn to the intimacy that lingered between you.

Satoru leaned in, his warm breath tickling your ear, and he posed a question that sent a shiver down your spine. "You wanna finish this game?"

"What, are you John Kramer now?"

But Satoru appeared to be paying little attention to your words, his chest rising and falling against yours as his breath grew heavier. He moved in closer, brushing his lips tantalisingly against your own, teasingly slow and maddeningly tempting, but not a real kiss.

Once more, he whispered against your ear, his voice filled with longing. "You're so beautiful," he groaned, his words sending a jolt of desire coursing through your body.

"You spoiled the film for me, 'toru," you grumbled, a playful frown on your face. "Make it up to me."

Satoru's breath still lingered against your ear as he responded with a husky murmur, "I can think of a few ways." His tongue began to tease your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Fuckin’ tease. So soft ‘n’ perfect, and I want you..." he muttered, his words a seductive melody that continued to set your senses ablaze.

Frustrated by the teasing and unable to resist any longer, you rolled your eyes and lunged towards Satoru, overshooting slightly and accidentally bumping his nose. In the first few seconds, he seemed stunned, caught off guard by the sudden embrace. But as realisation dawned, he responded fiercely and passionately, wrapping his arms around you and pressing himself into you, the connection intensifying with each passing moment.

Your hand fumbled in an attempt to caress Satoru's face but ended up getting tangled in his hair. Satoru, equally tipsy, giggled and attempted to steady you by grabbing your shoulder but nearly lost balance himself, tipping into the sofa cushions.

Your mouths meshed together, a flurry of enthusiastic, sloppy kisses—wrestling match of lips and tongues, each trying to find a rhythm but failing gloriously. You broke apart momentarily, wiping your mouths and laughing at yourselves and the mess you had made.

He struggled to catch his breath, panting heavily. "Wow..." he murmured, his voice husky and strained. "Where’d that come from?"

You laced your fingers into his hair, tugging slightly, and kissed up the column of his neck, whispering into his ear, "You spoiled all the fun. Make it up to me."

Satoru's body responded almost immediately to your touch, a guttural sound escaping him as desire surged through him. He was at the mercy of your presence, and the intensity of his longing for you only grew by the second.

"Mm..." he managed, his voice thick with desire. "You're so demanding. I like that." His grip on your chin was firm but gentle as he pulled you closer, your faces inches apart. "Kiss me again," he requested, his desire palpable in his voice.

Satoru shuddered and let out a low, primal sound as you kissed him, the electricity between you electrifying the very air. He attempted to say something, but you drowned his words with your passionate kisses, losing yourselves in the intoxicating connection. Your tongues danced and intertwined, the taste of vodka on his lips adding to the fervour of the moment. He trembled, unable to contain his reaction to your touch, surrendering to the sensations that coursed through him.

The feel of your fingers running through his hair and the sensation of your tongue against his neck drove him wild. He wrapped one arm securely around your body, pulling you closer, fitting together like two puzzle pieces that belonged perfectly—exclusively—to each other. The world around you faded into the background, leaving only the two of you, consumed by the intensity of your desire and the magnetic pull you shared.

You shifted on the couch, straddling Satoru, the chemistry between you undeniable as you continued your passionate kiss. Satoru gasped and let out a low moan, his eyes closing as he surrendered to the desire that surged within him. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers flexing and exploring the curves of your body, desperate and hungry.

Your mouths danced in a wild frenzy, tongues intertwining. Every touch, every movement, sent electricity through both of you. Satoru struggled to contain himself, your presence rendering him powerless in the most enticing way. His hands roamed up your thighs, teasing and tempting, the sensation leaving you both breathless.

Slowly, you ground against each other, the pleasure intensifying with each movement. Satoru groaned softly, his head rolling to the side as he fought to maintain a semblance of control. But the intimate contact and suggestive position made it nearly impossible for him to hold back completely.

Whispering again, his voice husky and strained with lust, he let out a breathless, "Oh, my God..."

Satoru's deep groans filled the room, his pretty blue eyes now nearly rolled back into his head, completely consumed by the intense desire coursing through him. His grip on you tightened, almost painfully so, as he clung to you desperately, unable to get enough.

You continued to grind against him, kissing, biting, and sucking his neck in a frenzied display of passion. Satoru's control was slipping away rapidly. His fingers flexed around your hips, exerting a pressure that bordered on pain, but he was powerless to stop himself. Lust had transformed him into an unbridled animal.

"No... No, no, no..." he groaned under his breath, his voice strained and filled with desperation. "This is... Too much... I can't take much more of this..."

His movements against you grew more urgent, the veneer of control slipping away as he allowed his desires to guide him. Satoru's movements grew more uncoordinated, and he seemed to have lost all concern for your comfort. His focus was solely on his own pleasure, his desire pushing him to the brink of abandon.

He pressed himself against you, moaning deeply as he buried his face in your neck, his grip on your hips unrelenting. His tongue and lips moved sloppily across your skin, and he seemed to have surrendered to the overwhelming sensations that were coursing through his body. His movements were fueled by a deep lust that made it seem like no one but you could satisfy him.

He pressed his body against yours with an urgent pace, each movement dictated by an insatiable craving. You could feel the pressure of his teeth against your skin as he sucked hard, his whispered words barely audible in the midst of his lust-fueled frenzy.

"S-stop…! I-I... Need to... Need to..." he stammered, his struggle for coherence evident as he fought against the consuming desire.

But you felt his rhythmic movements, a desperate rocking that reflected the depth of his longing, and you knew better. He was painfully hard, and he needed you too badly to stop now. He could feel the pre-cum dripping down the length of his aching cock, confined by his boxers and layers of clothing. The warm, wet stickiness coated the cotton of his underwear, but he wished more than anything that it was your skin.

His legs twitched, and his grip on your hips remained tight, a lifeline as if he feared you might slip away. His forehead glistened with sweat, his heavy breaths filling the air, passion that holding him captive. He had become a vessel, lost in the overwhelming storm of desire, struggling to regain control even as he knew he was slipping further away.

The desperation in Satoru's voice was palpable, a clear indication of the battle raging within him. You were on the edge of concern for his well-being, but the potent mix of desire and alcohol clouded your judgement. He was slipping further into the abyss of lust, his once coherent thoughts succumbing to the overpowering need.

His hips moved up and down against you, his body aching for release, his muscles flexing and tensing in his struggle to maintain a semblance of control. "Stop... Just... Can't..." he groaned in frustration. "Oh, please, God I need to..."

"C'mon, 'toru. Take what m'giving you and make it up to me," you whispered into his ear.

Satoru's face flushed, and he choked on his breath, trying to comprehend your words amidst the chaos of his senses. After a moment, the meaning of your demand seemed to register, and his voice faltered as he attempted to respond. But words failed him, and all that escaped were incomprehensible babblings of pleasure and need.

"P-please... I... Can't... It's too g-good. Oh, fuck..." he struggled to articulate, the intensity of the moment rendering him nearly incoherent.

A loud, primal moan escaped Satoru as he reached his orgasm, the intensity of the pleasure overwhelming him as he gasped and shuddered. You pulled back, drunkenly giggling as you teased him. Your fingers ran through his sweaty hair, pushing the damp strands away from his eyes.

"Aw... You came already?" you taunted.

Satoru's body trembled with the aftermath of pleasure. Your touch was almost too much for him to bear as he rested his head on your chest, his eyes wide open, his mind temporarily blank as he grappled with the enormity of what had just transpired. He was so lost in his own satisfaction that he failed to fully grasp your teasing.

"Mm... Yeah," he mumbled, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "Sorry... I... Lost control."

Still shaking, Satoru looked at you, his flushed face and trembling body bearing witness to the intense release he had experienced. He attempted to speak again, but only a low groan escaped his lips.

"So needy," you remarked.

Satoru appeared completely exhausted, as if he had just completed a gruelling marathon rather than experiencing the intense pleasure that had overcome him during your passionate encounter. The intensity of the moment had left its mark, and he remained lost in the aftermath, struggling to regain his composure and find the right words to express himself.

Satoru continued to tremble, his body still awash in waves of pleasure and clouded by the effects of the vodka. Your teasing and taunting in these vulnerable moments made his heart race, and he responded with a lack of shame.

"Fuck, I am... And I'll admit it, too… God, I really am pathetic. I got off in... In so little time," he confessed, his words carrying a sense of unabashed satisfaction.

You smiled and tenderly caressed his flushed cheeks, cupping them in your hands and feeling the warmth of his skin against your palms. His proximity, your words, and the sensuality of the moment had his heart racing, and he couldn't help but respond to your every move.

"It's cute... So cute, so slutty," you whispered, your voice filled with affection.

Experimentally, you rolled your hips against him, biting your lip provocatively. Satoru's body reacted immediately, his breath quickening as he tilted his head, his eyes filled with desire. His hands instinctively gripped your hips once more, and a cute squeak escaped his lips as you continued to caress him, your hips moving in a slow and sensual rhythm.

You giggled and rolled your hips again, squishing his cheeks in your hands. "Mmm, you're so cute when you're drunk..."

Satoru was still sensitive, and your movements sent shivers of pleasure coursing through him. His own desire remained unabated, and he couldn't help but respond to your playful advances, the intensity of the moment making it impossible for him to resist.

"Mm... Mmm... God..."

Satoru's body responded yet again, his breaths growing heavy and laboured. His heart raced, each beat echoing loudly in his ears, his trembling hands betraying the intensity of his desire.

"N-no... Not like this... S-stop..." he mumbled, his words slurring together, unable to distinguish between his body's reaction to lust and the effects of alcohol. "It's... T-too much..."

"Needy, needy slut," you continued to taunt.

Your kisses on his neck and the sensation of your fingers through his hair sent electric shocks of pleasure through his body. He was losing himself completely in his response to your touch, the boundaries between pleasure and the haze of intoxication blurring.

"Mm... Mmm... No... No, stop..." he begged, his words transforming into a plea. Your lips on his neck were driving him wild, eliciting loud moans and gasps from deep within him.

Satoru let out a low-pitched moan as you teased and whispered sinful words into his ear. You overwhelmed him, and even though he knew it was all a game, he found himself playing into it more than he let on. His body was completely at your mercy, and he felt his muscles tensing and contracting as he tried to hold back from cumming again, still so sensitive from the last time.

"Stop…! Too much... I-I know what you're doing... I-I... Can't take it..." he gasped. "’S too much... You're killing me..." he moaned.

Satoru's control over his body had vanished entirely at this moment. Lost in the whirlpool of lust, he was begging for more. His voice shook as he protested, his whole body trembling as he struggled to maintain some semblance of restraint. Unable to stop himself, he leaned into you, his head tilting as you kissed, licked, and caressed his neck.

"Needy, pathetic slut," you murmured into his ear.

"Too... Fuck... Mmmm...." he mumbled, his voice hoarse and his body writhing. "Please..." he begged. "Don't... Do that... I can't stop... Not like this... Please..."

He heard every taunt you said, but the overpowering rush of euphoria had him gasping and moaning, unable to hold back any longer. He gave in.

Satoru's body trembled as he came again, his moans escaping his lips incoherently. His eyes were rolled back in sheer ecstasy, his face contorted in pleasure. Afterward, he remained still and silent for a moment, basking in the afterglow of his release. His breathing slowly calmed, and he stared blankly into space, lost in the post-orgasmic haze.

As the credits of the film rolled on the television, you continued to stroke his hair and affectionately kissed his cheek. "Cutie, so blissed out," you murmured.

Satoru's heart beat slowly and gently, his body relaxed and content. He seemed to be in a state of pure satisfaction.

"Mm... Mmm... H-hm...?" he mumbled in response.

Satoru smiled and brought his fingers up to his cheek, where you had kissed him. He ran them softly across his face, savouring the lingering sensation. He was gradually regaining his sense of self, but a look of contentment still lingered. He rested his head back on the sofa and wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

"You… You know how to make a guy's legs go weak," he murmured, smiling lazily.

