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ohproserpine · 3 months

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for valentine's day, i thought i'd buy a gun.

synopsis: you make your husband mad on purpose tags: fem! reader, married couple, blood&injuries, demi alastor, suggestive/steamy, just a short kinda bad drabble to break my writer's block, ooc-ish alastor, soft alastor at first, vox mentioned don't like? don't interact.

"Cher!"

Alastor greeted you with a smile, his lips curved into a charming yet slightly crooked grin that softened the rugged edges of his appearance.

Leaning against the door frame, he looked every bit the rogue hunter returning from a hunt. His once-neat attire bore tears, burns, and scratches, with both knees of his pants ripped and scuffed thin. His monocle hung loosely on his chest, the glass broken and shards glinting in the light. Tousled strands of crimson hair fell haphazardly across his forehead, framing his rugged features, while a trickle of blood from the cut on his lips dripped down his chin, staining his deathly pale skin.

"Christ!" You jolted off the hotel bed, propelled into action by concern, your heart racing with worry. You began running around, collecting towels, extra clothes, and a first aid kit in a frantic rush.

Alastor moved into the room and stood in the very center, observing your frenzied activity with an amused smirk.

Finally, with all your materials in hand, you rushed to your husband's side, your footsteps echoing against the cold carpet.

"What happened to you?" you asked, filled with concern as you assessed his injuries, your eyes scanning his form for any more signs of distress.

"Just a little scuffle on the hunt, my doe," he replied with a cheer in his tone, spinning his staff in his hand. "Came across a feisty, moronic beast. But nothing I couldn't handle."

"A scuffle?" Disbelief colored your voice as you got on your tiptoes, straining to reach up and dab at the blood on his chin with a damp towel.

Alastor grinned down at you, his eyes tracing your features with tenderness. Always such a pretty view, but seeing you so domestic and sweet for him made him begin to feel hot below the collar. Leaning down, he reached out to sweep a stray strand of hair from your eyes, his long, sharp claws grazing against your skin.

"That can wait," his voice crackled with low static as he pulled you flush against him, chest against chest. "I've missed you dearly."

“Good heavens, Alastor, you’re insatiable,” you chided him playfully with a swat, though the warmth in your tone betrayed your affection. Your fingers lightly brushed against the rough fabric of his torn shirt as you urged him to let you continue tending to his injuries. "Let me fix you up first."

Alastor's ears twitched back as he rolled his eyes at you, but his grip remained firm as he pulled you closer and closer until you were practically dragged towards the bed, falling into his lap with a gentle thud.

"Love," you began to protest, but before you could continue, he silenced you with a deep kiss pressed upon your lips, a low chuckle vibrating against your own, melting any further protest.

He drew back briefly, only to dive back in, his lips tracing a delicate path along your neck. With a familiarity born of passion, his hands roamed, each touch igniting a cascade of sensations that threatened to consume you both.

"Al," you whimpered, unable to resist the intoxicating allure of his touch. As his lips began to trail up your jawline, you found yourself melting into his arms, the tension of the earlier encounter gradually dissipating in the heat of the moment.

He let out a dark chuckle, the sound echoing in the room, as he threw off his ruined coat and loosened the tie around his neck. Gripping onto your hips with a firm hold, he all but threw you off his lap and onto the bed.

The smug bastard. He knew all too well that his affections could smooth over any trouble he found himself in.

"Alastor," you murmured, your senses cutting through the haze of desire, "We really should attend to your wounds first."

Alastor began to move towards you, his claws digging through and tearing the mattress beneath him. "In due time, my heart."

"I am serious," you insisted, ignoring the wide smile you received in return. Alastor merely hummed, a low, melodic sound, as he moved to press himself against you, encasing you in an embrace that felt simultaneously comforting and confining.

You leveled him with a glare. Gritting your teeth, you continued, "What did you even do? I know damn well you didn't get these," you gestured to the charred edges of his shirt, "from an animal."

"Well, dearest, it was from an overlord meeting. You understand how tense politics can become," Alastor countered with a laugh.

"Bushwa," you scowled, jabbing your finger into his chest. "I know a lie when I see one."

"Rather accusatory," Alastor hummed, his tone dismissive.

"Well, I apologize for worrying about my husband, who looks to be on the verge of collapse any moment now," you snapped, frustration seeping into your voice.

"So enough of this," you scolded, your expression hardening. "What did you do?"

"What was necessary," Alastor scoffed, a mirthless chuckle following.

"I'd say he deserved it. You should have seen the way he looks at you," he continued, his voice low and tinged with a hint of warning, the air around him crackling with static.

"Who?" you asked, leaning down to meet his gaze. "There are plenty of people. Plenty of looks."

"Don't act as if you don't notice that pompous television bastard hanging around the hotel nowadays," Alastor's voice crackled with dark intensity, the radio static grew stronger, prickling against your skin and nearly making his words incoherent.

So this is what it's about?

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at Alastor's jealousy, though a small part of you felt a flicker of flattery at his protectiveness.

Your husband's irritation simmered beneath the surface, evident in the subtle set of his jaw and the way his normally smug gaze turned icy. But a mischievous spark ignited within you, tempting you to push his buttons just a bit further, to dance dangerously close to the edge of his patience.

"Are you talking about Vox?" you asked with a smirk playing at your lips. Tilting your head coyly, you met Alastor's gaze with a glint of mischief in your eyes. Your voice was laced with honeyed sarcasm, dripping like molten gold from your lips.

His expression darkened at the mention, a flicker of raw anger crossing his features before he regained his composure.

"You know well who I'm talking about," Alastor's grin was uncanny, his voice carrying the same tone you'd heard the night he faced death. "Don't toy with me."

Despite the seriousness of his tone, you couldn't resist the urge to tease him further. A playful smile danced on your lips as you reached out, gripping onto his tie and pulling him closer, closing the distance between you with a pull.

“What if I found him charming?” you breathed out against his lips, your voice a tantalizing whisper as you ran your hands up the fabric of his undershirt. Your touch was featherlight, fingers smoothing down the wrinkles of his torn button-up with a teasing caress. “I might have let him have me right then and there.”

A sudden sharp pierce of a distorted screech, like a radio malfunctioning, cut through the air, shattering the moment. Claws flying up to grip your face, Alastor broke the kiss and stared down at you with glowing blood-red eyes, their intensity piercing through you. Your breath caught in your chest at the sight, your heart pounding in your ears as you were overcome by a mixture of fear and anticipation.

Alastor called out your name. It was the first time you had heard him utter it in a while. Throughout the years, he had always addressed you by endearing nicknames, leaving you half-convinced that he had forgotten your actual name.

But as the sound of fell from his lips, despite the danger, you found yourself yearning to hear it once more, to feel the weight of your name on his tongue.

"My sweet," Alastor tutted, a screech of radio feedback following him as he cupped your neck in one hand, guiding your gaze back to him. His touch was possessive, firm, and demanding, akin to the control of a puppeteer manipulating his marionette.

"Never utter such words again," he growled softly, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. His grip tightened ever so slightly, sharpened claws a warning of the consequences should you dare to defy him. "No one else shall lay claim to you."

With a defiant tilt of your chin, you met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down in the face of his dominance. "And what if I refuse?" you challenged, your voice steady despite the fear that coiled in your belly.

Alastor's lips curled into a manic grin, his canines shining beneath the lights of the room, his grip tightening ever so slightly as he leaned in closer.

"Then you shall suffer the consequences."

#have this shite drabble sorry for no writing :P i had a competition yesterday and the results come out today + i have prom tonight lolol #sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin vox

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toruslvt · 4 days

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HOT BABES IN YOUR AREA

⋆ your broke boyfriend and roommate Toji suggests you both start an onlyfans.

⋆ mdni. +f!reader, obviously filming unprotected sx, groping, taking suggestive pictures, dirty talk, very very dirty talk, praising, squirting, he calls you slut once.

a soft pop was heard from Toji’s back shoulders as he stretched, rubbing the back of his neck with a tired yawn. it'd been a long day in between picking up uncalled fights and betting on races, luckily he managed to make some money, at least enough to cover a few expenses like the bills and a part of the rent of the shitty overpriced apartment you lived in. he didn’t really care though, as long as he got to see your pretty face, Toji would agree to live under a bridge.

after counting the hundreds bills he hummed satisfied, putting them in his pocket while walking through the bustling streets, following the path he knew perfectly. and to his luck, the first thing he finds upon entering your living room is well, you, sitting on the couch looking worn out. why did your cute little face was even cutter all exhausted?

“welcome home” you chime, giving the man a soft smile and slight look as he steps through the door, “how was your day?” the words are mingled with the tap of your fingers on a laptop keyboard, focused and slightly squinted eyes flickering through the bright screen.

Toji smirks at the sound of your voice, walking over the back of the couch where you sit and tilting your head sideways, a bit rougher than intended, but the languid kiss he leaves on your mouth doesn’t let you complain, “shitty” he grins, parting from your mouth with a slight thread of saliva connecting you both, “but that’s life, doll, sometimes we win, sometimes we lose”

“liar” you say with furrowed brows and a knowing look, “where’s the money”

you have always been so good at looking though him, with a deep chuckle he reaches for the pocket of his loose pants, waving the wad of cash in the air before returning it to it's previous place, “any luck?” he asks pointing to your laptop with his chin, curious whether you’d got any luck at searching for a proper paying job.

“mm, nothing new” you mention, the tapping fading as your caught by surprise at the sudden movement of Toji attempting to lay on your lap, not giving a fuck whether he did it on top of the keyboard and ruined your most valuable possession, “hey...!”

ignoring your struggles he speaks, “y’know, there has to be another way to earn money, not like we can live solely from gambling, huh?” he chuckles, he knew he was not stopping with the gambling, “maybe you can come bet with me, maybe we can try something else...”

you raise a brow, looking down at him on your lap “what are you thinking about?”

a slow grin spreading through his face as he licks his teeth once, “you ever heard of onlyfans?”

a choke is the first thing that comes out of your mouth, and you really should have grown used to Toji’s boldness by the months you’ve been dating —and currently, living together, “are you serious?”

“c’mon, don’t give me that look” he huffs, teasingly rolling his eyes “we could be earning money while having fun”

you have actually considered the option, and now coming from your boyfriend’s lips sounded even more tempting, specially with the way he not so subtly adjusted his gigantic cock beneath his pants. what was he even thinking of.

you give him a tilted look, urging him into continue with the thought and earning a dark chuckle in return, “we can sell some pictures, y’know” he starts, sitting upright and kneeling with one of your thighs between his, cupping the back of your neck to keep your gaze on his, so close you felt his breathing on your lips, “maybe even stream ourselves fuckin’, n’ charge people too watch. we’d be swimming in money in no time” his voice drops and a devilish gleam lighting up his eyes, “thinkin’ bout it got me hard as fuck”

and with the way his heavy, hot bulge is pressing on your thigh you’re getting so horny too, breathlessly whispering a “yeah, alright” that’s a bit too desperate.

“that’s my girl” he purrs, leaning down to suck your tongue onto his mouth, the sound so lewd your panties get wet in an instant, “need to fuck you hard..., but not yet, babe” voice is thick with lust, in a sudden movement you’re on top of him, straddling his hips while his fingers trail across your stomach, dipping low to brush on the edge of your underwear peaking from above your pants, “gotta show off what we got goin’ on here” as he speaks one hand comes up to slide under your shirt, squeezing a breast slightly rough, "you got nice tits, babe, why don’tcha let me take a pic of them?, with this pretty little body of yours all those perverts will be paying good for more than just a picture”

“you’re turning into quite a businessman” you tease, an attempt of a grin on your face that gets interrupted by a sharp gasp at the rough touch of your lover’s calloused fingertips pinching your nipples, then your shirt is out in the blink of an eye.

one hand grasping your phone and the other slides the cup of your bra down, enough to feel the weight on his palm, “mm, someone’s got a really nice pair” focusing on capturing the swell of your breasts and his tough palm cupping your soft skin, Toji starts snapping the pictures, occasionally flicking your nipples to watch them harden under his touch, “that should be enough” he groans after a while, pulling you down for a kiss and setting your phone into your pocket so both his hands reach for your ass, gently guiding your hips back and forth on his hard cock.

“you’ve got nice tits too, why don’t you let me take pics of them?” you smirk against him, earning a chuckle from your boyfriend before he’s carrying you to the bedroom, placing you in bed while he hoovers your body, deliberately slow peeling off his own shirt with a wide smirk on his lips.

soon your phone gallery is filled with 'thirst traps' as you roll in bed, “these will sell good” you murmur, voice hoarse from the endless teasing as you watch at your small hand wrapped around Toji’s fat cock through the device screen, languidly masturbating him until the flushed mushroom shaped tip drooled precum all over your belly.

Toji has never been as turned on in his entire life, quickly gripping your hips and guiding his length down to gently tap your lower abdomen, mimicking a thrust that reaches your belly button, “fuck..” his breathing comes unsteady, each thrust drawing more precum, and honestly it was extremely surprising for him to be so worked up without fucking your cunt.

it’s not a surprise your account grows so much and so sudden, the sexual tension and undeniable chemistry present in every post, and just as expected, what started with merely pictures turned into videos; a better quality camera perched on a side of the bed where the sight of your dripping pussy swallowing Toji’s cock was on prime sight, sinking and raising with practiced ease, “f-fuck, Toji” you mewl, rolling your hips on his pelvis before continuing to bounce hard with the help of his hands squeezing your ass. each gasp and slap only encouraging you further, so ready to fill your tight walls with a nice creampie.

your bank account gets as filled as your closet, with Toji delving into the pleasure of buying you slutty skirts and panties to rip during live streams, although his favorite one is a cream, pleated skirt, one that barely covers your ass, but who cares when that’s what the public wants.

