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sttoru · 10 days

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⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your roommate, toji, can’t pay rent - again. he promises to pay you back soon, but you’re tired of his behaviour.

tags. (perv) roommate!toji fushiguro x female reader. smut, pōrn with plot kinda. dirty talk. rough. p in v -> unprotected. crēampie. fīngering. praise. reader gets called ‘princess, girl’. degrādation. toji’s a womaniser and asshole, like i’m talking dusty, manipulative asshole. unestablished relationship.

“that shit again?” toji rolls his eyes as he lazily switches between the channels on the television. he knows exactly what you’re going to say next. your complaining has a certain pattern that he’s picked up on.

he smacks his lips after being done with his snack. your snack - the one you put your name on before putting in the fridge. the dark-haired man shrugs, “i told ya, girl. i ain’t got the money this month.”

your head feels like it’s going to explode with anger. you know toji has the money. you saw him count the bills on his bed just yesterday, when you passed by his room to go to yours. “yeaaaah - gambled it all away, right?”

the usual excuse he uses. you’re sick and tired of hearing that for the nth time. it’s the same story every month. toji’s a lazy bastard. he’s living off your salary at this point. unapologetically.

“yep,” toji yawns, not even attempting to sound convincing, “got that right.” he knows you’re not going to do anything about it, so he takes advantage of that fact. you’re all bark, no bite.

you always tell him that you’re going to kick him out if he doesn’t pay, though you never take the action you swear on doing. toji has you wrapped around his finger and he knows.

even now, he notices the way you try not to look down at his body. his black shirt is slightly lifted, showing his happy trail that stops at the waistband of his boxers. the fact that he’s sitting on the couch with his legs spread only makes the sight more appealing.

“well, pack your bags then,” you cross your arms after succeeding into averting your attention to the problem at hand. you point at the door with a nod of your head, “i want you to leave by tonight.”

toji struggles to hold back a chuckle. he’ll play along for your sake and act upset by the situation. the tall man sighs and throws his hands up in defeat, trying to gain some pity, “aw, c’mon. have some mercy on me, yeah?”

you’re the one rolling your eyes this time. you’re not going to be naive about this anymore. you’re not going to fall into his trap. you stomp your way over to his room and grab the bag he uses for the gym, aggressively filling it with a bunch of his clothes.

“you’re going out,” you hiss as you walk back to your living room. you throw the filled bag at toji’s chest without hesitation. you know that you’re no match to a grown man, but you’re too fired up to care, “out. i don’t need some useless bum like you in my house.”

toji’s grin drops. his jaw clenches as he gets his bag thrown at him. you seem more serious about this. normally, you’d just cuss him out and lock yourself up in your room. you’re slowly breaking out of the helpless cycle you were in.

“move it,” you huff. your patience is wearing thin. you stand close to toji, your legs nearly touching. you’re towering over him as he sits on the couch, which gives you all the needed confidence. though if he were to stand up it’d be the exact opposite.

toji frowns and starts to realise that his usual manipulation tactics won’t work. he’s trying to think of other ways to distract you of your current dissatisfaction. some more… direct ways.

“you don’t mean that,” his voice turns husky. a real deep tone he only uses when he needs something out of a woman. toji’s veiny hand moves to the side of your thigh, slowly crawling up your skin while he gauges your reaction.

he’s never attempted distracting you in a sexual manner. perhaps now is the perfect moment to try out if it works.

your breath hitches as you feel his touch on your bare thigh. such a warm touch. you’re not going to act like toji hasn’t been attractive to you all this time. his cocky attitude is annoying, yes, but the nonchalance is also a huge turn on.

you’re in a daze. your rational mind is screaming at you to kick that man to the curb—to let him suffer the consequences of his actions—but you’re weak. you’ve sworn never to get involved with him intimately. you wouldn’t want to sleep with an asshole like him.

“do not,” your voice is shaky, revealing the truth behind your contradicting words. you can’t resist him and you’re slowly realising it. you don’t want to end up as all the other women toji’s charmed with his words and actions. you promised yourself that you wouldn’t fall for him.

and yet here you are.

“i can repay you in a different way, y’know?” toji hums, his other hand landing on your left thigh. he rubs your plush flesh up and down in a slow manner. his eyes watch yours intently. you’re nervous and it’s painfully obvious to him. he suppresses a victorious grin, “y’ sure you don’t wanna, princess?”

you’re as weak as they come. toji’s toying with you and you’re allowing it. you’re no different than those women he fucks every other day when he needs something from them. be it money or just stress relief.

you tremble as you feel his fingers graze against the insides of your thighs.

“i take the silence as a yes, hm?” toji chuckles haughtily. he cups the back of your thighs, just below your ass, pushing your body closer to his. you’re standing between his legs and his head is close to your chest. he looks up at you, “use y’r words f’me, pretty thing.”

your brain stops working. you’re so easy. all toji has to do is call you by those alluring names and you’re all his. his callused fingers stop at the hem of your shorts. they continue to sensually rub the material, inching closer to your clothed cunt.

“say you want it,” toji whispers, his raspy voice making your knees weak. you want it, but you’re stubborn enough to deny your desires. you’re throbbing, aching and wet for him. your eyes catch a glimpse of the bulge in his grey sweatpants.

“no, i won’t,” you try to keep your dignity, however you’re slowly losing it. it’s inevitable. you’re putty in his hands. you let out a high pitched whine when toji ‘accidentally’ slides his fingertips back and forth over your clothed pussy, “mgh—okay, okay. fuck—i want you. need you.”

you blurt the words out before you can stop them from leaving your mouth. you silently curse at yourself. your bodily desires have fully taken over. you hold onto toji’s broad shoulders, your grip on them so tight that it sends a shiver down his spine.

he knew that you’d give in sooner or later. the dark-haired man watches as you lower your head, placing it in the crook of his neck to hide yourself from him. he coos condescendingly—

“mhm. tha’s more like it,” toji wastes no time to pull your shorts down to your ankles. he licks his lips, breathing heavily against your bare shoulder. he can’t wait to take this further. he groans the moment your wetness makes contact with his hand, “shiiittt, she’s fuckin’ wet. bet you dreamt about this.”

your panties are discarded on the floor not a second later. you whine in embarrassment, though still spread your legs. you feel ashamed because of how quickly you gave in to his charms. you thought you’d be different, but alas.

your roommate is one hell of a womaniser.

“y’ think i don’t see those lewd looks you give me?”toji clicks his tongue. his green irises are shining brightly. he enjoys the feeling of your sloppy cunt against his bare hand. his thick fingers rub between your folds, teasing your entrance, “nasty little girl. got me wanting to fuck you silly every single time.”

the desire has been mutual all this time. you’ve been driving toji crazy since day one. the way you think you’re being subtle when checking him out never fails to make him hard. or when you walk around the apartment in those skimpy clothes—those shorts that define your ass so well.

he’s sure that you are doing it all on purpose. not wearing a bra, staring at him for too long when he comes out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist, sneaking glances at the outline of his fat cock. you’re not as clever as you think you are.

toji finally has you in his grasp and he’s not letting go. he’ll pound you to the mattress, until you’re satisfied and overstimulated.

he’ll get revenge for all those times you’ve (un)intentionally left him hard. all those times you left him sexually frustrated. all those times he had to resort to other things to relieve himself. all those times he had to waste his cum on his hands or on other women.

all those times he couldn’t fuck you—his pretty little roommate.

