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andvys · 3 months

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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter nine ⭐︎ And I'll show you if you let me, girl

Warnings: 18+, minors don't interact. smut, unprotected sex, mentions of jealousy, mentions of weed and alcohol, a sliver of angst. this is written from Steve’s pov only!

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: While Steve yearns for more with you, you seem to feel differently...

Word count: 10k+

Author's note: @hellfire--cult we're getting closer to all the good stufffff, thanks for putting this idea in my head and helping me with this hehe

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♡

The warmth of the sun is a welcoming feeling on Steve’s face as he wakes from his slumber. The sheets that are covering him, feeling soft on his bare body. The pillow beneath his head holds a scent that makes it smell intoxicating. He feels as though he had been sleeping on a cloud, the bed feeling more comfortable than his own.

He slowly opens his eyes, only to shut them again when the brightness shines into them. A groan falls from his lips as he throws his hand in front of his face.

The smell of clean sheets, vanilla and something flowery fills his senses, making something in his chest flutter.

The weight of something holding down his right arm, wakes him a little more and he opens his eyes again, a little more careful this time as he holds his hand up to protect his eyes from the sun.

Pictures of last night start flashing in his mind when his eyes find you, cheek squished against the pillow, hair in front of your face, eyes closed and a relaxed look in your features as you’re still sleeping peacefully.

He looks away from you when he notices your hand around his arm, fingers wrapped around it as you hold on tightly, even in your sleep. His lip twitches as he stares at it, at your soft hand, at the size of it and how much smaller it is compared to his.

He watches you for a moment, eyes tracing the spots that aren’t hidden by the covers. His fingers itch as he stares at your soft skin. He notices the scar on your shoulder, the one that a bat left, the one that you ripped off of him, saving him from a wound it would have left on his abdomen if you hadn’t saved him – you took the scar that was meant for him.

Your lashes flutter a little, a sigh falls from your lips before you snuggle deeper into the pillows, still sound asleep. He can’t help but hold his hand out to move some of the hair out of your face, his fingertips grazing your nose ever so slightly, you don’t even budge. He wonders if you are always such a deep sleeper or if you’re just worn out from the night before.

A smirk tugs at his lips as his thoughts reminded him of the desperation in your eyes, the needy moans that fell from your lips when he devoured you, when he fucked you, when he touched you in a way he never thought he would.

He can’t help but react to those memories, feeling something inside of him burning with need and a deep longing to repeat the previous night with you.

Who would have thought that Steve Harrington would ever end up in your bed?

What would his 17 year old self think of him now?

While his teen self was very well aware of your beauty, he never was good at accepting his attraction towards you, especially when you were so mean to him – now it only turns him on.

Steve turns on his side, about to sink deeper into your comfortable, warm bed when his eyes fall on the alarm clock on your nightstand. It’s almost 10am. Which isn’t bad… if he didn’t have to be at work an hour ago already.

He shoots up with wide eyes, cursing. He turns back to you in panic, placing his hand on yours, “Blondie,” he whispers, trying to shake you awake, “hey… psst!”

All that you do is turn around in your sleep, holding onto the sheets as you stay deeply asleep.

He rolls his eyes, sighing as he opens his mouth again, he looks down and suddenly, every word gets stuck in his throat when he eyes the light pink sheets and the little bows on them.

He furrows his brows and lifts his head, looking around the room that he realizes he had never been in before until last night, but he was too busy with you to focus on his surroundings or the girly room.

He doesn’t know what he imagined your room to be like, but he certainly never imagined this. Light colors and lots and lots of girly decorations, aside from the band posters and the horror movie collection by the TV stand in the corner.

The shelf across the room is littered with books and plants, tiny bottles of nail polish and perfumes. There’s pillows and a blanket on your window nook, along with a plushie that makes him smirk, the little bunny being something new he can tease you about.

He scratches the back of his neck as he looks to his left, the nightstand on his side is littered with fashion magazines, candles and a few lip balms that are lying in a tiny bowl – strawberry and cherry flavored ones.

The poster behind your closet door catches his eye next, he can’t help but snort, “Jon Bon Jovi,” he murmurs as he stares at the long haired singer wearing a leather vest.

Steve looks nothing like him.

He doesn’t have the same hair nor the style.

Is that your type of man?

Long hair and leather vests? – Eddie surely isn’t your type, and Billy was only a friend, and yet… there was something more between you and him.

His eyes fall back on the TV stand and the tapes, reminding him that he should be worrying about other things, right now.

He throws the blanket off himself, his feet hit the floor and he rushes towards the clothes he discarded last night. He hastily puts his boxers and his jeans on, clinking with the belt as he struggles to fasten it in a rush. He throws on his shirt before he bends down to put his Nike’s on, not even trying to be quiet as he jumps around in a hurry, hoping that you will wake up before he leaves, not wanting to just leave without saying goodbye.

He rushes into your bathroom, not even bothering to look at his reflection. He quickly washes his face before he looks around in search for mouthwash, you surely won’t mind. His brows rise up when he finds the bottle behind all the lotions.

He walks back into your room after freshening up, halting in front of your bed. He feels surprised that you still haven’t woken from all the noises he made.

You are lying on your stomach now, your bare back exposed to him as the sheets are low on your hips.

He clenches his jaw, shutting his eyes for a moment, hating that he has to leave when all he wants to do is to get back under the sheets with you.

What will you think when you wake up to an empty bed?

Will you get angry with him for just rushing out that door without saying goodbye?

Are you even gonna care?

You slapped his hand away when he tried to touch you last night, before you fell asleep. You probably won’t care about him leaving.

He can’t wake you, he doesn’t want to disrupt your sleep and he can’t wait any longer, knowing that he will get in trouble with Keith if he shows up late, especially on a Sunday.

And it’s not only Keith he has to worry about, it’s also Robin, who will throw one question after the other at him.

He has no choice but to go, he steps out into the hallway and turns back to take another look at you, hesitating as he does so.

He will explain and apologize later, that is if you even care.

With a sigh, he tears his eyes away from you and he leaves, rushing out of the house and into his car.

Robin is already behind the counter when he steps inside Family Video, her nose in a magazine as she taps her nails against the wood, an impatient, annoyed look in her features when she reveals her face to him after dropping the magazine on the counter. She pushes the sleeve of her flannel up, taking a look at the watch around her wrist.

Steve rolls his eyes at her, throwing on the vest as he rushes in.

“You’re almost an hour late, dude.”

“I know, I know,” Steve sighs, moving past her and into the backroom to clock in before he comes back to her.

She is still standing in the same spot, arms crossed over her chest as she eyes him up and down, snorting at the mess on his head. It is a rare sight to see, he knows that.

He rolls his eyes again, holding a finger up at her as he shakes his head, “don’t say anything.”

He tried to tame the mess on his head when he was in his car, but the only thing that will fix the tousled hair is a shower.

“I see the date with Heidi was worth it,” she teases him, a smirk tugging at her lips the longer she stares at the look in his eyes, they are practically glowing.

Steve looks into a box that has been placed on the counter, he opens it to find new tapes inside, he eyes the horror movies.

“Did you have fun?”

Yeah, just not with Heidi.

He never had that much fun with her, he never had that much fun with anyone.

“Mhmm.”

Robin squints her eyes at him, eying the way his cheeks flush a little, the way the blush deepens as she steps closer and stares at him.

Steve never blushed because of Heidi, he also never came late to work after a night with her.

“Did you stay the night?” She asks, knowing that he never stayed with any of his girls before.

He purses his lips, and looks away from the tapes and back at her, he sees the skeptical look on her face and it makes him nervous. She knows everything about him, she knows he never stays.

He runs his fingers through his hair, leaning against the counter as he tries to appear calm.

“Yeah, I was really tired after we uh… you know,” he explains, shrugging a little.

“Hmm,” she nods, furrowing her brows.

He takes a step back, taking one of the tapes out of the box, “did you uh… did you guys have a fun time, last night?”

“Yeah,” she nods as she looks down at her rings, twisting them, “Eddie was pretty annoyed with you though.”

“Was he?” Steve frowns.

“Yeah, said he couldn’t believe that you’d ditch your friends to get your dick wet.”

He snorts, “like he wouldn’t do that.”

“He wouldn’t,” she shrugs, “oh and uh, your Blondie seemed pretty upset too, she left early.”

Steve raises his brows, “oh?”

Steve had wondered how you reacted to his date with Heidi but given your attitude towards him when he came over tells him that you must have been really upset about it – but he didn’t know that, last night. He just thought that you were having a bad day, he didn’t really connect the dots until now.

Were you jealous?

Were you jealous that some other girl was getting the attention that he was giving you in the past few weeks?

“Yeah, I don’t think it had anything to do with you though.”

It had everything to do with him, he knows it, he can feel it. He felt it last night, how you melted into him, how your anger began to dissolve the moment he told you that it was only you in his mind.

But you don’t like him, he’s sure of it. You don’t like him. You just want to keep this game up, and have him all to yourself.

“I’m sorry for bailing on you,” he sighs, trying to steer the topic away from you before he accidentally spills everything to her.

“Apologize to Eddie or Blondie – actually maybe not to her, you’d probably just humiliate yourself in front of her the way you always do.”

He snorts, nodding at her, “right.”

“You could invite us all for pizza though, make it up to us, dude.”

At the mention of food, Steve’s stomach growls a little. He hasn’t eaten since his afternoon snack yesterday. He was supposed to eat dinner at Enzo’s, but he didn’t even get past the drinks with Heidi.

“I could eat some pizza,” he murmurs, “I’ll call Eddie on my lunch break. You’re free tonight, right?”

Robin brushes past him and walks around the counter, taking the box that he just opened, “yeah but Eddie isn’t, he’s got a date tonight,” she wiggles her brows, a smile tugging at her lips, “a real date, you know? Not a sex date.”

Steve places his hand on his hip, sighing as he rolls his eyes at his best friend.

“I go on real dates!”

Robin’s blue eyes flicker with amusement, “yeah right, Dingus,” she snorts.

She steps away with the box in her hands, “I’m stacking these up, you can just… chill here and wait for another potential date to walk through the door. Oh and by the way, Nancy and Jonathan are busy tonight as well, but you can call up Argyle, I’ll call Vickie and your arch nemesis.”

If only Robin knew that he was in his ‘arch nemesis’s’ bed last night, tangled in the sheets after your bare skin touched his and your lips met more times than he can now count, your fingers dug into his back, scratching the skin and blessing him with a pleasant kind of pain, he feels the marks that you have left on him, burning beneath his shirt and he can’t help but crave more of it, more of you.

As everything begins to really sink in, he can’t even fight the smile off his face any longer.

Weeks of frustration, of sexual tension and lust have brought him to a moment you both have been craving for a while now and normally the high should now be over, last night should have been enough but… it could never be enough, this has only just begun.

And he really hopes that you feel the same.

All day, he walks around with nothing but happiness in his features, a smile he can’t seem to hide, not even when Robin confronts him about it, teasing him about something she knows nothing about.

He almost feels bad for lying to her but he can’t help but want to enjoy this moment and keep it all to himself. It’s only his.

His excitement only grows when Robin tells him that you will come over later.

After work, Steve drops by the store to get some snacks and drinks before he makes his way home. He throws the keys on the counter and walks into the kitchen, putting the grocery bag on the table, he takes out the beers and soda’s and places them into the fridge before he makes his way upstairs and into the bathroom, finally taking his long awaited shower.

He puts on a pair of gray sweatpants and a black shirt, taking his time styling his hair while his mind is still all over the place. He puts on his favorite cologne, hoping that it will drive you crazy just the way your perfume drives him crazy.

It’s almost 7pm by the time Steve makes his way back downstairs, knowing that everyone will arrive soon, he picks up the phone to order the pizzas.

Excitement flutters in his stomach and he can’t even find it in himself to sit still.

He opens a window in the living room to let some fresh air in, he turns on the music and goes back into the kitchen to fill up bowls with chips and other snacks that he bought, he carries them over into the living room, when the doorbell rings two times and then another a few seconds later. Steve doesn’t even bother to go and open the door, knowing that it’s Robin.

“Hey Dingus!” She shouts through the house the moment she opens the door.

“Hi Steve!” Vickie greets him more quietly and a little more kindly.

He turns around the moment the two girls step inside the room, with more snacks and beer in their hands.

“Hey guys,” he smiles.

Robin throws the bags of candy on the coffee table before she reaches for the beers in Vickie’s hands, “I’m gonna put these into the fridge for now. Did you order the pizza already?”

“Yes I did, pepperoni for you,” he points at Vickie who gives him a thumbs up as she sits down on the couch, “and extra cheese for you, Robs.”

Robin tilts her head, a grin appearing on her face as she turns to her best friend, “aw, you memorized our orders, Steve.”

He rolls his eyes at her teasing.

“Aren’t you the cutest?” She chuckles, winking at him before she walks out of the room.

He shakes his head, shooting a playful glare at Vickie when she continues to laugh at Robin's teasing.

The doorbell rings again and Steve almost sprints towards the door, knowing that this must be you now.

Vickie’s face flashes with amusement when he runs his fingers through his hair a few times before he leaves the living room. He takes a few deep breaths as he inches closer to the front door. He wraps his hand around the handle and opens the door, biting back the smirk that already threatens to break free.

“Hey man!” Argyle grins at him as he stands next to you, “look who I found on the side of the road,” he jokes, snorting as he looks down at you.

Steve licks his lips as his eyes find yours, his cheeks begin to hurt when he struggles to hide the smirk.

“Hey guys.”

“You said that like I’m some stray cat,” you snort as you look away from Steve, looking up at Argyle instead, giving Steve the perfect opportunity to take you in.

A denim jacket is thrown over your shoulders, a simple white shirt underneath it, paired with a short pink skirt, the color almost matching the one on your glossy lips – the ones he had been thinking about all day. And then he looks at your neck, feeling disappointed that there is only a faint outline of the hickey he left the night before. You covered it with makeup, lots of it.

“You are not a stray, but you are a cat, girl,” Argyle says to you as he steps inside, patting Steve on the shoulder, “always got her claws out, right man?”

Steve chuckles in amusement, nodding in agreement.

Argyle walks away from the two of you, greeting Robin and Vickie joyfully as he walks into the living room.

Steve places his forearm on the door, looking you up and down with a smirk on his face. He feels warmth in his stomach, one that makes him crave you more and more.

“Hey Blondie,” he murmurs.

You eye him up and down just the way he did to you, and it does everything to set his insides on fire, even more.

You look up at him through your lashes as a suggestive look flashes in your eyes before you innocently tear your gaze away, your shoulder brushing his when you finally walk through the door.

The smell of your perfume invading his space so pleasantly.

“Hey Lego Head.”

Lego Head.

It almost sounds funny to hear you call him that after the night you spent with each other.

He closes the door without tearing his eyes away from you and reaches for your hand before you can walk away from him.

He doesn’t like the way you look down at his hand, the way your brows pull together, the way confusion flashes in your eyes before you look up at him with a look that gives him absolutely nothing.

Suddenly, as though something had washed over your face, taking every bit of the emotions that were just behind your eyes, you look at him like you always did – before last night, before you both began playing your little game, before all the teasing.

“Yes?”

Steve feels a little taken aback by the sound in your voice, by the sudden change but he tries to keep his cool.

“Did you sleep well?” He smirks.

He doesn’t expect you to roll your eyes at him, removing your hand from his and walking away without a word, leaving him standing in the hallway, feeling more confused than ever, making his chest sting with rejection.

The look you gave him before you stepped inside, certainly didn’t match whatever just happened.

He shakes his head, sighing.

Is that another part of the game?

Or are you just trying to act like normal so no one will notice anything?

It turns out that there is something else.

After he follows you into the living room, he quickly realizes that you aren’t playing any games, that you aren’t acting ‘normal’ either.

Your kindness is there, just not for him, which normally wouldn’t hurt as much if your ‘friendship’ hadn’t evolved into something better in the past few weeks.

You talk to Argyle, Robin and Vickie, and you talk to him when you have to, but all that you give to him are glances filled with nothing but frustration and forced smiles, making his skin crawl with annoyance.

He tries to act normal, he tries to not give anything away but it’s really hard when his eyes keep moving back to yours every few seconds or so, growing more and more irritated with you and your little ignorant act.

He tries to approach you, even as more time passes, he keeps trying to throw jabs at you, talk to you, make jokes but you only give him the smallest reactions while your friends get the better end of the stick.

You laugh at Argyle’s jokes, you laugh at Robin when a pepperoni slides off her pizza and falls into her lap, you act normal with your friends but not with him – in fact, you act like nothing happened and it makes him angry.

There goes his hope for more.

The fire that you lit inside of him, quickly dissolves, making it all feel unpleasant now and he suddenly can’t wait for this night to be over.

How can you sit there and act like you didn’t spend a passionate night with him?

Like you didn’t moan his name and begged for more, like you didn’t kiss him as though it was your new form of breathing, like you hadn’t left behind marks on his skin and on the inside of his chest.

He stares at you, at the way you sit on your knees, skirt riding up as you lean closer to the coffee table to reach for your drink, you flip your hair over your shoulder and take a sip, moving to face him when you notice his staring.

Steve doesn’t even bother to hide that he was looking at you.

“How was your date last night, man?” Argyle asks as he rolls a joint for Vickie. “What was the chick’s name, Helga?”

Robin bursts into laughter, being the last one to still munch on the pizza, “Helga!”