“it’s so difficult not to fuck you right now” Toji grunts staring at your outfit a bit too intensely, opting instead to cup your cheeks roughly and kissing you sloppily, plunging his tongue into your willing mouth, just for a good couple of minutes to leave you hot and bothered.

a bit embarrassing at first, specially considering one of your boyfriend’s favorite positions to fuck you in was sitting on a chair in front of the desk with your streaming setup, camera pointing directly at your barely covered ass that slapped and jiggled lewdly with each forceful pull of Toji’s hands on your waist, fucking you on his throbbing cock.

“oh yeah, babe, such a good fuckin’ girl, taking every inch of my cock” he coos against your ear, looking straight into the camera that perfectly captures the way your lips hungrily grip his cock, juices splattering around with each smack of his balls on your ass.

“Toji, toji, toji!” is all you can moan, turning into a broken sob as you’re unable to move or squirm, just beg and take cock, “t’s so deep, oh god, T-toji slow down”

but he just snarls in return, the chime of incoming tips only fueling his stamina, “your pussy is begging for it, doll, tightening around my cock, ah shit—, so creamy and juicy, my pretty little cock hungry slut”

his thrusting becomes more frantic, his shaft plunging into the depths of your cunt, heavy and full balls slapping your ass until it got sore.

“m’cumming, ngh, o-oh fuck,... toji, please!” with a sudden, and extra rough thrust aimed at your g-spot you squirt loudly, nails digging into his broad shoulders as your juices splatter around, most likely staining the camera lens with a couple drops by the sound of the stream tips increasing, you didn’t care though, focused on not passing out as you scream and tits rub on your boyfriend’s chest, adding into the sensation, yet your money lust driven lover doesn’t stop, pulling your hands back against your back for his to hold, bouncing you on his cock solely from the grip of one of his hands and his hips bucking up widely.

he hums, biting down on his tongue at the tightening of his balls from the sensation of your walls milking his cock, sucking him deeper with each thrust into your needy, cumming core, so close to filling your womb with his own cum “making a mess on my cock, your juices are dripping everywhere, was it that good?” you can’t reply, obviously, “i’m so close, darling, ready to fill your messy cunt with my seed”

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margonite-seer · 8 months

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This might be one of the most heartbreaking Astarion moments in the entire game.

If you play Dark Urge, eventually, in late Act 3, Tav gets to try to get rid of the urges for good, or, embrace them further. There is a possible outcome where neither of these happen: instead, Tav becomes an outcast cursed to be a murder beast forever, never to be able to get rid of the hunger.

Non-Ascended Astarion's reaction to it is... well... My heart broke in a million pieces, let's say. Because of Neil's amazing acting, as usual, I felt like listening to the conversation is a must. That's why I had to attach the video, too.

But these specific small moments are breaking me more than others.

The subtle but visible drop of his shoulders. He feels so sad and defeated for Tav.

...And this line? Definitely the most tragically poetic/romantic I've ever heard him.

He is so sure he will never love again after Tav, let alone find someone like them.

This has all but confirmed my personal headcanon that unless something tragic happens, Tav and Astarion will stay together for hundreds of years. EDIT:

It's actually so much worse in the ending of the game...

I finished the game on this save path (I'll never consider it canon for my lovely boys and I deleted it after I finished recording all dialogue paths) and the Urges overwhelm Tav the minute the tadpole is gone, but only after Astarion runs to hide from the sun.

Tav has to either stab themselves to death immediately (right in front of other companions) to not become a mindless murderer. If they take merely a moment to plan their future, whatever it is, they get possessed by Bhaal right at the docks. Red glowy eyes, "Orin's" dagger spawning in their hand out of nowhere, all sanity and will gone. And them walking into the city with the dagger in hand is how the game ends.

Tav and Astarion never get their last day together. Astarion running away from the sun is the last time they see each other. No last goodbye, no last celebration, not even an hour of victory bliss and peace.

In the video above, Astarion sounds like he hopes to have at least a few months with Tav, maybe. At least a few days of enjoying the complete freedom together.

In the end, he never got any time with them.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate spoilers #baldurs gate 3 spoilers #bg3 dark urge #not gw2

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roanniom · 9 months

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King Steve flirting with inexperienced never been flirted with reader

Smartest

King!Steve Harrington x tutor!fem!reader

Read Part 2

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, PIV/unprotected sex, teasing, coercion but consensual, King!Steve is a manipulative douchebag and is his own warning

“You’re really good at this stuff,” Steve says, watching for your reaction as you scribble math equations across the notebook paper. He can see embarrassment bloom across your features and he has to suppress the zing of triumph he feels. It’s so easy.

It makes him want to push it.

“It’s kinda hot.”

The pencil stops in its path and your eyes shoot up to his, brow raised.

“I’m not…that’s…you’re messing with me, Harrington,” you finally settle on in what you hope is a dismissive tone. Steve notes the way your hand writing becomes more shaky. He sucks on his teeth for a second before chuckling.

“I don’t know why you’re trying to be modest. Hot girl like you must be raking in the compliments.”

You shake your head but don’t look up from your work. Well…his work. The homework that you’re doing for him even though you were supposed to be tutoring him so he doesn’t fail algebra and miss out on basketball.

But his hand is suddenly on your knee.

“Look at you ignoring me. What, you tutor a football player that’s stealing all your attention? Nothing left for me?”

“I…I don’t tutor the football team,” you answer, dumb in spite of your high IQ. You look up and Steve’s grin is big, glad he could finally distract you. He’d gotten bored with the repetition of watching you do his homework. He’s got nothing else lined up today, might as well have some fun. It’s not like his parents are home and it’s a shame to waste a big empty house.

“Thought I was your favorite pupil,” Steve says in a mock whine, giving you puppy dog eyes that seem to short circuit your brain.

Bingo.

You can do his homework later.

“Y-you are,” you admit shyly. It makes Steve smile at you again and your heart bursts, the shriveled up crush you’ve been nursing for years finally being watered and rehydrated. You can hear your heart beat in your ears.

“Good. Because you’re my favorite hot tutor,” Steve says with a wink. You swallow visibly at that and Steve laughs. “You’re still acting like nobody’s ever called you hot before and I call bullshit.”

“No….nobody’s ever called me hot before,” you say in a small voice. Steve’s eyes widen for a second. He’d been pressing on that point, not really thinking too hard about whether or not it could be true. It was just mindless flirting. And pretty lazy flirting, to be honest.

He takes the space of a second to wonder if he feels bad about your clear inexperience and insecurity. Instead, he feels a dark, sour tinge of excitement. Your obvious interest is an opportunity. He doesn’t take any time to analyze whether he should be ashamed of that thought.

“Do you like it when I call you hot?” Steve asks. It’s not a question. Not really. Not when he knows the answer is yes. But he’s angling for something as his hand slides up from your knee to your thigh. You drop the pencil fully and give your attention completely to him.

“Y-yeah. I do.”

“Do you like it when I do…this?” Steve ask, lifting your arm and delivering a kiss to the inside crook of your elbow. You squirm but a smile starts forming on your face.

“Yeah.”

“And this?” Steve asks, moving up to kiss your bare shoulder, just beside the spaghetti strap of your sun dress.

“Uhuh.”

Steve moves to the edge of his seat so that his knee moves between your thighs under your skirt. You squeak a bit at the new proximity. One of Steve’s large hands grips your waist, pulling you to him so he can mouth at the side of your neck.

“What about this?”

The feeling of his lips on your skin lights you on fire and you find it hard to keep responding.

“Oh…” Your thighs try to close, a sudden twinge of need at their apex urging you to seek out friction. You end up squeezing your legs around his knee which has pushed between them. Steve pulls back and smirks.

"Oh," he teases. He slides his hand over the slope of your hip, to your stomach and down to your lower abdomen over the fabric of your skirt. Steve’s heavy lidded eyes find yours. “You seemed to really like that, huh?”

“I….I….” you stammer, unsure of what to do with your hands so you drop them to rest shakily on his forearms. Steve leans forward again, dropping his wet open mouth to the curve of your neck and sucking.

“Oh…fuck,” you whimper broke my. Steve chuckles against your spit-slicked skin.

“How am I supposed to learn from you if you’re going to set a bad example like that?” he asks wryly. You blink at him, watching as his hands move to the buttons at the neckline of your sun dress. Your chest rises and falls more rapidly as your breathing speeds up, both with arousal and anticipation.

Steve undoes the top button with deft fingers. Instead of shrinking away, you arch your back almost imperceptibly towards his hands. Steve definitely notices.

“Ohhhh,” he says teasingly. “Or does the tutor want to learn a thing or two from the student?” His voice is lilting and light, but his eyes are dark. You look away for a second before looking back at him. Eyes the tentative. Nod small. Steve nods back along with you. “Okay then. We’ll first of all, we have to have the right workspace, don’t we?”

When you nod, Steve surprises you by standing up and swiping all the books, papers, and writing utensils off the dining room table and onto the ground in one broad sweep of his arm.

“Steve!” you squeal out in surprise, slapping a hand over your mouth. You know his parents are out of town and the two of you are alone, but when he grabs you and manhandled you to sit on the table, you suppress the startled shriek that tries to come out. Steve pulls you to the edge of the table and bullies his way between your legs, your thighs bracketing his hips. Steve’s hands return to the buttons of your dress.

“Then we have to gather the right materials. See what we’re working with, right?” He pauses, looking at you for confirmation as if you have any idea what he’s saying. You nod mindlessly and Steve proceeds to rip open the last few buttons, exposing your bra clad breasts. He hums in satisfaction as you cringe in embarrassment over the exposure. But all embarrassment leaves you when his big hands close over your breasts, squeezing and groping appreciatively.

“Mmmm yeah. These’ll do,” Steve hums before leaning in and kissing over where they swell out of their cups from the squeeze of his strong hands. You gasp when he yanks the bra down to expose them fully. Steve’s brows life. “These tits’ll definitely do.”

Next thing you know, Steve is kissing and sucking his way from one breast to the other, leaving you a twitching mess in his arms. You feel a hardness press into your apex beneath the skirt of your dress and it occurs to you that he’s turned on just like you are. Which is a stupid thought since he’s literally sucking hickeys all over you right now, but your lust addled mind can still barely comprehend that this is happening right now.

When you begin rolling your hips into that hardness, Steve takes notice.

Pulling back, lips wet, he grins at you.

“Me playing with these tits not enough for you?” he asks, one hand still fondling your breast. Lucky for you, he doesn’t seem interested in a reply. Instead he flips your skirt up, showing the dark wet patch that’s bloomed in your panties and - more importantly - the erection clear in his tight jeans. “That’s alright. It’s not enough for me either.”

You blink slowly as you watch him grind his hard on against your clothed pussy. The friction catches on your clit and you gasp, unable to take your eyes off the outline of the shape pressing against you. Steve takes your hand and brings it down between your bodies, squeezing to make you grip his cock.

“Feel that? You did this to me,” he says, almost accusatory if not for the chuckle. A possessive thrill of pride runs down your spine and you squeeze at him, making him grunt in appreciation. Steve looks up at you from beneath his lashes in a faux display of boyishness. “Gonna help me out here?”

You nod feverishly.

“Yes…I…please–,” is all you manage to get out before Steve’s mouth is on you. The kiss is deep and possessive and aggressive and you feel absolutely devoured. His hands feel like they are everywhere at once, paradoxically, as he pulls at you and grips you and grabs you. So distracted see you by his mouth and tongue that you barely register a moment of cold air hitting between your legs before the warm slide of something hot and thick rubs against your opening.

“Now for the big lesson,” Steve says, the corner of his mouth curving lasciviously. The fat head of his cock teases at your clit, making you sink your nails into his arms. He’s big. Huge even. And that’s the last thought you have before he’s begin to slide himself inside you, splitting you open.

“Steve!” It comes out in a rush with all the air he punches out of you with the penetration. Steve kisses your neck and hums.

“That’s it, baby. That’s it.”

He bottoms out and there’s nothing but your ragged breaths to fill the silence for a moment before he’s pulling out, causing you to reel again.

“I know it’s big, baby, I know,” he coos. The taunting cockiness should put you off, but for some reason it heats you up even more. One his hands finds your clit and you let out a moan at the expert circles he begins to rub in.

Your walls relax with the stimulation, and your increasing wetness makes it easy for Steve to begin fucking you in earnest.

“Taking it so well, baby. Fuck.”

His words ring in your ears and it feels like everything begins and ends with Steve in your line of sight.

“Oh…oh…” you moan with each inward stroke. You’re rocketing towards a climax better than your most lavish fantasies.

Steve Harrington is fucking you. On his dining room table.

Your arms are around his neck, but eventually he pushes you down so your back is flat against the wooden surface. With his hands on your hips, Steve holds you steady so he can piston his hips at a break neck speed. Your entire body rocks against the table, Steve’s eyes focused on the bounce of your breasts with the force of each thrust.

“This is so much better than homework, fuck!” he groans out. You let out a breathless laugh at that and Steve looks down at you. “This is what you wanted, right? For me to fuck you all this time?”