“you’re a pervert,” you whimper as you feel toji slip two fingers inside you without warning. his eyes nearly roll back from how tight you’re gripping his digits. it’s going to be so worth it once he’s got your pussy wrapped around his cock.

“yeah, but tha’s how you like ‘em,” toji laughs, not taking any offence to the accusation. he is a pervert when it comes to you and you secretly love it. the squelchy sounds echoing through the living space are all the evidence he needs, “no need to deny it. y’r cunt is doing all the talking for ya.”

you weakly punch his chest at his dirty words. he’s riling you up in both the best and worst ways possible. you moan and your hips shake from pleasure, feeling him curl his fingers up inside you. you hiccup and try to silence him, “shut up!”

toji loves seeing you deny your own feelings. it gives him so much power over you. he knows you’ll come back crawling to him when he’s done here.

after all, you’re stuck with him. literally. he’s not leaving this apartment any time soon. not when he’s got a cute roommate like you awaiting him whenever he comes back home.

soon enough, you end up in his bed. it smells like him. you’ve only imagined being in this situation. with him on top of you, between your legs, filling you to the brim with his cock. it’s huge—bigger than you thought it’d be. no wonder those other girls come back for more.

you can’t talk anymore. the only noises leaving your lips are moans—signs of the pleasurable sensations rushing through your body. your vision is blurry and all you can think of is this moment that you’ve waited for. to be dicked down by your roommate.

perhaps you’re the pervert here.

“bratty attitude nowhere to be found, heh,” toji snickers while his hips ram against yours. flop flop flop — it’s embarrassing how much noise your wet cunt is making. you’re dripping on his sheets while he’s splitting you open. he’s doing it so, so well. he grabs both your wrists with one hand and pins them above your head, giving you no chance to touch him.

toji pants as his thrusts increase in speed. he can’t keep his eyes away from you. you’re beautiful underneath him like this, on his bed, your body a piece of art he wishes to admire every single night. he smirks, “all you needed was some dick to shut that mouth of y’rs up, huh?”

you’re humiliated by how cheap you made yourself seem. you don’t respond to the man’s words and just wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in. toji grunts and slaps your thighs with his free hand, surprised by your actions, “fuck—didn’t know my roommate was such a slut in bed.”

your mouth hangs open. you’re sure you’re drooling by now. toji’s voice nearly becomes inaudible with how focused you are on the feeling of his cock. it’s hitting that right spot over and over again, the curve of his pink tip almost kissing your cervix.

“fffnghh, right there!” you moan loudly. you don’t care if the neighbours file noise complaints against you. they should’ve done so before, when toji had other women over. you remember how many times you had to put your earplugs in because your bastard of a roommate couldn’t keep it down.

the same bastard that’s fucking you so good right now. you can’t recall the amount of orgasms you’ve had already. toji didn’t even cum once and that’s only embarrassing you more. your inability to control yourself is pathetic. maybe not to toji though; he enjoys how easily he can make you spasm and squirt underneath him.

“i got’cha,” toji’s voice turns sweet for a split second once he sees how desperate you are for another mind blowing climax. if he knew you’d be this needy for him, he’d have taken you to bed long time ago.

“need you to say smthing f’me, ‘kay?” toji whispers and bites your earlobe, nibbling on it. his husky voice in your ear is like heaven. it makes you want to listen to whatever he has to say. you can hear the smirk in his voice when he increases his pace, “say that i don’t need to pay y’ back no more.”

you nearly choke on your own spit. toji is an asshole—manipulating your moment of weakness and vulnerability for his own benefit—and yet you allow him. you try to fight the urge to give in, but it’s too late.

“y-you don’t have to pay me back anymore,” you repeat with a whine and shake your head. it’s impossible to think rationally when you’ve got a fat dick all the way in your cunt, hitting all the right spots. your eyes roll back as you babble inaudible stuff in between moans, “promise, you don’t have to—mghhh!”

toji hisses at the feeling of you tightening up around him. you’re insatiable, wanting to continue until you’re able to milk every drop of cum out of his heavy balls. he’s never had a girl be so desperate for him. so dumb and easy.

“atta girl,” your roommate hums and moves his hands to lift your thighs. his inhuman pace only seems to increase with the change of positions. toji stares down at you from behind his black bangs, “no more whinin’ about money ‘n stuff, yeah?”

his gaze is a mix of pure lust and intimidation. you nod your head along to all he says, too cockdrunk to resist anything. you’re living the dream and you’re unwilling to ruin it, “y-yes, not gonna do it again.”

toji groans at the sound of your whiny voice. he’s going to make you addicted to him—that’s his ultimate goal. his hips slam against yours repeatedly, a slick trail of your fluids sticking to his pelvis, “shit, pussy’s sucking me in, princess.”

you can’t get enough of him and vice versa. the dark-haired man fails to keep his composure for a second, pushing his body weight on yours, caging you right against the mattress. he can’t stop his cock from throbbing each time it dives into your insides.

“gonna cum real deep in you,” toji grumbles. he’ll give you every drop, all the way into your womb. he’ll make you his woman for tonight and the many nights yet to come. if it’s left up to him, he’ll gladly fuck you like this every day, “be greedy ‘n take it all.”

you gasp and feel toji thrusting harder into your aching cunt. you didn’t think he’d be able to go faster. you mewl and scream about how good he feels, which only feeds toji’s big ego. he grips your thighs tightly, nails digging into the flesh.

“fuck!” white dots appear in your vision as you reach your peak once again. you feel like your heart stops beating for a second. you involuntarily start convulsing, legs shaking and hips bucking up to meet toji’s.

he hisses and closes his eyes, shooting his creamy load all the way inside of you. ropes of warm cum spurt out of his tip, filling your pussy like both of you have always imagined. he sighs and thrusts a couple more times, making sure no drop escapes your messy folds, “mhmmm, there we go, girl.”

you’re still dazed. you’re slack-jawed, your spit dripping down your chin. you’re more sleepy than ever. no one has made you feel this good in a while. toji watches you struggle to stay conscious and huffs proudly.

he rolls off you and lays down on his back, stretching his arms. he yawns—not bothering with aftercare at the moment. he’ll let you cool off first before he gets you a towel to clean up. toji tilts his head to the side and grins, “debt repaid.”

he’s said it so casually. you don’t notice what he’s implying until you’ve calmed down. your rationality comes back to you after a couple seconds, and when it does, your heart sinks to your stomach. your eyes widen as you recall what you’ve basically promised him.

you promised not to ask for the money he owes you ever again. oh, stupid you.

“wait—”

unfortunately for you, toji’s already snoring. his eyes are closed as he lays there like he hasn’t just rearranged your guts and manipulated you to say stuff you can’t take back. you scoff and rub your eyes, kicking your legs in frustration at your own naivety.

what a bastard.