You smirked and rocked your hips against him slowly, watching him hiss through gritted teeth. "Seems like it, yeah."

Satoru let out a low growl of desire and tightened his grip on your shoulders, his fingers digging into your skin. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked, his voice laced with a mix of playfulness and desire.

You tilted your head coyly, running your fingers along his jawline. "Maybe. Is that a problem?"

He chuckled softly, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. "Not at all. In fact, I think it's only fair. You’re having fun teasing me, driving me nuts."

You let out a laugh. "Teasing is an art form. I think I’ve mastered it."

Satoru grinned, his eyes sparkling. "Consider me your willing canvas."

You playfully leaned in closer, brushing your lips against his ear. "Oh, I have many more colours to paint with."

His breath hitched, and he swallowed hard. "I look forward to the masterpiece."

With a playful wink, you moved away, giving him a moment to catch his breath.

"Mmm.... God, you're insufferable..." Satoru murmured. His cheeks burned a rosy pink as he squirmed a bit under your rocking against him, but he did nothing to fight or stop it. "Too much..."

He seems close to losing himself to you again. He turned his head away from you and pressed his forehead against the sofa. He scrunched his eyes shut and just groaned.

"You can take some more, Satoru," you drawled.

His expression hinted at both pleasure and annoyance. Satoru grimaced and squirmed against the sofa. His eyes opened and he looked up at you, his face flushed and his body shaking a bit.

"No I... I can't... I'm too weak for this..." he mumbled, his words slurred with a mix of pleasure and annoyance. He was completely overwhelmed by your tease, but his body couldn't really help but respond to you.

"N-no... Too much... I... I c-can't..." he gasped. “Not again, not again…”

You leaned in closer, your voice low and tempting. "Are you sure, Satoru? You're enjoying this."

Satoru's resolve was weakening rapidly, and he bit his lower lip, struggling to maintain some semblance of self-control. "I... I really should... I should stop you," he stammered, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

"You should," you teased, brushing your lips against his ear. "But will you?"

He let out a frustrated groan, torn between the intense pleasure you were offering and his own desire to exercise restraint. "Fuck me," he muttered, his voice a mixture of desire and frustration.

You continued to move against him slowly, your lips tracing a delicate path along his jawline. Satoru's grip on your shoulders tightened, his breath hitching as he struggled with the sensations overwhelming his body.

"Come on, Satoru," you purred. "Just a little more... Give in to me."

He hesitated, his willpower waning, and you could see the internal struggle playing out in his expressive eyes. Finally, with a shuddering sigh, he gave in, his resistance crumbling.

"Alright... A little more," he whispered, surrendering to the intoxicating pleasure you offered.

You snickered and kept rocking your hips against him. "Look at me."

"Mmm... What?" Satoru murmured.

He was slowly getting more and more worked up again. His words were getting harder to understand. He seems to be losing his ability to think straight. His head rested gently against the couch cushions, his eyes half-closed, his furrowed eyebrows a testament to his focus on every exquisite sensation you offered—your words, your voice, your touch—all conspiring to drive him to the brink of ecstasy. He was far too busy focusing on the pleasure of your body against his to hear your words.

"I... I can't focus... Can't stop it…!" he whimpered, his words barely reaching your ears.

You laughed and stripped your t-shirt off. "Keep your eyes on me, yeah?"

Satoru's eyes flickered at the sight of your chest, his jaw going slack, but he tried desperately to keep them focused as he groaned and squirmed against the sofa.

"Yes... Y-yes... Oh, fuck me… Too much... Mm... Mmm."

Satoru's self-control was hanging by a thread, the tempting display before him driving him wild with desire. He tried to hold your gaze, but it was a challenge as the pleasure intensified.

"Just a little more," you coaxed, knowing exactly how to push his buttons.

Satoru's breathing grew ragged as he struggled to maintain focus. He reached up and cupped your face, his fingers trembling with the effort to stay composed.

"I... I can't hold back," he gasped, his voice thick with desire and frustration.

You leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss, intensifying the sensations coursing through his body. His mouth, warm and soft and eager, tasted like the vodka you had indulged in, but that wasn’t what made you feel so drunk. Satoru's grip on you tightened.

He struggled to maintain focus as you leaned in closer, your voice a sultry whisper against his ear. "Let go, Satoru. Just for a little while..."

He gasped, feeling the temptation building in the pit of his stomach. "I... I can't..."

"You can," you encouraged, your breath warm against his skin. "You deserve this, ‘toru."

His body trembled, torn between his desire to hold on and the allure of surrendering to pleasure. "Just... A little more," he whispered, his resistance crumbling as he gave in to the mounting ecstasy.

You bit your lip and guided his hands to your tits, still grinding against him. There was a look of shock on his face but he seemed to be doing his best to keep his eyes on you. The intensity of your connection continued to build as Satoru's touch grew bolder. His moans and whimpers filled the room, mingling with your own sighs of pleasure. You maintained eye contact with him, a sultry smile dancing on your lips as you revelled in his desperation that we wore so brazenly.

Satoru's fingers explored every curve and contour of your chest, his grip growing tighter as his need intensified. He couldn't tear his gaze away from your eyes, from your body.

"Mm.... Oh, fuck-fuck-fuck," he murmured as your hips continued rocking against him. He whimpered and let out a few soft moans as the sensation built. "God..."

"Yeah? How's that, hm? Needy boy," you teased.

"Mmm…! Oh, God... So much..." Satoru murmurs as his hands continued fondle your chest.

His body was so sensitive that constantly squirmed and his breath hitched and trembled. His grip on you tightened as he continued moving his hands across your tits and squeezing the soft, supple flesh. His words had almost become completely incoherent, reduced to just desperate moans and half-sentence fragments.

"Oh, God... Need you…! Please… Mmmm..."

But just before he could fall into bliss, you caught him, pulling yourself away.

Satoru gasped and squirmed, disoriented by the sudden change. Confusion and fear laced his voice as he whimpered, desperately seeking understanding. "What's... What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?" he whined, his vulnerability on full display. "Do I... Do I need to beg more?"

His eyes, wide and imploring, pleaded for reassurance and guidance. Meanwhile, you grinned mischievously and knelt down in front of him, leaning on his knees.

"You've made quite a mess, ‘toru," you cooed, a musical edge to your voice.

His eyes widened, his gaze dropping to his sweatpants. Horror washed over his features as he noticed the conspicuous wet patch where his cum had soaked through, his face now a canvas of embarrassment.

"Oh.... Oh, fuck..." he whimpered, mortification taking over. Frantically, he shifted and tried to hide himself, begging you to avert your gaze. "Oh god... Don't look... Please, please..."

As he tried to cover himself with his hands and turn away, but you wrenched his wrists away and pinned them to the sofa beside him.

"Look at me."

"Mmm... No! No, please…!" Satoru protested.

He squirmed and fought you, trying desperately to move away and trying to pull his wrists away from you. He seemed terrified at the thought of you seeing him like this, all soiled and ruined and dripping.

"Don't look at it... Please..." he begged, tears welling up in his eyes, his cheeks flushing a brilliant cherry-red that you could see clearly, even in the low-light.

You smiled sweetly and teasingly pressed a quick kiss to the wet patch. "So needy."

You maintained your hold on Satoru's wrists, preventing him from averting his gaze or escaping your teasing advances. His body jerked and he lets out a moan. His face contorted with a mix of shame, pleasure, and fear. He writhed beneath you, caught between wanting to escape the situation and being unable to deny the arousal he felt. His protests were weak, his resolve crumbling in the face of you. He grew more desperate, his tear-filled eyes reflecting a mix of pleasure and distress.

"Don't look at it…! Please..."

Ignoring his pleas, you pressed another teasing kiss to the wet patch, causing him to whimper and moan in response.

"Please... No... Stop it…! It feels good, but... Please..." he mumbled, his body trembling beneath your touch.

Your snickers filled the air as you continued your playful assault, leaving a trail of kisses along the fabric of his inner thighs. Your fingers maintained their firm grip on his wrists, ensuring he remained under your control, his vulnerability and desire laid bare before you.

Satoru whimpered and struggled to control the mounting pleasure surging through his body. He gasped and moaned, his hips involuntarily bucking into the air, seeking more stimulation.

"Ahhh…! Ahhh... Please... Oh, fuck! Mmmm..." he continued to whimper, lost in the throes of desire.

Your teasing words only fueled his need further, his desperation evident in every breathy plea and every quiver of his body. "Aw, you're so cute, ‘toru."

As you skillfully removed his sweatpants, leaving him in only his boxers, his eyes widened and his gaze turned even more intense.

"Ple... Please... Please, more..." he begged, his voice a husky mix of need and yearning.

You pressed your hand to the soaked patch on his boxers, feeling the heat and dampness, relishing in his vulnerability. Your fingers curved around his throbbing erection, and you palmed him through the material with just the barest pressure. His pleas for more were music to your ears.

"More? Yeah, you want more?" you teased, your tone laced with innocence that belied the intensity of the situation.

"Mmm... Ahh…! No, no, no please... Please… C-can’t take more…" he stammered, torn between desire and the overwhelming sensations he was experiencing.

"But you just said you wanted more," you teased with a pout.

Satoru's pleas had reached a feverish pitch, his desperation palpable in his voice and movements.

"Oh, fuck... Please... More, more, more..." he begged, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks.

You maintained a playful demeanour, revelling in his heightened desire. As you tugged his boxers down, exposing him completely, he gasped audibly. His cock sprung free, slapping his stomach. Your jaw dropped at the sheer volume of cum and pre that had accumulated. You couldn't help but be drawn to the way his hips responded eagerly, pushing into the air with an instinctive urgency. His pretty cock—flushed, dripping, hard and aching—twitched as precum drooled from his slit.

"That's what I thought," you said smugly, trailing your fingers trough his mess and then spitting into your hand.

Your actions only intensified his yearning, and as you used your saliva-slicked hand to tease and pump him, the sounds of wet friction filled the room. With each and every drag of your hand down the shaft of his hard, aching shaft there was a loud, satisfying ‘schlick’ sound that accompanied his whimpers.

"Yeah? Is that enough or do you still need more?" you taunted, a smirk curving your lips.

Netflix's 'Are you still watching?' message went unnoticed, as you were both thoroughly engrossed in your homemade entertainment.

Satoru could hardly form words, the pleasure now overwhelming any ability to express himself coherently. He let out a strangled moan, his hips involuntarily frotting into your hand as he gasped for air, unable to respond beyond the primal sounds escaping him. His body shook and his hips bucked desperately, more precum drooling from the cutely flushed pink tip.

"H-hnnn... Ahhh... More..." he managed to stammer, his voice barely coherent, lost in the sea of sensation.

You couldn't help but tease, watching him struggle with his need. "Yeah? You gonna be a good slut and keep begging for more?"

His wide, desperate eyes locked onto yours as you continued, each movement sending shockwaves through his trembling body. "P-p-please... Please... God, fuck..." he begged, the words strained and barely forming.

He struggled to communicate his desires amidst the overwhelming pleasure. "I... I n-need... Ahhh…!" he whined loudly, his body convulsing with the effort.

Teasingly, you challenged him and retracted your hand. "Oh? What d'you need, hm? Better use your words and tell me.”

He whimpered and shook his head, desperate for the sensation to return. "G-God... I... I need… Oh... God..." he panted, his desperation palpable. "I need... You need to..."

Teasingly, you prodded him further. "You need me to...?"

But he was beyond the ability to respond with anything more than monosyllabic pleas for more, lost in the overwhelming pleasure. You laughed, toying with him further, adjusting your position and enveloping his slicked cock between your tits, squeezing gently with your hands on either side of them as you began a tantalising movement.

"Isn't this fun?" you teased, taking note of the tremors that coursed through his body. "You're such a cutie."