The embarrassment surges up again but he hits a spot deep down inside that makes you whine instead. Steve takes it as confirmation.

“Bet you’ve been wet every time you’ve come over here. Just hoping I’d fuck this - fuck. This tight little pussy.”

“Yes. Yes, Steve.”

“Yes, Steve,” Steve mimics your pathetic, breathy confession. He’s close himself now, and his fingers are sure to leave bruises from the force of him squeezing you. “Next time I should just bend you over while you’re doing my work and fuck you. How’s that sound?”

You don’t say anything, too far gone at this point, and Steve laughs.

“Probably wouldn’t be able to keep doing my work with my cock in you. Makes you too brainless apparently.”

You’re practically drooling as you gaze up at him with hazy eyes, seconds from your orgasm. You being so out of it is what’s doing it most for Steve.

“Christ, look at you. Smartest girl in school and here you are, fucked stupid. It’s so. Fucking. Hot.”

And you - someone who until today had never been called hot ever - find yourself breaking into a million pieces with his words. Your orgasm crashes over you and you spasm around him, back arching off the table as you let out a massive cry.

~*~

Over time you are able to build up to a point where you don’t go as brainless. Eventually you’re able to kind of still do his homework as Steve fucks you.

But inevitably during every tutoring session there comes a point where Steve hits that place inside you just right, and his filthy words filter into your ear - and you go dumb.

Just the way he likes it.

~*~

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Read Part 2

#steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #king!steve harrington #king!steve harrington smut #king!steve harrington x reader

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wttcsms · 1 year

Text

diesel is desire (we were playing with fire) ; sebastian sallow

pairing sebastian sallow x f!reader word count 4k synopsis sebastian sallow is a good friend. so good, in fact, that when you find yourself under the ungodly influence of a lust potion, he's willing to help give you some relief. content contains seventh year au, dubcon (under the influence of lust potion), darker take on seb's character lol <3, breeding kink, creampie, possessive!sebastian, possessive sex, virginity loss, babytrapping

“Why did you go out of your way to avoid me?”

An accusatory voice momentarily breaks you free from the overwhelming feelings you were struggling to deal with, but the voice is too familiar.

The source? Sebastian Sallow — a very disappointed Sebastian Sallow, which after two years of friendship (and the lingering what-if of becoming something more), you’re able to identify as a Sebastian that you would much rather not be dealing with. Particularly because, try as hard as he might, he’s rather prone to saying harsh things and treating you unkindly whenever he gets into one of his moods. The hurt expression on his face is barely concealed by the scowl that mars his otherwise handsome features.

Don’t think about how handsome he is!

Instead of replying to him, you’re quick to turn your head to the side, trying to focus on the curtain that separates your cot from the others in the infirmary. It’ll do no good to engage with Sebastian right now — not whenever the reason you’ve been compelled to check yourself in to the school nurse is purely because you’re not sure if you have enough self-control to stop yourself from literally ripping his robes off of him.

But it’s not like you can tell him all that. Lying would be preferable, if only Sebastian wasn’t so attuned to you and every single one of your tells. If you attempted lying to him, who knows what more damage you would cause? Then again, blatantly ignoring him also seems equally dangerous, especially with how quick to irritate he’s been lately. Ever since you witnessed him literally murdering his uncle, the relationship between the two of you has grown stronger — being practically partners in crime will do that to a friendship — but also more… volatile. The charming fifth-year you met on your first day of school still remains, but you have long since realized that there’s more to him than meets the eye.

On the surface, he’s nothing but affable. Maybe a bit of a rebellious streak, but it’s all in good nature. In the beginning, it was fun being with him. Exciting, even. Then you started following him on the dark path he paved all by himself, and before you could realize that you were in too deep, it had already been too late to turn around. Now, the seventh-year boy standing by your cot seems so different from the one who lives on only in your memories.

“Don’t ignore me.” He means to make the words come out sharp, irritated. It resembles more of a plea than anything, and you shut your eyes, willing him to leave. It must be all in your head, but you swear you can smell the familiar scent of him: cool mint mixed with the light musk of whatever cologne he’s been favoring since the fifth year.

“Sebastian, I’m not feeling very well.” You mumble, hoping it’ll be enough to get him to leave you alone. It’s not a lie. You aren’t feeling great whatsoever. Not even the nurse, bless her heart, can figure out what’s become of you. She gave you a pitying look and an almost amused smile as she explained that — in her words — sexual urges are very normal for girls your age.

If your body wasn’t already overheating, you’re certain your cheeks would have instantly turned hot from sheer embarrassment.

“Well, why wouldn’t you tell me that instead of abandoning me the whole entire day?” Sebastian is many things with different people. With you, he is both guarded and vulnerable. Some days, when you’re not feeling your best, his emotions versus his actions can give you whiplash. He has the audacity to say something like that all the while, he sounds absolutely tortured over the fact that he had to go eight hours without your presence.

As if realizing the harshness of his attitude, he softens his tone as he asks, “Are you feeling any better?”

You had gone to the Great Hall before him because you needed to review your History of Magic notes before the test today. All you had was a bit of pumpkin juice and toast, and all had been well until you started feeling warm underneath your robes and sweater. As the heat began to travel through your body, you found it hard to concentrate on your notes. Not because of the heat, but because of the many thoughts swirling around in your head. Flashes of Sebastian that started innocently enough and quickly morphed into daydreams of him without his uniform. Sebastian with his hair messed up from the way your fingers tugged at the strands as he satiated his thirst with the juices flooding between your legs. Sebastian who would prioritize your pleasure over his and could make you cum multiple times before even thinking about getting his dick wet. Sebastian—

—who you share most of your classes with!

You knew right then and there that something had to be wrong with you. Sure, you’ve thought about him sometimes, but never to that degree. And certainly never at seven in the morning over breakfast and history notes.

That’s how you ended up lying in a cot in the infirmary, trying your hardest to ignore the intrusive thoughts of Sebastian fucking you ‘til you can’t walk anymore.

“No.” You practically moan out the word, and you’re hoping to play it off as just you being a baby about being “sick”.

You don’t expect him to turn your head so that you’re staring up at the ceiling, and you certainly don’t expect him to press the back of his hand against your forehead. His hands are cold, but surprisingly enough, it brings you some sort of relief from the fever that has seemingly overtaken your body. You bite back another moan.

“You’re burning up.” Gone is his attitude. Instead, it’s been replaced by your favorite Sebastian — the kind, caring one. The one that resembles the boy you first met. Sometimes, his care can be suffocating, but when you find yourself craving nothing but him and his touch, you don’t mind his invasion of your personal space at all. “Are there any other side effects? Does your throat hurt? Stomach? Tell me what’s the matter.”

You know how Sebastian must feel when it comes to people he cares about falling ill. His sister has only made him more paranoid about the severity of sickness and curses, and the concern and fear etched upon his face makes your hardened resolve of keeping the sordid details of your affliction to yourself melt away.

“Don’t laugh…” You warn him, but your voice seems so small and maybe even a little scared that his expression turns even more serious.

“Never.”

“I think… I think something happened to me. A charm…” You’re careful to dance around the word curse, lest Sebastian accidentally blows up the whole entire infirmary due to his emotional state. “I just feel very hot. And, um, I think the only relief would be to—”

You can’t even say it. You can barely even explain it since you don’t really know what’s happening either.

“I’mfeelingverysexuallyfrustratedandIhavenomeansofrelief!”

The two of you know that you’re never going to repeat that phrase ever again, and you’re practically near tears after that little confession.

“Oh.” He says, as if this is nothing more than a simple, casual conversation and not the most humiliating situation ever. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Be-because it’s embarrassing!” Has he really no shame? Who would willingly admit that out loud?

“You know, I’ve heard rumors of some sixth-years trying to pull pranks by spiking the juices with love potions. Just really gimmicky concoctions, truly. Nothing too severe. Hmm… You must have a sensitivity to it, though.” Sebastian’s musings do nothing to bring you reassurance. If anything, it just makes you want to hide. If the universe is truly kind, a sinkhole will emerge from nowhere and swallow you whole. Yes, that sounds lovely right now.

Instead, the universe is sick, because what else could explain Sebastian telling you,

“If it’s relief you need, I’d be happy to help.”

Sebastian is many things to you — a dear friend, a confidant, a literal partner in crime — but none of those things involve him having sex with you, even if the offer only came from some odd sense of duty.

And that’s what this is, isn’t it? He probably feels indebted to you since the fifth-year. Maybe even anxious, too. You could expose him at any given moment, and maybe that’s why he’s been so keen on attaching himself to your side ever since. This is a humiliating predicament to be in, and Sebastian doesn’t seem like the type to kiss and tell — considering that you don’t even know the names of girls he’s been with before is evidence.

Besides, you’re only feeling incredibly needy for one person. You can accept his offer, but you’re certainly not going to let him know the truth: that only he is the one who can help you.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” His cool hand is now cupping your face, thumb brushing against your cheekbone in an almost gentle manner. Sweet Sebastian is making an appearance, perhaps to try to put you at ease. You like this Sebastian. “Just let me take care of you.”

When the haze of lust clears from your sex-addled mind, the rush of consequences will burden and crush your very conscience.

Fortunatenly enough, consequences are clearly the last thing on your mind.

It would appear that the only thing you can truly focus on is Sebastian and what his idea of ‘taking care of you’ is.

The Sebastian staring greedily at you is an unfamiliar Sebastian. You’ve become accustomed to the many variations of himself: Angry Sebastian, who says the most vile things out of spite and usually misguided anger; Remorseful Sebastian, who is quick to grovel (he’s quite good at groveling, really) and wants nothing more than to be back in your good graces; Happy Sebastian, although there are variations upon this very variation — the trick to seeing whether he’s pseudo-happy or not is all in his smile (the fake one is eerily perfect, the real one is crooked and a rarity). This Sebastian, though…

Hungry.

The word doesn’t quite explain the dark glint in his eyes or the way his hands are almost reverently stroking your body. Your skin felt so, so hot just a few minutes ago — then again, just a few minutes ago, you still had your school jumper and blouse neatly intact. Now, you’re laid practically bare, prey to Sebastian’s more-than predatory gaze.

If the two of you weren’t such great friends, you might have had enough sense to be scared.

The only articles of clothing left to protect your dignity and shield you from his eyes are your skirt (which is already riding up to expose your thighs due to his wandering hands), your white cotton panties, and the matching bra.

“How do you feel now?” He asks, and you want to tell him you’re still feeling embarrassed, but his hands feel surprisingly nice on your skin, and you can’t help but hunger for more. Perhaps the look in his eyes, the one you couldn’t quite find a proper name for, is the same look you’re giving him.

“More.” You whimper out, not caring if you sound selfish or impatient. This is awful. The two of you should put a stop to… To whatever the hell this is! This is a horribly unbecoming, unsavory situation you are in, and if things progress like how you think they are going to (how you want them to), then you’re both dead once all the adults find out. Professor Weasley would probably force the two of you to be wedded within the next day of her finding out, not to mention that the headmaster would probably have the both of your heads on sticks.

But you don’t tell him to stop because your rational thought is slipping, much like your bra. You’re viewing everything almost as if in a trance, almost as if this is happening to someone else and not you. But it is very much you; it’s your nipples hardening after being exposed to the cool air of the infirmary. It’s your bra that Sebastian tosses to the side. He’s licking his lips, eyeing the expanse of skin that has been revealed to him. In ordinary circumstances, you’re certain you would make all attempts to cover yourself up and try to regain some sense of modesty.

In these circumstances, you practically arch your back and mewl out for more, more, more.

More touching. More skin-to-skin contact. More of Sebastian. You want him. All of him. Every part of him. You want his cock ramming into your cunt, you want his hands wrapped around your throat, his mouth spewing out words of filth right into your ear. Most importantly, even though all you can seemingly focus on is having him ravish you, you can’t help but to be greedy and dare to hunger for more. You want his secrets — all of them. You want to know the nightmares that plague him, and whether he’s full of regrets, just like you. You want to have a claim to his soul, just like how he already has a claim to yours. You want to know that when his heart beats, it is calling out for you.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” He announces, like he’s waiting for you to protest. He’s not directly asking, but the question is still there, as is the warning. Can I kiss you? If you let me, there’s no going back.

“Please.” You whimper, completely and entirely at his mercy.

“Say it.” Sebastian swallows hard, almost as if he’s also nervous and too charged up with desire. His fingers are loosening his tie. He has already shrugged off his robes.

He doesn’t tell you want to say, but you already know what he wants to hear. The words have been resting on the tip of your tongue this whole entire time, anyway.

“I want you to— to kiss me, and more…” You look into his eyes. The lights in the infirmary make them appear a lighter color than usual. “I want more. I want you, Sebastian.”

The moment the last confession slips from your soft lips, Sebastian’s mouth descends upon your own. His body is angled awkwardly, trying not to crush you with his weight, but you can feel the heat emanating from him all the same, even despite the layers of his clothing that separates the two of you.

You think the world stops spinning when his lips slot against yours. He tastes like the pumpkin juice from this morning, sweet and refreshing. There’s a lingering taste of spearmint toothpaste. You want to keep kissing him forever. You want him to kiss you everywhere else. When breathing becomes a necessary thing, he stops. You frown. You didn’t want him to stop. Oxygen is overrated, anyway.