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #jjk x you

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rex101111 · 11 months

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yeah sure Across the Spiderverse is about being doomed by the narrative and knowing you’re doomed by the narrative, but also it’s about how different people react to that, and how no one reaction is the right one, like Peter B. has lived as Spider-man long enough that’s gone through most of the “canon events” and he’s in a place where he’s like “yeah, alright, I can work with this” and is afraid of doing anything drastic because after being a screw-up for so long and finally, finally getting it right wouldn’t you be afraid making a mistake again?

And Miguel is angry but resigned because the one time he tried to defy the narrative it spat in his face and beat him to the ground. So now he’s doing what he genuinely belives is to everyone’s benefit. Without a hint of flexibility. He’s even angrier when Miles suggests that fate can be defied both because he’s convinced Miles is wrong and is going to get people killed and also if Miles is right than Miguel has to reckon with the fact that he’s convinced so many Spider-people to just “follow the script” and let their loved ones died because he was convinced there was no fighting the narrative. That not everyone is as doomed as he is.

And Hobie, who knows he might be doomed but is dead-set on spitting in the narrative’s face for as long as he can regardless. A different kind of acceptance. A kind of acceptance that’s covered in spikes and has teeth. If the narrative is gonna take him down he’s taking as much bad guys as he can before he bites it. And he’s isn’t going to be nice or polite about it, and he sure as shit ain’t gonna be quiet. Proper fucking punk, right there.

And Gwen, who is on the fence, but is sad and tired and just doesn’t have the strength to try anymore. She doesn’t have a home to come back to, or at least doesn’t think so, she’s stressed out and angry and she found out that as Spider-Woman that was always going to happen to her. She’s ready to give up, because being doomed is kinda freeing, if she was always doomed to fail, lose her friend, lose her dad, than it takes the pressure off. Sad as it was she could live with that. Until she sees Miles bite and fight and scream when he finds out he’s doomed, and that one little push gives her the courage to try and find out just how doomed she really is.

And Miles!! Free spirit, radical free thinker, “just let him spread his wings, man” Miles Morales. Who is trying so, so hard to figure out what his narrative even is, but is determined that he can figure it out, that he can spread his wings and manage on his own and find his place and be himself. Miles finding out he might be doomed is a slap in the face that he’s completely unprepared for. And he denies it completely. He refuses to lay down and just take it, he’s going to punch and kick and save everyone, no matter that every other Spider-person, Ham and Miguel and Gwen and every one, who’ve been doing this spider thing for much long tell him he can’t. And this radical rejection earns him pity, and earns him enemies, but he’s not backing down. He can’t back down. Because even if he is doomed he’ll never be able to forgive himself if he doesn’t even make an attempt.

Across the spider-verse is so fucking good you guuuuuysss

#across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse spoilers

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tootiecakes234 · 3 months

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Your Ex-boyfriend Katsuki Bakugo

The ex boyfriend who acted like he couldn’t care less when you told him you were leaving.

The ex boyfriend Katsuki, who told anyone that asked that about you, to shut the hell up.

Ex boyfriend Dynamite who was on the front page 2 weeks later because a reporter wouldn’t stop asking him about you.

Ex boyfriend that still has to see you often because you have the same group of friends.

The same ex boyfriend that can’t keep his eyes off of you when you’re around. And he tries, he really really tries but it’s instinct to always know where you are and if you’re safe.

Ex boyfriend Dynamite that uses chunks of his patrol time to follow you when you’re out and about. You never even notice him, but he’s there.

Ex boyfriend Katsuki who gets drunk one night and calls you sounding like he’s in tears. Spilling his guts to about how he’s so so sorry, and you’re still all he thinks about. He knows you always deserved better than him and even though it’s ripping his heart out, all he wants is for you to be happy.

Katsuki who can’t meet your eyes the next time he sees you because he remembers every word he said to you and he knows it doesn’t make a difference.

Ex boyfriend whose heart nearly stops beating the first time Mina mentions you have a date because he can’t believe it. You’re moving on.

You’re at a party when he finds you outside alone and tells you that if any of the guys you’re dating ever do anything to hurt, he will hunt them down and end them. Fuck his hero status.

Ex boyfriend who ends up chatting with you for a good long while time and then you laugh and he hasn’t heard that laugh in so long. It melts the ice he’s been feeling in his chest since you left.

Ex boyfriend Katsuki that kisses you in the midst of you laughing.

The man you melt against because it’s second nature. He keeps kissing you as long as you’ll let him because he knows, this is probably the last one he’ll get.

Ex boyfriend who cuts you off before you call that kiss a mistake and says he won’t do it again. He just wanted to say goodbye.

But then you kiss him again. When you pull away you tell your ex boyfriend that maybe you want to try again but you both have a lot of work to do. That it can’t go back to being the way it was or you’d leave and there wouldn’t be anymore chances after that.

“Ex” boyfriend Katsuki who swears on his life that it won’t be the same. That he’ll be whatever he needs because he doesn’t want to live this life without you.

Fiancé Katsuki Bakugo who still thinks of those 4 months without you as the worst 4 months of his life.

Fiancé that 100% keeps his promise and proposed to you 2 years later to the day and was honestly shocked that you said yes because in he is still convinced you could still do better than him. But if you were willing to settle, he’d give everything he had to try and be enough.

*i tried with this but honestly, I ain’t leaving that man.😭

Katsuki Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be added the the tag list💕

Tags: @dreamcastgirl99 @xxvendettaxx @justbepeace @moonpieshawdy @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @mintsbubbletea @darkstarlight82 @anon-mouse223 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @i-literally-cant-with-this @flowerbedbaby @kit-katsukii @blaize-hewwo @sweetblueworm @tippy-toes @superlegend216

#imagine #bakugou x reader #mha fanfiction #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou drabble #drabble #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugo headcanons #fluff #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha katsuki #bakugo katuski #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugo

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lustlovehart · 1 month

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Let This Be Mine

- summary: Nothing is his anymore, not even his own body, so just for once, he wants you to be something he can call his own.

- warnings: Before Boothill release, based on leaked light cone,

“Boothill, what are we exactly?”

If you were to ever ask him this, his charming cowboy persona would falter.

His eyes look back into yours, a dead stare piercing into your own eyes. In truth, the only ‘real’ part of his body left is, his face. A face he buries into your hands when you stroke his cheek, a face he lets lean into your neck whenever you hug him, a face he can feel you leave chaste kisses on.

But, his hand can’t feel the way your own fingers intertwine with his metal ones, his body can’t feel your own warmth wrap around his when you hug, his own body can’t feel you.

What are you to him? A constant reminder that he’s no longer living for himself.

Sometimes, when he looks in a mirror he catches himself thinking of you, and he doesn’t miss the way a blue seeps onto his face. He wishes he did though, he really does. It’s an unbearable reminder that, you bleed red, and he bleeds a color nowhere near it.

The pieces of pathetic metal his body is made out of, assists his feelings of shackles being bound to him.

But, you’re not apart of his synthetic life form. You’re apart of the very real side of him, the aspect of him that lets him cling onto whatever form of ‘human’ he has left. You’re a reminder of what he no longer is, but you’re also a reminder of what he has left.

Ever since being brought back to life, his first instinct was to look at his new model, closing and opening his fists as hard as he can, and not feeling anything. Repeating this cycle for days on end, until you came along. Instead of himself, he always looked at you first thing in the morning, the way you slept so peacefully, so humanly.