Vickie can’t help but also giggle, shaking her head.

“Her name’s Heidi,” Steve corrects Argyle, still keeping an eye on you, and boy is he happy that he didn’t look away, he wouldn’t have noticed the quick eye roll at the mention of Heidi, the girl seemingly causing you more annoyance than the smirk that starts pulling at his lips again.

“Heidi, Helga, just one and the same,” Argyle waves his head, “both weirdass names.”

“Yeah, I agree,” you mumble with a sour look on your face.

Oh.

Is that jealousy Steve sees?

“So was it like a date date, or a you know a date to get all wet and dirty afterwards.”

Robin scrunches her face up in disgust, groaning, “don’t make me lose my appetite.”

“Definitely the second.”

Steve can see the way you clench your jaw, the way you poke your tongue into your cheek as you look down at your drink.

“I’m still confused,” Robin mumbles.

“What about?” Steve asks, not tearing his eyes away from you.

“I thought Heidi didn’t know how to fuck?”

At that, your eyes widen a little.

“...Seems she learned.”

“Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t know how to fuck.” You murmur, narrowing your eyes at him.

Steve raises his eyebrows in surprise, a laugh tumbling from his lips before he can even stop it.

You are looking at him so seriously and assured that it makes him want to scoff.

Are you going to pretend that he didn’t make you cum twice last night? That you didn’t cry from pleasure? That you didn’t whine and beg?

He almost wants to expose this little secret to your friends but he holds back, despite the irritation that continues to grow inside of him.

Argyle laughs at your comment.

“Poor Heidi.”

To the others it sounds like you’re actually pitying her but he can hear the mocking tone in your voice.

You’re giving him that glare, the one that hides the challenging spark behind it.

Oh, how he wants to bend you over that table and remind you of how pathetic and cockdrunk you looked beneath him the night before.

“Oh, trust me, honey. She had a really good time last night.”

He sees the way your eye twitches, the way your lips turn downwards for a split second before you mask the anger with something else. You tilt your head to the side, “did she?” You ask, as though you didn’t pass out after he made you come undone.

He always knew that you were a brat, he just didn’t think that you were that much of a brat.

“Can we please change the topic or I’m gonna get sick!” Robin throws her arms up, “I really couldn’t care less about Steve’s boring straight sex life!”

“Would you rather talk about this?” Argyle holds the joint up, grinning at her, “the weed was specially delivered from California.”

Robin snorts, “yeah, by you.”

“Yeah, told you, specially delivered.”

“Well, light it up, I’m ready to try the special weed,” Vickie says, waiting impatiently.

None of your friends notice the way you and Steve are still holding eye contact, the way you are glaring at one another, practically challenging each other to a stare down, yet like you are ready to tear each other’s clothes off.

You are the first to break, you look away and push yourself up from the floor, smoothing down your skirt before you make your way out of the room, you pass by him, not sparing him a single glance.

Steve’s eyes follow you curiously, watching you walk away and down the hallway, into the bathroom.

Argyle is making the girls laugh, distracting them well enough for Steve to use the opportunity to follow you, just moments later. He takes one more look at his friends before he steps out of the living room and into the hallway. The noises of laughter and music now slowly get lost in the distance as he inches closer to the bathroom.

He leans against the wall, opposite of the door that he heard shutting after you walked in. He crosses his arms over his chest, feeling determined to find out what your problem is.

He has his suspicions, but he isn’t very sure about them.

Maybe this is just the way that you are, you get what you want, you use it once and then you move on, not bothering to stick with it.

Maybe you get bored.

Maybe you aren’t as deeply into this as he is.

Or maybe he made a mistake this morning, after all.

The door opens and you step out of the bathroom, only to halt in your tracks when you notice him, you stare at him for a moment before you roll your eyes at him again.

Steve’s arms drop to his sides, he opens his mouth to say something to you, when you go to walk away. But he moves forward, placing himself in front of you, he blocks your way and places his hand on your arm.

“Wait, please.”

The look you give him, should send shivers down his spine, but instead it makes him want you just more because despite all of this, he can only think about what happened the night before, how pretty you looked under him, how you moaned for him and begged for more, how you held on to him this morning. He knows you still want him – it’s not his cockiness that is telling him that, it’s the look in your eyes, the one behind all the anger that he’s getting more and more suspicious about.

“What?” You mumble.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you shrug, pursing your lips.

His desperation starts growing yet again, the want inside of him begging him to just push you up against this wall and kiss you again just the way he did before the sun rose.

The little crease between your eyebrows is so prominent right now, showing off your irritation.

“Come on, don’t do this again, Blondie,” he sighs, his hand leaves your arm and he can’t believe that he’s already missing the feeling of his skin on yours. “Just tell me what's wrong.”

You stare up at him, your eyes moving from his lips to his nose and then back to his eyes. You seem to hesitate, you seem to think.

But then, you do what you always do.

“As if you don’t fucking know.”

You run away.

You leave him hanging.

And maybe if you hadn’t said these words to him, he would’ve let it go, he would’ve felt defeated, knowing that he should be moving on but this, the resentful look you just gave him, one that shows just how upset you are only begins to confirm all his suspicions.

He will not let this go, he will not let you go, not so easily, at least. Not even when you keep acting that way towards him when he returns to the living room.

You keep giving him dirty looks whenever you catch him staring, you keep scoffing and rolling your eyes at him, not knowing that it only spurs him on – just the way it did when you were both fifteen, stuck in fourth period together.

He keeps staring, and you keep getting more frustrated – it’s so visible in your features, you can’t even hide it.

It seems that the only thing you’re good at hiding is pain and sadness, these are the only things he could never notice on you, not until you decided to show him a glimpse of it, at least.

Steve can’t help but count down the minutes until Argyle, Robin and Vickie decide to leave, so he can finally have a moment with you. And the moment he gets what he wants, he almost cheers.

“I think I might pass out if I don’t leave in the next five minutes,” Argyle mumbles as he sits up.

“Yeah,” Robin giggles, “me too, and you do not wanna sleep on this couch, trust me, man.”

Argyle furrows his brows, staring down at Steve’s couch, “what’s wrong with it? It’s comfy.”

“I thought so too until I woke up with a stiff neck that one time I passed out during movie night.”

Steve snorts, “told you, you could’ve slept in the guest room.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Robin rolls her eyes, getting up from the couch.

“Do you want me to drop you ladies off?” Argyle asks, pointing between Vickie and Robin, “don’t wanna let any of you drive home high.”

“Yeah, that would be nice!” Vickie slurs a little, giggling when Robin takes her hand and pulls her up.

Steve is looking at you, watching the way you reach for your jacket as you stand up as well.

Do you really think that he will let you leave after the way you behaved?

After you didn’t even talk about what happened?

“Blondie,” he says sternly. “Don’t you wanna help me clean this mess up?” He points to the empty bowls and plates.

You squint your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest, “why, can’t handle it yourself?”

Robin chuckles as she looks between you both.

“I picked her up, dude. I’m not gonna let her walk home alone at night, especially in freaking Hawkins!” Argyle mumbles.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll drive her home,” Steve shrugs, “I don’t mind.”

He feels satisfied when you glare at him, huffing in anger.

Robin shakes her head knowing that you and Steve take this thing between you both very seriously, the rude teasing, the bickering, the little fights – she doesn’t know just how far you both take these things now.

“I helped you last time, it’s only fair if you help me now, right?” He smirks at you, satisfied with the angry look in your eyes.

“Mhmm.”

“Alright then,” Argyle mumbles, passing by you, he ruffles your hair, “I’ll see you around, grumpy.”

“Bye,” Robin teases you with a sing-song voice, wiggling her brows at you, “have fun playing maid with Dingus.”

“Thanks, Robin,” you say sarcastically.

Vickie gives you a softer smile and a hug before the three leave the room and walk out of the house, leaving Steve alone with you – something that he had been waiting for, all night.

He wants to confront you the moment the front door shuts, but he decides to wait, wanting to find out what you will do now that everyone is gone and it’s only the two of you again.

He watches you closely, his eyes follow every twitch in your features, every flicker in your eyes as different emotions take over them. Your lips part, and he thinks you’re going to say something finally, but instead, you only sigh before you look away from him and get up. You start to gather the plates.

With a sigh, Steve gets up and makes his way over to you, gently grabbing your wrist.

“Did you really think I made you stay to wash the dishes, Blondie?”

You furrow your brows, putting the plates back down, you lift your head to look at him.

“Oh, did you expect something else, Harrington?”

“Yeah,” he nods, still holding your wrist, “you telling me why you’re acting like nothing fucking happened yesterday.”

The irritation in your eyes isn’t hard to miss, neither is the anger in them.

“Nothing. Happened.”

He scoffs at you, shaking his head in disbelief.

Never has he ever felt so agitated by someone else. Never has he ever felt this desperate.

“Right! Yeah, you screaming my name didn’t happen, you cumming twice with me didn’t happen, us almost breaking the bed didn’t happen. Sure.”

You grow flustered at the reminders and your lips part as you seemingly try to find your words.

And Steve waits, he waits for you to say something, to explain why you had been acting that way towards him, but the longer you look at him, the more you start to pull away and with one swift movement, you pull your wrist out of his hold, you reach for the jacket that you had dropped again and you leave the room with a scoff.

Steve rolls his eyes at you, swallowing down the anger as he follows you out into the hallway, rushing after you.

“I’m not up for this shit, Lego head,” you mumble as you stomp towards the front door, grabbing the handle and ripping the door open, “your message was clear as day this morning.”

The moment those words leave your lips, you confirm every one of his suspicions. That is why you had been so angry, that is why you had been acting like a brat the whole damn night.

You’re one step out of his house when he catches up to you, he reaches out for your hand, grabbing it tightly as he pulls you back into his house and turns you back around. He shuts the door and locks it before he lifts his hand to cup the back of your head so he won’t hurt you when he slams you against it.

Your eyes widen in surprise as your lips part. Before you can throw any more words at him, he steps closer to you, using his other hand to cage you against the door.

The feeling of your body now back against his, makes his skin crawl in anticipation, his body aching in need.

“Oh, waking up without me struck a nerve huh?”

You knit your brows together as you huff angrily, lips puckering as you’re about to throw an insult at him… probably.

But all he can think about is kissing you, and showing you just how much he wants you again.

“Made it clear it was a one time thing so I don’t know what–”

He brings his hand forward, letting go of your head so he can cup your cheek, before you can even finish your sentence or react to his touch, he leans forward and smashes his lips against yours, finally kissing you with his eyes closed and his body now pressed against yours.

You gasp, almost squealing against his lips, you drop your jacket to the ground, growing tense for a whole two seconds before you melt into his touch and kiss him back.

Steve’s thumb grazes your jawline as he tilts your head up and he presses further into you, moving his lips a little faster against yours.

Unlike your first kiss, last night, this one is a little slower yet just as deep, if not even stronger. He keeps holding your cheek, liking the feeling of your soft skin beneath his palm.

He lifts his left hand, removing it from the door behind you and placing it on your other cheek, his fingers getting lost in your hair as he continues to kiss you, only pulling away to catch his breath.

His eyes open for a moment to see you chasing after his lips. He almost wants to smile smugly but he doesn’t want to ruin this by teasing you, instead, he goes straight back in, kissing you again rougher and harder this time.

His knees nearly buckle when you moan softly and bring your hands up to his biceps, while his right hand slowly travels down your body, passing your chest and your stomach – he wonders if yours flutters just like his does.

He nudges his nose against yours, parting your lips with his tongue and you invite him in so eagerly, instantly moving your tongue against his. Your hand slowly moves to his neck, nails grazing his skin, making him moan into the kiss.

Steve feels something he had never felt during kisses with any other girls, but he can’t pinpoint what it is. Surely it must be lust and passion, nothing more, nothing less. He doesn’t like you, he definitely doesn’t, but you’re not just a random girl. It’s you, Blondie. The girl he always thought he absolutely despised, and that despise turned into desire. But was the desire never really there? Was he sure of that?

Just like now, he wants more, he wants you, all of you.

But he doesn’t know how far you are willing to take things today.

He moves his hand down to your bare thigh, not moving it under your skin just yet. He taps it twice, waiting for the green light, waiting for you to make the move.

You don’t stop kissing him, even as you part your legs for him, you keep going, you keep pulling him closer and closer, until he is flush against you.

He slips his hand under your skirt, his fingers trace your inner thighs first, making you whine impatiently, practically begging him to touch you as you buck your hips up against him. He bites your lip gently as he presses his fingers against your pussy, moaning when he feels just how soaked your panties are already. He pushes them aside and slips his fingers through your wet folds, bringing his digits up to your clit.

His dick twitches at the sound of your moan, and he is beginning to get impatient.

He could just slip inside of you with ease, you’re wet enough to take him but he still wants to stretch you open with his fingers first.

You break the kiss the moment he pushes two of his fingers in, a moan falling as you stop moving your lips against his. You part your legs further for him as you throw your head back against the door, closing your eyes and knitting your brows together.

Steve can’t help but stare at your face, watching the way you get lost in the feeling of pleasure as he begins to fuck you with his fingers, he doesn’t even tease you the way he wanted to all day, he needs to make you feel good, to show you how much he wanted this.

His mouth waters at the sound of the squelching noises his fingers cause as he drags them in and out of you, his dick straining against his pants, his stomach fluttering.

He leans closer to you, unable to hold himself back from kissing your puffy lips, pecking them a few times as he swallows your moans.

“S-Steve,” you whimper his name again, blessing him with a sound he’s been dreaming about all day.

He kisses you again, though while his lips move smoothly against yours, you keep breaking the kiss to murmur his name over and over again.

You clench around his fingers, and when he presses his thumb against your clit, you whimper loudly, tightening even more around his fingers. You’re close, he can feel it, but he can’t wait any longer. He pulls them out of you again, almost chuckling at the needy whine you let out but he keeps kissing you.

“Hold on,” he murmurs, taking his pants and boxers off just enough to free himself, he wraps his hand around his length, pumping a few times as he smashes his lips against yours. Steve moans in contentment when you wrap your arms around his neck, squeezing him as you pull him closer, clearly feeling just as impatient as he does.

“Like hell that was a one time thing,” he mumbles against your lips as he grabs your waist with both hands and picks you up without a struggle.

You gasp in surprise, eyes widening for a moment. You move your hands to his shoulder and hold onto him tightly as you wrap your legs around his waist.

Steve presses you against the door as he moves his arm down, hooking it underneath the back of your knee while his other hand travels back to your core. He looks into your eyes as he pushes your panties further to the side.

“You want me, right?” He asks as though the desperation in your eyes wouldn’t be good enough of an answer.

“Yes.” You nearly whimper in need.

He lines himself up with your entrance, “good, because I want you too, Blondie,” he whispers before he slams his lips back against yours and thrusts inside of you, causing you both to moan in pleasure.

He splits you open, completely burying himself inside of your tightness, your warm wet walls gripping him tightly and he stills, giving you a moment to adjust to his size.

He scrunches his brows together as his dick aches for more.

This feels so good, this feels even better than last night because now, he can feel you, nothing separates him from the feeling of your pussy around him.

You are breathing heavily against him, clenching around him already and he can’t help but growl at that, you’re tight enough as it is, and you’re making this even harder for him.

“P-Please,” you break the kiss to beg, trying to pull him even closer even though his chest is completely pressed against yours already.

And the moment you start begging with your eyes, he can’t hold back and stay still any longer.

He grabs your hip and he places his forehead against yours, keeping his lips on yours as he starts fucking you. Last night he fucked you roughly, but tonight… he fucks you like an animal. His fingers dig into your side, holding onto you tightly as he starts pounding you against the door, loud moans start falling from his lips, joined by your whimpers, they echo through the hallway.

He can see the glassiness in your eyes before you shut them tightly, gasping as he picks up the pace further, and he watches you, he watches closely as you get so deeply lost in the pleasure while your chest moves up and down rapidly, your lips quiver as the prettiest sounds keep falling from them.

He wants to close his eyes and enjoy this moment of bliss but he can’t look away from you, he can’t believe that he’s getting you like this for a second time, he can’t believe that you’re gasping and whimpering for him, because of him. That someone like you turns into a drooling, needy mess for him and his cock.

You tilt your head to the side exposing your neck to him.

He instantly leans in, latching his lips onto your skin, tearing another gasp out of you.

“Steve!”

He feels your hands on the back of his neck now, fingers getting lost in his hair, you tug at his strands, only a little but enough to make his hips falter for a second, enough to tear a whimper out of him.

“Don’t stop, Stevie,” you whisper as you hold onto him tightly, your feet digging into his ass as he continues to ram in and out of you, roughly.

He bites down harder on your neck, sucking on your delicate skin as his dick throbs inside of you.

“Been thinking about you all day,” he confesses as he continues to cover your neck in marks, leaving reminders of himself on your body.

Your walls flutter around his dick and it only spurs him on even more.

He pulls back so he can see you again, he grabs your cheeks with one hand, turning you to face him again. You are biting your lower lip and you open your eyes to meet his, your pupils are blown, the black in them almost taking over completely, you are looking at him with such pleading and sinful eyes.

He moves his thumb towards your mouth, pulling your bottom lip out of the grasp your teeth just had on it and he leans in to press his lips back to yours, “you’re so tight and wet around me,” he murmurs against them, “can’t believe I get to see you like this.”