He lays a hand against the pillow you’re resting on, staring down at you, want clearly displayed on his visage; desire is etched onto every facial feature, and his eyes are gazing so intently into yours, you wonder if he’s a Legilimens.

“Promise me you won’t regret this. Swear that you truly do want this.”

He must not be a Legilimens, then. It’s so clear you’ve been in… It feels odd to admit it. Wrong, even. But it’s the truth—

—you’ve been in love with him since the fifth year.

You don’t keep someone’s secrets, their crimes, to yourself when you don’t love them. You let him perform Cruciatus on you, and you forgave him. No — you didn’t. Because you asked him to. There was nothing to forgive. You would endure it, over and over and over again, just for him, only him. And to think, you’re flooding your panties just at some simple fantasies of him, and he has the nerve to believe you don’t want this? Don’t want him?

“I promise. I swear it to you. I want this entirely.” And maybe liquid courage had been slipped into the juice you’ve consumed as well because you find yourself admitting, “I’ve always wanted to do this with you. If it… If it had to be done the first time around, I would always dream of you doing it to me.”

He stops breathing, just for a moment. Gapes at you, even.

“Y-you’re a virgin?”

You wonder if you’ve gone off and ruined the mood. You wonder if you should take it back, say you were just joking, but before you can, his lips are pressing against yours once again. This kiss is even hungrier than the last, and you’re not quite sure how that’s even possible. It’s almost as if he wants to devour you whole.

“Thank you.” He gasps out, so close to you that his breath tickles your nose. “Thank you for entrusting me with this, love. I promise I’ll make it good for you, just as you deserve.”

And suddenly Sebastian is just everywhere. His sweater is discarded on the floor, right next to your bra and his tie. His belt is unclasped; he hasn’t even bothered to remove it entirely, just displaced it enough to where he can unbutton his trousers, and he’s pulling it down — his pants, that is. And the briefs. He hasn’t entirely disposed of everything, just partially. Meticulous Sebastian Sallow who is now so far gone into lust and depravity that he cannot even handle wasting another second by removing himself entirely of his clothes. You have made a man into a beast.

But you see the way he’s eyeing you — all dark hair and sharp teeth. He flips your skirt up, exposing your damp panties to him, and he licks his lips again, and you realize — perhaps too late, or perhaps you’ve known all this time — that Sebastian has always been a bit of a beast. A wolf only coyly imitating domesticity.

“You’re so wet.” He brushes a finger against your cotton-covered folds, and you shiver.

Yes! Your body seems to cry out. More, more, more! Your back arches, keening, craving his touch. You’re soaking through the fabric, making it practically translucent. You’ve never been this wet before in your life. You’ve never wanted his touch more badly than you do now.

“For me.” He mutters, but in the silence of the infirmary, you hear him all too clearly. “Is this all for me, love? Have you been like this all day?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to form coherent sentences. Even if he’s not staring at your head, far too fixated at what’s between your legs, he hums his approval.

“Don’t worry, my love. I’ll make it all better.”

He’s kissing you. He’s got your panties only pulled to one side, and you think he’s muttering apologies against your saliva-coated lips. Something that sounds awfully like sorry, so sorry, but I can’t wait, and I don’t think you can, either. You barely catch a glimpse of his cock before you can feel the sharp heat of his length against your inner thigh. You would have thought that there would be some preparation, especially since this will be your first, but you’re thoroughly soaked. You’re aching for a sensation you have never felt before, but the animal inside of your brain is telling you, instinctually, to seek Sebastian out. That Sebastian will make it all better. That’s what he said he’ll do, and he’s kissing you, and he’s apologizing, and—

—and the world stops spinning.

No. There’s some slight resistance at first, your poor cunt protesting at the intrusion. A second later, and he’s slipping in half of his length with considerably more ease. A few inches more, and his hips are pressed against yours, and oh— Oh, it’s like you’re made for him. There is no resistance. There is no pain. There’s just you and him, and your body is welcoming him home. Where has he been? It seems to ask. Please don’t ever leave again.

“Fuuuuck.” He hisses it out, and his teeth are gritted, and he’s admiring you. His eyes flicker to your face, down to your breasts, down down down right to where the two of you are connected. The word comes out broken, and yet, drawn out. As if he’s struggling to speak.

Then he starts thrusting, and suddenly you realize that the world hasn’t ceased its spinning. No — now it’s moving entirely too fast. It must be off its axis. You feel otherworldly. You feel like this pleasure, this overwhelming, absolutely delicious pleasure, cannot simply exist on earth. It should be impossible. It should be impossible to find comfort and rapture in the way the tip of his cock seemingly kisses your cervix. You expect pain.

You only find mindnumbing, earth shattering pleasure.

You feel stretched beyond your limits. You hear his pants and his groans, and you’re moaning, too. Calling out his name, which is so silly, he’s right there, he’s right there. There, at that special spot, at the spot you’ve never been able to discover on your own. You now know why adults advise so heavily against these type of relations — it’s simply addicting. You don’t think you can stop; you don’t think you want to stop.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, you’re so good f’me. Such a good girl. My good girl, aren’t you?” He’s rambling. His thrusts are considerably sloppier, and you feel his thumb brush against your clit, and you arch your back some more, practically screaming out his name. The stimulation is too much — it’s not enough — and you will always crave him. “Tell me. Tell me that you’re mine.”

There’s something so, so addicting about his possession. About being treated like his possession.

“Yours. M’yours, Seb. All—” You can’t finish your sentence. The pleasure is becoming too much, and you’re too sensitive, and he’s doing this thing, this absolutely amazing thing, where he rubs circles on your clit in tandem with his harsh thrusts, and you’re cumming. You don’t ever want to come down.

He feels you cum, sees your juices drench his cock as he pulls out, only to push right back in, relishing in the feeling of your contracting walls. He leans down, biting on your neck, and you take a hand to grip his dark hair, still cumming, and now he is, too. Spurts of his cum are flooding into you, painting your walls, successfully staking his unrivaled claim on you. You have been compromised. If anyone were to find the two of you out, you would have no other choice but to take his hand, his ring, his family name, him. You would have to take it all.

Coming down from his high, he has enough kindness left in him to lick at the wound he’s left on your neck. Your eyes are fluttering close, the intensity of it all thoroughly exhausting you. You don’t know the thoughts swirling in his mind. You don’t sense the longing behind him stroking your stomach, wondering if the Felix Felicis — his bottled Liquid Luck he’s spent forever brewing — has done its job. It would surely be very lucky, indeed, if his seed takes this first time around.

Your breathing slows, and he feels your heartbeat even out. You’re exhausted, poor thing. Perhaps he had been too rough.

He’ll apologize, he decides, by doing something that’ll benefit the both of you. He ought to clean you up, get you tucked in, and when you wake, he’ll go down on you. He bets you taste so sweet, so innocent. He had known, of course, that he was your first — that he was always going to be your first. Your only.

He wonders if the effects of the lust potion will still linger in your system even after you wake up. Probably so — he did it brew it quite strongly.

But the adoration, the love, in your eyes is something no amount of skilled potioneering can create. No; your feelings for him are real. You just needed to lower your inhibitions to get to the confessional stage.

And now that you have confessed…

Sebastian Sallow can rest well after confirming what he’s known ever since he first laid eyes on you:

You’re his.

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #smut #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow smut #one shot #lemon

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prettybabybaby · 1 year

Text

blessing in disguise | xavier thorpe !

¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !

content: NONCON , kidnapping, dark!xavier, fem!reader, unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 2.5k

synopsis: one final rejection and one accident resulted in something Xavier had only dreamed of.

disclaimer: all characters in my works are at least 18. there is dark and triggering content in this, as stated above. consider what you are comfortable with reading before you continue. your media consumption is your responsibility, not mine.

¡ wednesday masterlist !

It’s not like Xavier meant to do it. It was an accident and nothing more. He simply lost control and that’s not his fault. If anything, you were to blame for this.

You just looked so pretty in your cute dress, hair just like he liked it and a face as adorable as it gets with eyes lined and lips glossy. He was sure you’d finally say yes. Why else would you dress so beautifully to meet him in the woods? Especially knowing how he feels about you. It was for him. All for him and him only. For his eager eyes and yearning thoughts. You knew what you were doing.

But as always, you rejected him. Coldly, this time. Gone were the bashful and quiet apologies as you refused to meet his eyes, staring down at your feet or glancing over your shoulder as if you were afraid someone might hear you.

No, that wasn’t the case this time. You looked him in the eye with a huff, gaze hard. Your words were sharp and firm when you spoke, “can’t you take a hint? I don’t like you, Xavier.”

He was stunned, physically reacting with his brows lifting and eyes widening the slightest bit before they dropped, filled with the same venom that clouded yours, jaw clenching. It was so unlike you — well, the version of you he had concocted in his mind — he had the right to be angry with you. You disrespected him blatantly, again. All Xavier wanted was to love you.

Not even he could stop himself as his mind blurred before it blanked as he reached for you, wrapping his arms around you, brain and body fighting the urge to run his hands along your figure, desperate to feel it underneath his fingertips now that he had you so close. He snaked a hand up your body to your mouth, muffling your screams. You thrashed in his hold as he dragged you through the woods, taking the all-too-familiar path to his isolated art shed.

You panicked as he wrestled you to the ground, pinning your arms and running his nose along the column of your throat, breathing you in. You smelled so good, even better now that he could finally dissect the myriad of scents that made up the air that blew behind you every time you walked away from him, ignored him.

He wasn’t sure when you began to cry but your tears were already hitting the ground and soaking some of the brown strands of his hair when he kissed up your neck, savoring the taste of your skin.

“Xavier, stop,” you whispered, “I’m sorry.” You weakly pushed against him.

There was your sweet voice again. Fragile and delicate and so incredibly arousing. He sighed, kisses coming out messier and more frantic than before as he worked his way up to your lips that pleaded to be released, for him to wait, please stop.

Your lips touched briefly, nothing longer than a second before you turned your head, sobbing as you pushed more insistently. He was so caught up in the pillowy feel of your lips that he moaned pathetically against your cheek as he sloppily kissed the flesh of your cheek, eager for anything he could get. The salty flavor of your tears was as delectable as a delicacy.

As your legs kicked and your hips wiggled and your pants of exhaustion in his ear got shallower, he grew against your thigh, mindless jerks of his hips increasing speed as time passed.

Xavier felt himself grow warm, a deep, scorching pink painted his cheeks in embarrassment. What are you thinking? Are you thinking about how pathetic he is? Or how desperate he is for you? Maybe you’re finally realizing how badly he’s wanted to have you like this and just how far you had pushed him. You. Your doing. This was all your doing.

He used a single hand to pin your wrists, easily overpowering you as you tried to sit up, newly freed arm on its way to collide with his face.

“Sh,” Xavier mumbled, capturing your bottom lip between his as he slid an eager hand down your body. There was a violent throb as his touch hovered over your shoulders, so gently it seemed he was almost scared to touch what he wanted so badly.

It was quick to make its way back up when he felt a stutter come from your jaw. His hand wrapped around the base of your neck, a warning, “don’t even think about it.”

Xavier wasn’t used to being so demanding. Unfortunately this is what he had to do, it was his only option after all you had done. It pained him to make you cry — even if you looked so beautiful doing it. It hurt him to have to pin you down and take what was destined to be. You and him.

He felt you swallow under his hand as he encased your lips properly, tasting your mouth. He was already breathless, lost in you even when you refused to kiss him back, only making noises of protest as you squirmed.

His touch glided down your body, losing patience with you and himself for his hesitation. He’d have you again. As many times as he wanted after this.

He groaned into your mouth, frustrated at the dress you wore. Sliding down further, he pushed up your skirt, groping the fat of your soft thighs, tickling your flesh. Your knees twitched and he took a deep breath, pulling away from your lips to nip at your ears, licking the tears that dribbled down them.

“Xavier,” you cried softly, “please, don’t.”

A response was on the tip of his tongue but it quickly turned into a moan as his pinky came in contact with a wet patch on your panties. He laughed breathily, you didn’t mean that. Your body knew what your mind hadn’t quite grasped. You needed him.

You jolted, fighting even harder than before, “don’t touch me.” He could feel you getting angry, the fire in your eyes from before igniting again.

Xavier shook the hair that fallen out of his ponytail from his face to get a clearer look at your face. He wanted to watch you give in to the pleasure he would force on to you. His smallest finger ran up your slit and he watched closely as you fought the fluttering of your eyes. God. He had barely touched you and you already looked this perfect.

“Don’t,” you spat, trying to slide out from under him as you nails dug into his hand. He clenched his jaw, pursing his lips as he exhaled through his nose. Why did you have to make this so difficult?

He kicked your thighs apart with his own, settling between your legs. Your heat radiated, hot against his aching cock. He cupped your cunt, kissing your cheek as he pushed against your hole lightly to hear you hiss.

You jerked your hips when his fingers danced along the waistband of the soft fabric. He felt himself get hotter, cheeks turning redder when he glanced down, watching his hand disappear underneath it, immediately drenched in your juices. His palm stimulated your clit as his long middle finger prodded at your hole without entering it, teasing you. Your panties shifted with his movements, the bulge of his hand and slender fingers moving swiftly under the dainty bow near the top of your underwear jumping.

Your breath stuttered as you snapped out his name, “I said stop!”