His features, typically so composed and captivating, were now a canvas of raw emotions. The pleasure surged through him, leaving him helpless in its wake, his body reacting to the intense sensations. Tears streamed down his face in torrents, leaving streaks on his typically flawless skin. His eyes, usually vibrant and full of life, were now swollen and red, the brilliance dimmed by the weight of his desire. Uncontrolled sobs wracked his body, causing his normally steady breaths to hitch and break in heartbreaking cadence.

In that moment, all pretense of strength was lost. His shoulders, usually squared and proud, hunched forward under the weight of his surrender. The weight of the world seemed to bear down on him, crushing the bravado and exposing the raw, unguarded depths of his ache.

His hands, usually so steady and assured in their movements, trembled uncontrollably. Fingers clenched tightly, seeking desperately for something to hold on to, to anchor him amidst the storm of his anguish. Each sob escaped his lips with a wrenching ache, echoing the depths of his desperation.

His eyes rolled back into his head just as his dick bucked against your chest, and your eyes were struggling to find a place to rest on: his flexing abdomen, trembling thighs, quivering lips, shaking hands, twitching cock—a total buffet of expression.

"Almost there, aren't you?"

Satoru let out the loudest groan he could manage and shuddered against your chest. His mouth curled into a tiny, smug smile before his jaw went completely slack. A few seconds later, he came. Your tits were coated in thick spurts of his hot, sticky cum—flooding your skin and dripping down your abdomen.

"Aw, you've done so, so well... So good for me," you said sweetly.

You could feel him shaking as he writhed and twitched, and it seems he was still caught in the aftershocks. Satoru lay there, his body still trembling. His chest heaved with each labored breath, his mind swimming in the euphoria that engulfed him. You gently stroked his thighs, grounding him and bringing him back to reality, his breathing immediately calming. He couldn't believe what had just happened, how every touch, every sensation, had left him in such a state of blissful exhaustion.

"G... God..." he whispered shakily. His whole body shivered and he continued to breath heavy and hard. "Fuck..."

Satoru breathed heavy and hard, panting as he slowly came back to reality. He was so exhausted and worn out that he could barely form any coherent thoughts, and his eyes were already closing.

"Oh... God..." he stammered and took a deep breath. "That was amazing..." he said softly, looking down at you with a weak smile. He mumbled, still struggling to put a sentence together. "I didn't know—I didn't know it could be like that..."

You smiled and got up off your knees, sitting next to him on the couch. You kissed his cheek. He seemed so vulnerable now that his defenses were gone, and he let out a small sigh before he leaned his head on your shoulder. His hair was still covering his eyes, but you could see the blue glow through the strands.

He lets out a small yawn and blinked slowly as he glanced around, his expression soft but still so very tired. Satoru's smile grew as he looked at you, his eyes filled with a newfound warmth and affection.

You gently brushed a few strands of hair away from his face, your fingers tracing a soothing path across his cheek. "It can be pretty amazing when you're with the right person," you whispered tenderly.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice soft and sincere. "With the right person… I... I'm so..." he said hoarsely. He sighed and shook his head slightly. "Ah... I'm so tired..." he whimpered, his arms still wrapped around you.

“You still need to clean me up.”

Satoru groaned and pouted, sticking his tongue out at you.

"Oh c'mon... You like it..." he said, trying to sound annoyed but in reality he was still in a dazed, delirious state. His eyes flickered and he blinked slowly.

You raised a brow. "But you made a mess."

He whined again as he continued to cling to you. He seemed so tired that he could fall asleep like this, but not before giving you one last look of annoyance.

You pushed his face into the mess he left on you. "Yeah? See how you like it."

"Ew…! It's all sticky and warm..." he complained as he squirmed and tried to get away from you. He attempted to sound like he was annoyed, but his grin gave him away. He looked very proud of himself. "I'm so tired, just give me a break..." he whined, laughing.

"Clean it up and I'll be your pillow," you teased.

He gave up his attempt of being mad and he smirked a little bit, and his head bobbed as he tried to nod. "Ahhh... Fine, deal," he said with a grin.

His tongue darted out and he sleepily started to lap up the cum he left splattered across your chest. His tongue trailed across you, and he still had it in him to whine against you even as he complied. You cooed at him teasingly and kissed his forehead.

"Aw, there you go."

Satoru chuckled weakly, managing to gather enough energy to clean up the mess he had made. His movements were slow and lethargic, and his eyelids drooped as he worked on the task.

You watched him, a fond smile on your lips. "You're such a dork," you remarked.

"Mmm..." Satoru mumbled in agreement, finally finishing his task. He flopped back against you, a contented look on his face. "Pillow now?" he asked, a hopeful glint in his half-closed eyes.

You chuckled and shifted, allowing him to rest his head against your chest. He sighed in contentment, snuggling closer.

"There you go, sleepyhead. Rest up," you whispered, gently stroking his hair.

He mumbled something incoherent, already drifting off into slumber. You smiled down at him, feeling a warmth in your chest. The night had been a welcome plot twist, to say the very least.

a/n: listen- *grabs your face* listen to me: if you ever, for some godforsaken reason, see gojo satoru walking around, you better send him my way!!!! *shakes vigorously* OKAY????? okay. also, it lives rent free in my head that it is in fact canon that satoru is a lightweight + hates drinking. i will be taking advantage of this knowledge until my dying breath. P.S. I'm from the UK and drinking culture is wayyy diff here, and i have a high tolerance, so apologies if my descriptions of drinking do not match your experiences.

this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

#꒰ ✎ ꒱ — tongues in trees #꒰ ✑ ꒱ — they kiss consume #꒰ 🝮 ꒱ — kt 23 #sub gojo satoru #sub gojo x reader #sub gojo satoru x reader #sub gojo smut #sub gojo satoru x reader smut #sub gojo x y/n #sub gojo x you #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader smut

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hyperfixiation-station · 5 months

Text

A Kiss And A Key Pt. 1

TW: Angst, Violence, MW3 spoilers

Summary: You 'betrayed' the 141 to go on an undercover mission. Everything is fine until Ghost is brought in as a prisoner to the base you have infiltrated.

Pairing: Ghost x reader

PART 2

You were undercover, trying to get information on Makarov for the 141. It was a hard and painful mission, but you had said yes anyways. You had said yes, knowing you would never be able to hold the trust of your teammates, of your friends, of your family ever again. Price had not wanted to ask you, but he did, and you had agreed, much to his chagrin. You knew you were the only one who even had a chance of pulling this off, and you weren’t going to pass it off to someone less skilled only for them to get killed.

Things were going fine,for the most part. The hardest thing you had had to do was reveal you were a traitor. You will never forget the look in Ghost’s eyes as you shot Soap and walked away with Makarov. Of course, you didn't hit Soap anywhere fatal, just pistol whipped him and grazed the side of his skull, but from any point of view other than your own, it looked like you had shot him in the face.

You rose in rank quickly after that, being able to dedicate your full time to ‘the cause’. Things were going well, and you started to think you might actually make it out of this alive. That is, until Ghost showed up, beaten, bloodied, and caught.

You stand on the other side of the one-way mirror, watching Ghost get beat 9-ways to Sunday as he refuses to give out information. You hear him let out a small, pained cry and close your eyes, knowing what you have to do, even if it‘s going to get you killed.

You spend the day preparing, packing a go-bag, obtaining the key to his cuffs, making sure you would be on rotation to ‘question’ him. You set the cameras to loop for 10 minutes at 8:30, make sure the power will shut off, knowing it will take 9 minutes to bring everything back online. You spend the day high-strung, on-edge about someone catching you before you even have the chance to save him.

The time comes and you make your way down the hall, down the stairs, and to his cell, key stuck under your tongue. You nod to the guard outside of the door and take a deep breath before stepping in.

“Traitor.” Ghost hisses when he sees you. His mask is off, blood running freely from his mouth. You say nothing, just kneel in front of him. Your heart hurts at how bloodied and bruised his body is. You touch his cheek, running a finger gently along a cut under his eye. He flinches back, spitting blood at you.

“Don't think so little of me.” You murmur softly, wiping blood from your cheek, “Why are you here? Did Price send you?”

“I’m not telling you anything.” He snarls. You sigh softly, resisting the urge to cry at the absolute hatred in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, digging your thumb into a wound on his arm, “I’m so, so sorry.” He hisses, face contorting in pain and your heart falls even more. You continue like this for almost 15 minutes, you doing your best not to hurt him too much, and Ghost remaining tight-lipped and angry.

“You know,” He gasps out finally, “Soap had hope for you. Said that you could have killed him but didn’t. It’s almost sad that I’l have to tell him he’s wrong.”

You feel a flicker of hope in your chest, relief that maybe someone other than Price will show up to your funeral.

“Tell him I’m sorry, will ya?” You ask softly. He opens his mouth to respond and you seize your moment, grasping his face and pulling him in for a kiss. He makes a muffled sound of protest and tries to push you off, stopping when he feels cool, hard metal being pressed into his mouth.

“This hallway will be clear in 30 minutes for exactly 9 minutes.” You whisper in his ear, pressing a hand over his mouth as he tries to ask you a question, “Tell Price I’m sorry that I couldn’t give him everything he needed.” You press a kiss to his forehead, rise, and walk out the door.

“Anything?” The guard by the door asks.

“He won't talk. He is as infuriating as he was when I left.” I roll my eyes, “Never did know what was good for him.”

“Cheers to that.” You nod to the guard, walking briskly down the hallway. If you are going to have any chance of surviving this, you have to get out now.

There will be a part 2 dw :)

#cod x reader #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #angst #no beta we die like men #ghost fanfiction #cod #i don't even know #this is a fever dream #honestly

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millerscoffee · 9 months

Text

dancing is a dangerous game | part three

"the only thing i'll ever ask of you, you've gotta promise not to stop when i say when," she sang.

6.8k | joel miller x f!reader

this is part 3 of the "dancing is a dangerous game" series | other parts below:

part one | part two | part three | masterlist

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings (for this chapter): post-outbreak au. no ellie. no clickers. mentions of consensual non-con (spoiler: it's more that reader is nervous and is scared things will fuck up, so she tells joel not to stop if that tension in her rises). survivalist!joel, age gap (joel is 56, reader is late 20s or early 30s), soft!dom joel, introduction of safe word, oral (f receiving), fingering, piv (unprotected), cum eating (whoops), biting, crying, fluff, angst, READER RIDES A HORSE! no use of y/n.

summary: within your second week at joel's, there are things you are forced to look within yourself. joel helps you through it.

A/N: i really appreciate all of the notes and comments for this series! i didn't know where it would lead when i wrote that first chapter, but it's all overwhelming and sweet! i know the last chapter was more plot, but i feel progression with these twooooo 👀

"I don't think it's trust." "Then. What. Is. It?" Joel moves over to you at the bed's edge, taking your chin in his warm hands. It's as if the breath got knocked out of you. Like he's doing what you asked without you realising it. "I can't–" you feel undeniably small. Tears fall easily when you look down at your laps side by side until your vision gets blurry. His booming stirs in you. Not fear, but not necessarily happiness. He's compelling you to look at patterns within yourself, it makes you want to break down. Panic threatening to tap at the door of your sternum. Just when Joel's index finger, large and calloused, curls under your chin. It gently coaxes you to lock eyes and your lip wavers. "You're doing so good," when he says it, voice like honey in comparison to the rough-textured grip he has on your face, your heart races.

When Joel back turns around, his eyes are dark. Like he’s thirsty, but would only drink if you let him. He’s deliberate in brushing past you on his way up to the loft, his presence lingering just at the end of the stairs. “Come to bed.” It’s simple, and what you come to learn, is Joel’s way of asking. He don’t. But he gives you room to make the choice. You don’t recall your eyes even scanning the living room. They only land on the broad frame in front of you, and you follow it like a beacon of light. Beginning your second week, you don’t sleep on the couch anymore.

You're skittish when reach the top of the loft.