He can feel that you’re growing weaker, that you can barely keep your legs wrapped around him now, you’re completely wrecked already but Steve isn’t done yet, despite feeling so close to his own high, he can’t help but want to savor this moment for as long as he can.

When he kisses you again, he swallows every one of your moans and whimpers when he changes his pace from fast and rough to slow but harsh and deep, deep enough for you to feel him in your stomach, he’s sure of it, and by the way you clench around him so tightly that you nearly make him cum sooner than he’d like to, you confirm it.

You’re wearing too much clothing for his liking but he still grabs at anything he can reach, your boobs, your neck, your arms and your legs before his hand gropes your ass and he digs his fingers into it so tightly, he’s sure to leave a mark.

Your tongues meet in a feverish kiss, your noses bump into each other, you both grow breathless and yet you can’t stop tasting each other.

Steve’s nerves are on fire, and he’s beginning to lose composure as his hips begin to stutter, he can only hold back for so long now. He quickly moves your skirt up further and presses his fingers against your clit, rubbing it in fast circles.

The squeal you bless him with sending flutters through his chest and stomach, pride swelling inside of him when you come undone for him again. Your body grows tense for a moment, your walls and contract around him before you fall limply against him, breaking the kiss to catch your breath, you still hold onto him, burying his face in the crook of his neck.

His moans now grow louder, even more so when your lips graze his ear and you whisper “cum for me, Steve.”

All it takes is another powerful thrust before he spills inside of you, the whine that falls from his lips nearly startles himself.

He doesn’t stop moving right away, he wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly as he keeps rolling his hips slowly, coming down from the high. He can feel how much you’re shaking, how your legs are trembling now.

And you both keep clinging to each other, like you want to savor every last second of this, even when it’s now over. He doesn’t want this to end, and neither do you.

And yet, it has to.

He pulls out of you, cursing under his breath while you whine at the loss of him. He places you back on your feet but keeps his hands on your waist in case your knees buckle. You let go of his neck but bring your hand down to his bicep, wrapping your fingers around it to steady yourself.

You look up at him through your lashes and his own knees nearly buckle.

You’re quiet, too quiet for his liking, reminding him of what had gotten you upset in the first place, it fills him with guilt, knowing this could have been prevented.

He lifts his hand up towards your face, cupping your cheek and tilting your head up again, he leans down, surprising you with a soft kiss.

“I overslept. I tried waking you up but you were… sleeping like a log. I even moved around and made a lot of noise on purpose, hoping that you’d wake up.”

You grow flustered beneath his eyes, eyes growing wide as realization flashes in them.

“I– you could have left a note–”

“I should have, but I’m an idiot who was an hour late to work already and rushed out.” He explains as his fingers keep tracing your skin.

Your shoulders slump as you sigh, “o-oh…”

He brushes your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear – unaware of the way it makes you feel, of what it causes inside of you, of the kind of hope it could fill you with.

You keep staring at him, eyes flickering back and forth between his eyes and lips, though the softness begins to disappear when reality seems to pull you back.

“Steve?”

The shakiness and the panic in your face nearly makes his heart stop.

“Yes?” He asks softly, as he stops touching you.

“Y-You came inside of me…” You mumble, dropping your arms to your sides.

Yeah, he did, and it felt unlike anything he felt before.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’m clean,” he shrugs, not understanding the fear behind your eyes. “I gotta say, I never went in raw before though,” he chuckles as he rubs the back of his neck.

You stare at him with something he can’t read, and then your wide eyes fill with fury and a hint of fear as a yell escapes your lips.

“I’m not on the pill, Steve!” You frown at him, pushing him away from you so you can brush past him.

Steve’s eyes widen, his blood runs cold at your words. He quickly pulls his pants up, turning around to see you rounding the corner.

“Shit!” He curses as he follows you, eyes glued on your back until you disappear into the bathroom and shut the door.

He wasn’t thinking straight before, and neither were you.

He presses his hand against the door, closing his eyes as he tries to calm his racing heart by taking slower breaths.

“I-I’m sorry, Blondie. I didn’t know!”

“Get me Plan B, right this second, Harrington!”

He doesn’t even hesitate to move, he knocks his hand against the door, “o-okay, I’ll be right back!”

He steps away from the door, rushing over to the dresser in the hallway, he picks up his keys and his wallet before he rushes out of the door.

It’s past midnight on a sunday, the stores are all closed, but the pharmacy has a 24 hours service on weekends, every two weeks or so, and to his and your luck, this weekend is one of those.

Steve had never done anything like this before, he never had to buy one of those pills, he certainly never fucked without protection, not even when he was with Nancy. You’re his first. He wonders if he is yours too. And why is he hoping he was?

He didn’t put much thought into how awkward it would be to ask for a Plan B, but the moment he asked the old lady behind the counter, and she looked at him disapprovingly, he suddenly wished for the ground to swallow him whole.

He explained that it’s for his girlfriend, the one that doesn’t even exist.

She kept glaring at him, sighing and shaking her head.

He slams the fifty dollar bill on the counter, and takes the small box before he rushes out with a flustered look on his face.

“You should go to church and pray, boy.”

He ignores her comment, rolling his eyes the moment he steps out and takes a deep breath.

Pray so the pill will work? Sure. He will try, even though he is certainly not as stressed as you are.

When he comes back home, he finds you sitting on the couch, bouncing your knee and chewing on your nails. He feels guilty, knowing that you’re anxious because of him and his careless move.

He finds the living room all cleaned up, bowls and plates are gone, the coffee table wiped down.

He walks towards you, his eyes soften when your wide ones meet his.

“Here,” he mumbles, handing you the white box that you take from his hands, right away. “I’ll get you something to drink.”

He makes his way into the kitchen, opening the fridge to reach for the diet pepsi he bought earlier. He returns back to you, pill already between your fingers.

“You didn’t have to clean up, you know?” He asks as he pops the can open for you.

“I know, I couldn’t sit still though,” you shrug, taking the can from his hand.

He sits down beside you, watching you throw the pill into your mouth before you swallow it down with the drink, tilting your head back and closing your eyes for a moment.

The marks on your neck are deeper than the ones he left last night and he can’t help but love it, knowing that those will be much harder to cover up.

His eyes move down your body, your chest, your stomach and then your thighs that are still trembling a little.

“Hey,” he whispers, concern flashing in his eyes, “are you okay?”

“Hmm?” You tilt your head back down, and place the pepsi on the coffee table, “yeah… I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, now looking into your eyes.

“Yeah, thanks for this…” You murmur, pointing to the box.

“Don’t need to thank me for that, Blondie,” he waves his hand at you, shaking his head.

As he takes a better look at you, he notices how flustered and nervous you look.

“Look, can we talk?” You ask, your voice now much softer than it was twenty minutes ago as you ordered him to get you the Plan B. It’s even a little shaky, and he notices how your throat bobs as you swallow harshly.

“Sounds like you’re breaking up with me… That’s kinda harsh right after I came inside of you,” he jokes, scratching the back of his neck.

You give him a deadpan look, shoulders slumping as an annoyed sigh leaves your lips.

“Fuck it, I’m leaving,” you grumble as you push yourself up.

But in his panic, he reaches for your hand and pulls you back down. Closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath.

“No, sorry, wait… just… stay.”

He opens his eyes again, to find you looking at him in confusion as his hand is still holding onto you.

“Stay here tonight.”

Your lips part, your eyes moving across his face.

“W-Why do you want me to stay?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do?” He mumbles, pursing his lips as he shrugs slightly. “I’m not like a fuck and kick out kind of guy… But if you want to leave, you can? I-I can drive you home,” he stutters as blood rushes to his cheeks.

You pull your hand out of his grasp, shaking your head at him, “no, no… I’m tired… It’s fine.”

He nods at you.

You look away from him, breaking eye contact and scooting further back on the couch, now looking at anything but him as you both fall silent, too silent.

Well this is certainly awkward, Steve thinks.

You just fucked against the door, like two animals in heat and now you can barely look at each other.

He can’t stand it.

“Okay yeah, we definitely have to talk about all of this.”

You snap your head back at him, “no, shit, Lego head.”

He huffs at you, scratching the back of his neck as he now looks away from you.

“Why are you so… I don’t know… aren’t you supposed to be all cocky and confident, King Steve?”

He narrows his eyes at you, thinking that you are judging, but you’re not, you’re genuinely confused by his behavior right now.

“You would be surprised. I’m like that only with people that don’t… know me.”

“You’re cocky with people you don’t know or… the other way around?”

He can’t give you the answer that you want to know. He can’t let you know. He can’t let you in.

He shakes his head again.

“And also the fact that you and I have a history of pure hatred… So we should talk about this,” he points between you both, redirecting the attention to something else again, leaving you a little speechless.

You clear your throat.

“Well, we fucked.”

He almost wants to chuckle, but he holds back.

“Uh huh, twice.”

“Yeah…”

He blinks, taking a moment to come up with the right words, he presses his palms together as he faces you again.

“My question is… are you done with those two times?”

You raise your brows at him, tilting your head to the side as you give him a puzzled look, while holding your hand up to move your hair back.

He can’t help but roll his eyes at you.

“Can you put your pride aside for just two seconds?” He mumbles. “Cause I definitely wanna keep fucking you, Blondie.”

For a second, and only for a second, you look stunned, before a sour expression takes over your face.

“While you fuck Heidi?”

Now it’s his turn to raise his eyebrows at you, you almost sound and look jealous.

You clear your throat again, “I just want to get this right. We keep fucking… whenever. And what about the rest?”

“The rest?”

“Yes. Exclusivity?”

“Well, there isn’t,” he shrugs, “I see whoever I want and you do… the same.” He almost chokes on his own words.

If he only looked closer, he would’ve seen the look of defeat in your eyes before you looked down.

If only he kept his mouth shut.

If only he knew that his own rule would come back to punch him in his gut.

“O-Okay.”

“Okay?” He repeats your word, eyes lighting up.

You nod, “yeah, but we should set up some rules.”

He nods too, “yeah sure.”

He watches you take a deep breath, licking your lips as you look around the room, the room your friends occupied earlier.

“I’m taking you don’t want anyone to know?” You ask him.

“Well… Yeah.” He shrugs, eyebrows knitting together as he stares at you confused. “I don’t want anyone to know.”

“Uh huh, right.” You mumble. “Okay. A-And, we only fuck, right?”

“Right,” he nods, “this doesn’t make us anything, we just… fuck… yeah.”

You blink, your lips twitch.

“We can spend nights together, I’m not gonna kick you out,” he says, hoping that he can spend the nights with you because for some reason, he can’t get your sleeping figure out of his head. And he almost sighs in relief when he sees you nodding slowly.

“I’m not gonna kick you out either.”

You look into each other’s eyes as you both try to read the other, both of you moving a little closer without even realizing it.

The minutes pass and you both keep setting rules, not knowing that this whole thing will end up in shambles.

After all… Rules are meant to be broken.

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @joekeerysmoles @sherrylyn628 @munsonlore @maroon-cardigan @ibellcipem @agirlwholovesrockstars

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things angst

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writingjourney · 22 days

Text

Late Night Reading

Your Papa spends his evening reading about Roman cults – perhaps you can tempt him to offer you some of his attention instead.

pairing: Papa Emeritus IV x female!reader || rated: E

content: 3.6k words, (mostly soft) dom!copia, thigh riding, finger sucking, cockwarming, praise, p in v, riding, teasing, orgasm denial, unprotected, coming inside, suggestive use of a history book, 18+ only

Shoutout to @ghelullu for the historical expertise and to @foxybouquet for drawing reading glasses Copia for me that definitely helped inspire this fic!!

Masterlist – Ao3 link

The sheets feel soft against your skin as you stretch out on the bed like a lazy cat. You run your fingers over the fabric, a deep blue cotton that hugs your body as you roll from your belly onto your back. His side still carries his smell and the sigh that leaves you at this discovery is filled with a longing that has the sound vibrating in your throat.

Copia pays you no mind.

For an hour now he’s been sitting comfortably in an armchair, book in his lap and reading glasses perched on his strong nose. He is lost in the story, his eyes moving along the lines rapidly and with visible interest. The glass of red wine he’s been drinking tonight sits abandoned on a table by the side and the vinyl record hasn’t been flipped in quite some time; only the static noise of the record player fills the room.

You rise from the sheets and walk over to the music station on naked feet, slipping the record back into its sleeve to pick another. Copia has a vast collection and you take your time, glancing at him from the corner of your eye in hopes that your half-naked body, clad in just your sleeping shirt, will catch his attention. However, even as you place the needle on the record and soft 80s rock tunes fill the room his eyes stay on the pages of his book.

He looks handsome, you note. The glasses almost slip from his nose with how low he wears them, smudging the white paint where they sit tight by his nostrils. His hair is a bit messier now at the end of the day. A loose strand has fallen over his forehead and tickles his brow, the curve casting a small shadow on his skin under the light of his reading lamp. You fight the urge to brush it back and kiss the spot, lingering by the shelf to assess whether you can finally justify disturbing him.

Copia turns the page. You tiptoe over, hip pushing against the armrest by his side. He must notice you but he gives no indication of it as you trail your fingers over his shoulder, then down his arm. His black shirt stands open at the collar and you get a glimpse of his thick greying chest hair as well as the curve of his firm pectorals underneath the fabric. You want to kiss him there, too.

“Papa,” you try.

“Hm?”

He does not look up, even though the use of his title is enough information as to your intent. With your heart hammering you sink down and kneel beside him, resting your head on his thigh. The fabric of his pants feels rough against your soft cheek. Even so Copia continues to read, his eyes never straying from the page, ignoring your puppy-eyed face right next to the book. You can’t help but pout. Impatient fingers run down his calf, then up to his knee on the other side but your touch lures no reaction from him either.

You move to stand, let your fingers run down his forearm and grasp his wrist, lifting it out of the way so you can place yourself in his lap, once more the image of a needy cat vying for attention. Copia hardly reacts, only lifts the book out of the way while still fixated on the page. You shift until you’re sitting more comfortably, feeling his thighs flex underneath your weight until they press firmly against your ass. You feel his cock too, half-hard beneath the lacings of his pants.

“What are you reading?” you ask this time, nestling against him. Your head rests on his shoulder as you try to get a glimpse of his book.

“It is a book on the Mithraic Mysteries,” he explains, his voice steady and calm. “A very fascinating read. Not much of the Cult of Mithra survived, no written texts anyway.”

“Who is Mithra?” you inquire, only half-focussing on his words now that you finally feel him against you.

“An old Indo-European deity, worshipped by Roman soldiers. Some surviving depictions show him killing a bull, sacrificing the blood and seed to replenish the world and life itself.” His free hand moves to rest on your thigh, the black glove soft on your bare skin. “However, the cultists were persecuted by Christians and ultimately eliminated. Their places of worship, the mithraea, were destroyed.”

“That does sound interesting… and sad,” you conclude, taking in his scent with a deep inhale before you press a kiss to his neck. “Is it more interesting than me?”

“Oh, amore. Of course it is not.” His hand moves further up your leg until it rests on your ass, pushing your shirt up a little higher to squeeze the soft meat there. “Have I not given you enough attention, tonight, my baby?”

You shake your head, pressing your face against his neck as you hug him closer.

“Amore, if you want something you have to ask for it,” he says. “You know this.”

“I did not wish to disturb you. You were so engrossed in your read.”

“And yet here you are, no? Disturbing me.”

You break away to look at him, his face betraying nothing even though you swear you can see the hint of a teasing smile playing at his lips. Encouraged, you reach for his free hand and drag it into your lap, running your thumb over his wrist where his pulse starts to beat a little faster against your fingertip. You lift his hand to your lips, pressing kisses to the tender skin just where his glove ends.

Copia finally reacts, his fingers curling around your cheek and tilting your chin up. His eyebrows are pulled together, giving him a stern expression with the glasses still sitting so low on his nose. You giggle, the image of a teacher who glances at his students in irritation as they interrupt him popping into your head. Perhaps you will be rebuked now.

“Funny, hm?” he asks.

Before you can reply he pushes his index finger into your mouth, gently pressing down on your tongue until you obediently start to suck. The leather is smooth, making your mouth water, and you swirl your tongue around him languidly. Copia holds your gaze as he adds a second finger, his thumb resting on your chin where he wipes away the drool that dribbles from the corner of your mouth. After a moment of indulgence he withdraws them as well as his gaze and uses the wetted digits to turn the page without another word.

His attention is on the book again.

You release a sigh of discontent but he’s ignoring it just like he’s ignoring how you squirm in his lap. You can feel how wet you are between your thighs, your underwear soaked by now.

“Papa,” you whine. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“I need you.”

“You have me, demonietta, now that you wiggled your naughty little butt into my lap.” He glances at you from the corner of his eyes, no doubt taking in your desperate expression and unable to keep up his austerity for much longer. “Va bene. You have permission to use me as long as you do not disturb my reading. If you do, there will be consequences.”

“I won’t. I promise, Papa.”

He nods and his eyes land on the book again, his upper body angled in the direction of the lamp on his side table away from you. You reposition yourself until you can feel his thigh firm against your core, using his chest as leverage. Not a single one of his muscles moves to help you. Once you’re settled you have to readjust his free hand on your hip to make more room, smooth leather once more on your heated skin. As you slowly start to grind on his leg you feel his fingers tightening but he does not look, does not stir.