Moments of silence pass by before a mechanical shifting sound was heard, the cyborg bending his arms to pull you into him, caging you between his limbs and his plated torso.

“Boothill? What are you… “ the hug, it feels bone crushing yet warm, he’s not usually warm. “Are you okay…? Your system is heating up-“ he’s hugging you so tight, like you’re apart of him.

What are you to him?

“Ain’t it obvious to you?”

He would no longer live for himself.

So he’ll just live for you.

“I’m yours darlin”

I’m usually not too into writing for character pre-release, but I saw the leaks for Boothills light-cone and had to throw my two cents in.

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #vesperwrites #boothill x reader #hsr boothill x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #vesconcepts

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jyoongim · 2 months

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May I please request some Alastor fluff where he and reader are married in Hell, but he later finds out reader was actually married in her life before and now he keeps asking about her old husband and keeps trying to out-do him even though reader never really compared the two before?

"Oh he brought you flowers? That's nice. *Magically poofs up a whole a garden behind the hotel* I can do better though."

Obviously burning with jealousy like how dare reader get married to someone else beside him. Like ye, he died about a whole century before reader was even born but that's beside the point.

Bonus if said husband shows up later in hotel and he and reader aren't really romantically involved anymore but are good friends but Al's eye still twitches in annoyance whenever he's around.

Never mention that there was once another man in your life besides Alastor.

You were sitting in the lounge with Angel chatting. He had made a dirty joke on how you had ‘Mr. Fancy Talk’ wrapped around your finger. “What yer got a thing for older men toot?” He laughed. You glared playfully at him, admitting that you had been married to an older man when you were living. This led to you talking about your first husband.

”Wait so you tellin me that another guy got the goods before Fancypants? Ha!” You blushed, rolling your eyes. “No no I mean YES but it wasn’t a great marriage”

You gushed at how great of a husband Alastor, how attentive and caring he was towards your needs. Your first husband was a great man, but you were young when you married him and the only thing he was concerned about was you keeping the house clean, cooking, and work.

Your decent to Hell was a result of your marriage. You had felt like you weren’t the best wife and your husband didn’t really spend time with you. It really took a toll on your emotional and mental being. But you held no ill will towards the man you once married.

With Alastor you THRIVED. He made you feel loved ironic ain’t it and tended to all of your needs. Alastor gave you anything you desired.

So you thought nothing of it when you woke up to flowers and breakfast. Alastor greeted you with a soft kiss as you rubbed the sleepiness out of your eyes. “Why good morning my dear! I do hope you had pleasant dreams” he beamed, setting the breakfast tray on your lap. You blinked in surprise and smiled “Oh Al you didn’t have to. I could have cooked breakfast” you said, happily opening your mouth as he fed you some fluffy pancakes.

Alastor hummed “Nonsense! You should be pampered my dear and as your HUSBAND it is my job to make sure you don’t work yourself to the bone”

You hadn’t thought anything of it.

Alastor was full of surprises and such a gentleman.

So you went about your week.

But you knew when something was bothering your husband.

”baby…what’s this?” You asked Alastor confused as you walked around your new studio. Your little nook that you dedicated to painting,writing, and other little hobbies was now a full room with a view of a newly placed garden.

Alastor just smiled “I thought you could use a bit more place. Isn’t this better? Now you can enjoy the scenery and not be crammed in a stuffy corner”

You still thought nothing of it.

until….a letter came for you in the mail.

Your ex-husband had seen an advertisement of the hotel. He saw that you were managing it and wanted to swing by to see how you were doing.

You were weary to tell Alastor, but when you told him, he just smiled at you ”Then we’ll just have to put on a good show then wont we dear?”

A show indeed.

A knock at the door reached your ears and you opened it to reveal your ex-husband. You gave him a smile and welcomed him inside.

He enveloped you into a hug, twirling you around “Well I be damned! Thought the papers were lyin’ how ya been doll?”

The lights flickered.

You laughed “Well better than the living haha. So what brings you by what have you been up too?” You ushered him to sit on the couch.

He filled you in on how he died and what he had been doing in Hell the last few decades.

You tried to catch your breathe from laughing. “So wait? You’re telling me that the whole thing was a scam? Hahahaha”

He chuckled “Yea I should have known better. You would have slapped me straight”

You nodded in agreement still giggling. He looked around “sooo a hotel for redeeming souls….how you come up with that?”

You excitedly showed him around as you briefly explained that you were just a simple manager. Helping the Princess of Hell with her dream of helping sinners who wanted to see the pearly gates.

”Actually it was my husband’s idea” You smiled.

The man gawked “Y-Ya got married again?”

You nodded happily and taking a moment “He’s here actually i can introduce-” You bumped into something…someone.

You chirped happily “Ah Alastor! I was just coming to find you”

Alastor looked the sinner over. He was NOT impressed at all.

THAT is what you were married to before? Oh honey

You definitely leveled up.

”Alastor this is *ex-husband name*” “*ex-husband name* this is Alastor”

Your ex-husband extended his hand “How’d ya do?”

Alastor gave him a sharp smile, taking his hand “Pleasure to meet you, quite a pleasure” he swiftly shook his hand and swiped his hand after on his jacket Alastor baby PLEASE

Your ex-husband swung a arm around your shoulders, grinning “doll face here was telling me about your fine establishment here. I am truly happy she has someone to take care of her. You truly found a gem here sir”

Alastor’s eye twitched.

In a smooth motion, Alastor grabbed your hand, pulling you to his side, looping your arm in his, giving a tight smile “I couldn’t agree more”

He walked you back into the lobby, you ex following.

”MY wife told me a lot about you. I must admit I am shocked at how much you lack” Alastor eyes narrowed on the man.

The man sweatdropped, laughing nervously “Yea I admit I wasn’t the best husband but I did care about her”

You cooed, happy your ex could admit his wrongs but still thought of you in a good light.

Alastor hummed “Surely not the best” he feigned looking at his claws.

You talked for a bit more before your ex stood up to leave.

”Well it was nice to see you but i should really get going doll”

You pouted “No its way too late, why don’t you stay we have plenty of room.”

Alastor was quick to object “now now my dear if the man NEEDS to go we shouldn’t try to stop him. He probably has better things to do” he narrowed his eyes at your ex.

Get out

”He right doll, But ill be sure to stop by again…it was nice seeing you again.”

You gave him a hug which made Alastor growled and waved him off. You closed the door and turned back to your husband with a smile. You were happy that he was on his best behavior. You had feared he would eat the man.

You sighed, wrapping your arms around his waist, giggling

”You know you’re the best man I’ve ever met right Al” you pressed a kiss to his lips.

He hummed, lanky arms wrapped around your waist, kissing you back

“How about we head upstairs and I show you why I am the best”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor imagine #the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor

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moechies · 5 months

Text

sukuna nii <3

cw view at your own discretion . . . use of nii chan, suggestive, reader is naked, physical abuse, coercion/manipulation, heavy degradation

punishments with sukuna nii were the worst. they were relentless, and never left you conscious. when you see the glint in his eyes in the mirror as he drives you guys home, it makes you wish you had never looked into a direction of another man.

“kuna m-m sorry… please i-it hurts..” you cry out desperately and naked below him, you know your pleads are useless.