What if he expected something from you? What if it was more than what you were willing to give?

What did you want to give?

"It's nice up here," an attempt to purchase to any sort of gravity. Anything to make sense of just how you ended up in the situation in the first place. The feeling of Joel's lips still very much present on your own.

But your eyes stay at the ground, more in your own head than you are able to look at the man you're in front of. Joel tilts his head to catch your gaze.

"You sayin' that to me, or y'erself?"

"Oh... uh... to you. To you." You flash a crooked, but distant smile.

"Hey," Joel hushes, walks over to you, his frame seeming somehow even larger in the petite space. "If this is too much, we can get you back down there. Y'know. Extra blankets."

"No–" you object so quickly you have to clear your throat. "I mean... no. I want to stay. Just..."

"Hadn't shared a bed with someone?"

"Not in a long time." You think of your past lover. The warmth the two of you made together under makeshift tents and old buildings with shitty furniture. Taking turns sleeping while keeping an eye out for danger. This was different, and so were the circumstances.

Joel walks over to what you presume is at least the start of his side of the bed before his inevitable migration to the centre of it at night, and gets undressed until he's left in his boxers. Unlike when the two of you had sex and he wasn't wearing anything under his jeans. It was like he didn't know you were gonna be up there with him tonight.

"We'll take it slow, if that's what you want." Climbing into bed, Joel opens the opposing side of the blankets for you. His hair slick back from your fingers combing through it downstairs. Orbs seeking to learn your quiet demeanor. He looks sweet. Patient, even.

How could you say no to that? Not when he's being so compassionate. And certainly not when he's giving you the choice.

The temptation to be vulnerable could kill you. Could be dangerous.

Then again, the situations you continuously put yourself in before you met Joel had more consequences than getting in this man's bed. A man who was shifting your perspective. He didn't seem like any other person that entered your life only to leave it.

You choose to ignore the expiration date in a few short weeks.

So you abandon your jeans. Neatly fold them in a chair tucked away in the corner of the room. Everything in slow motion to quell the reality of your emotions towards the man you currently have your back to. The man who made you feel melted and was being uncharacteristically open with you long before whiskey was involved.

Not that the whiskey mattered, you weren't really feeling its effects anymore anyway. This experience had you both to a sober, cognitive state. You had control of yourself considering how out of control you felt on the inside.

In your underwear you stand with a blue cotton t-shirt that just grazed the crease of your bottom and your exhales are shakier than you'd like to admit.

Because if you admit it, then it's true.

If you admit it, he could have a lot more control over you than you knew what to do with.

"Joel," you sound faraway when you break the silence. Back still to him, you tilt your chin at your shoulder before closing your eyes and inhaling deeply. You can't believe what you're about to say.

"If I tell you to stop, I don't want you to listen," Tears wick at your eyes, blinking them away rapidly before turning to face Joel directly. You can't bring yourself to look at him, yet.

And he's silent.

"Because if we start this... it–it's not gonna be easy for me," you your hands, shaking them off as if the energy could ease by doing it. Pleased when it kind of works. "I'm not gonna be easy, and I don't mean sexually...," you laugh pitifully, "My impulses may make me want to stop. From what I've... god I sound so pathetic, from what I've been through." Teeth grit, tears fall, "It could be too much. And, too–," sentences chop, "I want this. If we start this I don't think I could stop. Which sounds counterintuitive, but... yeah."

You want to fucking vomit from exposing yourself this way. Your mind swirling from the brain break you just gave yourself. Did any of it make sense? Did you come all the way up the ladder just to ruin any chance of being close to him? Why did you want to be close to him? You feel like an idiot, to put it crassly. A credulous girl making hasty decisions only to retrieve back into complacency.

These thoughts flood your mind and you're sure the storm is evident as it crosses your brow. So caught up in forbidding your heart to find resolution that you can't see what's in front of you.

What's been in front of you, if only you'd pluck it.

When you finally land on him, he looks concerned. Like he's taking in every word you say and committing it to memory. He doesn't move from his spot, but he does sit up straighter. Body language letting you know he is open, but not withdrawing.

"You want... this," he repeats you, but in his voice it sounds more seductive. Did you say it this seductively? "And you want me to keep going if you say no...,"

"Sounds kinda worse when you say it out loud." You mumble.

"You trust me."

That makes your face screw up. Shoulders creep towards your ears, the bridge of your nose collides on itself.

"Trust. I don't... I don't do that."

"Well, what else would y'call this request?"

Climbing on the edge of the bed, you sit on it in contemplation. What else could this be? Surveying the room, you come back to him in your line of sight and the furrow of his brow – soft, but covetous – makes you swallow hard.

You have two choices: hit the wall you put up. The one you'd been hitting every day for a week, or you could push through it.

"I don't think it's trust."

"Then. What. Is. It?" Joel moves over to you at the bed's edge, taking your chin in his warm hands. It's as if the breath got knocked out of you. Like he's doing what you asked without you realising it.

"I can't–" you feel undeniably small. Tears fall easily when you look down at your laps side by side until your vision gets blurry. His booming stirs in you. Not fear, but not necessarily happiness. He's compelling you to look at patterns within yourself, it makes you want to break down. Panic threatening to tap at the door of your sternum.

Just when Joel's index finger, large and calloused, curls under your chin. It gently coaxes you to lock eyes and your lip wavers. "You're doing so good," when he says it, voice like honey in comparison to the rough-textured grip he has on your face, your heart races.

This simple act triggers your fight or flight, but you choose to stay and confront this. It helped that any of your other thoughts were ripped from you. All there ever could be was the thumping hum of him in your hippocampus, burning your memories alive. Joel.

"Taking all this in, so well, angel. I know it's for a reason, but I need you to say it. And I need you to mean it. If you want this as bad as you do," his nose brushes against the tip of yours, "you can do it."

It's definitely not the magic of him that clouds your mind. It's more of the fact that this human in front of you, someone who could have killed you, could have just run you off after fucking you – is showing devotion in making sure you find this. That you use your voice. Like he's dangling a key right in front of you, and all you have to do is tell him the truth.

A key to your paradise.

Staring at his lips, you tempt forward, but he pulls away just a centimetre. Not so fast, not until you give me what I want.

You exhale through your nose in reflection. Close your eyes like you're about to jump, and maybe you are.

Jumping off into nothing.

Worse, jumping into something.

His hand moves to the side of your neck, and that causes your own hand to move over his. As small as you feel in his grasp, you try to hold him, too.

"I don't know how this happened," you mutter like you're cursing yourself, but your eyes open. Melting into Joel's touch. "I don't know how you did it, but I... I trust you."

It doesn't register immediately that you are holding your breath as soon as you say it. Half expecting the world to explode, or eight thousand clickers eat at your flesh. Something bad because any time you let someone in, something bad happened. Your superstitions getting the best of you.

But there is no earthquake. No slew of cordyceps-infested human shells scurrying up the stairs– well, ladder.

It's softer. It's solid. It's Joel wrapping you up in his arms, making light work in picking you up to land you gently on the bed that you soon realise is more comfortable than it looks.

Joel's face is a mix of admiration and determination. You can see by the flare of his nostrils that he's proud of you. And you don't know why, but basking under his pride brings a sense of peace you'd long forgotten. It wasn't that you needed his stare to appreciate yourself, but there was no mistaking the safety it gave you.

Your worry doesn't simply melt, though. You meant what you said in that you weren't sure you could do this. Legs spread wide to accommodate the width of his frame, and your breath hitches when he takes the pillow from behind you and guides your head down onto it. Treating you like a delicate thing makes you wonder what it would be like if you did soften. If you did allow yourself to become malleable beneath the grasp of someone so new, but had such hold on you. Not for him, but for yourself. What would it be like to trust? Fully. Under conditions that were so harsh outside the two of you in this moment. Could it be done?

The chatter in your mind stops at the drop of a hat when Joel leans down to kiss you. Even more curious than downstairs, your bodies find it easy to meld together.

You're grateful for Joel's lips to dim the thoughts reeling of what could or couldn't happen. He fills your senses, facial hair brushing against your features, and you're amazed at how that pout of his sends prickles to your skin. How skilled he is in wielding your mind to quiet, and your core to pay attention. All of the blood rushing downward in your haze.

Joel's tongue is the first to tempt in. It brushes into the tangle of your kiss. It's cliche to say it feels like heaven, but you imagine that's what it is like if you had to guess. Like a quiet white, nothing else but the feeling of him and your breaths taking up space as you give yourself permission to move your hands. Fingers snake up his hair, the backs of your knuckles brushing over the old scar at his left cheek down to his jaw. You feel him shudder above you, and wrap his large paw around your wrists to stop you. It makes your heart skip to feel how tender is he knowing you have felt his strength.

It's a secret shared between the two of you that he can be this disarming. And you keep it tight to your chest.

You focus on the heat emitting from his skin. Like he's burning the candle at both ends and his stomach creates all this centralised heat. Your bare legs brush against each other and the sensation from this and his weight brings you direct, but silent communication that this feels good to him, too. That he needs this as much as you do, and wants you. You yet to decipher if it's merely physical.

You don't realise it right away, that your hips are squirming beneath the weight that is the man kissing you like his life depends on it. This makes him pull away from the kiss, and right when you let out a whimper you can feel how damp the fabric clings to your folds.

"Can you hold still?" He's asking you, but it's out of genuine curiosity than a scold. And now that you think about it, now that you're an inch apart you can feel the heat of you radiate from your cheeks, lips, neck, chest. Splotched and muddy, you wonder what you must look like. You manage a weak nod, he nods back, going in for your neck.

"Joel," you gasp, hands moving against his wrists that tighten the tiniest amount against the pressure. His teeth graze over your heartbeat, littering open kisses over the skin and you moan at the same time as him when he sucks. Taking the skin of your neck between his lips and turning marks out of it. Urging you to slip completely under. Your body feels pliable to him, your moans turn to quiet whimpers as he pulls back again. Admiring his work, he rolls his thumbs over the insides of your wrists individually.

"Look at you," he suspires and it's in contrast from when he said it with your ass in the air for him a week ago. It makes you feel adored, whether he did or not. You are stronger than to let tears come up, and you don't. But you know you could if you thought about it long enough. "Gorgeous."

You blush, a full smile tugging your mouth and he pauses, tilting his head. Like he's learning what you like, and taking you in at the same time. "You're being a good girl. You know that, dontchu?"

Oh.

You nod, but it's hard not to bite your lip at that and you're aching now. Your need for him too strong than succumb to your need to guard. Your gesture makes Joel smirk, the tips of his fingers at the base of your shirt and he peels it up to your chest, just at the underside of your breasts and his eyes shift from a golden brown to black in the endeavours of his own hunger. You aren't alarmed that he isn't saying anything, and really it's nice to not verbalise your desires. It was already so difficult for you.

He knows.

And he finds it as no surprise, the keen noises you make when Joel's teeth sink into your flank right under your ribs, but it doesn't tickle surprisingly. Instead it feels good, like an itch you've been wanting to scratch. Like your sides have this constraint from your holding that he's chewing out. His mouth travels up, nosing past the fabric to kiss and suck over the shape of your breasts before cupping his lips around one of your nipples, keeping the other preoccupied under his thumb.

You let out a heady sigh, his whiskers prodding into your skin in the best possible way. His eyes slip shut, and you take in the way his eyelashes splay across his cheeks. It would be innocent if the work he's doing on the peaked bit of your flesh wasn't sending a direct signal to your clit. "Joel, I–"

He pops his mouth off of you instantly. Like your words break a spell, gaze soft and round when they look up at you. "This okay?" You bite down a groan when you hear just how fucked he sounds. Fucked like you sounded when he all but caught you cumming on his couch.

You nod, but he's not so lenient this time. "Words, darlin'."

"This is okay."

"Just okay?"

That seemed to be more of a challenge than a question or disappointment. As if he could do better, go deeper as he explored what you liked.