Your voice was muffled as all of his focus was on the feel of your slick and tight heat choking the finger he forced inside you. Xavier all but whined at the sensation, cock leaking in his pants. Your feet kicked at the ground, chest rising and falling. In pleasure or frustration he wasn’t sure but he couldn’t be bothered to stop and ask as he squeezed another finger in.

You moaned, quickly closing your mouth to stop the noise. His eyes snapped up, flickering over your face. He had never heard a sound affect him more. Not even siren song could battle the noises of your pleasure. He’d do anything you asked him to. Well, almost anything. He’d never let you go no matter how many times your sweet voice pleaded for his mercy.

His lips crashed into yours, kissing you impatiently as he fingered you faster, trying to stretch you open enough to fill you full of his cock. You shook your head from side to side but he chased after you, swallowing your huffs and silent whines.

A whimper sounded in your throat as he curled his fingers, trying to find the spongy area that would have you purring for him. The noise had him removing his fingers, shoving them into his mouth as he leaned in close to you, breathing you in while your juices coated his tongue. His exhale was shaky as he shut his eyes, sucking harshly at his fingers to try and get more of your slick into his mouth.

“Xavier,” you breathed, “wait.”

His name fell so sweetly from your lips that he shoved his jeans down just enough to finally release his aching cock. He was leaking pathetically and throbbing against his hand as he pumped himself slowly, afraid he’d cum before he made it inside you.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your skin. He gripped his length, hauling himself up to position his pulsing dick to your hole. “Shit,” he growled, tugging aggressively at your underwear that seperated you from him. “Sorry,” he murmured, feeling instant regret for hurting you, “I’m sorry.”

You started to scream as your ass felt the bare ground, tears building in the corners of your eyes as he slapped his cock against your dripping core. “Stop it, please, Xavier.”

He ignored you, gaze flickering from your cunt to your face as he pushed inside. He groaned as his head forced it’s way into you. It already felt like too much, the way your pussy latched onto his cock, welcoming him in despite your thrashing body.

Every inch had your screams dying, replaced with repressed moans as you opted to shut your mouth, denying him of the sounds. He couldn’t protest, concentrated on pushing back his orgasm that was too close for his liking. The last inch sent a wave of immense arousal down his body in the form of a shiver and a whimper. He stilled, focusing on his breathing and the bruised lip you tucked between your teeth.

You fit so well together, just like he knew you would. He glanced down, entranced by the way his hips were flush with yours, leaving no space for anything. You were finally one.

Your walls pulsed and it felt like they were begging him to move, to fuck you like he’d dreamed of doing too many times. He felt like all the waiting had been worth it now that you were choking his cock so deliciously. All of the times you rejected him, turned your back to him, dismissed him as if he wasn’t there, forgotten as he pulled back, watching the way your slick stuck to his hip as he retracted, keeping the two of you connected with a sticky string.

Xavier kissed your jaw as he pushed himself back in, nibbling at the skin near your ear. He tried to keep a slow pace at first afraid the urge to ruthless pound into you would take over. Your short, high breaths flooded his ears, a prize for resisting. It sounded like you were enjoying yourself, too. But how could you not when he was fucking you so well, patiently and passionately, just like you deserved. Even after all you did to him, you still deserved to be fucked like a princess.

Xavier smiled, pecking your neck as he rutted into you, his fingers undoubtedly leaving imprints of their shape on your waist. You found comfort in clinging to him, grasping his arms before curling your own under them, grabbing onto his shoulders.

“No,” you would cry, followed by a satisfied, “fuck.”

You were so warm and soft. He wished he had the patience to undress you properly, to touch you more. He’d have another opportunity, he reminded himself and that thought had his mind swimming. How could he help you adjust? Would it be difficult to get a mattress inside the small shed? Is there enough space? He’d be damned if you were uncomfortable in your little safe haven. It would be a place you would grow to love, he was sure of it. You just needed to process your new environment and the new dynamics of your relationship.

The loud whine that came from you brought him back to reality, back to the sight of you falling apart under him but trying to refrain from it. Your eyebrows were drawn together, mouth parted and face hot.

“M’gonna cum,” he struggled to utter out the words. “Fuck you’re perfect. Im gonna fill you so well.”

“No!” you screeched, pounding on his back as he pounded into you, thrusting harder and faster as his orgasm crept closer. “Don’t you dare!”

You pulsed more violently than before at the change of pace, clinging to his cock. He knew you wanted it, even if you wouldn’t admit it.

It was like you felt him about to burst, nails breaking the skin of his neck seconds before he came. You dragged them down and he felt blood rush down his neck as he came. The feeling was so intoxicating that he kept thrusting until he was milked dry despite the stinging pain. He didn’t have to look down to know that his t-shit was soaking in the crimson liquid so he opted to focus on your pretty face as he came down from his high. You were sobbing now, arms limp on the ground as your chest heaved.

Xavier begrudgingly pulled out of you, watching the pearly spent dribble out of your pussy as he stood. You stared at the ceiling, unmoving as he searched the shed, wordless. He wasn’t sure of what to say. Was there anything he could say at that point? He knew you didn’t understand yet. So he stayed silent until he found the lock and chain he had been searching for.

He walked over to you, clearing his throat. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

You blinked at him. Sitting up and fixing your skirt as you dragged yourself away. He sighed, looking around to locate the blanket he knew he had around somewhere. He spotted it almost immediately, draped over an admittedly uncomfortable chair. It would have to do for now.

He draped it over your legs, smiling softly when you looked at him. “I’ll be back soon.”

It was a mistake, Xavier told himself as he stepped away from the now locked art shed glancing behind him and around the surrounding area as his hand attempted to soothe the fresh scratches on his neck. He just lost control for a second, it’s nothing major. You were destined to be there. Why else would he have done it? He wanted to love you forever. And now he can. You’d understand soon enough. The accident was a blessing in disguise.

#tw noncon #tw kidnapping #xavier thorpe (belle’s version)#dark!xavier #dark!xavier thorpe #yandere xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe smut #dark xavier thorpe #dark fic #dark wednesday #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thorpe drabble #wednesday 2022 #wednesday fanfic #wednesday #xavier thorpe

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quin-ns · 3 months

Note

Can I request a Rafe x reader where the reader is crying and upset and Rafe sees her and goes over to comfort her but seeing her all teary eyed vulnerable gets him so hard and he doesn't ever have the shame to hide so he ends up coercing her to have s3x with him

going back through my obx requests, sorry it took so long for me to get to this. I've been writing dark!rafe a bit for an unpublished fic, but I think this is my first time posting for it 👀

Teary Eyes (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

When Rafe found you crying on the bathroom floor alone, he hadn’t planned on staying.

He was just going to check on you, that's why he sat down next to you. You were sort of friends, and Rafe liked you enough that it didn’t feel right to just turn and leave. Really, his intentions were good.

But everyone knows what they say about good intentions—path to hell and all that.

That wasn’t really on Rafe’s mind when he started to attend to you. You were incredibly drunk and it took no prodding to get you to tell him what happened. You had gotten in an argument with your friends so they ditched you at the party, and that was after you got stood up.

It wasn’t your night, to put it simply, and so it shouldn’t have surprised Rafe when you started to cry on his shoulder. Literally.

He wrapped an arm over you, mumbling encouragement you probably didn’t even hear.

When you pulled back, you sniffed and sighed, wiping your eyes.

“I feel like nothing can go right for me,” you confessed shakily, blinking for clarity.

Rafe was struck with confusion in that moment, wondering why he liked your watery eyes and tear stained cheeks as much as he did.

Something within him urged Rafe to kiss you, and he didn’t resist it.

You seemed stunned and didn’t react right away. Your lips were soft, he couldn’t help himself. Rafe pushed his tongue into your mouth and cupped your face, kissing you harder.

Finally reacting, you tried to pull away.

Rafe parted from you for a moment, long enough to hear you gasp out his name.

“It’s okay,” he cooed, wiping away a tear from your cheek with his thumb. He lifted it to his lips and tasted the salty drop. He leaned back in. “You’re okay,” he muttered before capturing your lips again.

You let him guide you into his lap. He pulled back to look at you, watching as tears streaked down your face. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. You looked ashamed, but you didn’t need to be. You were beautiful like this, all fragile and weepy. He gripped your thighs to get in place, then slid your dress up around your waist.

The tears didn’t stop as he unbuttoned the front of his pants, or when he pushed your panties aside. Your weight sagged against him. Maybe you were too drunk to keep yourself up, or you wanted him too, but it didn’t make a difference to Rafe.

He kissed your neck, leaving his mark, while blindly lining himself up between your legs.

You jerked back when the head of his cock prodded at your entrance, but Rafe wrapped an arm around you to keep you in place.

“Stay still, alright?” Rafe hissed into your ear.

“I wanna go out there now,” you slurred, looking at the door.

Rafe tilted his head, meeting your blurry gaze.

“We’re staying here,” Rafe drawled, pulling you down into his lap.

You cut him off with a gasp when his cock filled you. Rafe groaned when your warm, wet walls squeezed him tight as you took him in full.

You were unsure what to do, so you buried your face in his neck and tried to steady your breathing. Rafe’s cock throbbed inside of you as your tears hit his skin.

“You're right where I want you,” Rafe finished, voice low.

You didn’t fight him, and your gentle whimpers did nothing but make him want you more.

#dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #outer banks #obx #request #asks #quin-ns writing

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saigethearies · 7 months

Text

saige’s terrortober presents…

guardian

when one of the actors at a haunted house attraction gets a little too handsy, megumi doesn’t hesitate to come to your aid.

megumi fushiguro x fem!reader

contents/warnings: non consensual groping (not from gumi), megumi and reader are in their early 20s, non-sorcerer!reader, violence, car sex, unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, praise, sir kink, protective!megumi, a little hint of feral!megumi

wc: 2.1k

18+ MINORS DNI

“come on, gumi, the next walk-through starts in five minutes!”

your boyfriend sighed as he let you pull him along towards the “haunted house” you had wanted to go to for the past three weeks. he didn’t really see the fun behind seeing a bunch of people pretend to be ghosts and demons when he fought (real) ones for a living, but he digressed. you didn’t share the same extraordinary profession that he did, so these types of attractions were still a spectacle of scary excitement and adrenaline for you. megumi couldn’t deprive you of the festive halloween experiences you sought out, nor would he ever pass up a chance to spend time with you.

thus, that is how he found himself being ushered into a hallway filled with plastic cobwebs, fake blood, and red lights everywhere.

your shoulders were tense, preparing for the inevitable jumpscare of an actor dressed to resemble a ghoul, zombie, or some other sort of terror. intertwining your fingers with the ravenette at your side, the two of you continued down the path.

he knew that the whole purpose of coming here was for you to get a little scare, but megumi still couldn’t resist the urge to squeeze your hand and keep you close. this was all make-believe, he knows better than anyone, but the nerves he could sense radiating off of you were still very much real.

you yelped when an actor jumped out at you from around the corner, special effects makeup covering his face that made it look as if he was covered in gnashes. jolting back, you felt megumi’s arm wrap around your waist, keeping you from taking a tumble towards the floor. the actor receded back into the darkness he had been hiding in, leaving you to try and calm your racing heart. megumi remained as blank faced as ever, not even phased in the slightest.

“oh my goodness,” you breathed, regaining your balance.

after a few more frights, the rest of the haunted house became easier to navigate because you knew what to expect. the jumpscares weren’t as alarming anymore, and you even found yourself starting to nervously laugh out of anticipation when you knew one was coming up. your giggles even had a smile coming onto your boyfriend’s face, his chest feeling warm at the sight of you having a good time.

running out of crimson colored hallways to walk down, the two of you were finally nearing the exit of the attraction. the double doors leading outside were left open, and you could see signage pointing towards a pumpkin patch and a corn maze. you gasped in delight.

“look, gumi, we can go pick our pumpkins out!”

you took off, dashing towards the exit in excitement. megumi sighed, figuring he’d catch up to you once the two of you were out of the haunted house.

unbeknownst to you both, there was one more actor hiding in the dark, a final fright for those who bravely made it to the end.

and unfortunately for you, this guy wasn’t only a creep because of his costume.

his breath heavy with the scent of alcohol, the actor smirked when he saw you trotting towards his hiding spot. megumi wasn’t in his line of sight yet, so he had no idea he was trailing behind.

‘a pretty little thing all alone in this place?’ the sleaze thought to himself. ‘must be my lucky day.’

you shrieked when the man jumped out at you, mentally cursing yourself for not staying on your guard until the very end. oh well, at least it's all just pretend-

you felt your body freeze when a pair of gloved hands attached themselves to your chest.

“damn, aren’t you fine,” disgustingly warm breath fanned against your ear, and you felt a true scream start to tear its way up your throat only to die on your tongue when the body pressed against your back was ripped away from you.

you watched in shock as megumi shoved your assailant up against the wall, sending his fist into his face once, then twice, then three times. he kept going.

“gumi!” you yelled, trying to pull your boyfriend out of his rage-filled trance. the guy had his hands up in surrender, pleads coming from behind his mask. the shikigami summoner, however, wasn’t letting up.

you finally ran up to him, grabbing onto his elbow before he can deliver another punch. “MEGUMI! i think he got the lesson.”

dark blue eyes blinked before turning to look down at you, a frown on your face. he took note of the tremors in your grip on his arm. megumi mentally kicked himself for not checking on you first. he always sought to improve his character, but whenever he saw your safety threatened he found himself reverting back to the violence that plagued his younger years.