“no. you haven’t learned your lesson yet,” he bends down besides you and grips hardly onto your burning damp cheeks.

“ya know how this is gonna end, so why don’t ya just take it?”

his hand slaps across your face, letting out a pained cry as you looked below you. not daring to look up at your fuming big brother.

“n-nii-“

“come up here.” he sits down on the living room sofa, patting his thigh signaling for you to sit on his lap. you wobble your way over to your brother, wiping the streaming tears off your face.

“bend over.” and when you do, you feel a harsh press on your back to keep you still, and in place. you grip onto his pants for a sense of safety, and shut your eyes tight to try and bare the pain. before you could let out another cry, a burning slap came down on your soft ass.

“this is what ya get. you don’t get to be my good little sister anymore, just a worthless cummy bitch.“ another slap lands on your ass, and you know better than to talk back right now. your heart clenches with the mean words from your brother, muffling your cries into his thigh.

another slap falls on your ass, but this time he makes his way to keep his hand on and fondles you. you feel his hand begin to get warmer and warmer, until it’s burning your asscheek,

“n-nii chan..! s-stop..! it-it hurts, nii chan please, please..!” your squirms are worthless with his heavy hand on your back, the burning beginning to become more and more intense.

“n-nii c-chan please… i-i love you.. p-please st-stop… m only gonna love you please… “

his sweet sisters voice is so soft, and so pained, he can’t help but show a bit of compassion before pulling his hand off of you. but his words speak otherwise,

“don’t fuckin call me that. ain’t your nii chan anymore, since ya wanna get drugged and get fucked out on the street. maybe i should jus let you.”

“n-no..! no! please..! ni-nii, give me another c-chance please! i-i’ll only be f’you! w-wont ever disappoint y-you again.. please.. d-dont le-leave me i don’t want you to go..”

with sobs escaping you, you raise your body up to him, hugging him tightly with your bruised arms around his neck. and even though you can’t see, you can feel the smirk crawl onto his previously stern face.

your big mean brother knows what he does to you, and he loves it.

#jjk smut #jjk #dead dove do not eat #jujutsu kaisen smut #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #dark content #tw dark content #sukuna smut #sukuna jjk #sukuna x reader #sukuna #tw.incest #drabbles ⋆⑅˚₊

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pandoraslxna · 11 months

Note

Reader & Lo'ak making out with him on top of her dry humping/grinding into her aggressively

Please 🙏🏻

Close ain’t close enough

adult Lo‘ak x female human reader

Words: 2.3k

Summary: Even though your relationship was still fairly new, you couldn’t stop overthinking how certain things could even work out, between a human and a Na‘vi.

Warnings: explicit smut, minors dni, dry humping, size difference, mentions of belly bulging, making out, cuddling, fluff, dirty talk

Na’vi translations:

Tiyawn - love

Sevin - pretty

Love was the last thing you were looking for when you fled from the RDA and sought refuge in one of the Na’vi clans, around a year and a half ago. But the omatikaya say, that the hearts compass will always guide you true.

And guiding you it did, right into the arms of the olo’eyktan’s son. A young warrior, just a couple of years older than you. A carbon copy of his father in any way, but with metkayina tattoos littered across his chest. A constant reminder of the time he had spent living within another clan, far away from the forest he calls home, back when his own family sought refuge from the war too.

An experience that sort of formed a connection and later a bond between you both. Sharing similar memories, similar emotions of feeling lost and like an outsider quickly became the topic of your very first conversations with each other.

It feels like an eternity had passed since then.

The room Norm had assigned you with wasn’t exactly small, you’ve seen a lot worse here in hells gate. And you were grateful for everything they provided you with, since it was a privilege to even be here in the first place. But with a full grown Na’vi in his twenties, sprawled out over your human-sized bed, your room definitely seemed a little cramped.

It had been around a month ago, since Lo‘ak blurted out that he was in love with you. He’s never been one to overthink things, always living after this silly do-now, think-later mentality. He just told you straight away, when he realized that his feelings for you held way more than any friendship could carry. You, on the other hand, began to overthink a lot. Not about any emotions or feelings— no, you were clearly head over heels in love with the four fingered Na‘vi.

But there was the significant fact that you were a human, a small, oxygen breathing, human. And he was a big, easily eight or nine feet tall, Na‘vi. Even crouching down, Lo‘ak was still big enough to rest his chin on top of your head.

And as children growing up in war, physical affection was something you were both pretty much starved in, so it immediately became some sort of love language for the both of you. Even as friends, ones touch bought the other great comfort. But now that there was something else besides friendship growing between you and Lo‘ak, a simple touch such as holding hands, hugging or cuddling, soon wasn’t enough anymore. It was far from enough, actually.

As you and Lo’ak watched some random movie that Norm had recommended you, your hands almost naturally sought each other out. When your fingers touched beneath the blanket, you had turned to him and smiled softly. He huffed a fond laugh at you through his nose and hooked your fingers together. Focused on the film, you touched absentmindedly. Lo‘ak would massage your fingertips, enjoying how your four fingered hand felt against his own and you would soothingly rub your thumb across the back of his big palm. It was like a perfectly coordinated dance routine, familiar and comfortable.

Every one or two minutes, Lo’ak reached for the mask around his neck, taking supplementary sips of carbon dioxide.

Everything felt peaceful. From the noises of the small TV, to the faint hum of his breathing mask, to the slide of your hands caressing one another. You always felt so incredibly relaxed and content when you were with him.

But even though your relationship was still fairly new, you couldn’t stop thinking about that there were things that you probably could never share with him. Things that couldn’t work out– at least not how they would in a normal relationship. In basically any relationship, where both parties are from the same species, to begin with.

Things, such as being intimate with one another.

Even thinking about it made your mind spin, palms feeling a little sweaty and cheeks flushing a flustered red.

Right on cue, Lo‘ak pulls you just a little closer. And then a hand comes down to lay on your thigh, feeling the soft fabric of your leggings and gently squeezing the flesh underneath. Looking up at him with a raised brow, he only glanced back at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Lo‘aks hand doesn't stop, though. He begins gently rubbing up and down your thigh, fingertips coming dangerously close to touching your core, where a damp spot was already forming on your underwear, despite your internal voice begging your body to calm down. He wasn’t even doing anything yet. It was just his hand on your thigh.

You bite back a gasp when he grips the meat of your inner thigh more firmly. You could feel your resolve crumble more by the second. It gets worse when Lo‘ak leans down to place a gentle kiss on your shoulder, where the straps of your top had slipped down a little and exposed your skin to him.

"Lo‘ak…", you say softly, exhaling a breathe you didn’t even realize you were holding since he had placed a hand on your thigh.

"Hmh?"

"I thought we agreed on taking it slow?" There’s a coy smile on your lips that you weren’t able to hide, along with a playful tone in your voice that almost sounded a little too tempting to his ears.

"What, so now I can’t even kiss my pretty little girlfriend anymore?", he grins and you roll your eyes with a giggle. "We couldn’t take it any slower if we tried, tiyawn"

Another kiss was placed right on top of your collarbone, while he snug his arms around your middle and rolled himself on top of you. His face was now nearly pressed against the space between your breasts and you could feel him inhale deeply, mumbling something you couldn’t quite pick up, but was probably something about how you smelled good.