It feels incredible. The fabric of his jeans is rough against your inner thighs, the friction so needed that you can’t help but close your eyes and moan at the pressure against your clit. You repeat the same movement, slow drags of your hips to the rhythm of the music playing in the background. Hands planted firmly on his chest you feel his muscles against your palm and every time you push yourself back they flex underneath your fingertips.

You’re approaching your release fast after that – more confident movements, the perfect angle to ignite a fire deep inside your belly. The rolls of your hips become sloppy, your knee pushing forward into his crotch as you release a needy whimper, and then suddenly Copia’s fingers dig into your hips, effectively stopping you.

“Ah ah.” He tuts, his eyes snapping in your direction with a frown. “No, no, no, amore. Not like this. What did I fucking tell you, eh?”

A painful sob rips from your throat, your pussy throbbing desperately at the sudden lack of stimulation. “Papa?”

“Do you think I can read when you are dripping all over my leg? When you are moaning into my ear with the voice of a temptress?”

“I’m sorry, Papa. You just feel so good.”

His expression softens, his fingers unclenching. “Gentle now, hm? We are not in a hurry.”

You shake your head, your breathing still fast as you try to recover. “Will you help me, Papa?”

“Help? But you interrupted me,” he says with indignation. “What did I tell you happens when you interrupt me, amore?”

“There will be consequences.”

“Brava ragazza, listening so well to my words. If only you would heed them, hm?” He rubs his hand along your thigh, soothing, comforting. “Now unlace me, demonietta, so I can decide how to proceed with you.”

His cock strains against the fabric and you fiddle with the laces, your fingers still shaky from the almost-peak that he robbed you of. Once you finally loosen them, the pressure does the rest and you can free him easily even with your tremor. He’s achingly hard, dripping precome into your waiting hand. You want to lean down and taste him but you know he is in charge now and it thrills you to comply, to be good for him.

“Take off your underwear,” he orders. “Then you will keep me nice and warm for as long as it takes me to finish this chapter, hm? You want to please your Papa, do you not?”

“Always,” you say as you slip from his lap, driven by the anticipation of finally feeling him inside of you.

The fabric is drenched as you remove it from your core and throw it aside. Copia’s arms remain open, hips slotted forward to allow you some more room, and you hover above him for a moment. You take his cock into your hand and slide it back and forth between your folds, wetting his tip with your arousal. Copia moans lowly at the contact, the pages of the book fluttering as his body trembles underneath yours with suppressed desire.

“So wet and needy,” he chides. “You want your Papa so bad it makes you forget that he is a very busy man, amore. I only have so much time to do my reading.”

“Perhaps you should read to me in the future, Papa,” you suggest, slowly sinking down on him. The stretch knocks the air right out of your lungs, his girth a welcome intrusion after so much time you spent waiting. A groan slips from his throat once he is fully sheathed, betraying the way he is affected as well.

“Hm, no, dolcezza, if anything you should read to me,” he says through gritted teeth. “So your Papa can rest his weary eyes. I am not so young anymore.”

“You are in your best years, my Papa,” you correct and begin to rock your hips.

Copia’s hand shoots out to grab you, digging roughly into the softness with the strength it takes him to stop you. “Ah ah ah,” he chides with a shake of his head, the glasses now crooked on his nose. “You stay still while I finish this chapter or I will remove you, amore. You know the rules, eh?”

You whimper, clenching around him not just in frustration but in arousal at his tone. With one hand you adjust his reading glasses, the other one rests on the soft curve of his belly underneath his shirt, trying to keep still. Every breath is laborious, every second too long.

“Very good, amore,” Copia praises and then his eyes are back on his book.

His cock pulses inside of you or maybe you are pulsing around him, the need to move so overwhelming you can’t stop the occasional whimper from slipping out, nor can you control the way your hips buck ever so slightly on their own accord. You’re not sure how he can focus, if he focuses at all or tortures you for his own enjoyment. His eyes do move along the lines and you spend a good amount of time studying them, green and white, slightly enlarged by his glasses. No matter how well he plays his part as the stern Papa, the mischievous, loving glint in them never leaves.

You can’t fight the urge to fix his hair, finally combing the loose strand back and massaging his temple. Copia lets out an appreciative hum, pressing his head into your hand. You take the hint and move your fingers along his scalp, gentle pressure to remove the tension of a long day. His hair is soft as you trace the silver streaks that become more and more prominent the longer you two are together.

His hand leaves your hip then to flip the page. You can’t help but squirm, the movement sending a wave of pleasure through your body that makes you keen and clench around him. It’s too much, you are too aware of his cock buried so deep inside of you to keep still. All you want to do is lose yourself in him, to have his undivided attention.

Copia inhales sharply at your fidgeting, in irritation or arousal you cannot tell. His hand reaches for your jaw, tilting it so that your eyes meet his. Instead of anger you find compassion in his gaze, even though there is a hint of complacency as well. “My poor amore,” he says, his tone only partly mocking. “I am not quite done yet. But I think you will have to read the next page for me. My eyes are so tired.”

“But–”

“You are so good for me, dolcezza,” he interrupts, leaning in to nuzzle your nose. “If you do well now your Papa will reward you for your patience.”

Before you can close the gap for a kiss he leans back again and hands you the book, pointing to a line at the top of the page. You try to catch your bearings, especially when you feel his cock twitching inside of you as he shifts to remove his reading glasses. A whimper turns into a croak, your throat suddenly tight and dry.

“In the– the–” You struggle as he once again stirs underneath you, settling comfortably in the armchair with both hands on the armrests. He is enjoying your struggle, a barely concealed grin on his lips. You clear your throat, take a deep breath and relax your muscles. “In the ancient world, the term mysteries was used to refer to secret cults throughout the period from the seventh century BC to the fourth century AD.”

“Very good, amore,” Copia says, voice smooth and sensual. “The next line now, hm? You are doing so well.”

“A-all shared two basic features: the injunction to silence, intended to… intended to prohibit ritual details reaching the outside world, and the…” Suddenly his hips buck, both of his hands settling on your sides to keep you steady as he pushes up into you with one hard thrust. Your eyes flutter closed, the book slipping from your fingers as you hold onto his shoulders.

“Go on,” he orders. “Finish the line. I know you can do it, amore.”

You open your eyes, trying to find the page again and holding the book open with one hand. It takes you a moment to find the right line. You’re trembling and dizzy. “The-the injunction to silence, intended to prohibit ritual details reaching the outside world, and the promise of… the promise of salvation...”

“Mhm, salvation,” he agrees, another thrust that finally has the book falling shut between your bodies and sliding into the gap between his thighs and the armrest. “Everyone wants salvation, ragazza mia, everyone wants release. Do you?”

“Yes, please, Papa.”

Copia grabs the book and sets it aside, feet braced against the floor and hips canted in a way that allows you to fully straddle him. You rest your hands on his chest and stare down at where your bodies join, the sliver of skin and dark body hair between his shirt and waistband glistening wetly with your arousal. Impatient now, you rip at the buttons of his shirt to tear it open, trying to find purchase on his bare skin, anything to feel more of him. His warmth radiates into your palms and then his hands curl around your buttocks as he lifts you just enough to shallowly fuck up into you. You moan, falling forward from the impact until your fronts are squished together.

“Papa,” you whine.

“Hmmmm, sei perfetta, amore mio,” he whispers, lips parted in concentration as he keeps up his pace. “I am proud of you, eh? So patient, waiting all night for your busy old Papa.”

You lean in, stealing his breath as you desperately press your mouth to his. The armchair creaks just as your lips connect and the wet sounds of your hips meeting over and over fill the room, drowning out the soft music. You follow his rhythm instead, pushing down and taking him ever deeper, controlling the angle with which he burrows into you.

“Fuck, Papa,” you whine, the orgasm you lost now building back up fast and violently.

One of Copia’s hands slides up to the back of your head, keeping it down for more wet kisses that smear his face paint all over your chin. His tongue enters your mouth, licking against yours desperately as though he suddenly can’t get enough of your taste. You comply eagerly, carding your hands through his chest hair, leaving trails of red as your nails scrape over his skin. Copia groans at the sensation, a deep sound that vibrates within you and has you clenching around his cock.

“That’s it, amore, ahhh–” He picks up his pace, chasing his own pleasure now just as much as yours. “So fucking good.”

“I’m s-so close,” you whisper.

“Let go for me,” he encourages, bringing his hands between your bodies in search of your clit. “Show your Papa how f-fucking good he makes you feel.”

He finds your sensitive spot, grazing the swollen nub with his gloved finger, and you fall apart in an instant. Your muscles tense, voice high-pitched as you moan and whimper at your release. When your mouth slips from his Copia grabs your chin and forces it back up, urging you to hold his gaze as he continues to fuck up into your clenched cunt. You struggle to hold yourself upright, your whole body turning into jelly as pleasure makes way for exhaustion. With one hand on his throat you trace the line of his Adam’s apple, feel him swallowing hard as he finally follows you and comes inside of you with a groan. His eyes turn glassy, losing their focus, and you finally allow yourself to sink against him, feeling his slightly sweaty chest.

For a long moment neither of you speaks, trying to breathe the air back into your lungs.

“It was okay, amore?” Copia finally asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not too much teasing?”

“It was amazing,” you say, your body still numb and tingly from the exertions. “Maybe we can wait a few minutes, though, before we get cleaned up.”

Copia hums and wraps his arms around you, keeping you pressed closely together. He begins to caress your back, fingers then sliding up to your neck where he massages the tight muscles for a moment but stops when it gets too exhausting to maintain. You sigh into his neck, face hidden underneath the curve of his jaw where you snugly fit against him. After a moment of reprieve you lean back up and look at him – ruined face, his paint smeared into grey streaks that run down his neck and reveal his skin. You press a kiss to the small scar on his jaw, then to the dip where it transitions into his plump lips, the corner of his mouth next.

“I’m sorry I interrupted your reading,” you mumble, breathing more kisses to his exposed face to give him the gentleness he always craves after being intimate like that. It’s a ritual by now, comfort and affection that make up for all the teasing.

“Ah, I was just waiting for you to come over,” he admits, returning the favour by pressing his lips to your cheek. “The book is interesting… but not that interesting, eh?”

“I will worship you, my Papa,” you whisper with a smile. “I call it the Cult of Copia.”

He chuckles, tightening his arms around you again to pull you flush against him. “Watch out, amore, I think I could get used to that.”

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡ The quotes I used in here are from this book, sorry for the blasphemous use of an actual academic book haha.

Masterlist – my Ao3 – Join my tag list

#the band ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus iv x reader #copia x reader #papa emeritus iv fanfiction #copia fanfiction #copia smut #papa emeritus iv smut #reader insert #female reader

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just-null-cult · 7 months

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Fr bro I love your energy! Noritoshi is so pretty and so criminally underrated. Keep up the good work in making more of us lusting publicly for him. You've done amazing job! That boy well-deserved it :)

tysm!! I try to open the eyes of the public to his qualities. join my cult yall, Noritoshi is so good listen to me.

but on the topic of energy, whether you're high or low energy, Noritoshi loves it. the only difference is how he reacts to it.

Let's say you're low energy or prefer subtlety in your affection..

Noritoshi will initiate first! ..after a while... in his own way.... He needs to gather enough courage and collect his thoughts properly, then hes good to go! He prefers more subtle displays of affection too, but if needed he'll be blunt about it. He'll learn to adapt to slightly teasing remarks, going as far as to banter and tease back, moreover he's just very loving. So loving it can be embarrassing from time to time because of how intense the atmosphere can get.. the best way he can be described here is princely.

A small smile forms on Noritoshi's lips when he feels you're around. He turns to you, already memorizing each and every quirk you have so that he doesn't waste any time setting his sights on you again. His hands reach out to tug on your sleeve as he looks at you with a gaze so needy you can practically tell what he's about to ask. "May i hold your hand?" His voice comes so smooth that if you didn't know him, you would've missed the twinge of desperation it carried. You couldn't help yourself, you shook your head, a mischievous grin slowly creeping onto your lips at the sight of Noritoshi's pouted lip. Of course he'd do as you say even if it was clearly unfair, but not without some complaints. He clicks his tongue, a quiet mutter of "cheeky.." escapes under his breath. He knows you do this on purpose to mess with him, he was tempted to beg a little, but decided against it. it was an embarrassing thought to begin with. Seriously, how mean can someone be to make a guy think like this? ..Extremely, if the guy's pouting is cute enough! Noritoshi lifts his hand to his chin, thinking of the many ways he can try to get around this obstacle you cruelly placed in front of him. He leans in close, hovering next to you as he usually does when he thinks. He faces you as who knows what goes on in his head, his closed eyes not even giving you a hint as to what he could be thinking. "Ah, pardon me, I got lost in thought. I suppose i can keep my distance, so long as you keep looking at me with that charming gaze of yours." Ah, so he was just winding up for a pick up line. How lame, but.. get used to it. He's going to shadow behind you the entire day with more one liners like that unless you shut him up yourself. Wait.. was that his plan? The faint sly smirk tugging on the corner of Noritoshi's lips and the warm hue on the apple his of cheeks are all you need to figure out the rest.

If you're high energy or prefer more blunt methods of affection..

Noritoshi gets overwhelmed and flustered from such raw approaches from you that he comes off as a bit rude. It's only because you make his heart so full that he needs to shut you down or else he'll do something embarrassing!! He wants to impress you, of course he enjoys your advances very much, but it's not very slightly to see someone like him act like a crushing school girl!! or so he thinks.

Noritoshi yelps in surprise as you snake your hands around his waist from behind. He doesn't push you away or even move for that matter, he's frozen stiff. Is he still alive? Like any good lover would, you benevolently press your ear against his back to listen for a heart beat. ..You didn't hear anything until the sound of Noritoshi sharp inhale came through. That was unexpected, but it works. He squirmed a little, seemingly trying to shrug you off but quickly giving up, accepting the fact that you've got him trapped. "You imbecile, e-enough of this!" he scolded, though he made no actual effort to stop you. Noritoshi remains stiff for the most part, but looking at the back of his increasingly flushing neck reassures you that he is, indeed, alive. He's just being stubborn! Not turning or even a greeting, just rude name calling again! You raise one hand and place it over his heart to hold him tighter in your embrace. As expected, its practically pounding against his chest. He swats your hand away and finally turns back to you with those cute furrowed brows and rosy cheeks. "You're such a bully, you know that?" he huffs out, any semblance of sternness failing to take effect as his jutted bottom lip quivers. Mercifully, you finally let go and spare him by not pointing out the quiet whine he let out. He stumbles forward and turns around to face you fully, trying to keep an eye out for any more of your stunts while he catches his breath. He felt so dizzy from being in your arms, if he were held for a moment longer, he surely would've melted right then and there. Noritoshi's hands trembled as he smoothed out his clothes, his mouth opening and closing as any and all words died in his throat. He wanted to yell at you for being so forward, for giving him no chance to prepare, for letting go of him, for a lot of things..! Yet he just pouted as he tried to calm the flush on his face. His hands instantly whipped up in front of him when he noticed you took a step towards him. He can't handle another display of affection right now, he'll go weak at the knees! But how can you hold back when he's just so damn cute?

The most likely outcome is a mixture of both with a heavy leaning towards one. Either way, you're very right!! He's extremely pretty.

#noritoshi #kamo noritoshi #noritoshi kamo #noritoshi x reader #kamo noritoshi x reader #noritoshi kamo x reader #ezralva #cw: shotty writing from an amateur writer who is desperate for you to see his vision and why hes frothing at the mouth over a guy #could you feel the yandere undertones. i couldnt help myself. sue me #basically you give him enough time to gather his rizz if youre low energy but jumpscare the fuck out of him if youre high energy #and you know how he handles jumpscares according to this cult #heh #oh and you got me kicking my feet and shit bro #lusting publicly for him.... i couldnt word it better myself #thats the entire reason for having a cult and indoctrinating the public. ty my beloved cult member #BUT YEAH. LIKE I HAVE TOO MUCH ENERGY AND BRAIN POWER DEDICATED TO THIS MAN #I GOTTA INFECT OTHERS CAUSE HES SO. RIPS OFF MY FACE #TYSM FOR THE COMPLIMENT. I EAT THOSE UP MORE THAN ANYTHING. I LOVE YOU BRO #GOD HE *****DOES***** DESERVE ALL THE LOVE AND ATTENTION FUCK. HES SO!!!!!!!!! //PUNCHES MYSELF

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chococolte · 2 years

Note

What? I think I might be addicted to you writing?? Like, this is hands down the best yandere/sagau blog I’ve come across. I just feel so loved with the way you write the interactions between the reader and characters! And my god complex is very well fed right now! Finally some good fucking food :)

I’d like to entrust you with my comfort character, my baby boi, Venti. Would you please do sagau touching his wings in his archon form, like how you did draconic Zhongli? And if it isn’t too much, could you write something for sagau calling Venti “good boy” as well? Ty!

word count. 975

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, religious + cult themes, sagau + cult au. i do not condone yanderes irl.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. aaa thank you!!!! sorry this one took me so long, but here you go! i mixed your two requests together here, so i hope you don't mind (though he'll still get his own separate good boy post, eventually). i hope you like it!! ♥

Venti's wings spread the moment you touch the soft skin of his spine.

It's an impulse, purely instinctive. His body acts before his mind, and his wings are the most primal part of his form— they react to any outside stimuli within moments, and to you, especially; always you. Before Venti can bite his tongue and control himself, his wings fan out, his feathers ruffling.