“love,” he began slowly, concern etched into every corner of his face.

you sniffled. “can we just get out of here?”

the sorcerer let the creep fall to the ground, crumbling up like the trash he was. placing a gentle hand on the small of your back, your boyfriend led you away from the haunted house and towards the car.

he thought about telling the site’s management, but you were clearly still shaken, so he decided for your sake he’d get you into the comfort of his audi as soon as possible. he would still report the incident later, however. that man needed to face formal consequence. beating him wasn’t enough to satisfy megumi, who swore to himself every night you fell asleep in his arms and every morning you woke up still wrapped in them that he would keep you safe from anything.

he couldn’t help but feel like he failed at that tonight.

opening the passenger door for you, megumi helped you into your seat before closing you in and getting into the car himself. he immediately turned to you.

“are you alright?”

such a stupid question to ask. of course you weren’t, the misty hue of your eyes confirmed so. he couldn't think of the right words to say in this situation, but when those always failed him, megumi resorted to the method he could always depend on to better express himself: actions.

those always spoke louder, anyways.

he reached a hand out, placing it on your thigh before giving a comforting squeeze. he knew there was a chance you may not want to be touched right now, but if you had a problem with his affections he knew you’d make it known.

a sense of accomplishment washed over him when you placed your hand on top of his. “thank you, gumi.”

“you don’t need to thank me. it’s my responsibility to protect you.”

he almost made a comment about how he should have done a better job, but he held his tongue. right now it was about you. throwing himself a pity party would do nothing to lift your spirits.

“well, i still want to say thank you,” you said, a small smile coming onto your face as you shifted towards him. “my knight in shining armor deserves some gratitude.”

megumi hummed in acceptance, the two of you sitting in silence for a minute before he spoke again.

“i hope i broke his fucking nose.”

that earned a laugh from you, catching him by surprise. “all this time i thought gojo was making up all those stories about you in middle school, but i guess i was wrong.”

“whatever he told you, please forget.”

“you know, i dont think i want to,” you said with a smirk.

now that the distress of the situation had ebbed away some, your mind was able to ponder more on your boyfriend going full fight club on the guy. seeing him get aggressive like that was honestly…very sexy. you couldn’t really appreciate in the moment, but now reminiscing on the wild semblance in his eyes and the sheer force behind his hits had your thighs starting to press together.

megumi noticed the gesture when he felt his fingers become squished between your thighs. he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“do you want something from me?” he asked, the heat of your skin paired with the adrenaline from earlier sending his brain into overdrive.

you pouted your lip out at him. “want you to touch me, ‘gumi.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, sir. need you to make me feel better, please.”

the title made his cock twitch in his pants. the hand that had been resting on your thigh slowly began to glide up your skin, dipping under the hem of your skirt and gingerly tracing the edge of the lace covering your heat.

he saw you start to squirm in your seat, chest puffing out at the effect he had on your body. finally slipping a finger into your panties, his index drew slow circles around your clit.

your head tipped back against the seat, a breathy whine leaving you. the appendage doting on your bud then drifted down into your cunt, his middle finger joining as well. he pumped them at a steady fast, beginning to pick up speed once they started to reach deeper.

“fuck, that feels so good, sir!”

“yeah? ‘m glad, love.”

he could feel your pussy start to soak his fingers, the mess between your legs growing wetter by the second. it would probably get on the seat, but he could worry about that later. right now his sweet girl needed him.

you felt the coil in your gut begin to tighten, megumi’s fingers continuing to fuck you open. he knew how to use them so well, years of summoning his shikigami paying off with the most dexterous fingers you’ve ever had the pleasure of welcoming into your cunt.

thus, imagine your disappointment when you felt his hand detach from your heat.

before you could protest, you felt his arousal-coated fingers prod at your lower lip.

“clean them,” he gently commanded.

you did as you were told, taking the appendages into your mouth as your tongue swept up your own glaze. you released them with a pop.

“such a good girl.”

you let out a small squeak of surprise as you felt megumi easily lift you from your seat and bring you into his lap, chests pressed together.

“good girls deserve to cum on a cock, yeah?”

you nodded quickly, excitement rattling you at the thought of getting filled up.

megumi slid his pants down below his hips, freeing his aching dick from his boxers before pushing your thong to the side.

“sit on it, love.”

lowering yourself onto his cock, you moaned as you felt the familiar stretch. he always stuffed you so perfectly, the heat in your stomach already starting to pool at the sensation.

moving your head to rest in the crook of his neck, megumi placed both of his hands on your hips. he began to move you up and down on his lap as if you were weightless, jackhammering up into your pussy whenever he brought you back down. you practically screamed when you felt how deep he was going.

your boyfriend was panting. god, you always felt so perfect around him. he was never sure what he thought about the idea of fate or soulmates, but everytime you welcomed him into your cunt, he could have sworn you were made for each other.

his lovesick thoughts led his thrusts to become harder, megumi’s sole focus being to ensure you could feel how much you meant to him through every grip of his fingers, every breath from his lips, every plunge of your pelvises.

“i love you,” he whispered into your ear, eyes practically blown feral. “damn, i love you so much. forever and always. gonna keep you safe, gonna keep you happy- fuck.”

you mewled at all the pussydrunk confessions tumbling out of him. “love you, too, gumi! love you, love you- ah!”

his tip hitting that golden spot now, your legs starting to shake around his.

“if i ever see someone touch you again, i’m putting them six feet fucking under.”

“nng, sir!”

“you’re mine.”

the dam finally broke, your cunt clamping down on his dick as your orgasm tore through you as if it were a monsoon. the sensation of you creaming around him sent your boyfriend over the edge next, megumi filling you up as you continued to be flooded with pleasure.

the two of you sat there in content quiet, megumi running his hand up your back to try and soothe you as you both recovered. you lifted your head up, gazing at him with droopy eyes.

“did you mean it?”

his brow furrowed. “mean what?”

“putting someone six feet under. would you actually do it?”

he wrapped you in an embrace, bringing your tired body to rest against his.

“without hesitation.”

———

saige’s terrortober masterlist

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi smut #megumi fushiguro smut #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader

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neo-novaa · 1 year

Text

eager

; the second part to bitter

*ੈ✩ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ethan landry x reader

*ੈ✩ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut !! p in v, fingering, ooc ethan (he fucks) not proofread so if you see any mistakes...no you did not.

*ੈ✩ 𝐚/𝐧: ARGH this took so long and i have some very mixed feelings about this but fuck it we ball

it takes you all of seven minutes to finish a usual one-minute walk, only because you can’t stop turning around and kissing him.

another scientific feat: it takes less than half that time to bring him through the front door, up the stairs, and into your room— it’s crazy how quickly people can finish tasks when their main motivation is sex.

you don’t waste any time; it’s easier to skip over the formalities when you’ve spent months yearning for this exact moment.

“someone’s eager.” ethan murmurs against your lips.

“shut the fuck up,” you quip, pulling him closer to you.

you can’t tell if your brain is foggy from alcohol or lust, but you’re acting on your most primal instincts: you’re nearly clawing at ethans neck as you kiss him, begging him for more. his reaction almost immediate, and he’s taking off his shirt mere moments after you shut the door to your room behind you.

you’re the one guiding ethan to your bed, and you’re climbing onto his lap when he sits down on your mattress.

your breath hitches in your throat when you feel how hard he is against you, and it’s only then do you finally pull away from him. you lift your shirt, pulling it from your embarrassingly sweaty torso, and throw it into some corner of the room.

you nearly cower with the way ethan is starting at your torso.

or, more aptly, your tits.

but you can tell that he’s looking over you — all of you. your neck, your chest, your abdomen, your legs; he’s taking it all in as if he’d never see it again.

“you’re so beautiful.” ethan murmurs.

you feel your face flush.

but you don’t want him to know how deeply of an affect his words have on you. so instead, you kiss him. gently.

then it’s rough— then it’s fast, and then ethans hands are grasping at your waist and rocking your hips down onto his. you feel your breath hitch when you make contact, the steady friction beginning to aid that five-month long ache in your abdomen.

it’s no where near enough, not for either of you.

in one swift move ethan has you pinned against your back, a skillful hand popping the button of your pants. his lips fall from yours, trailing around your jaw, your neck, leaving a path of dark bruises.

you feel that same fog clouding your brain, so much so that you barely register ethans hand until he has a finger inside of you.

you’re barely able to utter his name before he’s kissing you again, the same tooth and tongue from moments ago.

“is this okay?” he says, pulling away for a moment, and you’re too overwhelmed to do anything but nod.

“good, that’s good…” ethan whisperes as he begins to curl his finger inside of you. you rut your hips into his hand, chasing that arousal, urging that tightening coil in your abdomen.

just as you’re getting acclimated to one finger, ethan is pushing another inside of you, curling at your gummy walls.

“shit, ethan--” you can barely murmur his name without whining incoherently, and you spot the way that he seems just out of breath as you are.

“i know, i know.” he murmurs, and you whimper noisily as he begins to hasten his pace. the moment ethans name spills from your lips is he pressing a thumb against your clit, and if your eyes weren’t glued shut, you’d be able to see the cockiest smirk on ethans face.

you’re arching into it, hands clawing at your wrinkled bedsheets. and the way he’s curling his fingers inside of you, and rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves-- that coil inside of you snaps.

it’s loud, even you can tell. but you wouldn’t dream of holding back; you needed ethan to know how much of an affect he had on you.

you’re relishing in the relief that flushes over your body as he works you through your orgasm, both the hormones and the realization that ethan, the boy you’d been eyeing for months just finger-fucked you.

his lips on your skin brings you back to reality, and you nearly whine at his clothes erection against your spent cunt.

“ethan,” you utter his name, hands finding his neck and pulling him closer to you.

“yeah?” he says from the crook of your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

for a moment, you don’t respond. at least, not with words. one of your (trembling) legs nudges his hips as you roll your hips against his dick, and your name lazily. spills from his mouth

“ethan,” you practially moan his name, and he’s reading your signal loud and clear. you just sit there and enjoy the view as he slovenly undoes his jeans, sliding them with haste.

you swear could feel his anticipation, that same voracious yearning that’s been festering inside of you for god knows how long. your heartbeat’s fast, your uneven breathing miraculously in sync, and you feel hot anticipation climbing up in your chest.

ethan’s on top of you again, one arm encaging your head with his warm breath hitting your chest.

you’re about to reach over to your bedside drawer when you see ethan putting on a condom, and you can’t help but take a step away from the moment.

“were you planning on getting some action tonight?”

he looks up at you, not-so-innocent puppy dog eyes staring at you with so much love and adoration that you might puke.

“if i’m honest do you promise not to laugh at me?”

you have to hold back a giggle while you nod.

and then ethan is leaning closer to you, lips oh-so softly brushing against yours, as if this moment was something temporary— as if he wasn’t literally about to dick you down.

“i’ve been carrying condoms with me for months just in case this moment happened.”

and— oh, you almost cry.

because yeah, you know ethans about to fuck you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, and you know you’re going to have trouble sitting tomorrow, but it’s the little things like that that remind you of what a sweetheart he is.

but he quickly brings you back down to earth by pushing into you, burrying himself into you until his hips meet yours. your chest arches into his, and ethan can’t help the way he’s whining into your ear. it’s enough to make you see stars.

your hands find his waist, thumbing against the muscles on his lower abdomen, silently encouraging -- begging him to move.

you can barely hear his quiet whines and breathy moans against your hips rutting together; you barely register how hard ethan is biting into your neck, his canines digging into your skin.

“--ethan,” you whine, exposing more of your neck to his blistering lips on your neck. “don’t, fuck— please don’t leave so many marks, i have a— shit, i have a really important presentation tomorrow—”

“i don’t give a shit,” he grunts, pushing away to meet your gaze. “gonna mark you up all over,”

ethan quickly resumes position, staying true to his promise and leaving dark, impossible to cover lovebits all along your neck and shoulder. his free had pushes your hips down, keeping you still as he keeps driving into you.

“you like that, don’t you,” ethan whispers into your ear, brushing his temple against yours. “the thought of being covered in bruises because of me?”

you nod helplessly, relishing how tight your abdomen burns. you can feel it coiling tighter, burning harder, and your hands are clawing at him, chasing your release.

“touch me,” you whisper, so quiet you fear he may not even hear you. everything he does is too much and too little-- you can feel every one of his nerves crashing into yours, yet you don’t feel him enough.

skin against skin, and yet you can’t feel complete without his hands on you.

he whispers something into your ear, something incoherent beneath his whimpers, your mewls, and skin slapping against skin.

you can feel his touch scortching into your sides, one of his hands digging into your waist as the other moves south, his fingers finding place against your clit.

you arch into his fingers, your lungs burning with needy gasps. you’re close-- he’s close, bodies moving against each other in tandem.