Your heart begins to beat harder in your chest when you feel him repositioning himself, so your legs were on either side of his hips, spread as wide as you could manage to make room for him.

Lo‘ak grasps at your legs, more in desperation than anything else. His hands roughly massage your plump skin and then he drapes them over his arms and hooks them up higher. At this angle, you were nearly folded in a half and even though Lo‘ak was careful not to crush you under his weight, there was a certain pressure he put on your pelvis with his own hips. This time, there was no way to hold back the gasp escaping your lips, when you finally felt it. His cock, stirring to life underneath his loincloth and pressed snugly against your clothed cunt.

This was new. Touching each other wasn’t new, but the closeness. Feeling each other like this. This was definitely new.

Overcome with need, Lo‘ak moves to press his lips against yours, his tongue instantly wedges itself into your mouth and curls around your own. He suddenly can't think of anything but touching you, in any way he can. You yelp into the kiss, surprised by it’s suddenness, but after a beat, you melt into it, tangling your fingers in his braided hair. Tingles run down his neck at the feeling of your fingers and their movements against his scalp.

Lo‘ak allows himself to move, carefully testing the waters as he grinds himself against you just once. He groans at the feeling of your puffy lips against his cock, perceptible even through the thin fabric of your pants.

Breaking the kiss, Lo’ak exhales shakily, overwhelmed by the reality of the situation, "You don’t make this easy for me, sevin."

He allows himself to look down at where your hips contact one another, feeling his composure slip by the sheer sight of it. He catches himself wishing there were less layers of clothing separating you, as he watches his hard cock glide over your covered pussy.

Lo‘ak looks back up at your face, gazing into your glassy eyes. His beautiful little human girlfriend is pinned beneath him, grasping at him. With lips swollen from a heated kiss and cheeks flushed into a deep shade of red. He presses a kiss right there on the apple of your cheek and even though your face felt hot, his lips were still warm against your skin.

The next kiss is placed on the lobe of your ear, pointy teeth carefully grazing it before he buried his face completely in the crook of your neck.

Another buck of his hips against yours has your mind spiraling. This time, you could clearly feel the outline of his cock. The length alone must’ve been almost half of your forearm, with a girth that would be enough to split you clean in half. Of course a part of you hoped that you were wrong, but apparently all the concerns and the overthinking really was justified.

There was no way that would ever fit inside you.

"I just want to… just want to fuck you. I want to fuck you so bad", Lo‘ak pants and the next sound that flees from your mouth is a noise similar to a whimper, when his tip brushes against your clit. Learning fast, Lo‘ak repeats the same motion again, his length throbbing painfully to the sound of your little mewls and whimpers.

"Eywa, you feel so good like this", he groans, putting just a little more pressure into his thrusts to feel the outline of your cunt against him. "But I can’t stop thinking about how perfect your pussy would feel, wrapped around me so tight."

You moan at the sound of his voice, hot and low, speaking directly into your ear, combined with the way he was aggressively dry humping you now.

"Lo‘ak", your breathy sigh sends a pleasant shiver coursing down his spine. His name has never sounded so sweet before.

"Hmm you’d squeeze me so good, wouldn’t you? And you would be so full of my cock. O-Oh fuck."

One of the hands that’s been grabbing your hips suddenly moves between your bodies to caress your stomach, thumb running in gentle circles around your navel.

"I wonder if I could make your cute tummy bulge, if I could watch my cock move inside you. What do you think, huh?"

You moan and you try to nuzzle yourself against him as much as you can, gasping against his shoulder, "Y-You’re gonna make me cum!" You could really feel it starting to build. You could feel how hard Lo‘ak humping you was starting to pay off. His hips roll against yours frantically and you’re trying not to be too loud as he gazes at you with those blown-out yellow eyes, a look of anticipation on his face.

"Yeah? You’re coming?", Lo’ak grunts roughly, still lifting and dropping his hips with maximum effort. He feels himself getting lost in his imagination, closing his eyes to make him believe that he was actually buried deep inside of you right now and not just humping your clothed cunt like he was some horny teen that’s never touched a woman before. "Shit, baby, i’m close too." He pushes his face back against your neck, panting into your sweaty skin.

Your cunt clenches down on nothing, desperate for his cock, but for right now, more desperate to come than anything else.

"Want to burry my cock into that tight little pussy of yours, want to stretch you nice and wide, see how much of me you can take." He’s rambling now, groaning and panting against you throat. Occasionally, he’s quiet in favor of kissing and sucking on your skin, licking every inch he could reach. His hands hold you in a bruising grip, pulling your hips up and against him as he continues to grind his cock on you.

"P-Please I’m… I’m so close, don’t stop!"

"Can feel how wet you are, baby. You’re fucking drenched, just look at you, making a mess on both ours clothes."

Lo’ak’s right. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel it. Could feel the wetness seep out of you like sticky syrup, soaking your underwear and then your leggings, before they stained his loincloth too. The way his cock was bumping against your clit over and over again didn’t really help with that either, but you were too far gone to care or feel embarrassed about it.

Feeling the same kind of euphoria, Lo’aks eyes flutter closed again, his lids suddenly far too heavy to hold open for another second. Turning your heard, your lips brush his, the barest hint of contact as you pant into each others mouths.

Your orgasm damn-near kills you.

The sheer intensity of your pleasure, combined with the sugar-sweet warmth of your love for him, has tears pearling on your lashes and black dots creeping in at the corners of your vision. It feels like gravity has increased exponentially, trying to force him down against you even harder as you come.

His body is completely unmoving against yours, except for the rhythmic jolt of his hips as spurts of cum seep through the fabric of his loincloth. With every uncontrollable thrust, Lo‘ak grunts softly, pleasure pulsing through his body. Even though his vision is blurry and his mind is foggy, he lifts his head up slightly, making sure to get a glance at you as you’re in the midst of your orgasm.

You look so beautiful. Your eyes are tightly shut, which only highlights your long lashes. Your lips look nibbled red, and even the sweat sliding down your temple looks like something that could only be crafted by Eywa herself.

You both rock soothingly in unison with one another, riding out your highs. You feel sticky basically everywhere and are hit with sudden senses of exhaustion, but you’re kept awake by Lo’aks languidly kissing to the sound of the movie’s end credits rolling on the TV.

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dazai-ritualist · 24 days

Text

CAN’T REMEMBER TO FORGET YOU

[before you read this, check out the rest of the story!]