Venti's wings are broad and a bold white, stark against the golden light of your throne room. Every individual feather is soft and delicate, sensitive to the lightest touch. From where he sits by your feet, he looks up at you with wet eyes and unshed tears of euphoria, fringed by dark black lashes.

He lets out a small, quick breath, almost a whine, when you run your fingers over his feathers. There's no cruelty in your touch, no callousness to your movements—you move elegantly, every gentle scrape of your nails against his back and rub of your hands leaves him shuddering, filled with the urge to mutter every prayer in your name.

You massage the small area connecting his wings to his back. Venti arches his spine, chest heaving with rhapsodies of pleasure. His fingers curl around your robes, pulling them tight enough his knuckles turn white. He hides his face in the warmth of your lap, taking in every breath with the intent to remember your scent.

"Your Grace," he mumbles into the silk of your fabrics, body jolting when you brush against the tender, velvety skin at the base of one of his feathers. Venti bites the inside of his cheek, holding back a loud, obnoxious whimper. As you take your fingers upward and gently lift one of his feathers, he has to stop himself from making any salacious sounds.

"A-Ah, please… more! Please—" Venti chokes on his words, sputtering as you rub his feathers in-between your fingers. His wings twitch, tensing with rapture. His heart swells and sings in his chest when he catches a glimpse of the smile on your face— he's pleasing you, even if he must make a fool out of himself to do so.

Venti is only mildly embarrassed, though the pure happiness of being so close to you outweighs any shame he may feel. When it comes to you, there's no limit to what he'd do; ask him to throw his life away, and he will do so without question. Ask him to show you the most vulnerable parts of himself, and he'll do it without any hesitation. Ask him to spread his wings and soul, whatever part of him you desire to see, and he will do it without thinking. Repercussions matter little when it comes to his god.

He's thought of this moment before— latching onto your thighs, begging to be toyed with, the warm comfort of your presence so close to him; having you play with his feathers and wings in your hands, showing you every dark, nasty urge he's kept hidden away. A paradisiacal reverie he's imagined so much that every moment is coordinated, practiced and perfect. He says this, you say that-- but nothing could compare to the sweet reality of your touch, the truth of basking in your light by the bottom of your throne, of your lovely benevolence— he could never go back to dreams, now.

You trace the bone of his wings, and Venti follows, tucking his wings inward so you don't have to reach to pet the tips. The mere thought of you having to reach for anything at all is revolting. The world is yours to command; the rest of them simply live within it. Whatever it is you wish of him, he will do it. If you wished to take his wings and pluck every feather, he would let you.

A sharp shiver breaks him out of his thoughts when you move back down, rubbing at the base of his wings. All too quickly, Venti's heart lurches to his throat, his ribcage moving with every breath.

He stifles a moan, chest convulsing with every intake of air as you continue to gently handle his feathers. You tug softly at one of them, and he presses himself further against you before he can think, mind muddied and clouded with mist. All he can think of is you, you, you. You're the only thing worth thinking about; the only thing worth caring about.

You laugh, and Venti mewls. Any composure befitting of one of The Seven is discarded, completely forgotten. His many titles and epithets, prayers that speak his praises and ballads of his history are meaningless, now— in comparison to you, none of it matters. You are everything, and he wishes for nothing more than for this moment to be frozen in time. Any moment spent with you is heaven. Your laughter is light and mellifluous, his ears and mind besotted by the mere sound. He could listen to you for an eternity.

"Good boy," you hum, and Venti's mind breaks. His shoulders shake, and his wings flutter, twitching and tensing all at once. "Just my good boy, right?"

"Just your good boy," Venti says fervently. He looks up at you, barely able to bring himself to meet your heated gaze, but somehow still manages without losing his mind. "Just yours."

He moves to say it again, but his words hitch in his throat when you suddenly move your hands upwards, forgoing his wings. Your fingers attach themselves to his hair, threading through his dark locks with gentleness he knows he has done nothing to deserve.

"Only mine," you say, a smile audible in your voice. A shudder runs through his body at your tone. Despite how loud his heartbeat is, he hears you clearly above all else. No matter what, he will always hear you.

"Only yours," he whispers back.

#[🦇] — my writing #genshin impact #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #sagau #self aware genshin #self aware genshin au #genshin cult au #venti #yandere venti #sagau venti #genshin self aware #genshin #yandere venti x reader #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #gender neutral reader

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noxturnalpascal · 3 months

Text

Devotion 🖤 II. Predator or Prey? (Ch 5)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

⚠️PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE SERIES WARNINGS, ESPECIALLY: possessiveness, manipulation, Joel gets mean, Joel gets verbally and physically abusive.⚠️

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE

II. Predator or Prey?

CH 5 (6.1k) Joel doesn’t see a single hair on your head for days, Tess is guarding you like a mother bear, refusing to let him even peer in your doorway. Still sick, she keeps muttering to him, leave her alone she says repeatedly. Who the fuck does she think she is to tell him what to do? This is his fucking house. And yet she keeps sending him out of it, keeping him the busiest he’s ever been in the community. He leaves at sunrise and comes back long after dark.

Then, finally, he walks into his house on Christmas Eve after having been out all day and you’re wrapped in a blanket, sleeping in the chair in front of the fireplace. He stands over you, watching you sleep until a noise from the kitchen wakes you, your startled eyes darting around and meeting his intense stare. Your eyes are wild once again looking up at him, a heady combination of fear and anger. He drinks it in.

You quickly dart your eyes back to your lap and that’s where they stay for the rest of the evening. Even when you’re sitting at the dinner table next to each other, and when he’s standing in front of you at the valley gathering to sing Christmas Carols in the large church around the town square. You won’t look up.

The next morning the household all gathers together to exchange Christmas gifts. Joel watches you open the gift he wrapped for you, after he told Tess that you would be his giftee and not the random name she had drawn for him. You pull the twine and old newspaper away from a tattered paperback copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, turning it over in your hands to inspect the ripped cover.

He waits with bated breath as you look it over and then, without even a glance in his direction, you set it down at your side. That used to be his favorite book, the one he would read to Sarah when she was very young and bored of her little children’s board books. He remembers how much she loved him doing low, rumbled voices for the Gorgons and would giggle when he described all the different creatures Arthur encountered in his travels through the galaxy.

But you don’t react, you don’t say anything, you don’t look at him. He feels his guts tightening, pulling inwards, igniting a low, burning flame of anger. He clenches his teeth and tries not to audibly growl as the day proceeds on and you ignore him as if he were invisible. As if you couldn’t feel him staring at you. As if he weren’t a hulking, burning man sitting within inches of you all day and night.

–

Two days later, the Thursday meeting is wrapping up and you’re moving as quickly as possible, to be able to walk with the rest of the group back to the house. The last farmer breaks off from you and Joel, and you can see the front porch in the near distance, quickening your steps to make it inside the house as rapidly as possible. You hear him close behind you, matching your pace and just before you reach the door handle he grabs your wrist.

He pulls you backwards into his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist and splaying his hand over your stomach, pressing his nose into the back of your head and inhaling your scent. He’s gripping you so hard you can barely struggle against him. When you gonna get over this, baby?, he growls in your ear. Baby. You’re not his baby. You tell him so as you try and wrestle your face away from his, the scraping of his stubble along your neck, the moist heat of his breath.

“Yes you are, you’re mine.”

He hates the way you thrash in his arms, the way you avoid his gaze day in and day out. He hates that you haven’t even thanked him for the Christmas gift, that you left it sitting still on the floor in the family room. He hates that you’re making such a big deal out of a stupid little blow job. What was he supposed to do? You were too sick to take care of him, so he found relief where he needed to. It’s nothing new, this is how it's always been. He deserves to be taken care of.

He lets go of you and you bolt upstairs into your room. He hears the lock click behind you.

He was so close. So fucking close. He almost had you, how did you slip through his fingers? He knows how. He made a mistake. His mistake was letting you think that you had some kind of exclusivity to him, some kind of claim on him. How could you think that after all this time? You’ve been here long enough, you should know better. You should know how this place works by now. What makes you think you get to tell him what he can and can’t do, that you get to decide what goes on in his house? This was your fault. You were wild once, you were free. But you gave in like all the rest of them, you gave up, you let him tame you. Why did you do that? Why were you so easy for him to break?

–

You’re being so fucking sensitive, acting like a kicked puppy. It’s New Year’s Eve and he’s had to stare at his Christmas gift on the floor for a week now. He can’t even walk through that room without getting pissed off. The way you’re acting like a spoiled fucking brat, flinching when he goes to touch you and sitting in silence at every meal. Yesterday at the interfaith service, he filed in with the rest of the household and watched you try and sit in the third row instead of your usual place with the other women in the second row, directly behind him. How fucking childish you are. He gets up out of his seat when he notices and grabs you by the hair, ignoring your pathetic little cries, Tess’ pleading with him to stop, and the startled gasps of those around him. He drags you to the second pew and throws you down next to Tess, where you belong. All of this nonsense because you won’t forgive him. No – not forgive – he doesn’t need fucking forgiveness. You’re just playing the victim, like you always do. God, he should have seen the writing on the wall. He should have known that you were never gonna be satisfied with what he gave you, even when he gave you so much. You only ever wanted more, all you did was take. There you are again, creeping around the edges of the room, trying to hide yourself from him. As if he can’t fucking see you, as if he can’t fucking feel your presence in the room. He’d tried to follow you when you darted off immediately after arriving tonight but Tess redirected him to the old theater that was used as a dance hall. He had people to talk to, she’d said, as if he gave a shit about what any of them had to talk about. He has his own fucking problems right now, he shouldn’t have to listen to Peter blabbering about whatever stupid issues he was having with his furnace. Or was it his roof? Who fucking knows, Joel isn’t even listening to him. He sees you dart into a shadow and he excuses himself to Peter as he’s already walking away. You need to grow the fuck up and stop playing these stupid, childish games.

Is Joel doin’ okay?

People keep asking Tess. They’re too reverent of him to be specific in their questioning, they won’t say that he seems off or cranky or downright distracted. But they can see it as well as she can. He’s grasping at you as you dodge him in the hallways at home and now he’s started doing it in public. She watches him grab your arm and push you against the wall at the New Year’s Eve party and she crosses the room as swiftly as she can without drawing unwanted attention.

She hears him snarling I’m the only one who fuckin’ knows you as she pulls him off you, leaving you to scuttle away and find another dark corner to hide in. Joel pushes against Tess’ grip on him, knocking her backwards so she almost stumbles over a row of chairs. Before she can fully lose her balance he’s grabbing her arm, hard, pulling her back upright and then snapping at her.

“Why are you so fuckin’ clumsy?”

Several people nearby whisper to each other but Tess smiles and attempts to laugh off the incident as a joke. She sees he’s starting to lose it, that the cracks are starting to show. His foul mood is permeating the very air around him, threatening to rot everything they’ve worked so hard to build. She feels like she has to do something, she just doesn’t know what.

–

The following Thursday you just barely beat him up the steps inside the house and by the time he’s rattling the door handle of your room you’ve locked yourself securely inside. He’s scaring you. You were hurt by him. So hurt. And you were mad. So fucking mad. But now? Now you’re mostly just scared. You don’t think he would touch you without your permission but he’s been getting physical with you, powerful and rough, growling nasty shit in your ear and subtly suggesting your permission is inevitable.

Two days later you return to the house with Sasha after your baths and scamper up to your room only to find the door gone, removed from its hinges completely. No more locked doors in this house without my permission, Joel announces as he stands – smiling – at the bottom of the stairs, inescapable. You try to brush past him on the way down but he pulls you close, shoving his face into your neck and biting firmly at your jaw. Your hands fumble on his shirt, clawing to push him away, telling him to get away from you.

With a huff he pushes you backwards, your back colliding with the stairway wall and rattling the framed artwork hanging there. He loosely wraps a hand around the column of your throat and holds you there.

“Get away,” he mumbles. “S’my fuckin’ house and you want me to get away?”

He stands there a moment longer and squeezes your throat with just enough force to demonstrate that he could do more if he wanted, but instead he turns to walk away. Just then the front door opens and you see Tess returning with an armful of scavenged items. Seeing an opportunity to escape out the door you tense your body to run, but you hesitate. You make the mistake of looking over at Joel before you go and he’s looking right at you. You bolt forward but before you even clear the threshold of the door his fist is in your collar, yanking you backwards onto the floor.

“You can’t fuckin run from me, girl,” he points his finger in your face where you lie. “You can’t fuckin’ escape.” He grabs the front of your shirt to lift half your body off the floor, closing the distance between his face and yours. “I’m already in there…” he taps his finger in the middle of your forehead. “You’ll never be rid of me.”

The sting of his words hurts worse than the callous way he lets your body drop back to the floor. You hate to admit he’s right. He’s already in your head, you think about him constantly even still, even after what he did. You feel him deep inside of you, digging his claws in, settling in for permanent residency. You know you’ll never be the same, that you’ll never be without him again. You’re possessed by him.

That night after dinner Joel makes an announcement. No one is allowed to leave the house without his permission and no one goes anywhere alone. Tess audibly scoffs at his announcement before she’s cowed by his sharp glare in her direction. You remain silent beside him. He saw the way you looked at that open door, he knew you were going to flee. He won’t lose you. He can’t.

You belong to him.

–

On Monday, Tess assigns you to hunt and gather with Sasha, which should keep you out of the house all day. You’re not sure how much of the crazy look in his eyes Tess actually sees, but he’s becoming more cruel and unpredictable. You know he’s just acting out because you’re not giving him what he wants, which he’s clearly used to getting. You don’t think he’d really hurt you, you don’t think the other women would allow him to hurt you, but you’re becoming more doubtful with each outburst that he has.

You’re so happy to be out of the house and away from his constant scowl and ever-watchful eye and Sasha doesn’t put up a fight when you offer to separate from her. You point out that you can cover more ground apart but that’s not the real reason you want to split up.

You like Sasha, she has a no-bullshit attitude and talks to you like she’s known you forever, making her really easy to be around. You’re able to easily ignore the fact that she’s most definitely slept with Joel because she’s smart, resourceful, and strong – things you don’t consider yourself – and she makes you feel safe when you’re with her. Sometimes you think that maybe you spent too much time with your head in the clouds fantasizing about Joel when you should have been learning from Sasha instead. You’ve learned more survival techniques in the last month than you have in the last decade, and that’s all because of her. She’s been a great teacher and she doesn’t make you feel stupid or useless – although you make yourself feel that way sometimes. Part of you wants to tag along with her but you think she might be easier to convince to let you come with her again if you stay out of her way today.

It’s cold but not snowing and you’ve bundled up with the winter gear Tess gave you from their last raid. You explore the edges of town, places you’ve never been before. You pass by some abandoned buildings but know they’ve all been picked over. You’ve rarely been out this far from the house before, and never alone. Joel and Tess would let you go fishing and set traps with Sasha but always preferred that you keep closer to home, Joel especially seemed to want you to stay in the yard if you weren’t with him.

It’s kind of exciting to explore the borders of the small mountain town on your own, fulfilling a sense of adventure while being almost perfectly safe, as all the buildings have already been cleared and are routinely patrolled. But you feel a bit of freedom out here, freedom that Joel has been taking from you bit by bit. You feel lighter, unencumbered by the weight of Joel’s expectations and his hands constantly pawing at you. At the house you feel like a bird in a cage, and walking through the snow-capped buildings today reminds you of what independence feels like.

There’s a loosely constructed barricade along the valley-facing edge of town made from broken down cars wedged together, building materials from deconstructed buildings, and logs from felled trees. Along the mountain-slope side of the town, there’s less of a structure – the rocky woods being protective enough on its own. There’s still some repurposed fencing that runs along sections of the hill, with paths walked by the patrols snaking in and out. It’s along one of these sections of fence that you find a large overgrown thicket of sumac bushes.

Conical clusters of deep, red berries still hang heavy on the branches, bowing them down to the snow-dappled earth. You remember your dad giving you lessons on the Sumac bushes that grew on the bike path near your house growing up. The fuzzy red berries are edible, but sumac with smooth, white berries are poisonous. You know these berries are okay to eat but you’re not sure how good they’ll taste, since they most likely ripened months ago.

You break off some of the better-looking bunches, putting them into the satchel slung over your shoulder. Your stomach rumbles, reminding you how you barely ate breakfast this morning. Out of the corner of your eye you watched Joel scowling at you until you lost your appetite and asked to be dismissed from the table. The berries aren’t as plump and juicy as they once were but they are tart and filling – once you’ve eaten enough of them.

You head into the center of the thick brush, shielded from the biting wind amongst the dense leaves. You find a comfortable spot to rest and pick at the bush, mindlessly eating the small, scarlet berries. You start to feel alone, to feel lonely. You think about your search for Bianca on New Year’s Eve. You’d looked in every building around the main square, but just like Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve, you didn’t see her. The dance hall was your last place to look for her and all you’d found was Joel - the one person you were working your hardest to avoid.

You were reeling from what happened, from witnessing what still makes you sick. Even now you feel a knot in your stomach, biting back tears whenever you’re left with your thoughts too long. What’s worse is that the pain and suppressed jealousy is renewed every time you see Kerri. You weren’t sure what kind of comfort Biance would even offer you but maybe if you asked her about Joel, you could see the truth in her eyes. Did she know? Had she fucked him? What were you supposed to do?

How can you move on from what feels like nothing short of a betrayal?