“you’re fucking gorgous,” he says, mostly to himself, rutting into you as he seeks his own release. he’s thumbing against your clit, helping the pressure build inside of you. he knows you’re close, he can feel it.

that’s all you needed to finishl ethan burying himself into you, murmuring your name like a prayer. you feel yourself crashing over the edge, digging your nose into his neck, the two of you basking in the rhapsodic feeling of your release.

for a moment, thats all you do; you mellow in the shared space, the feeling of pure adoration eating each other alive. you can feel your breathing become even, your heart slowing pace, his chest beating against yours.

ethan breaths your name against your lips, enveloping you in a covetous kiss. his lips are languid against yours, those same hands burning against your hips.

you’ve never felt closer to him, and a part of you fears that if you pull away from him, he will slip through your hands.

so you hold onto ethan like he’s falling, slipping away from you. you hold him like he’s nothing but a fleeting moment. you hold him like he’s a dream, and you squeeze your eyes shut in fear that when you open them, he will be gone.

but when he whispers your name so delicately, as if the word itself could break, you bring yourself to meet his eyes: wonderful, beautiful, adjective-ful.

he’s beautiful.

so you tell him just that.

“you look so beautiful like this.” you whisper, and the red on his cheeks goes anything but unnoticed.

ethan rests his forehead against yours, his breaths falling evenly. “you stole my line.”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader smut #jack champion #jack champion x reader #scream vi #scream 6 #✧. ┊ scream !

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nova-amor · 5 months

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once known as humanity’s strongest soldier, levi ackerman could never be described as a weak man— a man so easily manipulated by emotions and sweet words. he wasn’t even sure how it had even gotten to this point, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest and palms growing cold and clammy. your fingers danced along the buttoned path of his blouse, slowly slipping the buttons loose and exposing his pale torso.

“blushing already?” you peered up at levi with half-lidded eyes, your body situated between his legs as you kneeled in front of him. his usual look of intimidation was absent, replaced with flushed pink cheeks and a softened gaze. “i thought we were over being shy around one another by now.” you teasingly commented, briefly checking to make sure the lock of his wheelchair was on.

levi’s steel blue eye looked away from you, his cheeks darkening in color. there was a flutter of butterflies in his stomach, a silent string of curse words filling his thoughts. he wasn’t a weak man, furtherest thing from it actually— but, something about you always made him fall to his knees, figuratively speaking. he hated how incapacitated he got whenever you were around.

“shut up,” he grunted. your fingers toyed at the waistband of his dark gray suit pants, the warmth of your touch sending shivers up his spine. you spread his legs further apart as you tugged the fly of his pants down, freeing his hardening cock from the restraints of his pants.

your soft hand fisted the base of his cock, the head an aching shade of tanned peach and oozing white pearls of pre-cum. “levi, i’m just playing— look at me,” the rustle of fabric caught levi’s attention, his head tilting back to look at you. your blouse had been unbuttoned, the sight of your exposed breasts making his cock throb harder within your grasp. “i still get shy too, don’t worry.”

your skilled hand pumped his cock, fingers coated in his juices. you flicked and twisted your wrist, giving a few tight squeezes to his shaft that elicited shallow groans from the man in front of you. levi’s eye drank in the sight of you— on your knees, your nipples perky and engorged, your brows slightly furrowed in concentration.

“c’mere, gorgeous,” levi beckoned, urging you to climb atop his lap. two people in a wheelchair was a tight, slightly uncomfortable squeeze but neither you or levi cared enough to move somewhere else, the desperation to consume one another evident in your actions.

with frenzied hands, you bunched up the long fabric of your skirt and sank down onto levi’s cock, the warmth of your cunt pulling a guttural moan from levi’s throat. his hands found purchase of your hips, the tight space only allowing you two to grind against one another. your fingers found themselves laced into levi’s inky hair, tugging at the soft strands of his fringe as you ground your clit against his pelvis, the trimmed pubic hair stimulating your nerves in the way you liked.

“you feel so good,” you whimpered to levi, the sensation of your clit dragging against him making your body grow faint. levi’s cock twitched against your gummy walls, the shuffle of your hips getting faster as you got closer to your release. levi drank in the view, feeble moans leaving your lips and your eyes all wide and starry.

his left hand trailed up the curve of your body, cupping the underside of your breast and rolling your nipple around with his thumb. he could never get enough of this— your desperation making his heart swell. “you feel better.” he promised.

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sweetsweetjellybean · 5 months

Text

Return to the Need To Know AU for another night with your two favorite guys. This is a stand-alone, but you can read the first one here.

TW: No Minors. Threesome. Fem!Reader. Oral. PIV. Anal play. Spanking. Fingering. Toys. Orgasm denial. Possessive Steve. Softish Eddie. Let's face it, they're obsessed with you.

"I never said to stop. Keep sucking, honey," Steve‘s voice is a mix of velvet and command. His rough fingertips slide a path up your spine from behind you. Exerting a firm, deliberate pressure as he clasps the back of your neck, his grip guiding you downward onto Eddie’s cock, your back curving into a deeper arch.

"Jesus," Eddie groans, his head tilting back against the headboard, eyes sealed shut—his dark curls framing his face in a messy halo, the smooth planes of his chest flexing as he clutches at the sheets. Your fingernails push half moons into the firm muscles of his thighs as you gag, caught between discomfort and the urge to keep him moaning. “You’re doin’ so good, doll.”

Steve taps your clit with the middle finger of his other hand before sweeping it over your pussy, spreading the wetness upward to your ass and back down again. You whimper around Eddie, the flat of your tongue gliding over the vein running on the underside of his shaft as you take him deeper into your throat, your nose brushing the wiry hairs at his base. In a silent plea, you nudge your knees further apart while keeping your head bobbing in a slow, deliberate rhythm just the way Eddie likes.

A low chuckle rumbles from Steve’s throat, but he gives you what you want, thick fingers sliding into both your entrances, automatically targeting those hidden spots inside that send your vision into a blurry haze at the edges. He pumps back and forth a few times before leaving you empty. A void that’s punctuated with a sharp slap that sends ripples through the fat of your ass.

It feels like it’s been going on forever—this teasing. On your knees, ass up and spread wide on Steve’s bed, head bowed low, sucking Eddie's cock. Your hard nipples scrape against the linen duvet, sending tiny shocks coursing through as Eddie lets you take him right to the edge before he redirects you, fighting back his release, prolonging your torture in some unspoken agreement with Steve.

Lit candles drip wax onto polished wood, the scent of smoke and cedar mixes with your arousal. Steve’s kept you on edge for so long, walking around the dimly lit room, the bulge in his boxer briefs evident, the lean muscle of his chest rising and falling as he instructs you how to take Eddie with your mouth. Watching you from every angle using the mirror that’s propped in the corner when he fingers you from behind only to then leave you empty and aching. Knowing it’s not the stretch of his fingers that you really crave. The inside of your thighs are slick and sticky, and you can’t recall ever being this wet.

“So, so pretty,” Steve murmurs, hand gliding like a phantom over your calf and thigh, deliberately avoiding where you want his touch the most. “Make a mess, honey. Eddie needs your attention everywhere.”

The threat of tears prickles at your eyes as you allow saliva to trickle past your lips, cascading down Eddie’s heavy sack before massaging it in with gentle fingers. “Please,” the word escapes you in a hushed whisper as you pull your mouth from Eddie, your eyes lifting to meet his, brimming with a silent plea. His breath catches in his throat as he swallows hard. He’s too easy. You hide your smirk, your eyes change to smoldering as you stick your tongue out, letting it dance back and forth over his slit, swirling it around his crown like it’s your favorite treat.

With a sudden, firm impact, Steve's hand comes down on your backside. “Don't be sneaky,” he warns, knowing it doesn't take much to turn Eddie soft for you.

“I don't know, Steve,” Eddie says, capturing your chin between his fingers and tipping your head until your gaze is locked with his.

Behind you, Steve takes that moment to fill you with his thick fingers. Your mouth opens with a gasp, a stark sound in the quiet room. The only other noise is the wet, explicit sound of his probing movements as he works both openings.

The black of Eddie’s eyes begins to crowd out the amber as he watches your desire build. He pushes his thumb into your mouth, and you suck obediently. “She's been such a good little slut for us, maybe we should give her a little of what she wants.”

“I don't think she knows what she wants,” Steve growls out an answer, the pace of his fingers already bringing you close to the edge. Your moans muffled around Eddie’s thumb, grow more urgent as you drive your hips back, trying to draw Steve even deeper inside.

“That's okay,” Eddie holds your eyes, his voice a comforting placation, as he presses down on your tongue. “We know. Don't we, Steve?”

“You're right, Eddie,” Steve agrees, the cockiness returning to his voice, feeling your body begin to tighten as you start the climb to your peak. “We know exactly what she needs.” His fingers disappear, leaving you desperately clenching at emptiness, your orgasm once again fading out of reach.

“Don’t worry, doll,” Eddie soothes, withdrawing his thumb, letting it trail down your neck and chest until he’s circling your nipple. “You know I always take care of you,” he assures, leaning down to take your mouth with a tender kiss and a caress of your cheek while Steve moves around the room behind you. Eddie shifts on the bed, moving to sit on his knees, keeping your face positioned just above his cock, still glistening with the evidence of your attention.

Something lands beside your legs with a soft thud. You turn your head toward the mirror just in time to see Steve’s boxer sliding down his hairy thighs. The sight of his impressive length standing hard and ready against his stomach sends a new wave of arousal, drenching your core with want. His fingers run through his gold-streaked hair before taking himself in hand, stroking from base to tip, squeezing his leaking head as his gaze stays trained on the way you’re spread open for him. His knee hits the mattress behind you, making the bed dip from his weight.

“Eyes on me, doll,” Eddie says, drawing your attention back to him. “Let's put that mouth back to work.” His hand on the back of your head steers you to his waiting length. But instead of letting you set the pace, he takes control. Thrusting upward, using your mouth as he pleases.

From behind, something cool and slick drips down your ass as lube is liberally applied. Steve works some of it inside you, preparing you with a skilled touch, but instead of his cock his fingers give way to something larger, smoother, and unexpectedly warm. The silicone plug slides in with minimal resistance, the familiar weight settling within. You breathe deep at the sudden, intense fullness.

“Sometimes, I get the feeling you think you're in control,” Steve murmurs, his hands kneading the soft curves of your ass, giving you a moment to adjust. “But this,” he purrs, his finger trailing a path through your slick folds, pausing to apply gentle pressure to the plug, “this belongs to me. And I decide how to use it.”

Eddie’s hands frame your face, tipping your head back to look into your eyes, the corner of his mouth rising in a cocky smirk. Steve presses the plug again, but this time, it erupts with a deep rumble that ignites from inside you, sending a torrent of intensity spreading through your body. Your eyes widen, each breath now a sharp, gasping intake under the overwhelming rush.

“That’s it, doll, just let it take over,” Eddie whispers, his hands steadying your trembling form, your eyelids fluttering in bliss. “This is going to get you nice and ready for Steve’s dick. That’s what you want, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

“Shit,” you moan, clenching on nothing, your back arching higher, seeking out his promise.

One of Steve’s hands grips your hip as he teases you with his cock, gliding it through your drenched center. “I was right, wasn’t I?” His tone is laced with smug satisfaction. “I knew you needed all your pretty holes filled.”

“Yes,” your response is a breathy moan, hips bucking against.

He nudges at your entrance, the delicious pressure building. “You want my cock, honey? While Eddie fucks that smart mouth of yours?”

“Please, Steve, yes,” you cry, your head lowering and lips parting, eager to feel the weight of Eddie’s cock on your tongue.

“Anything you want, sweetheart, especially when you ask so nicely.” Steve begins his slow, deliberate entry at the same moment Eddie presses past your lips. Your world narrows to the sensation of being utterly filled, your mind clouding with pleasure.

“Fuck, she’s tight,” Steve moans sliding in until he bottoms out, lighting you up as he glides against your snug walls.

Eddie’s hips find their rhythm, the head of his cock rolling smoothly across your tongue, just shy of hitting the back of your throat. While Steve sets a pace of hard, deliberate thrusts into your cunt. His fingers digging into the flesh of your hips highlights his restraint as he moves with controlled intensity, resisting the urge to pound into you. Each rhythmic thrust hits that perfect spot, amplified by the plug's vibrations from the other side.

You surrender to them as your senses take over. The taste of Eddie in your mouth melds with the sounds of their groans and the steady slap of Steve's hips against you. It's overwhelming. All you can do is feel as they take their pleasure from your body, returning it in spades. The world beyond dims, your body transforming into a live wire, every nerve alight. You're rising from a place higher than you've ever known.

Your fingers grip Eddie’s thighs with urgency, desperate for leverage as the force of Steve’s thrusts drives you to take Eddie even deeper into your mouth. Eddie pauses with a firm hold on your head, granting you the chance to lavish him with your tongue."Your mouth is heaven, doll," Eddie murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Making it hard not to cum down your pretty throat.”

A low, appreciative hum escapes your lips as you hollow out your cheeks, the vibrations sending shivers through Eddie's body as he inches closer to his climax.

"You want that, don't you?" Eddie pants, his need palpable. Your efforts redouble, your hand joining the rhythm to pump his throbbing shaft. The thought of his warmth spilling in your mouth causes your inner muscles to clench tightly around Steve, earning you a low moan and a stinging slap on the dough of your ass.

“She wants it,” Steve answers for you. His thumb comes to rest against the plug, adding pressure in time with the drive of his hips, making your vision fuzzy and a quiver to your legs. The moans are escaping you unrestrained now. “But she’s going to come first. Want to feel her squeezing my cock.”

With that, Steve's movements increase, becoming faster, his hips meeting your ass with every rough drive, punishing the spot that has stars filling your vision. You're propelled toward the brink, the waves of release surging higher, intense and overwhelming. The last bit of command you have over your body snaps like a fragile thread. The wave crashes, euphoria flooding your blood, pulling you under.