But you want his mouth back on you, to feel him and not just to quiet your mind. To genuinely feel him take you, and you let out a whine in response. "Joel, you know."

"I can't know unless you tell me, baby."

The slip of this pet name knocks your breath out. Half naked on his bed, your nipples glistening from his spit. Your hand smooths over the side of his neck and you tilt your head down to look at him better. He's being brave, and so should you.

"It feels good. It makes me want more." You're blushing now. To admit that, to tell him you want more – out loud with your words rather than the bucking of your hips leaves you feeling more naked despite being exposed.

But it's the green light Joel needs from you. To know you want him like this as opposed to the first time the two of you got stripped down. It was just you who was naked, then. It was him who was calling the shots. You blink in awareness that he's giving you the reigns in the way he knows how.

Giving you the reigns in light grasp while he takes the rest of the lead, tight in his palms.

He is background hum. He is thunder loud and present – you never see it, but you feel the humidity, and when he grows closer, the wind that moves your hair.

This is what it's like to hand over control to him. He knows what to do with it and he doesn't make you guilty for holding it. You're learning that of him, just as he's learning you.

Affection drips when his brushes his nose against the inside of your tits, lips trailing down your stomach until he grows increasingly aware of the ache between your legs. The pool of wetness slicking over the fabric of your underwear.

This makes him drone, low and hungry, and you blink up at the ceiling because fuck what if he didn't like it? Now wasn't the time for your self-consciousness to invade your thoughts, but it sat with you when you licked your lips – just before sitting on your elbows to get a better look at him.

You didn't do this last time. What if he wasn't into you?

"Fuck," he curses under his breath. Nope, definitely not. He's into you. While his lips press and teeth nip at the insides of your thighs, your breath hitches in the process. "Wet for me?" His question rhetorical, he thumbs over the blotch in your panties and that is enough to make you whine. For your hips to raise.

He pauses then with a serious look about him.

"Say red if it's too much. Understood?" You nod and he pulls his head away, producing a mewl from you. Desperate for contact. "Repeat it." Your eyes roll back all on their own and it feels like sandpaper to swallow from your dry throat.

"If it is too much I will let you know by saying red." Though the words felt formal, the delicious growl coming from Joel's throat lets you know it was exactly the correct way to form the words.

Because he's peeling your undies off completely, giving him a good view of what's in store. "I missed this," he admits and you blush deeper than you did when he was being corporeal. The exhales cool your dampened skin as he gets closer. Wraps his hands around your hips while keeping your legs secure underneath his flexed arms.

His eyes dance between yours and your cunt. Like he's watching what gets you twitching for him, and he's found that it's a mixture between his words and the way he stares at you like you're his last meal. Hard not to, to be fair.

It starts with his tongue at your entrance, like you're letting yourself pour over his tongue and he likes that. His grunts flush your clit, a buzz of him under your skin when he finally presses his tongue inside you. You both let out a sigh of relief by this. And you would run your fingers through his hair if he'd let you, but while he's wrapped his hands around your hips, your arms are on either side of those strong arms. He's subconsciously saying to you: you're not going anywhere, you're going to take it.

And that sends your head to spin. Your chest rises and falls irregularly to the feeling of him ghosting his pouty mouth over your folds until your clit is on fire just to be touched. "J-Joel," it's faint, like you can barely get it out.

"Mm?" He's busy.

"I... I need–"

"What is it, angel?" He asked a lot of rhetorical questions, his breath warm against your sex. "You want this?" His tongue ghosts over your clit and he has to use force to keep your hips in place in order for you to not buck his teeth out.

"Joel!" The sight of your hardened nipples makes him mutter under his breath again, his teeth lightly grazing over the sensitive nub.

You choke a whine, curling your fingers into themselves.

"Is that it?"

"P-please. Please!"

"Manners. Such a sweet little thing." His tongue flicks his tease against the hood of your clit and you practically howl in response. "Taste just as sweet, too."

To say your core is sticky is an understatement, your thighs pull apart slightly every now and then and it feels like effort to pull them apart from just how wet you are. Joel's mouth, Joel's fucking mouth, makes a meal of you then. Tongue rolling and flicking over the glistening skin until he finds sucking is what takes you there above all else.

His plush lips press around the nub of nerves, pulling it into his mouth with such a rush it makes you a whimpering mess far to quickly than you want to be. Thighs trembling involuntarily.

You'd only thought about this from the first day he fucked you. What his mouth would feel like right where it is, and it doesn't disappoint.

You're reduced to a slack jaw, his tongue skilled at the repetitious movements that send you to your climax.

"Cou-could I – fingers?" You quite literally can't get another word out of yourself. You're close, but he obliges – perfectly timed as his middle finger presses inside; working tandem with his tongue. He seems to like the way you feel by the noises he makes, the spongy spot inside you easy to find when you're like this. But that's just Joel, you knew that now. Nothing was hidden when he was in charge of your pleasure.

Although just one, his finger feels thick inside you. Way bigger than yours, and the steady push/pull of his while his mouth sucks on your clit is just too much not to submit to.

So it's volcanic, the eruption within you.

Seriously, it's like one moment you're not cumming and the next your pelvis and thighs are shifting like tectonic plates beneath him. Writhing and igniting with every axon that starts from the core of you and traverses your limbs. You're a mess, physically and mentally. No real words coming out, just a slew of curses and Joel's name as if it is a profanity in itself.

And with the way he's keeping his mouth tightened on you until you've reached it, you aren't too sure his name isn't a blasphemous word that should be left from your lips every second of the day.

On the comedown, your body spasms. Small noises leave your throat until it's a bounded release of giggles, your arm slung over your eyes. "What the fuck have you done?" Fucking giggles. You're giggling for the first time in... god knows how long.

Your sentence is slurred and sloppy, rubbing your eyes as if you're taking your time before you must face him. His soft eyes, mindful kisses along the insides of your thighs – each one sending a signal to your brain to jolt a little each time. Then you feel it, or well, you don't feel it anymore. His finger leaving you empty, an ache you want back.

"Is it such a bad thing?" When he speaks, you notice how hooded his eyes look like this. He's thoroughly enjoying himself, his tongue laps at your folds one last time for the night, mindful to miss the central core of you.

"I don't think so." An honest revelation.

When he comes up, his middle finger tempts your lips from where he was and you aren't shy when you wrap your lips around his finger, cleaning yourself off of him. You reach down when you pop your lips off of him, your hand eager to find his length that's straining beneath the fabric.

But Joel swats your hand away when you tempt it near him, "You’re not doin' that. Not right now." You can see the outline of it, like what's between his legs is begging a different story. Joel, however, has his arm draped around you so heavy that the weight of him won't let you do much else other than drift off to sleep.

"I'll get you back," you warn, yawning into the air. Face greeting the crease of his neck.

"We'll see, darlin'."

You drift off. Your top on, him in his boxers. In bed with a man who was making you understand trust could be on the table without transaction.

---

You wake before sunrise.

It's just the sound of your lungs sharing oxygen in the same space, you shift your body to face his. His back is to you, but you can make out the way his shoulders slope in the dark.

You like this Joel. Not because he's asleep, but because there was no holding between the two of you. Both easy to contract, but seeing him as pliable as you were last night tugs you.

Any pretense disappears until you are both left with your wanting; lying in wait.

And that drives a fire within you. You move forward, your breasts pressing against the broad scope of his back. It's warm, the scent behind his neck lulls you deeper into relaxation until you close your eyes. But Joel's a light sleeper, and the slightest movement towards him wakes him up. He's cautious not to stir right away.

Joel turns then. Fluid in its motion, he faces you. Arms wrap around you, flex and strengthen against the soft frame of your body. Rolling on top of you, your legs come apart naturally and he is warm from the bed. This version of him isn't much changed from last night, but he's more involved in his own taking than accounting for yourself – a grown woman who can make her own resolutions. You choose to stay under him, and he picks up on that.

Your mouths collide in the dark, touching and searching each other and you're slick from its gathering of your night's sleep. Right at the core, he presses his hips down and you respond in your own wave up to meet his. It's easy to slip off your shirt, leaving it abandoned somewhere in the sheets.

His boxers come down enough, then, to feel his cock thump against your folds and you inhale sharply – needing him more and more. He's hard, dripping, white hot against your skin. You clench around nothing before his hand guides himself through the slick of you, tempting over your clit before going back down. "I need you, too," thick with sleep, you groan at the sound of him and the sound of your slick being slipped against.

He's slow, only holding the tip at your entrance and you wriggle – becoming wide awake now with the width of him at your ache. "Please," you whisper, and he indulges. Doesn't make a fuss. Because he wants this, too. Wants you. Said it himself.

"You feel so damn good, swallowin' my tip like that." His face buries into your neck, lazy and sleepy when you wrap your legs around his waist. Fingernails engage his skin when he pushes, stretching you wider and deeper. It feels different from last night. More complete with this involved, too. Your lips brush against his neck while you shiver and experience. In the break of dawn with sleep lines still on both of your skins. It starts off gentle, at least.

Keeping it together is arduous, like you're both bursting at the seams to... let it all go. You have the opportunity to say it, to tell him you want this. It's everything you were explaining last night. How you want this, but it could be difficult to express. And if you were wriggling away from it, you didn't want him to stop.

One minor detail, though. You weren't wriggling away.

Physically, your legs spread further apart, your hand reaching down to touch him. Inviting the tips of your fingers to graze the bed of coarse hairs that resided just above his cock. His breath hitches then, and you both roll your hips; up and down respectively. Allowing him to go deeper, and he is deeper.

"You feel that?" His grip now on the side of your neck, keeping your eyes poured into his – even in the indigo of dawn – and your moans are turned to nothing but choking mewls when you nod. "S-so big," not that he needed his ego stroked, it's the only thing you can think about.

He's blocking any other sense having you like this. You feel every twitch, the rush of his cock growing harder inside you, if that were even possible. Your eyes flutter back in your skull for a moment in time.

"That's what you do to me, baby." His hips are merciless in the way they recoil against yours over and over. The sounds of your skin slapping mesh with the squelching of your cunt. Your hands moving to his head, fingers in his hair and you share the same breath – his exhales, your inhales and the other way around. Leaving you both dizzy and on the precipice.

Your hair sticks to the sides of your neck that he's abandoned to rest his forearms on either side of your head, fingers lost just above your head as he holds you together like this. His eye contact isn't as intimidating as it was before, and this time you crave it. The sun's coming up and it's seeping through the window that he built with the same fucking hands that are tugging your hair to look at him. His cock pulling all the way out to thrust all the way in, and he repeats the process. Tits bouncing, claws finding purchase on the sheets, on anything while he fucks you like this. A wonder fleets of how he can even keep up like this for his age, but it's washed away as soon as it comes. Your toes curling, a guttural scream of his name coming from you when your release is found. Cream coating his cock, you think you're there, but that's when you hear him.

"Easy, baby. That's it. That's fuckin' it, don't you dare fuckin' stop for me. Cum all over this cock. You can take it, that's it." His words send stars to your eyes, mouth lax just like last night but you don't remember. You don't remember anything other than the feeling of him pounding you into his mattress that is rattling and squeaking because fuck, it feels like it could break at any moment. "Joel!" You mean to say more, you really do, but it's too much to. Not while he's fucking and talking you through it, not while his own orgasm hits him when he feels the twitching of your clenched cunt around his cock. Tightening and releasing repeatedly through your bliss.

"Shit, darlin' – fuck!" Joel leaves you as late as he can, and it still feel too soon. He palms his cock a couple of strokes before spilling his hot cum over your stomach and that was sexy enough, but the sounds he's making. The animalistic grunts found through the structure of his nose has you blinking up at him like he's the most magnificent thing you've ever seen.

Maybe he is.

And you wonder then, what it would feel like to have his seed buried inside you, but you don't ask for it.

It's not the right time.