Maybe you’re being over-dramatic, maybe you should get over it. That’s what Joel keeps telling you - just move past this – muttering it into the wood from the other side of your closed bedroom door. But it twists like a knife stuck into your insides and squeezes your heart tight like it’s going to stop beating. You’ve given him nothing but trust, and he’s lied to you — just like the rest of them. He’s just like the rest of them. The tears that run down your cheeks chill you, so you bury your face in your knees, waiting out the time you wanted alone. Is this what you wanted?

When you meet back up with Sasha to head home you proudly show her your harvest. She looks them over and tells you that they’re a bit dried out but would most likely still be tasty and has several ideas of what to use them for. She says you did a good job but you wonder if she’s just being nice, seeing as how she has two rabbits slung over her shoulder and a satchel full of rattling black walnuts as well as heaping boughs of conifer needles she says are for medicinal uses. She asks how many of them you ate and you find yourselves laughing together when she points out how stained red your fingertips and tongue are.

Sitting around the dinner table that night however, there’s no laughter. Everyone eats in near silence, only interrupted by Tess’ low voice quietly asking Sasha if the afternoon was prosperous. You’re pushing food around your plate, waiting for Joel to dismiss you from the table when he grabs your left hand roughly. Your fork clatters to the plate, piercing the quiet of the meal.

“What’s all this? Blood?” he nods towards your red-stained fingers, looking at Sasha down the table, expecting an answer from her instead.

“N– no! T– the red is from berries sh– we picked today,” she stumbles.

“Berries?” he scoffs. He makes a show of looking around the table, sweeping his free hand over the surface. “Where are they?” He finally looks at you but you don’t lift your head to meet his eyes. “You didn’t bring any to share?” He squeezes your fingers together painfully. “Ate them all yourself?” he rumbles.

“They’re downstairs,” Sasha interrupts, earning a sharp look in her direction. He doesn’t say anything but the why is obvious on his face. She continues, “They’re kinda dried out so I thought they’d be better fully dried and then we can use them–”

He raises his free hand up to silence her, still squeezing your fingers tight in his other hand’s grip.

“You don’t like the food we feed you here?” he gestures to your half-full plate of cold food. Your eyes remain cast down. ��Hmm?” he squeezes tighter until you wince.

“Joel,” Tess starts.

“Shut up,” he barks, not looking at her.

“Maybe you’re full from all the dried up fuckin’ berries you ate today.”

He throws your hand down on the table and stands up next to you. He grabs your plate and lifts it over your head before throwing it forcefully against the wall behind you. The plate shatters, the food splattering against the wall and sliding down to the floor. Joel’s face is back at your ear instantly. His hot breath wafts across your face as he snarls at you.

“If that fat little belly is so full of berries you can’t even eat your dinner, why don’t you head up to bed?”

You hesitate, afraid to move.

“Now!” he screams, and slams his fist down on the table, causing plates and silverware to rattle loudly, making everyone at the table to jump.

You get up and run up the stairs to your bedroom. You lie facing away from the open doorway, this position serving as your only form of privacy. Hours later when everyone else heads to bed you hear his lingering footsteps in the hallway and hear him announce that no one is allowed to eat food outside of the house without his permission. He’s talking to everyone but you can tell he’s facing you when he says it. He lingers there for a while before you hear him retreat to his room, slamming the door loudly behind him.

–

You wake up early in a panicked sweat and think you’ll beat him to breakfast but find him already at the table silently watching, waiting. You have to get away from him today, you’re jumping at every little thing, the scrape of his knife across the plate and the movements of his feet under the table. You spend breakfast being watched again, picking at the eggs on your plate. He stares you down for a while and then huffs loudly, muttering under his breath.

“You better eat your fuckin’ breakfast or I’ll fuckin’ feed it to you myself.”

You beg Tess to let you go out foraging again, thinking Sasha will be okay with splitting up again. Tess allows it and Sasha reluctantly concedes that you can split up, strongly advising you to find somewhere quiet to lie low. She passes you some jerky, shelled walnuts, and drinking water from her pack before quickly plaiting her long, light hair. She tells you she’s going to head towards the old ski resort, but says that you have to stay close to town and out of sight. Her blue eyes are piercing as she makes you promise to meet up at the entrance of the old cemetery just before sunset so you can head back to the house together.

This plan goes off without a hitch and Sasha returns with enough foraged and scavenged items that it’s completely believable that you were both working to collect them, even though you spent the entire day wandering around the old lumber mill. There’s nothing to do there but it’s been cleared of infected so you know it’s safe. It’s also surrounded by woods and separated by a creek from the old inns and apartment buildings filled with Valley residents, so you know no one will see you there.

You repeat the pattern for the next several days and on the third morning you swipe a blanket from the couch and a book from Joel’s office after he leaves. You’ve spent the days stacking scraps of wood into makeshift furniture as if the mill was your own little rough-loft apartment, and are going to spend today reading about Dr. Alan Grant and Dr. Ellie Sattler’s terrible visit to Jurassic Park. You’ve gotten comfortable here, letting yourself relax in a way that you can’t at home.

Joel is watching you morning, noon, and night, and you don’t even have a bedroom door to stop his prying eyes. You should feel exposed here in this wide-open room, left alone all day, but you feel the opposite. At home you hear his grumbling voice, even when you can’t make out the words, you still hear it like a constant buzz in the background. But at the mill in the woods you only hear the soft sounds of the nearby creek and the gentle pat pat pat of the dripping snow being melted off the roof by the mid-day sun. You feel protected here in your clandestine daytime accommodation, you feel unshackled. The idea that you could transform a run-down abandoned thing into a comfortable and beautiful space fills you with a sense of beauty. You snuggle into your blanket and dive into the book. Eventually you close your eyes, letting your mind replay the scenes from the movie that you so distinctly remember from your childhood – the vibrations of the T-Rex’s steps, spattering rain on large, tropical leaves, the screeching of the raptors.

You wake up to complete darkness and a freezing rain misting against the half-broken windows. Shit. You’ve completely lost all track of time and have fallen asleep on your wooden cot, bundled snugly in a blanket with your book laid over your face. You’ve missed your late afternoon bath, you’ve missed your meet up with Sasha, you’ve maybe even missed your weekly meeting with Joel. You sit up in a panic as you recognize Sasha’s voice calling out for you. Shit! Then you hear a second voice, higher-pitched, calling your name out, followed by a deep rumble, almost barking your name. Fuck. You’re so fucked, the whole house is looking for you. He’s looking for you.

It’s Thursday and you should’ve been home hours ago, the sun having long since set. You should both be at your meeting right now but Joel’s heart nearly seized up when Sasha came home, late herself, without you in tow. She explained you’d gotten separated on the way back from the abandoned resort and she hadn’t been able to locate you. He sent Tess to the meeting in his place and threw on two pairs of socks and his warmest coat, envisioning having to hike a while to find where you might be hiding from him.

Sasha tells him that she last saw you by the old cemetery, so that’s where they start, Rosie throwing on a raincoat and volunteering to join in the search. The three of them quickly cover the cemetery and then work their way across some old cornfields, moving towards the community center. About forty minutes into the search he's beginning to think about doubling back when his flashlight hits a moving figure trotting across the softball fields. There you are.

“Sorry,” you shout, your voice breaking, waving your arms over your head and making your way towards them in the dark.

He waits until you get closer to unleash his rage. Once you’re within his reach he grabs the scarf tail hanging out the front of your jacket and yanks you against him. You sputter with the force and reach to your neck to loosen your scarf but he blocks your hands, grabbing the front of your jacket with both fists and lifting your feet off the ground.

His face is so close to yours you can feel the moist heat wafting over your face, and spit from his angry muttering hitting your lips. Where the fuck have you been? Weren’t you fuckin’ listenin’ to me when I said you couldn’t go out alone? What are you thinkin’? You begin to cry, a strangled wail slipping out of your mouth. You’re not fuckin’ thinkin’, are you baby? There’s not a thought in that stupid little fuckin’ head. Your body is heaving with sobs now, tears streaming down your face. He lowers you back to the ground but holds you still.

The walk back to the house is silent except for your weeping, Joel clutching you tight to him as the other women trail behind. When you get inside you’re sniffling and shivering and Joel takes you upstairs to the bathroom. Kerri, who has been boiling water for a hot bath pending your arrival, gets the other women to help her bring several buckets of hot water to fill the tub, while Joel runs cold water from the tap to make it a more comfortable temperature.

Everyone leaves you and Joel alone in the bathroom and he robotically begins to peel your cold, damp clothes off your trembling body and pile them on the floor. You’re going to be completely naked in front of him. The only other time that happened, the situation was very different. You sniffle, looking towards him, trying to read his expression but his face is stone, impassive and stiff. You stifle a sob.

You let him strip you down to your underwear before you let out a whimper, too scared to say anything or bat his hands away. Shush, he mutters, turning you away from him by the shoulders. You face the steaming water, tears still silently dripping down your face. You’re almost naked now and cold, so cold, his hands feel burning against your skin. He undoes your bra at your back and lets you pull it down your arms as he unceremoniously tugs your underwear down your legs. This is it. You’re exposed.

You jolt as he grabs your upper arm roughly and guides you to step into the tub, letting go as you sink down into the hot water. You hiss as it feels scalding against your cold, clammy skin and when you sit and turn back to face him you find the room empty. He’s gone, left the door wide open, left you by yourself. You sit in the tub in the big, cold, empty room and begin to cry again, quieter this time. You think you really fucked up. Joel’s furious with you and Sasha and Tess are probably mad too.

You silently sob, shaking with fear at what he might do to you, how he might retaliate. A knot in your stomach forms at the idea that he’d put his hands on you, that he would touch your body for pleasure when the thought of him only causes you pain. But then a sickening thought forms in the back of your mind that you’re such a pain in his ass that he probably doesn’t even want you anymore. You’re just a burden to him at this point, a helpless little baby he has to look after. Can’t be trusted to do anything useful around this house, can’t even be trusted to spend an afternoon alone without turning up wet and freezing cold.

–

You’ve been hugging your knees and letting your sorry self bawl into the bathwater until it turned tepid. Joel hasn’t returned and you haven’t heard his footsteps out in the hallway. You stand up and drain the tub, beginning to shiver once again as the cold air hits you. Without a towel to grab you tiptoe – still dripping wet – the few feet to your bedroom. Once inside you grab a blanket off your bed and wrap it around yourself, wicking away the water droplets on your skin and warming you back up. You climb into bed wrapped up like that, curling on your side with another blanket on the bed overtop you.

You’re startled out of your almost-sleep by the weight of a body sitting on the bed at your back. Fear strikes like a knife through your heart, knowing it’s him.

“Come ‘ere…” you barely hear his throaty growl.

You dare to hesitate and he springs into action, throwing the covers off you and dragging your naked body out of your blanket cocoon, throwing you – legs still flailing – over his knees. You open your mouth to cry out but a warm hand clamps over it firmly, silencing any protest you could make. Unbidden tears spill out of your eyes, running down over his fingers and falling to the floor below.

“You disobey me and you get punished,” he says matter-of-factly.

He begins with swats to the back of your thighs, your yelps completely muted by the heavy hand wrapped around your jaw. He doesn’t give you time between strikes to recover, nor does he pause to soothe your skin or offer you any comfort. You want to squirm away from the sting but you’re too scared of what he’ll do if you try to fight him.

He delivers smacks to one cheek just long enough for it to almost go numb, before switching to the other. His blows land over and over, sharp and hot, unrelenting. You continue to cry, soaking his hand at your face, fighting to remain as still as possible despite every instinct in your body screaming to do the opposite. You’re not counting but it must be at least two dozen strikes before he finally stops.

You lie still and stinging, his denim-clad thighs rough and still rain-damp against your ribs. He remains above you, hands pulled back to his side, panting but mute. Eventually he shifts you off his lap and gently tucks you back into bed, his tender touches belying the harsh discipline he just doled out. He moves to the doorway and stops, his back to you, his head lowered. His voice rumbles deeply but clearly, to be sure you can hear him.

“I don’t know what you were tryin’ to do, but I swear to god, if you ever defy me again I will make you fuckin’ regret it.”

—

Tess returns from the meeting hours later, walking in the house to what looks like the middle of an argument. Joel has Sasha up against the wall in the front hallway, one hand splayed out on her chest pushing her back flush and the other hand pointing a finger in her face. Tess can’t make out what’s being said but Joel clearly doesn’t let her entrance interrupt him.

Then – to her surprise – she watches as Sasha slaps Joel across the face. Joel takes several steps back, looking quite surprised. She sees his face go dark and pulls his own hand back, bringing it forward to reciprocate, knocking Sasha several feet over from where she was standing. But Sasha is ready for it, she takes the hit, absorbs it, and catches herself before she falls too far. She almost immediately rights herself, standing back in front of Joel, chin up, looking defiant. She raises her hand to slap him again and he stops it mid-air, grabbing her wrist firmly but not roughly.

“Alright, enough,” he rumbles.

He releases her wrist and they nod to each other, apparently at an understanding. Sasha goes upstairs as Joel walks towards the door where Tess still stands. He’s moving slowly, like he’s weighted down, but his breathing is rapid, his eyes wide, and his forehead dappled with sweat.

“Is PJ–” she starts.

“She doesn’t go out with Sasha anymore,” he interrupts. “In fact, she doesn’t go out at all. She stays here at the house. I don’t care what she does, but she does not leave.” He turns from her to walk away.

“Is PJ alright?” Tess finishes her sentence to his retreating figure.

“She will be,” he calls back, stalking towards his office.

Tess fully recognizes that the situation is becoming untenable. Joel has been growing more and more unstable, becoming increasingly physically violent with you, snapping at everyone in the house constantly, lashing out at her during their daily meetings and even worse is when he snarls his bullshit out in public, in front of Valley members. She understands that he’s not in a good headspace to talk about his feelings, but his affection for you has rapidly twisted into something much darker, something much more sinister.

You are such a distraction to him and people are definitely noticing, someone new asks her nearly every day about him. She can’t keep covering for his volatile behavior. She has to find a way to intervene.

🖤

Thank you endlessly to @papipascalispunk for helping me with this series and listening to me rant (AND RANTING WITH ME) about Cult Leader Joel (CJ). 🫂I appreciate everything you do.

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin @heimtathurss @untamedheart81 @pixielou5 @feel1n-h1gh

#devotion series #cult leader joel miller #noxturnalpascal #ofc!reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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messylustt · 10 months

Text

travelling companion — leon kennedy. longer name. being stuck in chains with leon. for a visual aid at marker 1:50.

your head is slightly lolling from the injection, eyes blurring into consciousness as you spot a blonde haired man opposite you. with brows furrowed, and lips parted you take in his dirty leather jacket, and matching cuffed wrists. you look up at your own, the situation finally sinking in.

“haven’t seen you around.” the man speaks, his voice a fraction hoarse and low, redirecting your gaze, as your throat feels dry all of sudden. his eyes are scanning you, as if he’s trailed your body before. he must have woken up before you. your legs feel weak, but you straighten your back, the metal chains clinking together.

“i’m not exactly a resident on this island.” you reply, shifting your gaze to his lingering cuts, and then down his body, taking note of his well equipped clothes. “and you don’t seem to be either.”

“what gave it away? the fact that i’m not trying to get you to join a cult or by the way that my hands are chained?” his gaze is lazy, but focused, his muscles tensed and clearly ready for anything and more. “i was gonna say your clothes, but yeah, that too, i guess.” you reply, the smallest of relieved smiles edging your lips. so this one wasn’t crazy. a rarity on this island.

the man’s stance and gaze has stayed wary, almost expecting you to reach over and stab him. his mistrust in you is valid, and something you seem to possess too. “though now isn’t probably the best time to make conversation, but what brings you here of all places?” he asks, experimentally tugging on the chains. you get pulled forward slightly, your arms raising higher. you seem to both realise as you look up at the ceiling, to see how your restraints are connected, one chain looped around a rolling hook.

“no harm in making conversation.” you mutter, you now tugging on the restraints, seeing sprinkles of dust fall off the ceiling. “i wouldn’t exactly call this a charming getaway spot.” he mutters, wrapping his hand around the chain fluidly, both your gazes still eyeing the rolling hook.

you slightly chuckle at that, despite the raw rubbing on your wrists. “then why are you here?” you reply, finally shifting your gaze back to him. he copies, meeting your eyes. “is it petty to say ‘i asked first’?”

“a little.” you reply, licking at your dry lips. “but i think considering our circumstance, ‘petty’ should get a free pass.” you slightly smile, though weak, still a smile. “i’m here…looking for someone.” the blonde man almost nods in understanding. “i think that’s the only reason someone would come here.” he replies, just as you both hear the scratching sound of shoes on rock. both whipping your heads to the door, an anticipating silence fills the rather dank underground room.

you stance grows instantly ready, facing the door as much as you can as it slowly creaks open. a follower. that’s who walks through the door, hood up and veined, grey skin partially on show, making your teeth clench together. “hey.” the blonde man speaks harshly, eyes trained. “where the hell did you put my stuff?”

“this child will be blessed soon.” the infected mutters more so to himself, before repeating it a few times, almost in a prayer. then before you can react he’s grabbed you, disgusting hand by your neck. but then you’re getting tugged forward, arms raising above your head as you come into a few inches of the blonde haired man.

your breath gets caught in your throat, your gaze looking down to the fellow unifected’s hands, wound tight around the chain. he had pulled you. away from the follower, and towards him. you can feel his heavy breath against your skin, as his eyes stay locked on the infected being, shooting daggers, that you were wish were real. “thanks.” you mutter quickly, as you feel the being approaching you. your leg kicks out behind you, landing in his guts, as he’s forced to stumble back.