— running away from alastor wasn’t so hard the first time, who says you can’t do it again while pregnant?

alastor; the monster you call husband. he was absolutely by all definitions, obsessed. he never left your side— cooking all your meals, escorting you everywhere, even watching you sleep.

he proudly announced your pregnancy on live radio, sealing that you are his. no man will want for you anymore, he has defiled your purity. he clung onto you like a leech, draining away what little happiness you had left.

you just had to get away from that monster. you couldn’t stand another second in this hellhole house, everything in it was a cruel reminder that you’re trapped with no way to escape.

well, you’re not gonna just fall into his trap. it was then that you had planned to run away. far into saint bernard, where no one knew who you were.

and with that plan in mind, you packed all you could and ran. running south with wild abandon, you needed to run far as far from alastor as possible.

you took shelter at a rundown motel while you got back on your feet, taking a singing gig at a club down the street.

you sang well, earning favorable tips from the drunk men who desired you, wanting to see what else was underneath your signature loose flowy dresses. and with that money, you were able to afford a small house with the basic necessities. well, enough for when your child was born.

being a single mother had been rough, when you went to work at night, you entrusted your son, noah with one of your neighbors who you had grown fond of. you sent noah off to a public school, it was not the best, but it was all you could afford.

soon enough, your hard work truly paid off, you were able to live much more comfortably, buying your son the things he could ever want for.

true, there were times that your son wondered where his father was… and to that, you decided to tell him the complete truth; of how alastor is an evil man, a sort of big bad wolf. and, how you ran away to protect him and keep him safe from that wolf.

and, to him, that was a reasonable explanation.

7 years passed by, your son grew into a handsome little boy. handsome, yet you couldn’t look him in the eye. everyday, as he grew up, he started looking more and more just like his father; the tuft of chestnut brown hair, those piercing eyes, and that smile— it was all resembling the monster you ran away from. it seems as if all that your son inherited from you was your heart.

as you walked over to the bar, you spotted your co-worker mimzy slacking off. it wasn’t often that your shifts had co-incided, but the two of you still remained aquaintances. she was apparently talking up some fellow, probably trying to milk some cash out of him.

and as you took a peek of the poor soul mimzy had decided to prey on, your frame froze. was that alastor? what was he doing so far out from new orleans? your breath hitched as you walked back, trying to move as far away from that wretched man.

maybe you shouldn’t buy heels from thrift stores anymore.

the heel on your right foot snapped as you fell onto your butt. this had caught the attention of alastor, excusing himself from the conversation as he walked towards you.

you shuffled back into the crowd as best as you could, crawling away before he could get his hands on you. and still, you weren’t fast enough. alastor bended down by his waist, a smile plastered on his face. “why, say it ain’t so! if it isn’t my darling wife.” he laughed. “ex-wife.” you corrected. “ah-ah” alastor tutted, wagging his finger. “wife. we never had a formal divorce. did we, dear?”

“whatever…” you scoffed, still moving back. “say, where is our child? the one you’ve hidden from me for 7 years? i’m sure they’ll be delighted to meet me after you’ve kept us apart for so long!” he rambled on. “get away from me, alastor. you’ll never meet my child.” you said, finally getting back up on your feet, albeit the broken heel. “won’t you at least tell me their name?” he pleaded, doe eyes begging you. the doe eyes that made you crawl back every time.

“…noah. his name is noah” you frowned, glaring up at alastor. “noah. what a beautiful name for our son.” he mused. “now, would you leave me alone?” you hissed, pushing him away.

despite his lanky frame, alastor had barely moved. “my love, do you think i of all people would let you off the hook so easily? all the scheming, forcing you into an affair, into running away, crawling back to me, even following you far into this club— i wouldn’t want it all to be for naught…” he frowned, explaining his plan as he backed you into a wall, a predatory shine in the way he stared at you.

alastor planned it all..? all the ‘hardships’ you faced— all of it was in some elaborate scheme. no word could’ve described the overwhelming betrayal that overcame you. you just wanted to get out of this club, run home to your son, and run farther away. to another city, a different state, or even a different country! anything to keep him far away from his father. “now that you’ve had your fun, dear… i think it’s time you and noah return home. you can’t keep my son away from me forever. plus, my mother has been dying to meet her grandchild!” he laughed, holding you by the waist.

alastor took note of how you submissively agreed, letting him take you back to your true home. it seems you finally learned your lesson; there’s no escaping alastor. no matter what you do, it’ll end with you back in his bed, back in his arms.

“come now, my doe. it’s not safe to leave noah alone at home.” he chided, opening your side of the car door. “he must be quite confused right now. after all, he’s in the room we had prepared for him all those years ago, he must have no idea where he is right now!”

ah…

there was no use keeping alastor away.

he’d always find his way back, even through drab methods.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hasbin alastor #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor hc #alastor headcanons #human alastor #alastor the radio demon #yandere alastor #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere

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softlyspector · 8 months

Text

clouds

Summary: Joel comes home to find you telling your daughter a bedtime story.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Word count: ~1.6k

Warnings: Joel and the reader have a daughter together, certified girl dad Joel Miller, allusions to events in tlou part 2, Joel is a sad old guy, Joel and Ellie are not on good terms, completely unedited

A/N: Hello. I saw a compilation of all the times Joel called Ellie kiddo and this is what spilled forth from that emotional turmoil. Also, it was a nice lil challenge to write something short. I would love to hear your thoughts💕

Joel is still kicking off his boots by the front door when he hears giggling.

The sound is like a shot of poison, like new love and cotton candy dreams, all in one. It’s something that never fails to take him back some twenty odd years.

Yellow lamplight, purple and pink sheets, soccer trophies, pictures stuck to the walls. Texas heat and the muted hum of overhead fans. Laughter and storybooks.

He shakes the memory of that time, of that little girl away. Snow is splattered in little puddles around the front door’s mat now, and Joel isn’t sure how long he’s been standing there, lost in another time.

Joel hangs up his coat and listens for it again, the tinkling bells of it. The little laughs that fill him with worrisome dread and the buoyancy of ten thousand balloons, with inadequacy and the roundness of champagne bubbles.

Even though he’s hungry, even though he wants nothing more than to lie down on the couch and rest for just a goddamn second, he goes slowly up the stairs, avoiding all the little places he knows creak and crack.

The landing and the hall are bled through with the glow of golden light. It streams in from the bathroom, where you must have forgotten to turn off the light, and one of the bedrooms. The smell of lavender soap leaches out into the hall, fragrant and thick but not cloying. It smells like sleep and safety, like his family, like babies.

“Did you know that the clouds used to be ruled by monsters?” Your voice slips out into the hall from the other door, a pocket of light cracking the floorboards open.

Joel steps carefully closer, until he can see you and a tiny girl that looks everything like you, and nothing like him.

“Monsters? Really?” The girl you’re tucking into bed raises a skeptical brow at you. He hears, but doesn’t see, Ellie snort from somewhere within, the gentle creak of the rocking chair she must be sitting in following.

It stops his heart for a moment, freezes his body where he stands.

Ellie hasn’t been inside this house since…

When he…

He knows she’s been there. Because she still cares about you, about that girl that’s half his, that she thinks of as a sister, that is her sister. And he’s glad she has the two of you, even if he’ll never have her again.

Ellie is never there when he’s there, never.

Not anymore.

You cock your head to the side, the movement birdlike. “Oh, neither of you believe me, huh? It’s true.” You tug the comforter higher around your daughter’s shoulders before brushing your fingers along her temple. “A long time ago they lived there. It’s why the sky turns stormy sometimes.”

“Why? If they used to live there?”

“Good catch,” you nod knowingly, curling your fingers around hers when she reaches for your hand.

“And it still storms,” Ellie points out. Joel knows she’s rolling her eyes.

You hum, brushing slow fingers against your daughter’s forehead with your free hand. “Well, aren’t you two my smart girls?”

Ellie scoffs again, while another giggle from his baby reshapes his heart, floats long on the air, bubbly and bright.