Sun cascades itself through the sky, leaving the room lilac and blue. You're both panting, his body half on you, half on the bed.

"Y'good? Y'okay?" You hear him, but it's muffled from his arm that's over your shoulder, his face plastered into the side of your bruised neck from last night.

"Mmn," you respond, but make an annoyed sound when he's soon to sit up. He looks worried over your body.

"Shit– gotta clean y'up. Sorry 'bout that."

But you smirk instead, thumbing over the pool at your stomach. You bring it up to your mouth with your eyes round and wet when they gaze into his, sucking it clean. "I got it."

Joel blinks with a look of arousal and a grin spread across his face as if to say, what am I going to do with you? "Dirty girl."

"You like it."

"Not wrong."

---

Midway through your second week, it's early when you both start off your chores for the day. You try to pacify the idea of you two being some sort of post-apocalyptic cowboys on a homestead that barely has the proper tools to sustain it half the time. It works for the both of you.

Outside the air is thick, but sky clear as you walk towards the stables. And there's Joel, exactly where you knew he would be. Bent down on his knees, working on the same project you were last week on the stables.

Security and routine close cousins to abandonment and disappointment – this plays in the background of your thoughts. You intentionally swallow it down as you approach him.

"Could I ride her?" You come into his line of vision, and you see him make a sweet face of happy to see you and did I hear you correctly?

"You can ride?" His question has amusement in it, and you scoff – grin tugging at your face. Ignoring the blatant double entendre that he probably didn't even mean to slip out, anyway. But Joel is pleased when you pick up on it because he did in fact say it on purpose.

Of course he did.

"I have a few tricks up my sleeve yet, Miller."

Joel grunts on his way up onto his feet, bowing graciously. "Go right ahead, ma'am."

She's set up to ride when you approach her and you reach out to scratch behind her ear before saddling up on top of her.

"Hey, girl," you smile, petting over the coarse hair of her back. She's gentle, but not exactly willing to go straight away. It makes you laugh, and the ease of tension makes it easier for her to trot. "Same here, sister." You snicker to yourself, and the horse takes you out of the stables. You mostly let her do the leading, but she's easy to work with as you take her around the land Joel has claimed for himself.

There's a freedom you haven't experienced in so long while you're riding her. You remember being a kid on the back of your dad's horse, the wind against your skin like this. The prospect of new. You slow her down in your approach back to the stables after a few minutes.

When you come back, you're welcomed by Joel's clapping hands a toothy smile across his face that hurts in the best way. His pride and entertainment.

Joel basking in this side of you as you open up to him.

"Damn, maybe you could give me some lessons, darlin'. You teach yourself that?"

You appreciate him not assuming someone taught you how to do this, but the truth is you were. "My dad, actually. He taught me how to ride a horse, how to shoot a gun–"

"Not well on that last one," he jabs, motioning towards his leg you purposefully missed.

"You don't know what you don't know."

For a moment, you forget. All that burned to the ground in your previous life. Your father dying in your arms. All of it.

"She and I had a talk," you start, climbing out of the stirrups.

"Oh, did you?" Joel lifts his brow, urging you to go on.

"Her name is Bandit."

"Like you?"

"Like me."

"Figures."

---

You're both asleep up in the loft. Each morning, you were beginning to notice that Joel's night terrors were becoming less and less frequent. Subsequently, so were your own.

That was until one night you were awoken by the sound of your own sobbing, and Joel's arms tight around you. He knew not to wake you up, but he was too concerned not to try to settle you down.

"W-what?" Your voice is groggy, palpitations in your chest high. Confusion suffuses you.

"Shh, s'okay. Close y'er eyes."

Joel feels bad for waking you up, he didn't mean to. He thought he was doing the right thing. Yet even though it takes takes you awhile to fall back asleep, you do fall asleep and stay asleep.

His arm stuck around you. His protection like a blanket.

Joel's eyes stay open until they cannot and slumber creeps up for him.

All in the pursuit of your safety. He doesn't mention it, doesn't ask questions or bring it up.

---

It feels pleasant with Joel. The two of you have a routine of working on your individual duties in the day, but you always come back to each other in the evening. He's rough around the edges, there's still things that he's keeping to himself. But you don't mind because you are too, and there's no rush.

The leisure of this is what takes you by surprise the most. Not Joel being kind, or slow, or even sweet to you.

It's the fact that in the middle of chaos, you have found a pocket of serenity. The stillness between breaths.

Towards the end of your second week at Joel's, you find it brave to drape your calves over his lap while you both read worn books that have been well-loved and repeatedly grazed. In the living room you've chosen poetry tonight. Audre Lorde. Because it's there and it feels appropriate to go for poetry.

You hum to yourself when you read something striking, and now Joel is curious.

"Let's hear it," he calls, not moving his eyes from his own pages and his free palm curls over your shin.

"You want me to perform for you?"

"Quit bein' weird and just read it."

You laugh, licking over your lips before theatrically clearing your throat.

"Kinda liked it better when you were shy," Joel adds, but you know he doesn't mean it.

"You'll get used to it. Okay. Let's see... 'Always / in the middle of our bloodiest battles / you lay down your arms / like flowering mines / to conqueror me home.'"

There's a long pause between the two of you.

"I don't get it."

"You're a bad liar."

"Flowerin' mines don't even exist."

"Joel–" you huff, but that's what he wanted out of you. A response, a reaction, a rise. He puts down his book to look over to you and he's at mercy to your gaze.

"I know what you mean."

It's supported, this comfortable silence. The underbelly of what was the start of a bloodied battle. Unwillingness metamorphosing into a budding bouquet of trust.

You both go back to your books.

No need to say what is right in front of you.

He knew what you meant. Understanding.

It was all you wanted.

taglist: @cool-iguana - comment to be added!

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mopeyy · 4 months

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Dangiling Trust

Avatar Frontiers of Pandora (SPOILERS!!!)

Teylan x Na'vi Reader

angst

Summary: After Teylan has broken your trust will you be able to forgive him and mend you bond? Or will the ghosts of the past continue to haunt you.

Authors Notes: Ive heard there's no Teylan content so Im willing to provide😋 . Let me know what you guys think, I might give this multiple parts if ppl like it!

Sitting on the edge of a towering cliff, you admire the sight in front of you. The sky, a swirling dance of purples and blues, and the gentle breeze blowing your hair. As you sit, legs dangling over the cliff's edge, you feel the rough texture of rock beneath you. The cliff is covered in a carpet of moss that glows faintly, illuminating your surroundings. The sensation of the cool, damp moss against your skin is refreshing, a stark contrast to the warmth of the sun beaming down on you.

You went out by yourself often. Taking the time alone to think and clear your head. At the moment the thing you're trying to clear your head from is Teylan.

After you all defeated Mercers base Teylan came back and rejoined the resistance. The sting of his earlier betrayal, though dulled by time and forgiveness, lingers like a stubborn chill.

You and Teylan, once bound by respect and trust, now stand on uncertain ground. The memory of his deceit haunts you, a ghostly presence that questions the depth of your bond. Could the connection you once felt have been so fragile? His return to the resistance does little to mend the fracture in your heart.

As you attempt to cast these thoughts aside, to leave them scattered among the rocks and carried away by the wind, they persist, stubbornly clinging to your mind. The past, with its unanswered questions and unresolved emotions, remains a silent companion.

---------------

"I like this one."

You picked up one of the many beads that laid out in front of you and handed it to Ri'nela.

"I love the color, the purple will look good with your skin."

She took the bead from you and added it to your hair. Ri'nela has been practicing braiding after one of the Na'vi taught her. She has been begging to use you as practice and every time you were able to avoid it. Except today.

"Ouch Ri'nela!"

"Sorry, sorry"

You pushed through the pain, just wanting it to be over.

You tried to distract yourself by looking around the room, admiring the way the Na'vi and humans were able to work side by side. You turned your eyes to the doorway as you heard it open, wanting to se who came through. Teylan walks in, his arrival brings a palpable shift in the room's atmosphere. you quickly averted your gaze. This didn't go unnoticed by Ri'nela,

"Hey Teylan! Come here!"

He turned towards the sound of his name and started to make his way towards the two of you. You rolled your eyes and let out a sigh which only made Ri'nela laugh.

"Rinela, Y/n, what are you guys up too?"

She let a smile overtake her face, taunting you, "Oh im just braiding Y/n's hair. How do you think it looks Tey?"

"oh!" He cleared his throat in between words as a purple hue took over his face, "I think it looks very nice, the beads and everything."

You muttered a 'thanks' and tried to look anywhere else but him.

The silence that follows is heavy, laden with words unsaid and feelings unexplored.

"Uh well I should go so.. ill see you guys around."

With that he left, probably on his way to go bother So'lek with more human toys.

Rinela sighed from behind you,

"Y/n, you know you two have to talk at some point, right?"

Her words made you think. Should you follow the path of forgiveness, to rebuild what was once shattered, or should you guard your heart against further pain.

"If I want to talk to him I will, don't let it bother you Rinela."

---------------

You made your way through the resistance base on your way to find Alex. He's always managed to find chores for you to do and you had no idea what he might need help with now. We was at his usual station as always.

"Alex, you said you needed me?"

A look of relief washed over his face,

"Great your here! Ive been working on some new SIDS, these ones should be able to hack faster. Theres an old resistance outpost nearby and I wanted you to use the new SID to get it up and running."

The task seemed simply enough and it was something you had done before,

"sure I can do that, just give me the coordinates."

"Thank you, now were just waiting onnn, oh, right on time!"

You creased your brows in confusion. What was right on time? You turned around just to face the one Na'vi you didn't want to see.

"Alex, what's Teylan doing here?"

"Oh, I just figured id send him along to see if the new sids work and if there's any more room for improvement."

You sighed, of course he'd be coming. Alex gave you a pat on the back before handing you the Sid and walking off. Teylan waved you over from the door. You internally groaned before making your way over to him.

---------------

The majority of the walk was quiet. The air was thick with words unsaid and you didn't know if you had the guts to break it. Walking next to you Teylan hesitated before decided to speak,

"Im sorry, I didn't know he'd pick you."

You looked at him from the corner of your eye than quickly switched your gaze back to the ground.

"Its fine, he's always giving me some chore to do anyway. Even if its something he can do himself."

Teylan laughed quietly

"Seems like their overworking us, maybe we should run away." He joked.

Teylan's attempt at humor fell flat, the words dissipating into the air like mist.

"Your good at that aren't you, running away."

Your response, sharp and laced with the pain of memories, was a clear reminder of the distance between you. His laughter ceased, replaced by a look of regret that briefly crossed his features. The joke, meant to lighten the mood, had instead served as a reminder of the wounds that had yet to heal.

The journey continued in silence, each step a reminder of the fragile line you both now tread, between the remnants of a once strong bond and the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

---------------

As you approached the old resistance outpost, the structure loomed before you, this place has definitely been untouched for a while.The task at hand was simple, all you had to do was reactivate the outpost. You set to work, your hands deftly manipulating the new SID, while Teylan watched from a distance, his presence a silent question hanging in the air. After a while the outpost hummed to life, its systems responding to the deft touch of the SID.

Teylan stepped forward, his voice breaking the silence that had settled between you. "You did it," he said, a note of admiration in his tone. It was an opening, a tentative step towards bridging the gap. You looked up at him, the walls you had built around your heart wavering for a moment. The possibility of forgiveness hung in the air, as fragile and as vital as the newly awakened outpost.

#avatar frontiers of pandora x reader #teylan #teylan x reader #teylan frontiers of pandora #teylan avatar #frontiers of pandora #avatar frontiers of pandora

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boop-le-snoot · 2 years

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welcome to

⚡ Welcome to Bun's Cockstop! This is a place where I thirst over cute dirty old men! Most of my works can also be found on AO3 (here).

⚡ My name is Bun/Bunny. I go by any pronouns.