“if we get this chain off that hook we can use it.” your now…ally you could say quickly speaks, as he loosens the grip on the metal, letting your arms drop. use it. as a weapon. at this point it was your best chance. you both grip the chains, yanking hard as the sound of clinking and grinding fill the room. you can spot the follower standing, an arm forming into something oozing and fleshy as it shoots out towards you, your feet stumbling back. the rolling hook is loosening, one more harsh tug and you end up free. well, as free as you can be, considering your still bound wrists.

the blonde haired man swiftly and rather accurately wraps the chain around the approaching being’s neck. you quickly follow, aiding him by pulling tight against your end of the chain. in what feels like a mix of agonising long moments and quick breathless ones, the man’s knee bends down against the chain, the metal successfully snapping the followers neck. you’re both breathing hard, adrenaline coursing through you both. “shit.” you mutter, now feeling the heavy weight of the chains. you watch as the blonde haired man grabs at the follower, finally pulling out a key. “who are you looking for?” you ask.

his precision showed skill. which meant training. training most likely meant an agent of some sort. he looks up, undoing his wrists binds, before standing, hands free and walking over to you. “a girl.” he says, grabbing the end of the chain and tugging you forward. you make sure not to stumble into his chest as you dig your shoes into the dirt. “a girl…you were assigned to?” you inquire. his hold is still on the chains as he meets your gaze.

he pulls you a fraction closer. “who are you?” now his mistrust is coming to play. his hesitance in unlocking your chains clear. “y/n.” you reply, staring back. you can see a question of ‘who do you work for’ in his eyes. “just…y/n.” he let’s his tongue graze the roof of his mouth as he keeps his gaze on you, his hands slightly moving to now grasp your wrists.

“can i get your name?” your voice holds a steadiness that is making the key in his hand draw closer to letting you free. he grabs your chin suddenly, making you tense as he tilts your head to the side, brushing your hair away he looks at your ears, before doing the same to the other. ear pieces. he was looking for a form of communication. “leon.” he finally says, seeing none, and clicking the key in place, allowing the chains to drop to the floor.

“and you wouldn’t just…be leon, right?” you ask, rubbing at your red wrists. he pauses, gazing towards the door, as he spots his bags and items through the walls crack, before glancing back to you. “you travelling alone?” he asks. “is that an offer, agent?” you reply. you can spot the smallest, the smallest, of smiles edging his lips, his expression bordering amusement. “if you’re that observant, then you might come in handy at some point…’just y/n’.”

“that’s a bit petty.” you reply, your sarcasm clear. his answer has his own mouth twitching up. “which means i get a free pass.”

#. ( pretty agent mark )#like i was giggling in the cutscene #leon kennedy #leon #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #leon scott kennedy #re4 #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil #leon x reader #leon x y/n #leon x you #the leon effect

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ssaalexblake · 4 months

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I also don't think it gets said enough that a bunch of people reacted with a visceral kneejerk reaction against 13 and co, or just with total apathy, actively because they were presented with a woman in her mid to late 30's in an outfit that wouldn't be out of place at a pride parade (or maybe in the toddler clothes section) that was in no way sexy (unless you're gay), a south east asian muslim woman, also dressed in outfits that do not show skin, a black man, and an older white guy that people aren't gonna be fantasising about because he's slightly Too old for that one even if fandoms Think they like the old guys. They don't. They mean 30 year olds and Walsh is twice that.

There are So many fandoms out there that have an absurd cult level following where, if you look, the Show/movie itself doesn't have that fandom, the young white men in the cast do and people ignore literally everything else even when other characters are there.

Like, as with all things, there will be people who just don't like it. But these sort of patterns repeat and repeat and repeat in different fandoms, and you get the odd exception to the rule, but they're still exceptions.

13's era does not Have a white man of the right demographic that wasn't just a one episode guest star. Like, at all. The recurring men are Dhawan, that guy who played that obnoxious american who was too old, and Anderson playing Vinder. And Karvanista if we want to be accurate. But he played a dog.

That is Absolutely a thing that effects fan reactions. I don't like it, but it is.

#dw shit #i do not think the weight of the furr/y community. though lofty and impressive. could carry the fandom on their backs lol #and jodie isn't like. movie star sexy. She's hot but not in That way you know?

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sweet-as-an-angel · 4 months

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Hello there! I've been a fan of your work for a while now and let me just say, your original works and characters have me absolutely captivated! (Your yandere outlaw is one of my top favorite fictional characters! And your yandere cult leader is rapidly rising in the ranks 👀) You put so much detail into all your writing and you really delve deep into the psychology and personality of every one of them so beautifully, not to mention how diverse they all are from one another. Each and every one has such dimension and they're so believable in their actions and reactions! (And can I just say I think it's very clever that your yandere!Milf/Dilf's names start with the acronym's initial)

And your MCs are also quite vibrant and while they remain easily relatable they still have distinct traits that the characters get attached to. Thank you for making and sharing these amazing stories and characters with us, it really makes my day whenever I see you've posted something new.

Now, I know this ask is getting pretty lengthy (sorry about that ^^" I tend to ramble) but I was going through your Yan!Dilf works again and I wanted to ask, how would Dominic react if his darling was someone who's maybe dealt with manipulative people in the past or is highly emotionally intelligent and observant who could tell he wasn't being entirely genuine? But instead of pulling away from him they try to understand what he wants from them and was open about it? Would he ever even become obsessed with someone like that or allow that kind of situation to happen or is he too cautious for it to be possible?

I know you've had a lot of asks so please don't feel obligated to answer this! But in any case thank you again for sharing your works and I hope you have a wonderful wonderful day! 💖💫

My Lovely, you have positively touched my soul with your endearing sentiments ! Truly, you have made my day and I cannot thank you enough for being such a loyal enthusiast of my work, your time is valued more than I can ever hope to express <3.

Your question is an incredibly fascinating one, my Dear; thank you for sharing it with us ! I wish you the happiest and most prosperous of days, Sweetie ^^

TW: Manipulation, Dominic Being Dominic, Vulnerability, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except 'You'.

♡ Dominic is, as you suggested, initially extremely cautious around you. However, he knows he can't just drop you like a sack of potatoes; it would be far too obvious to the people around him, which would surely cause others to find him out as the serpent he is if they ever went digging around his character.

♡ But, when you show him, gradually, like a keeper feeding a feral animal, that your endeavour is not to oust him as an un-human but rather to understand what made him like this in the first place (and all the lace and frills that come with such a monumental task), he regards you...differently than he did before.

♡ Sure, he thought you were very attractive and that you could offer him something other than the resplendence his life is steeped in, but now...

♡ He feels exposed. Seen. Vulnerable.

♡ All things he tries to push back against. Things he tries to bury beneath a grandiose tale of a childhood spent in the most accommodating of educational establishments, lavish mansions and the lap of luxury.

♡ He tries to lead you a merry dance down a version of his life that he wants you to see, rebuttaling your attempts at making him crack.

♡ You tell him you can see past that. He, feeling his eye twitch, believes you.

♡ It will take a long, long time to get Dominic even close to admitting a scintilla of how his psyche works. Or, rather, doesn't work.

♡ And it's only if you manage to grind away at his need to hide his most precious secret - the parasite that wears his skin and controls his mind - that he'll open up.

♡ Fractionally. Piecemeal. But he opens up, nonetheless.

♡ He'll grow to love you in ways unfathomable even to him.

♡ If you thought he was bad without having a background in combatting the manipulation of others, he is insidious now.

♡ You become to him what he could never be for himself; a safe haven. The only person from which he does not hide.

♡ Sure, he keeps the more...dangerous aspects of his personality hidden for a lot longer than others, but you can topple these columns, can shake Dominic from his perch forged from the ivory of a devil's horns.

♡ You can tame him in ways unimaginable. You have only to see him for who - what - he truly is.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

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#sweet as an angel #yandere #male yandere #yandere male #original yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere dilf #yandere dilf x reader #yandere writing #yandere blog #tw yandere #original writing #writers on tumblr

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tragedybunny · 5 months

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Absolution

༺Summary༻

Astarion and Serafina have an argument and Astarion does what he thinks is necessary to keep her with him. Set before his Act 2 confession.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Serafina (Female Tav/OC)

༺Warnings༻ PiV sex, oral sex, all occurring while Astarion disassociates.

༺Word Count༻ 2441

༺A/N༻ Although most of my reader fics are based my Tav, Serafina, and my experience playing the game as her, this is the first fic I've written featuring her as a named character. And it's my first BG3 fic in 3rd person. I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks to @satanicspinosaurus for the wonderful beta.

The scene from earlier plays over and over in his mind.

“You don't know anything about me, Astarion! So just leave it be.” Sera, sweet, kind, gentle, patient Serafina, had yelled at him. Not once since they'd met on that beach had their erstwhile leader even raised her voice slightly at him. And today she shouted at him. All because she couldn't read Elvish and he'd reacted with the same humor she’d claimed to enjoy. Turning it on him as though he’d been the one in the wrong.

They'd been seated around the fire while Wyll took his turn “cooking”, going through some papers and books they'd found in the wake of a goblin attack. They were looking for any clues into the cult's movements or plans. Sera had plucked a small, neatly bound journal from the pile and turned it over in her hands. It was a thing clearly well-made and cared for. She'd opened it gently, respectful of the fine binding holding it all together.

Her brilliant blue eyes had scanned a few pages before she gave out a frustrated sigh. “Elvish,” she muttered, snapping it shut violently and thrusting it at Astarion. “You'll probably have better luck with that.”

He wasn't sure why he did it. The half-elf’s reaction was disproportionate to simply encountering a foreign language, that was obvious. Maybe it was because he’d become too used to teasing her since they’d started their “relationship.” Their easy back and forth banter giving him the foreign feeling of acceptance.

Or maybe it was his own way of trying to deny those irritatingly tender feelings that had started to creep in whenever he caught her glancing his way or their hands touched, or she laughed at one of his jokes. The need to push back against them, sharpening his tongue and drawing out ancient bias.

Whatever caused it, he should’ve thought before opening his mouth. “Can’t read Espruar? Someone got forgotten by one parent. Is that why you threw a tantrum and ran-”

“Shut up!” Sera leapt up from the log she’d been seated on and glared at him. “You don’t know anything about me, Astarion! So just leave it be.”

With that, she’d stormed off and left him silently stunned, as though awaiting a reprisal that didn’t come. Around him, their companions pretended to look away and he caught a few whispers on the air. “What are you all looking at? It’s not my fault she suddenly can’t take a joke.” He’d sulked off to his own tent, waiting until her tantrum had passed and everyone forgot his misstep. He’d assumed Sera would cool down and come out for dinner, but instead she’d remained stubbornly locked away. Karlach had brought her a bowl of what they were generously calling stew.

Everyone had eaten and retired for the evening and she was still pouting. Which brought him to now, slinking his way across camp toward her tent. He had to do something, he couldn't watch his hard won protection slip away. It absolutely had nothing to do with the fact that Sera gave him a little kiss and wished him goodnight every other night lately and it had been noticeably withheld tonight.

The way the moonlight filtered through the trees, one solid beam pointing down on her tent, a poet might say that Selune was guiding him. Poets were idiots. Parting the flap just the smallest amount, he starts to slip inside, intent on waking her to settle things if he needed to, when a sound stopped him. A strangled cry, was it directed at him? He froze, half inside, the errant moonbeam that slipped around him haloing her with soft illumination.

Another wordless cry. Only a nightmare, nothing to be concerned with. Stepping in, he lets the tent shut, plunging them both back into darkness. With a predator’s stealth, he approaches her bedroll, kneeling down, eyes subconsciously glancing at the healing puncture wounds on her neck.

“Let me out.” Her sudden words startle him.

Stumbling backwards, he nearly loses his balance to go sprawling across the floor. His skin suddenly heated, as though the breath that carried those words could burn him.

Another sob comes as she thrashes around a bit. “Please, I won't run,” unintelligible sounds follow the small plea. “Let me out.”

Locked up. She'd been locked up too. Regaining himself, he crept toward her again, as she shook and cried. Someone had hurt her. But who would want to do that?

She was Sera, unfailingly kind; who aided refugees, saved children, fought monsters, and foolishly fed manipulative vampires.

The sobbing becomes frantic and without thinking he reaches out to gently grasp her shoulder. “Sera,” she struggles against his touch with a whimper. Growling in frustration, he shakes her a little more roughly. “Serafina!”

Eyes snap open to behold him with wide pupils as her chest heaves. “A-Astarion?” Sitting quickly, she pulls away from him, and he feels a sudden sting in his chest. “What are you doing here?” She hisses, apparently still angry with him.

“You were having a nightmare.” He replies, trying to soften his voice, to be the lover she had come to expect.

“Hmm,” her eyes focus across the tent to an empty lantern, “fiat lux.” Small little motes of light appear in the lantern, swirling gently in their prison, as Sera draws her knees up to her chest. “Well, I'm awake now, you can go.”

The forlorn gaze and empty voice were nothing like the Serafina he'd come to know and the unsettled sensation in the back of his mind grows. He cleares his throat, trying to get the words moving. “I didn’t come just to wake you up, I wanted to…apologize. For earlier. I’m sorry, the joke was in poor taste.”

Turning her head, she glances his way from where it rested on her knees. She looks so small like this, so far from the fierce woman who’d led them from the moment of the crash. “Apology accepted, I probably took it too personally.”

It didn’t quite ring true, but he plows on anyway, hoping maybe those blue eyes would light back up for him. “The truth is, I’m actually a bit rusty with Espruar myself. But maybe I could teach you and it would be good practice for me.” He affects the warmest smile he could, sure the gesture would win her over.

Instead, she shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t actually matter all that much. Thanks for the thought though. You can go, I’m not still mad at you. I’ll see you in the morning.”

That was not his Serafina. He has to do something, to fix this. To keep her on his side. Reaching out, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his lap, lips closing over hers. “What’s this about?” She huffs as her skin began to flush a pretty pink.

“Pleading my apology some more,” his voice drops to the low sultry tone that made her pulse jump in a way he could hear.

“I said you were forgiven.” Despite her protest, her arms encircle his neck, pulling him closer.

“Your words said that, but your eyes spoke differently.” His lips trace a line of kisses from her lips to the lobe of her ear, making her sigh.

This was what he could do for her, what he did best. It was a skill honed by two hundred years of unwilling practice, and like so many before, a skill she was willing to make use of. At least it was easy enough with Sera, she was sweet and gentle, and he knew she'd never harm him. And it wasn't as though a part of him didn't want her, she was a pretty little thing. That part was just bound up with all the other parts that hated what his body had been used for. If he had to open his pants for anyone, he supposes he was glad it was her.

“I meant it, but- gods Astarion!” He runs his tongue along the point of her ear, less sensitive than his, but still enough to start driving her mad.

“In that case, we'll call it making up for my behavior earlier.” Guiding her to face him, legs straddling his, her warm core settles against his hips. He kisses his way back down to her throat, already feeling his mind growing distant from his actions.

Lips linger near the marks on her neck, and she squirms in his lap. “Do you want to?”

He could never say no to that offer. Without hesitation, his fangs sink into her flesh, and succulent liquid pours into his throat. It adds to what little pleasure he’s able to wring from what he was about to do. Sera whimpers and writhes in his lap, grinding down on his growing erection. She hadn’t started out allowing him to feed on her as some form of pleasure, but she had given him her neck as often as the rest of her body, and the two had become inextricably tied together.

Just a sip for tonight, after everything that had happened, he couldn’t ask too much. Too soon he pulls his fangs away to lap at the remainders and kiss the wounds. Blood and a distant mind, this was good as it would be for him. “Let's get this out of the way.” Fingers grip the hem of her shirt and guide it over her head.

She shivers as the night air caresses her skin and leans into him. It was almost enough to make him laugh, there was nothing about him that could provide any warmth. Instead he continues kissing his way down her chest, nipping lightly until her back arches into him and she makes a needy noise.

“Patience,” he chides her, releasing his grip on her to remove his own shirt.

Hands encircle her waist in an iron grip, holding her firmly in place while tongue and teeth tease her rosebud nipples. Fingers trace his back as she pants, trying to contain all the noises that could wake the camp. Her nails ghost along his flesh, and he senses she longs to dig them in.. She hadn’t even attempted to ask about it. Why did she afford him such gentleness, was she wary that it would be too much on his scarred flesh?

Lips leave off her hardened peaks to capture hers again, and she grinds against him even harder. No doubt her small clothes were soaked. “You drive me mad,” she whispers, lost in desire.

Just as he’d wanted, Serafina, hurt feelings and nightmares forgotten. “You enjoy it.” He captured her lip between his teeth for a second and nibbles. “Stand up, take your pants off for me.” He awaits her on his knees, as a penitent seeking their absolution.

She’s so occupied, she doesn’t notice as his gaze finds the dancing lights in the lantern, and watches them swirl aimlessly until she’s naked before him. Gripping her thighs, he pulls her in, holding them apart so his tongue can swipe along her sex, as soaked as he predicted. Sera’s not a bard, but she sings for him anyway. Fingers grip into his curls, not too tightly. Sometimes he wishes she wouldn’t be so damn gentle, that she'd be like everyone else, someone easy to use, instead of, whatever all this was.