He pushes open the door before you can continue, forgetting for a moment, that things aren’t like before. “Ain’t you a little old to be arguin’ about bedtime stories?”

The smile on Ellie’s face drops away when he steps into the room, and he tries not to let that bed down in his soul. Her expression goes steely and closed off.

The room, decked out in warm swatches of green and yellow, goes a little tense. There’s a little stuffed giraffe from Ellie at the foot of her bed, but everything else is covered in whatever you and he can find with bats on it.

He hadn’t expected this phase, but you find it funny. Spooky, you said of it, and cute.

“Daddy,” Evie’s voice, squeaky and tinny. She reaches for him, chubby little fingers clenching and releasing.

“Hi, baby,” he coos, reaches down so she can touch his hand.

He’s too old to have a kid this little, one that can wrap her hand around his finger in lieu of his whole hand, who’s tiny hand was a little starfish against his palm.

Still, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

You stand from where you were perched on the edge of the little bed Joel built with his own hands. You lean down and tuck the blanket higher around her shoulders for a second time. A kiss is planted against her forehead. “Goodnight, baby.”

“‘Night, mama.”

“I’m gonna let daddy say goodnight now, okay? He never gets to put you to bed.”

“Okay.”

“Ask him to tell you a story,” you whisper, secretive about it. “He knows a lot of good ones.”

She giggles again. “Okay.”

You pull back and straighten. The glowing eyes of your child follow the movement, then shift to him, big and full of life and all you.

Ellie stands, clearly intending to follow you, her eyes focused on the ceiling, then the floor. She fidgets with two fingers and resolutely does not look at Joel.

You lean into his side as you pass, your chest pressed against his arm when you kiss his cheek, before you make to leave. “Hold on now,” he hooks a hand in the crook of your elbow and keeps you close, acutely aware of how long it's been since all four of you have been in a room together. “Ain’t you gonna tell us why monsters ruled the clouds?”

You smile softly at him, indulging him. “Well, don’t you know they were as afraid of us as we were of them?”

“No, I didn’t,” he admits like this is something he’s heard of or thought on before, loosening his hold on your arm. You turn and Ellie glances up, meets your eyes but not his. She looks uncomfortable, like diving out the window might be preferable to standing in the same room as him.

“They were,” you concede. “They were scared of us. And then it turned out that neither were as scary as the other thought. And the storms are just little reminders, of all the things that wouldn’t have been possible, had they stayed in the clouds forever.”

Joel’s stomach goes sour, but Eva says, “Where are they now, mama?”

“Right here with us,” you smile. “Because we were the same all along.”

You lean in and kiss Joel’s cheek.

Then you’re gone, and the door is shut before either he or Ellie can move.

She’s still fidgeting, rolling her knuckles against her opposite hand, the skin pinching white.

“So stupid,” she mutters. “Stupid story.”

Joel just watches her for a minute before he fills in the place you’d vacated next to his daughter. Tiny fingers seek out his. She’s the littlest thing in the world, that he’s sure of.

“Wasn’t too bad.” He glances up from Eva to Ellie. “You doin’ all right, kiddo?”

Her face goes blank and then righteous with anger, hot and burning bright. But her eyes shift to the little girl looking so innocently up at both of them, wide eyes siding between them.

Some of that fury recedes, just a little. “I should go,” she says roughly instead.

It sinks part of his heart, sends it out to drift on an icy sea. But he just nods. “Okay,” he agrees softly. “We’ll see y’around.”

She opens her mouth, like she wants to say something else. But she looks at Eva again, and doesn’t. “Yeah. Maybe.”

It’s a lie, one she’ll keep if she can help it, and they both know it. “Okay. Be safe.”

She doesn’t answer, but says goodbye to Eva in a gentle voice and then leaves.

Joel’s chest hurts. Sometimes he can’t tell if it’s the old anxiety, vestiges of a previous life, a heart attack, or his heart breaking all over again. Maybe it’s some combination of all three.

“Daddy?”

“Hi, baby girl,” he murmurs again. “Did you have a nice day?”

She nods, intelligent eyes clocking him, filing the look on his face away for later examination and rumination. She gets that from you, how smart and perceptive she is. “Mama said you should tell me a story,” she reminds him.

Joel considers his limited catalog of child appropriate stories. He used to read to Sarah, brightly colored little books for kids about princesses and dogs that could talk.

But Eva isn’t Sarah.

The soft pads of her little fingers dig into his wrist. He leans down and presses a kiss to her hair. She still smells like a baby sometimes, sweet like milk, like bread. Now is one of those times, combined with the calming floral scent of the lavender soap you must have bathed her with.

“Okay,” he says when he pulls back. She liked stories about animals, about monsters, about bats and wolves. She’d probably requested one right before he got home. “I know one. You wanna hear a story about another monster?”

Bright little eyes go sparkly with excitement.

She nods, wiggles closer to his hip, half her face disappearing beneath the blanket so her eyes are all he can see.

“Okay,” he agrees, soft about it. “Once there was a mean old monster. He didn’t care about no one or nothin’. And then he met a little girl.”

💞 Thank you for reading! Comments and feedback are so appreciated. 💞

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

1K notes · View notes

ravengards-rogue · 2 months

Text

WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.

✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover

sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.

sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ;

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur.

Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun.

Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him.

He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate.

So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn’t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy.

You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures.

(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )

When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember.

Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him.

So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain.

In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down.

He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something.

Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while.

Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately.

Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you.

(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)

Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish.

Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting.

He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit.

Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs.

“Arthur,” Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,”

“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,”

“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,”

You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.

“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.”

You giggle back at him

“What kinda trouble is that now?”

Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice.

“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.”

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.”

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly.

Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn.

Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted.

On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it.

John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily.

Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.

Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show.

So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp.

Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms.

You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine.

(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that.

You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.)

You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did.

Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it. It was just all too easy again, to be with you.

You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family.

But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see. Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.

It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn��t toss him into the street.

Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy. John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you.

But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you.

There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision.

You might turn him into a literate man yet.

John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life.

Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself.

Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.

It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck.

“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?”

You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you.

“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,”

John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.

His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat.

“John,”

What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.”

“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,”

“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,”

“A foolish one,”

John laughs.

“I sure do love you for it,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving.

It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get. He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently.

Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.

(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.)

His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters.

Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living.

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is) loyal to Dutch. To the gang.

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after.

And it didn’t matter until he met you

He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long.

But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time. He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about.

You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around.

You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen. If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing.

(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.)

When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit.

From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would.

When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d never find again.

That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves.

Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too.

For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.

You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you.

Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him.

“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him. You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,”

He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease. All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides. You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space.

He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words.

“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.”

Darling as you always are, you nod softly.

“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ;

Wandering.

He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on.

There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly.

There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains.

He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few.

The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it.

Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list.

Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.

You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are.

The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him.

It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some.

It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you. And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything.

But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not.

He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss.

For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars.

Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze.

You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks.

“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,”

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,”

“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?”

“Well, I’m not fine with it.”

You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?”

“Please, what?”

You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.”

Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life. “Yeah, that’s good to hear.”

You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto.

You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head.

“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,”

His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires.

When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.

But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you.

Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed.

“Kiss?”

Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”

Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

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