⚡ I do not write RPF (real person fiction). That said, any kind of drama mongering, moral policing and other purity culture bullshit is not welcome on my blog. At best, I will block you; if you annoy me enough, I just might be inclined to prove your opinion wrong (with citations).

⚡ I am pro-ship, pro-dark!fic, I think sex work is work, I don't support communism (and Russia! seriously, GTFO) and I support the death penalty for crimes against children. If you find yourself wanting to argue w/me about these topics, don't waste our time and block me.

⚡ I communicate in English and Russian and understand several more assorted languages. Don't be shy and say hello 😌 This is my Spotify <3 😌

⚡ My blog is meant for an adult audience. It will contain topics such as sex and various kinks, drugs, trauma, queer stuff and lots of rock-'n'-roll. All the things I post are tagged accordingly, therefore it is your responsibility to block the tags/blacklist the content you do not wish to see. You choose the content you consume & I am not here to babysit.

⚡ a post with fic author recs for stephen-tony-bruce

⚡ masterlist below spoiler ⚡

stories marked with an asterisk* contain adult content

⚡ multichapter fics ⚡

party favours [AO3 link] | tony stark x bruce banner x stephen strange x reader ot4) | explicit | ~120k words | completed

practical alchemy [AO3 link] | witch!reader x established!ironstrange | explicit | in progress (hiatus)

black dog [AO3 link] | badass!reader x negan (twd) | explicit | in progress, 1/3 done

⚡one-shots⚡

helmut zemo | marmalade taffy* |

sam wilson | bad touch* | violent delights* (content warning) |

loki | if life gives you melons* | bondage* (nb reader, they/them) | snow day* (male reader)

natasha romanoff | hot wheels* |

wanda maximoff | caught |

bucky barnes | bother figure (daughter!reader) |

thor | idunn's apples | hired man* (dubcon) | beloved, bejeweled |

otto octavius / doc ock | horny headcanons* | i want to kill you like they do in the movies - part 1 - part 2* - part 3* (fin) |

steve rogers | it drives me wild* |

daryl dixon | cherry - part 1 - part 2* (coming soon) | untitled* | dirt* |

⚡ blurb series ⚡

daddy!ironstrange - daddy lessons* | part one | part two |

rickyl - part one*

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gayshrug · 5 months

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pit babe ep 5 thoughts

the priorities are shifting

needless to say, i was at the edge of my seat/swooning/angry throughout the entirety of this week's episode. here we go

ALANJEFF. SCREAM. i'm pretty sure i have side-couple-syndrome judging by how fixated i am on them and every single second of screentime they get. jeff's wet boba eyes...... alan's stern but caring face....... unrelated but i checked the actors' profiles on MDL and a) jeff's my age. hello, fellow 95er. b) who would've fucking thought they only have an age difference of two years c) impeccable casting

wait. the way jeff was fully expecting alan to side with him because he's already grown to trust alan in this unfamiliar place... and his trust is NOT misplaced. as a fellow introverted person, alan's concerns are spot-on. how can you expect other people to understand you and know your motives when you're that closed-off? it was a painful read but mostly justified. and we know (thanks to that wonderful preview) that alan's gonna do his best to get jeff to open up away from the pressure of The Workplace and prying eyes. he's gonna put in the effort. i love them sooooo much

also that toyota product placement was the funniest thing i've ever seen like i wanted to feel sad for jeff so badly but. it was undercut by the effective showcasing of the google maps bluetooth function

I STILL FEEL SO CONFLICTED ABOUT CHARLIE!!!!!!!!!! like i'm 99% sure that he genuinely cares about babe and isn't just pampering him in order to get that racing gig or whatever but. @ the showrunners PLEASE give us more insight into his motives. i can't enjoy half the sweet things he says and does when i don't know whether they're genuine or not.

that being said.............................. babe is SO in love. and who wouldn't be. charlie's little face, his determination to care for him, the attention he gives him. that whole pre-race-nerves scene was the cutest thing in the world. and pavel's In Love look is so fucking heartwarming. HIS ACTING IN THE FLASHBACK TOO. the little "eep" when he first started the motor. i am in love with him. he's so so sweet. i love that his hardened exterior is beginning to melt away more and more, despite the potential for further hurt. pavel's gonna EAT in future emotional scenes.

i want tony to eat dirt. and SOON. the way he treated cutie was abysmal. the scars and despair. wet and pathetic looking at himself in the mirror. i hope he and kim are going to bond soon and take that man DOWN. (i'm rooting for a death here.)

ik we're gonna get peteway but i didn't get anything from that first interaction. here's to hoping way's gonna realise he's gotta start focusing on other people soon because he continues to get on my nerves.

still don't care for sonic and the other guy like. cut their dialogue and give me more jeff. cut winner out too. JEFF. ALAN. JEFFALAN. more charliebabe forehead kisses. give me it.

idk what dean's gonna do but him getting punched by alan of all people........ dude must really, really fuck up in the next episode. can't wait. this is obviously gonna lead to him switching to red racing and colluding (touching tips) with winner, which i'm less excited about, but we'll see.

i love the whole "babe is probably gonna sit out the season we're so done he needs to recover let's get a replacement to support way asap" thing.... and then charlie and dean have to compete against babe. like girl..... isn't he supposed to rest fhskdjf

once again i'm avoiding book spoilers like the plague so i don't fucking know what's going on with babe's powers but uh. if this turns out to be a permanent thing, i doubt it's just from the accident.

on the other hand, i love that babe (with charlie's help) seems to be adjusting quite well. after the initial frustration after the crash, he didn't have another outburst while charlie was caring for him. he, like, accepted his circumstances and put his energy into helping his baby achieve his dream and. that's cute as hell.

that whole "but what are you gonna give me if i win wink wink" moment..... the fucking tension. HIS PUSSY. you're gonna get his pussy, charlie

ik we're not even halfway through the season but. PLEASE. tell me what charlie and jeff's plan is because, aside from the ominous phonecall in ep 1, i really don't get the vibe that they're doing anything malicious. and if their plan is to take down tony, how would they accomplish that when the xhunter team is basically imploding. partially due to their meddling/ unclear communication. WHAT IS THEIR PLAN. if they wanna build a secret society of Tony's Rejected Adopted Sons, they're gonna have to put in some real work. because those bonds are rotting.

ok i'm done. once more: i fucking love this show and it's getting more and more difficult to wait for each next episode. i wanna watch it all NOW. also [foaming at the mouth] alanjeff

#pit babe #pit babe the series #thai bl #in my alanjeff brainrot era

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melloween-candie · 1 year

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Yandere Ian

Ian Gallagher as a Yandere Headcanon

A/n - We all know Ian's bipolar; however, mix that with crazy yandere behavior, and you have yourself a menace. (I mean, he did kidnap a baby-)

Warning! Spoilers, Yandere behavior, Mental issues, Mention of traumatizing, Uncomfortable, Bipolar behavior, Unhealthy relationship attachment, Addiction, Mention of stalking, Trespassing/breaking and entering, Thief, Sexual activity, Depression, Guilt tripping, Clingy, Envy, Self-harm, Isolation, Anger issues, Mention of kidnapping, Manipulation, Murder, Possessive, Paranoia, Violence, Mention of ignoring, Delusional, Obsession, Sexual torture, Mention of rape, Slight mention of kinks, Selfish, Trust issues, Neediness, Mention of drugging, Force relationship

Word count: 1,260

[Male reader]

Shameless Masterlist

Fandom Masterlists

Ian Not on his Meds

[Yandere type: Physico]

I feel like he'd be the type to do something wrong without even realizing it. For example, he left the oven on when he left the house because he wanted his food to be cooking while he made a quick stop somewhere.

Would definitely traumatize you more than once-

Before Ian became Yandere you worried about him.

You were also secretly worried for yourself too. I mean having to constantly be on edge because you weren't sure what your boyfriend/friend was going to do next was unsettling since you knew he can either hurt himself or others.

You were never fully able to relax around him and it scared you. Him, being bipolar and refusing treatment was probably what caused you to end the relationship (friendship or not)

This would trigger Ian's yandere behavior.

Especially if you guys date or have known each other for a long time.

Mind you before all this at some point during your friendship- Ian has always had strangely strong feelings for you.

He could just never get you out of his mind.

This caused him to stalk you. It was so bad to the point where he would sneak into your house- steal your things; get a little freaking with them and then proceed to give them back, acting as if he found them for you when you were looking for them for a whole week.

He would first beg you not to leave him.

He would definitely sulk and moan for hours praying you won't go, and he'd say stuff like

"I'll do whatever you say jus-Just don't leave me!"

If you try to give him a second chance, he'd become extremely clingy for who knows how long.

He'd become more jealous with time too.

But if his begging didn't work and you refused his love

He'd become extremely depressed.

Wouldn't leave the bed or eat.

He wouldn't even look at anyone or anything apart from the pictures of you he has saved on his phone.

But eventually, if that doesn't get you to worry about him or get back with him, then he'd become extremely furious.

He'd yell at you thinking you didn't actually care about him at all.

He wouldn't necessarily kidnap you at that moment, but once he finds out you have another partner/friend to 'replace' him- that's when he snaps.

Would pretend that all that manipulation he tried to pull on you from the past three months never happened.

He'd act like you guys never split, and if you were only friends, he would confess to you.

It wouldn't matter what you say to his confession. He'd force you to be his boyfriend no matter what.

Would most likely lock you up downstairs and he'd kill your other boyfriend

Afterwards, he'd grow to be very possessive of you.

He would be even more clingy- so clingy that he won't even leave the room so long as you're in it.

This causes his family to realize something is wrong.

He would grow so paranoid-

So much so to the point where he won't leave the house.

He'd board up all the windows.

Once his family figures out what's going on, he wouldn't hesitate to leave with you.

If you fight him, he'll just knock you out.

Then he would lightly tap your cheek lovingly when you woke up as if he didn't just give you a huge bruise hours ago.

Don't even bother trying to talk him out of all this.

He wouldn't listen to you at all-, saying you hate him and won't even work.

He'd be in a total state of high- thinking that he's living in paradise all because you're with him and no one can take you away.

If you escaped, he'd panic so HARD. He literally WON'T stop looking for you.

He would go on for days without eating or sleeping just to find you.

Once he does, he'd fu*k the sense out of you, and not in a good way.

He'd probably deny you of any, please.

Tease the fu*k out of you and just use you as a toy for his relief because of the pain you put him through.

He wouldn't even care if you refused- in fact, he'd probably like it. If anything, he'd just think you had some kind of kink for it.

One thing's for sure he's kinky for you.

His dream is that one day you'd stop being so shy about your feelings for him and just accept the fact that this was your future- living with him in the middle of nowhere, and the only thing you can do is accept and love him back.

Ian On his Meds

[Yandere type: Abusive]

He would be aware of what he was doing, unlike when he's not on meds.

He wouldn't even feel bad- The only thing going on in his mind is to ensure he doesn't get caught.

He knows or at least has a feeling that he makes you uncomfortable.

At first, he would be somewhat charming and flirty, but then he'd slowly turn into a yandere- of course, he'd turn faster than lip but slower than when he isn't on his meds.

He would slowly become jealous over time.

He wouldn't be able to get you out of his mind- he wouldn't completely understand this feeling. He'd just think that he likes you- a lot!

He'd start to stalk you. I mean, like, REALLY stalk you. Eventually, this would lead to him sneaking into your house. He'd start to steal things from you. Small things that you would overlook. He's smart enough to do that.

With the stuff he stole... He'd make a small shrine in the middle of an abandoned place in the woods.

That's the place where he'd prepared for you once he kidnaps you.

He tried his best to make it extremely comfortable, but he isn't rich, and he doesn't trust the government (With him being tracked by the military and everything)

He'd prefer to just make a home from scratch- out of the world's radar.

It was no option for you; once Ian became a yandere for you, you're bound to get kidnapped one way or another.

With him being extremely jealous and having lots of needs, he won't be able to lay his hands off you or calm down when someone touches you.