“Astarion,” she keens as he slips two fingers inside her, tongue running over her clit.

He laps and suckles at it almost as fiercely as he does the wounds he leaves in her neck. The fingers inside her find the spot that causes her knees to buckle and another cry to leave her. She’s close, just a little more, and he could leave it for the night.

“I want you inside me.” He stiffens, inhaling deeply.

“Do you now, my sweet?” He nips her thigh playfully with his fangs while his stomach drops. “Then come down here.”

As soon she hits her knees, he's positioning her on all fours, he can’t look her in the eyes right now. He tears his pants open, eyes finding the lights again, concentrating on them as he pushes inside her. She’s warm and wet as she pushes back against him, eager to have all of him. Because she chooses him. No matter how many of his rough edges and dark corners she finds, she wants him. Would she still want him if she saw it all?

Forget it, he tells himself, pushing that thought away. He clears his mind until there’s only the moment, the sensation left, hips slapping against hers, the way her body clenches around his cock, how she eagerly sucks the fingers he puts in her mouth so she has something to absorb the moans.

It’s almost enough to completely lose himself, his cock twitches. It’s spectacular, the way she meets every thrust and takes everything he has to give. “Touch yourself,” he urges, eager for her to come undone.

Her own fingers slide between her folds, working feverishly. It’s not long before the noises muffled by his fingers become frantic and she tightens around him.

“That’s it, my darling, let go.” With another deep thrust, he allows himself a release. “Sera,” he gasps, knowing it will please her to hear her name on his lips.

They collapse next to one another on the bedroll, Sera quick to snuggle up in his arms. It takes longer than it should to embrace her, his body wanting to run. “Is everything alright?” She asks, innocently, from where she lays, head on his chest. Maybe there are merciful gods, she can’t see his face.

“Of course, love. I think I may have worn myself out after all the walking today.” Softly, he kisses her head, he can’t let her suspect.

“Well don’t complain tomorrow, Lae’zel will blame me for sure. I don’t think I was very discreet.” She laughs, sounding like sleep is already returning to her.

“But you are to blame. If you weren’t so irresistible.” He tries to laugh as well. This stupid, sweet girl, why does she lay in a monster’s arms and giggle?

With a yawn, she gives him an out. “You should probably go, I’m going to fall asleep soon and don’t want to trap you here.”

One more kiss, even as his mind insists on fleeing. “Goodnight my love, rest well, and I’m sorry again.”

“For what?”

“For earlier.” For everything.

Tag list:

@micropoe10 @writingmysanity @mxxny-lupin @azu21

@tallymonster @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin

@bambamwolf87 @fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

@elora-the-slutty-songstress @bhaalbaaby @spacebarbarianweird

@darlingxdragon @wanderingisobel @astarionsbeloved

@vixstarria @claryvoyantfray @volotramp @misscrissfemmefatale @bg3obsessedsideblog @captainaceofspades @wickedwitchofthewilds @asterordinary

#bg3 #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #astarion x tav #bg3 tav #bg3 tav: Serafina #my fanfic #my writing #astarion x oc

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miguel-owhora · 1 month

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I can't remember are you the one with the cryptic miguel stuff??? My memory is trash hhh

But it's been rotting my brain for awhile and I have thoughts

Like imagine cryptic reader could hide himself from being seen, like go invisible but he can still touch things.

Basically I'm saying cryptic secretly breeding Miguel while he's trying to give a sermon for the cult :3 no one understands why Miguel is shaking and looking so flustered

i am the one with the cult leader!miguel/cryptid!reader !!! that's all me baby !

and holy smokes, that's a wild idea. if we're following along the idea of shapeshifter!reader, then i can imagine you shifting so you're shorter (which, by the way, is still a lot taller than a normal human, much less a normal animal) so you're able to comfortably breed miguel.

it's probably unexpected, miguel's in the middle of giving a sermon when he feels your familiar claws brush against him, and with the way no one's reacting, he knows they can't see you so he has to keep it on the low. ...which isn't all that easy.

miguel's skin goes dark and warm when he feels your claws brush against his pussy and pulls his lips apart underneath his clothes, feels your tongue licking away at the slick that dripped out. miguel'll cover up any moans with a cough, pretend to play it off as a hold. hgnjkd imagine him gripping the edge of the lectern as you press him against it, your cock sliding against his soppy cunt, and miguel's voice grows shaky as he continues to speak.

he speeds up his speech and goes into the prayer, asking someone like jess or peter to lead the prayer. they share bewildered looks but nevertheless take up the lead, and when they go into prayer, miguel has to bite down on his hand to muffle his moan when you slip inside, stretching his cunt around your girth skedsjfjk

#mr. o'whora's inbox !#AHHHHH #some definably figure it out but no one says anything bc helllloooo #he's the literal leader and has no problem with getting rid of anybody he seems unfit

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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year

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i literally thought about ness kaiser 3sum in bed and got full body shivers like a physical reaction and in my brain we were ness's girlfriend

orchestrate | m. kaiser + a. ness

✭ tags ; fem + afab!reader, kaiser/ness threesome, cucking but not really but it is, reader is kind of insane / manipulative but everything is consensual, ness is submissive, reader and kaiser fight for power, unprotected sex, fingering, 18+

✭ wc ; 2.5k

✭ a/n ; fics that don't make any sense to anyone but me. its kind of late so brain is fried. kaiser just has like. a psychosexual obsession with you and he can't figure out why you're so disinterested

✭ synopsis ; kaiser wants you under this thumb. you've never been so uninterested.

It's supposed to be the opposite way around. And sometimes it is because you can't really be around Ness without being around Kaiser and even if you were Kaisers girl - you couldn't be around unless Ness liked you.

So, you're expecting the usual. Kaiser to be cocky and arrogant and Ness to yielding to him because that's just how they always interact. It's always Kaiser fucking you like he owns you. Like you're his girlfriend.

(Sometimes, you wonder if that's what he aims for. Knowing Ness - he's probably far enough Kaisers ass to let him pursue you. But you don't really want Kaiser - not as much as you want Ness at least.

He never masks his interest in you. He doesn't have any reason to. But he's always trying to keep you under his thumb, make you react to him.

That's the whole issue. You only let Kaiser fuck you because Ness likes to watch.)

And it's always the same thing. You like Ness. You do, but probably not for the reasons other people like their boyfriends. Kaiser tempers Ness in a way you think makes him good so you don't particularly hate his arrogance.

Ness is dense, sometimes. You like that about him. You like that he listens to everything you say without thinking twice. You like that you can get space from him if you need it, but that he's mostly clingy. Obsessed enough but there's still room to stretch

Ness worships you. He doesn't know how to love any way else. Because Kaiser is Kasier and he worships Kaiser in the way one might a cult leader.

But Ness worships you like a deity.

A divine, soft being that he only ever offers too. He knows he'll always have your love so there's something so gentle about it. Ness listens to you and he listens well. If he wants to chase Kaiser for a while - it doesn't trouble you.

People need something to work towards. Often it's that simple.

You love Ness as much as you like him. His obedience is sweet. And he's good to you, much better than any of your other boyfriends. You pull the strings carefully and Ness lets himself be hung by them. A form of pre-destination with the promise of paradise.

But Ness is dense and Kaiser isn't. When Kaiser fucks you, usually, he's trying to get you to stand by his side. He wants everything good like Emperors so often do. Ego aside, he's not inclined to look down on people he finds respectable.

He just wants to be better. Always wants more. He's so intrigued by the way you make Ness better.

Kaiser sees something in you that Ness doesn't. You're not interested in Ness seeing it. You think he looks awful sweet with wool over his eyes, being led by your gentle hands.

Today, it seems Kaiser is interested in seeing something like that.

"Ness," His voice is smooth as he sits back against the headboard, nearly naked and spread out. He's got his usual bravado and Ness is excited to be called on "I want you to reward you for your performance today,"

Ness preens under the attention. You're sitting next to him, a feeling of amusement and affection bubbling as you wrap an arm around his shoulder, scratching his jaw lightly. He wilts a little, softening, and you laugh.

"I want you to fuck her today okay? Like how you two usually do. That okay with you, sweetheart?"

Him addressing you startles you just a tad. Ness blinks at you as you nod your head.

"I don't mind. It's not like we've never done it."

Ness hums a little. He looks excited about it. He's normally eager for the attention. Kasier knows it too.

"I'll help, yeah? Do your best,"

Ness mumbles an excited okay and everyone moves. You find yourself laid flat on your mattress. Kaiser rests your head in his lap as he sits behind you - staring down at you from above.

And Ness positions himself to be between your legs, like usual. There's something delicate about him today. You can feel Kaiser looking, like a fly on the wall. Observing for now, and not doing much more.

You wonder what he wants to see, but you don't really care to ask. Ness comes to hover above you, leaning down to kiss you on the mouth. He's softer than you can ever get used to - a gentle nip at your mouth as you giggle. You reach your arm between your bodies, hand cupping his hard cock.

He's well-toned. Shirtless and pale with dark hair falling between his eyes, rutting into your open palms. He moans brokenly and you whisper against his skin.

"Excited?"

"Yeah."

You laugh a little "Cause Kaiser's watching," You add, but not maliciously.

"Hngh. Yeah. But you too," His voice is tender. You believe him when he says it "I love you,"

"Aren't you being sweet today?" You tease. Ness feels warm, a heat readiating off him. People think you should be more bothered when Ness is like this. Maybe it should gross you out more that they're like that.

It doesn't though, because Ness likes crawling right back into your arms.

Cult leaders are so mortal with their control. People always turn their eyes to heaven when they're down on their luck. Ness is always going to lean on you. You think Kaiser knows that. Part of you understands his obsession with you.

But control like that has to be earned and Kaiser is too egoistic to do it. Not omnipotent enough to succeed. He thinks

It might bother him, but more than that - he's intrigued. He likely wants to take you for himself, more than he wants to be you. Ness has started playing better since you've been dating, you both know. He wants to know how much it you've been responsible for.

(The answer is most of it. Though you pose it as genuine interest, and it is - Ness loves being watched. He loves having eyes look on him with favor, whether they're yours or Kaisers.

So you praise or critique where he needs. It gives him something to work for. Kaiser will never really know to utilize that side of him like you do.)

Ness is gentle as you kiss him. Kaiser watches quietly. He kisses down your jaw, down your neck. Soft lips on every inch you. Takes time to bite you where you like, tongue laving over your clavicles. He's always tender, patient, devoted. His hands hold your hips and squeeze the skin tight. Today he's restless.

You wrap your arms around Ness's neck, breath warm against the shell of his ear. And he shivers, his teeth in his lip.

"Feeling impatient today?" You asses. Ness pulls away to look at you, a genuine flush on his face. He's not usually this shy, but it makes sense. He glances up at Kaiser who looks impassive, but turns his gaze back to you. You can feel Kaiser tense.

Some part of you wants to laugh. You glance up at Kaiser, and smile, then turn your eyes back to Ness.

"Then, just for today," You spread your legs a little wider for Ness. Arch your back, hands cupping your breasts. Ness's eyes widen, brighten up inconcievably and you hear Kaiser laugh under his breath - a tinge of bitterness to it "You can just open me up and fuck me, okay?"

"I don't wanna hurt you."

"You won't baby,"

He keens a little, and nods. And then he's back between your legs, diligent with how he takes you. Kaiser is watching. You're starting to get excited about it. Ness rolls your panties off completely, staring at your wet pussy with a satisfaction in his eyes.

"Lookin' real excited," Kaiser comments, and you want to laugh "I thought you two did this all the time."

Ness is taken aback by the interest, clueless to the intent. Maybe clueless isn't the world. Purposefully unaware might be better. It's not like Ness is stupid, not completely.

He likes being useful, being praised, being thought of. This is more than enough for him. He flushes, stumbles over his words a little. It's too much for him to form a response, and he's stumbling.

You take Ness's wrist and pull them down to you, his hand on the top of your cunt. You look up at Kaiser.

"It's been busy lately, right, baby?"

He's relieved, shoulders slumped. He's not good at being the center of attention.

Kaiser looks at you intently. You think Ness is saddened by it so you reach a hand out to cup his cheek and soothe him.

"That right?" Kaiser says, aggression in his voice. You smile.

"Yeah. You know how it is during the season, Kaiser."

The call of his name makes him shiver. You spread your legs a little more and turn your attention to Ness. He caresses you, wetting his middle finger with spit as he drags his finger along the seam of his cunt. You shiver at the sensation, teasing your nipples with manicured fingers and relaxing into the man behind you. You can practically hear his heartbeat thrum.

They're always talking about ego when they play soccer. You're not sure you've ever understood it. But the way Kaiser seems to fester above you might makes you feel something close.

Ness makes sure his middle finger eases into your sex slowly. You're so wet and willing it's easy. You like being fucked by Ness. His fingers are surprisingly smooth and soft, as he teases your hole just enough to make you shiver. You laugh lightly and he looks at you, lovesick.

"Feel good?" He asks sweetly. You nod a little.

"Yeah, it does."

Ness opens you up with his fingers. He starts with his middle and goes slow enough that you can feel each time he moves. The pads of his fingers drag up along your walls, a slow wet-heat emerging in your lower body. It feels like honey dripping over fire, something that comes at you sweet and heady until it's all you can feel.

You feel good even though you're on edge in a different way. You've never been so aware of your entire body before, or of Kaiser. You've fucked him plenty and it's good, but it's never really felt like anything more than sex.

Right now, you're excited. Excited by how eager your lover is and excited by how Kaiser can't get ahold of you. It feels good like this, makes you feel tight. You let your eyes fall open to look up, and Ness slides in another finger, rubbing along your g-spot.

"Fuck," You say not holding it in anymore "Right there, Ness."

Kaiser tenses again, but the airs shifted slightly. You don't think about it much this time, focusing on the sensation of pleasure as Ness fucks you open. The sound feels like it echoes, desire that makes the back of your throat feel numb.

Ness listens. He's attentive, and patient, and eager. Committed to his servitude and so clearly to you, like Kaiser comes second in this instant.

Kaiser is too used to being worshipped wholly.

No matter how much respect he pays, he'll never be able to stand too tall on shaky ground. But Ness can reach higher heights like this. With you. Because of you. You roll your hips up, a sense of anticipaiton looming.

Kasier just watches. He could touch you. He could assist. But in the end he'd be assisting you. Even if you feel good. He probably knows that too. He hasn't given into you. Not yet.

Ness spreads you open on his fingers, fucking them in out steadily now. He focuses his thumb on your clit to drive it home and your spine arches up even higher. Ness brings you back down, kissing the inside of your knee.

"I think it should be okay now," Ness offers. You nod, guiding his hand to your mouth. You lick around his fingers cleaning them off. It's not something you would usually do. It's not done thoughtlessly.

You keep it in your mouth, reaching your hands towards Kaiser. You manage to reach the back of his head, pulling him down enough to kiss him. He yields to it, to you - as you stick your tongue into his mouth with a little laugh. He seems stunned, but he doesn't push himself away.

He leans into. Just a little. Just enough to confirm your suspicions.

You look up at Kaiser through your lashes when you've pulled away. Ness is looking at you both, his cock resting against your pussy. You feel it pulse. Feel it twitch so hard against you. He must be catching on.

"Feeling neglected, Kaiser?"

He grits his teeth, smiling "Not at all."

Ness is tense with anticipation. You want it, too. Now you're matched. Now Ness is watching you, because he's starting to see the full picture. So you spread yourself, manicured fingers pulling you apart as you look at Ness. Direct into his eyes, soft but commanding.

"Put it in, baby."

He falters, but listens. Always listens. His cock is pretty, a good length with a hard curve up and flush all through out. It pushes into entrance, hot and heavy - throbbing so hard you wonder if he'll cum right away. His expression has changed. Even though he normally looks more composed, he's flush. A warm spreading over his skin as he holds your hips. You wrap your legs around his waist and draw him closer.

"Grind up, slowly, please?" You ask. Ness widens his eyes at the please, nodding as he focuses on his position. He does exactly as he's told, to the best of his ability. A sense of euphoria washes over it. He always does it exactly as you need. You can feel the knot in your stomach start to unravel. Slowly but steadily, but you need more.

You look up at Kaiser, breathless. The words rest in the back of your mouth but you don't bother saying them.

He can't have you. Can't be you. Like this, you're untouchable and always will be.

"Kaiser," Your voice is throaty and thick "Help me cum."

A grin splits his face like he's learned something as he reaches his hand between your bodies. Your eyes flutter closed, skilled fingers rubbing your clit. You lean into the pleasure, body going under. You hear Kaiser speak this time.

"You're sicker than I thought you were,"

You chuckle. He reaches down to kiss you again, this time of his own volition. You moan into his mouth as you draw closer and closer to your orgasm. A feeling of euphoria over takes you. The tension isn't just in your stomach. It's in your hands, wrapped around your palms.

The feeling of holding the handle on a leash. The closer you get, the tighter it draws. The deep pressure is enough to make you cum.

You cum, just like that. Hard and hot and heavy and Ness moans as he buries himself against your neck but holds still on his own.

"Ness," Kaiser drawls, staring at you "You've gotten yourself involved with someone dangerous,"

Ness makes a sound you can't decipher but his reply is clear enough.

"I love it,"

#kaiser x reader #ness x reader #bluelock x reader #bluelock smut #kaiser smut #writing tag #idk if im feeling this one idk if i'll leave it up #im so eepy tho #i will q for morning

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