He NEEDS you to be JUST his and ONLY his; if he has to, he will FORCE you too.

If he has to force you into s*x, so be it.

If he needs to force, you to eat- done.

If he has to drug you so you'd sleep- so, be it.

Overall, he would force you to be with him- even when he didn't kidnap you yet.

When he flirts with you, it would always make you uncomfortable.

Especially when you told him you had a boyfriend already.

This ticked him off so much. But of course, he didn't show it to you- however your boyfriend, on the other hand- let's just say he isn't in the picture any longer.

They'd later find his body in the sewers, and it'll be badly deformed. Let's just say as you cry, he was there to make you happy.

If you ended up falling for him, then everything would go great. He might not even kidnap you. But of course, eventually, you will learn of his true nature, and soon enough, he will kidnap you. No matter what.

A/n

Overall, I'd honestly much rather have Yandere Ian on his meds than when he's not caused if he wasn't, then you would never be able to know what he'd do, especially if he just randomly brought a kid home and called it 'ours.' (That kid would be so frightened 😭)

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noswordinourlake · 3 months

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@tavina-writes asked for arranged marriage fic recs, which turned into...this. Sorry Tav some of these are just very politically plotty but I figured those also fell into your mandate! I was going for a vibe. ANYWAY.

All fics MZDS/the Untamed!

Also under a read more because this got. Long.

CANON DIVERGENCES

marry for love by tuesday (3k, T, complete)

"Nie Huaisang snapped open his fan and covered his face. "Be careful. I'll take advantage.""

50-50 cute and intrigue!

from the other side of sorrow (series) by Sour_Idealist (128k, E, complete)

"Yu Ziyuan cuts off Wei Wuxian's hand. The cultivation world changes."

I couldn't tell you the split on emotional devastation and intrigue on this one because it's all happening all the time.

CANON? I DON'T KNOW HER

The Other Mountain by nirejseki (287k, T, complete)

"Lan Qiren still couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it.

He was married.

He had a wife.

That wife was Wen Ruohan."

I feel like anyone who likes politically plotty fics is already following nirejseki but I also feel like this list would be incomplete if I left off THE arranged marriage fic of all time so.

""You want Wen Ruohan dead," the Patriarch continued idly. "You want his corpse puppets eliminated. You want his halls burned to the ground and his soldiers disemboweled and begging for mercy. Have I about covered it?"

love, in fire and blood by cicer (360k, E, complete)

He gave another knife-edged smile.

"But what will you give me in return?"

"We would be willing to offer quite a bit in return for Wen Ruohan's defeat," Lan Xichen admitted. "But I'm afraid we don't know what an immortal such as yourself desires. Please advise us."

The Patriarch waved at hand at the front of the tent. "I want Second Young Master Lan.""

¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

not too strong by fluffysocks (89k, E, complete)

"He sinks back, closes his eyes again so he doesn’t have to look at all that red silk for a moment. He takes a deep breath.

It’s done. Jiang Cheng is married.

Now he just has to live with it."

Yes this is a Jiang Cheng/Lan Qiren arranged marriage AU. Trust me. Trust me. It's GOOD STUFF.

Restoration by ritualist (85k, M, complete)

"They say he was thrown into Luanzang Gang by the man who killed his parents; they say that he is an immortal cultivator who had been in a deep trance until the Wen sect disturbed his rest and incurred his wrath; they say that he is the fierce corpse of a cultivator who had somehow regained his mind and his spiritual powers. When Lan Wangji sees him for the first time, he understands why people talk.

Meng Yao wants safety. Xue Yang wants vengeance. The Sunshot Campaign wants victory. Yiling Laozu provides, for a price."

I'm a sucker for a nonlinear narrative! I don't want to know what is happening and no spoilers you won't for most of this fic. In a good way.

Give Me A Chance To Fall by brooklinegirl (38k, E, complete)

"Jiang Cheng just blows his breath out and rolls his eyes right back at Wei Wuxian. "Stop being an asshole," he says. "You're lucky this is being set up for you. Do you know how many people would die--literally die--to get the chance to be betrothed to Lan Wangji?"

"Betrothed." Wei Wuxian rolls the word around in his mouth. "It even sounds stupid.""

The classique arranged marriage AU.

JOKES JOKES JOKES

I Started From The Bottom/ And Now I'm Rich by x_los (58k, E, complete)

"Wen Qing traps Wei Wuxian in the Demon Slaughtering Cave, but Wei Wuxian isn’t interested in being the beneficiary of the Wen Remnants’ noble sacrifice. His efforts to free himself accidentally send him back to the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. Coreless but armed with demonic cultivation, knowledge of the future and his wits, Wei Wuxian takes advantage of this opportunity to come out on top of both the war and its aftermath—before either has a chance to happen—by marrying and swiftly burying the cultivation world’s worst men.

Lan Wangji is confused, hurt, and uncomfortably aroused by Wei Wuxian’s improbably elaborate series of Sect-themed bridal negligees."

I hesitated to include this fic in this section because it does get pretty dark and psychologically heavy but it is also. Hilarious. So!

Best Friends Forever by varnes (17k, T, complete)

"It happened like this: Jin Ling was a sect leader now, which was, and Jingyi really meant this, fucking hilarious. There were few things funnier, in his honest opinion.

Because he was young, and inexperienced, and also — it had to be said — a real shithead, there was apparently some belief amongst his advisors that the best way forward, to promote the picture of a stable, mature sect leader who absolutely did not cry at the drop of a hat, was for Jin Ling to get married.

OR: Jin Ling and Jingyi get engaged.

Things spiral from there."

Jingyi POV from varnes is a gift. Jingyi POV trying to figure out the post-canon political landscape is a treasure.

#the untamed #mzds #mzds fic recs #fic recs #this ended up being way longer than i expected OOPS #oh well Tav i hope there are at least a couple here that are new to you!#also looking at my bookmarks it occurred to me the Queen's Thief series would probably be very much your speed if you haven't read it yet

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 1 year

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Kicho's Main Story Chapter 8 Premium

These translations are not intended as a replacement for the game. Please support cybird by buying their stories. SPOILERS under the cut. Expect mistakes.

Slightly suggestive?

???: "Mai?"

Mai: "Kicho!"

Just as I was about to look for him, I heard his voice and was surprised to see him walking toward me, looking somewhat impatient.

Kicho: "How are you feeling?"

Mai: "What?"

Kicho: "You fainted in front of the trading post. What was wrong with you?"

He gently reached his arm and touched my forehead as if he were handling something fragile.

At that moment, when our warmth overlapped, his hazel-green eyes shook with anxiety.

(I can't believe he's worried about me.)

Kicho: "You don't look like you have a fever, but you look pale."

Kicho: "Before I ask why you came here, let's move to a different location."

Mai: "Um, I'm fine. I could even ride a horse without any problem."

Kicho: "I'm not okay with it."

Mai: "Waah!?"

He suddenly carried me, and I shook my head, feeling my cheeks heat up.

Mai: "Um, I can walk by myself."

Kicho: "I don't trust your words, no matter what you say."

Kicho: "Stay quiet. I'll decide what to do."

When we reached a hut built on the edge of the harbor, he put me down, but his arms remained behind my back.

Mai: "Um..."

My heart skipped a beat as he looked into my face from a close distance, and when I didn't look away, he hugged me.

(I'm so nervous, I feel like I can't breathe)

Kicho: "I'm sorry I didn't notice your condition. It's probably because you've been so busy."

Mai: "That's not it. I don't really have a clue as to why."

Kicho: "No, it's my lack of supervision. I've given you a hard time."

Kicho: "It's good to see you again like this."

Mai: "Kicho..."

I nuzzled my face into his chest, loving the slight warmth.

(He's happy to see me again.)

(I'm also happy to talk to him like this again.)

Kicho: "So why are you here? Mitsuhide should've taken you with him."

Kicho: "Or have you decided to cut ties with the Oda and become a member of our side?"

Mai: "No, it's not that."

Mai: "I don't know how Mitsuhide feels about it since I ran out here on my own."

Mai: "I wanted to talk to you again, as myself, not from either side.”

Kicho: "Talk?"

Mai: "I saw one riot after another all around here."

Mai: "Many people took up arms, towns were burning, precious lives were taken one after another, and even young children were crying as they carried the sins that will never be forgiven."

Mai: "Is this really what you wanted to accomplish?"

Kicho: "That’s right."

As he replied, he released the arm around my back.

We faced each other head-on, staring into each other's eyes, his cold eyes stripped of emotion.

(His words are full of lies.)

(He's pushing it all in and keeping a lid on it so he doesn't fall to his knees if he gets in too deep.)

(Because when you're an adult, you can't cry over the most random of things.)

Mai: "Please. Please stop the riots."

Mai: "Whatever it takes, don't do this."

Kicho: "Convincing me is futile. We have to fight constantly to keep the value of life."

Kicho: "And the townspeople also took my hand themselves."

Mai: "So what happens to those who didn't take it?"

Mai: "Those who chose peace instead of force can only flee helplessly."

Mai: "Even those who didn't take your hand must have been those who desperately tried to live."

Kicho: "You're right. What I did to them is pretty harsh."

Kicho: "But that is the turbulent world. If you don't fight, your life will be destroyed."

Kicho: "Once you understand the reality, you will eventually take up arms to change your future."

Kicho: "As this is repeated, so is the future that Japan will face."

Mai: "Please stop!"

Just listening to the words he spoke hurt my heart so much that I had to shout to interrupt him.

Mai: "I'm here now to talk to you as me."

Mai: "So you too, please talk to me as you."

Mai: "Please stop this now before you get hurt anymore."

Kicho: "..........."

I grabbed his wrist tightly to make sure he wouldn't go anywhere.

Kicho: "Let go of me."

Mai: "I don't want to."

Kicho: "I'll show you no mercy if you interfere with my path."

Mai: "I don’t care!"

Kicho: "I see. Then..."

Mai: "Kyaah!?"

He grabbed my other wrist and pushed me against the wall.

Before I could even react, I felt a pain in my neck as he pressed his lips against it.

Mai: "Ah!"

Kicho: "I'll make it so bad that you'll want to leave me yourself."

(----!)

I quickly twisted myself, perhaps out of defensive instinct, but I was no match for his strength, and he caught my other hand and held it down.

Then, he bit my earlobe and traced it with the tip of his tongue.

Mai: "Sto...ngh..."

I yelped, and his eyebrows twitched.

Kicho: "You have a very sweet voice."

Mai: "............"

He pointed it out, and I almost hated myself for it.

Instead of being disgusted by the stimulation he was giving me, I felt a sweet sensation trying to take over my head.

Still, I bit my lip to keep my voice from escaping.

Kicho: "That's futile resistance."

Kicho: "Well, that's okay. Even you have a limit to your resistance."

Mai: "Nn!"

He held my wrists together, making it impossible for me to resist, and then slid his hand down to my obi.

Kicho: "If I expose you here, you'll want to leave me alone."

Kicho: "Or will you still make sweet noises if I do that to you?"

(I hate it.)

(I can't believe he's touching me in a situation like this, with me feeling like this.)

I'm sure that the more I think about the person in front of me, the more he gets confused with emptiness.

Mai: "Kicho, please stop."

Mai: "I don't want to walk away from you."

Mai: "I just want to..."

I couldn't say anything anymore as I felt a twinge in the back of my nose.

Kicho: "............"

Kicho: "It can't be helped. Wait here."

He released my wrists and called his men outside.

Kicho: "Move Mai into the ship."

Subordinate 1: "Yes, sir."

Mai: "Wait! I'm not yet done talking!"

Kicho: "I can't let you shake my cause."

Kicho: "The future will get destroyed, but I'll take your desire to live in this time."

Mai: "Kicho!"

I tried to keep him from leaving, but two of his men prevented me, and he left the cabin without even looking back.

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aphroditestempleimagines · 2 years

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Before the fall