Awareness leaves you as the plug is removed and you’re laid gently onto your side, your body still rocking with tremors.

Light kisses are rained over your ribs and breasts, accompanied by soothing hands drawing comforting patterns on your skin. Plush lips cover yours, tender and patient. As you open up for them, a tongue brushes against yours. When your eyes blink open, you’re surprised to see Steve’s heavy-lidded gaze as he kisses you softly and with affection that usually remains hidden. The back of his knuckles brush your cheek as you return his stare, a tear spilling over your lash line.

Eddie’s finger trace down up and down your thigh, ghosting over your pussy, causing another shock to jolt your body.

“That was..” the words stick in your throat as you press another quick kiss to Steve’s lips.

“I told you I’d take care of you, doll,” Eddie’s voice is still heavy as he kisses a line from your belly button, moving lower. “Now it’s time to take care of us.”

“What?”

A darkness falls over Steve’s eyes as he presses his hard length against your hip, and it dawns that neither boy has cum. “Don’t worry, honey, this is only the beginning.”

AN: Thanks for reading. This one got away from me. I was in a mood. I blame...actually, I'll keep that to myself. I hope you enjoyed the filth.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #steddie x reader #Need to Know #Hey Trouble

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ozarkthedog · 6 months

Text

summary: despite your reluctance, joel wants to fill you up.

kinktober ii: cnc + breeding

warnings: 18+ only -> mdni. Joel Miller x afab!reader. consensual non consent. threat of breeding. rough sex. asphyxiation. slight mention of aftercare. no beta.

word count: 1.2k

author’s note: per this post and @thornsnvultures sliding into my DMs with this thot. probably not my best but i'm posting it anyways. 🤷‍♀️

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ♁ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

He missed the power. The control. The brutality.

The topic had been discussed only once but the point was clear. Joel did not want to raise a child in this new, horrific world.

Settling down in Jackson with you had been good for him. The boring monotony of day-to-day life. It wasn’t just surviving. It was making something out of nothing, growing together. Helping your fellow man; not just stealing from him (or worse).

Still, that unsettling need would return from time to time. It’d take root in the base of his skull like one of the countless bullets he’d left in his victims. The savagery beckoned him like a gnat scratching at the surface. The urge to claim sinking its fangs in once again.

Normally he’d go on a long hunt. Seek out unseemly folk and leave a path of destruction in his wake. This morning, however, a storm brewed outside. The windows glitter with a layer of frost as the wind howls through Jackson.

You flinch awake. Trepidation settling in your belly. You know this feeling. You’ve been here many times before. You’ll stay by Joel’s side until your last breath. So you do what you’ve both discussed; wait.

A brute hand forces you onto your front. A gasp falls from your lips as a heavy weight settles on your back. Your lungs seize under the pressure making blood pulse behind your eyes.

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Joel sneers. He drags the hook of his nose up the side of your face, smiling as you struggle to suck a breath in. “Got you right where I want cha’, pretty girl.”

You jab an elbow back hoping to clip his jaw but he easily cages in it a steely grip. He yanks your left arm out from under your body with a dark chuckle and roughly secures your wrist in one of his large palms.

“I like ‘em feisty.” he grits, dipping his head down and brushing his lips along the shell of your ear. “Gets my blood pumping” he drawls, a sick grin tugging at his lips. “and something else too.”

He shifts his weight, lessening the pressure on your upper body, and grids his hard cock against your ass. You instinctively twist in his grip, bucking your hips and tugging on his hold. Joel hollers above you, “Yeah, that’s it. Show me how tough you are, sweet girl.”

You whine, knowing there is no way out. He was much too strong. Still, it was part of the game.

“You know, it’ll be better for you if you just give in.” the warm, soothing words flutter into your brain calming your heart for just a brief moment.

You know what he’s capable of. You’ve seen the brutality, the rage but you also know about the quiet side. The way he holds your hand when you walk into town. The soft eyes he gives you when you cuddle into his side. The way he’s so tender with you when he cradles your face in his hands.

“Wanna fill you up.” Joel murmurs. Pulling your right knee up to your chest before sliding a large hand along the apex of your sex. “That’s my pretty pussy.” he groans as he drags a lazy finger up the slice of you. “Can never get enough of it.” he coos into your hair before kissing the top of your spine. “Of you.”

“Joel- no, please.” you whimper, shaking your head. “You can’t.”

He “tsks” behind you. A brute hand catches the back of your neck and digs his digits into the tender column. Warm breath brushes the shell of your ear as he leans in close. “You think you’re in a position to call the shots? Stupid girl.”

A gasp catches in your throat when he taps the heavy tip of his cock on your barely wet opening. He notches the bulbous crown just past your folds before sliding in ever so slowly. He takes his time filling you up. He wants this to last. Doesn’t want to know where he begins and you end.

Your core envelopes the weight and size of him. Molding around his thick length until you’re busting at the seams. “Thatta’ girl.” Joel grits through clenched teeth as your velvet walls make room for him. His cock brushes your cervix with a brazen kiss as he bottoms out making you wince.

His fingers dance cruelly on the crux of your mound, tugging on the hair that grows earning him a sharp cry before moving south. He circles your clit with expertise, knowing your body better than you did. A dense knot of unsavory pleasure forms in your belly, slowly growing tighter with every flick of his wrist.

He finally rocks his hips and the air punches from your lungs. He sets a constant motion, sawing his length in and out. In and out. From his bulbous tip to the soaked base of his shaft, he takes. He defiles.

Joel tugs your body close, wrapping his left arm around your font and splaying between your breasts effectively caging you against his broad form. “You feel so fuckin’ good, sweet girl.”

He grinds his cock deep after a weighty thrust, pushing his hips against the cushion of your ass. “Gonna fill you up.” he grunts, snapping his hips and pressing into the deepest part of you. “Make ya all round. Leave ya a drippin’ mess.”

Joel’s hips snap hard. It forces the air from your lungs and shakes your bones. If it weren’t for his hold you would’ve rolled to the other side of the bed.

A pathetic mewl tumbles from your lips, anxiety boiling over. “Joel, no!” you cry, praying he pulls out before it’s too late.

Without thinking, you toss your head back and catch the top of his brow, bruising his eye socket with a curt blow.

The room goes eerily still. The man behind you is deathly silent as your heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s trying to break free from your chest.

A heavy hand circles your neck and tugs you backward. Your neck is instantly constricted, barely allowing any air to pass by under his palm. He pins your head against his shoulder forming his large, powerful frame against your shivering one. “Wrong fuckin’ move.”

Ice runs up your spine, chilling your insides to the bone as his fingers press on your veins, seeking out the one that makes you comply every time you try to revolt.

"Just for that, I'm gonna keep fuckin' ya after I fill you up." he sneers. "Make sure it sticks."

Blood pounds under your skin as the room spins. Your sight glazes over while he shoves his cock past your walls as they involuntarily clench around his girth from the rough treatment.

His cock swells, bigger and bigger with every drive. “Shit.” he hisses, clutching your throat just a bit tighter as his hips stutter. A black mist slowly begins to crowd your sight, your eyes roll backward, mind and body go numb.

In a flash, he loosens his grip on your neck and pulls from your warmth, circling his shiny, soaked cock with a tight grip. He pumps his length, chasing his high before coming with a raspy moan and spilling hot ropes along the curve of your ass.

A heavy blanket of silence falls over the room while Joel catches his breath. He feels the rage melting away as his heart slowly beats to its usual rhythm. That all-consuming need has been stamped out. For now.

In a moment, he’ll scoop you into his arms and leave a soft kiss on the crown of your head. He’ll hum words of love while you relax against his chest and eventually fall back to sleep.

You close your eyes and wait like you always do.

running away now. 😅 feel free to scream at me -> 💌

follow @ozzieslibrary for fic notifs!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miler x you #dark!joel miller #pedro pascal

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saintmurd0ck · 2 years

Text

footsteps

masterlist

pairing: matt murdock x f!reader

summary: your undeniable chemistry, the perfect night. it's been a long time coming, and finally, matthew murdock is in your apartment.

warnings: NO SHE HULK SPOILERS but def inspired, matt murdock's filthy mouth, matt murdock's cocky personality, smut, p in v (unprotected), oral (f receiving), someone say size kink???

a/n: credits to @buckypascal for making gifs of the scene. also, new post format?! lastly, tagging @mattmurdockspainkink and @chronicoverachiever for being there on that night and screaming about this entire episode with me 💀🙈 love you two LOTS 💗💗

You don’t waste any time getting into the apartment. Not even to fumble for your keys. They go straight in to turn the lock, and then they're yanked out. Thrown somewhere. Anywhere.

Nothing else matters now but him. All this time; every path, every decision, every bit of banter exchanged between the two of you has come down to this moment. You’ve known Matt for a very long time, but tonight… tonight feels more than familiar. Even if you’re in brand new territory.

The thick material of his suit grabs at your fingertips, tactile panels and armour-infused fabric gliding underneath your palms, clinging to the sweat that’s started to form. But you can’t think about that. You can’t think about being nervous, not when his mouth is on yours and his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, begging for entry. Right now, you shouldn’t be thinking of anything else. And rightfully so, you can’t.

Matt leans into the kiss, deepening it as a gloved hand comes up to cup your jaw, allowing for the tiniest of whimpers to slip past your lips. He stumbles, taken aback slightly at the way you’re kissing him, with a tenacity… a ferociousness he hasn’t yet experienced with you. You’re insistent, and it shows. It shows as you anchor your hand to the small of his back, nevermind that it’s all Kevlar you’re feeling and not his skin.

Oh God, his skin. The urge to see it, to touch it, to savour it, is staggering. Even though the night's only beginning, you’re impatient, and he knows it.

It’s a good thing he’s impatient too.

“You’ve got too many clothes… uh– too much suit–” you mumble, breaking away but still maintaining your distance. Or lack thereof.

Matt chuckles against your cheek, and it sounds like a promise. “There’s a zip at the back, sweetheart.”

He pulls you forward again to nip at the column of your throat, and then to leave a mark at the base of your neck, soothing the spot only with a flicker of his tongue. You can feel him straining against you now, and he’s shifting his hips, trying to get his bulge to settle where it wants to between your legs.

He’s antsy, and you get it. You understand. It’s not as if the two of you have been tiptoeing around each other for months, juggling a delicate balance of flirting and friendship and whatever the fuck else you’d describe your dynamic as.

But here you are.

Here you are.

You will yourself to pull it together as you kick your shoes off, Matt doing the same. He sets himself back upright promptly to remove his gloves, and then his helmet. You’re a little surprised at how haphazardly he tosses it onto the couch – a perfect throw, of course – considering that the suit is new and his helmet… well, his helmet cements his moniker, right? And–

Oh, enough about the helmet already.

His hair is ruffled, chesnut brown going a little orange when it catches in the yellow apartment light. He throws a billy club at the switch on your wall, muttering something about, ‘who needs a light, anyway?’

He’s handsome, and all he’s doing is standing there, his stance a little wide, and the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You don’t need to tell him how he makes you feel; he knows it so acutely it’s as if he’s cracked open a window to your innermost desires. You suck your cheeks in, feeling heat rise to your face as you approach him. Your expression goes dark and you think you have to stop in your tracks, if only to squeeze your legs together, but your body overrides that sensation. It tells you to keep going, to disregard the second heartbeat that's manifested, so you do, fingers fumbling for the strap on the back of Matt’s neck that conceals the zip.

It’s an almost wordless exchange except for what’s whispered under your breaths; the ‘is this okay?’s and ‘yes’es that flow so easily. He reassures you as you struggle with his suit, telling you ‘it’s– the zip’s right there’ and ‘c’mon sweetheart, you got it’. And you do, in fact, got it, because now you’re tugging it down his back, exposing every inch of his delicious self to the ether and beyond.

The zip goes down to his tailbone, and the second it has no more give, you’re pushing the suit off his shoulders, coaxing the material down and off. Down and off. You’ll admire him later. There’s something else in the way first.

When you get to his waist, you repeat your newfound mantra. Down and off. Down and off. You don’t care that his abs look carved from marble, like a statue handcrafted by Michelangelo himself, or that his cock – holy fuck, his cock – is almost staring you in the face – the suit goes over his ass, down his thighs, and he kicks it off, stepping on the pant legs to get the last of the fabric off his ankles.

Now, you can look at him. And look you do.

“You know I can tell that you’re eye-fucking me, right?” he grins, lifting his arms away from his body slightly, palms turned to face you. He’s caught in an almost-shrug.

You wave his words off to run your gaze up and down his frame, starting with his broad shoulders, the scars flecking his torso, and the tiniest trail of hair from his navel to beyond his boxers. His abs contract a little with every intake of breath, flexing and rippling as if they have a mind of their own. Your eyes continue to glaze over his body, working methodically from head to toe, focusing on a different part of him each time. You can barely recognise the quiver in your own breathing when you’re done.

“Bedroom,” you command, taking one of his hands in yours, squeezing it tightly as you lead him away.

He answers with a smile.

Then, as you approach the threshold of your door, of the very place you’ve thought about having him over and over and over again, his hand slides up to tighten at your wrist. He spins you towards him, backing you up until you’re against the wall. He pins you in place, and then his lips meet yours. This time it’s intimate, and not just because of what’s about to happen. It’s intimate for all the right reasons, for all the times he’s made you laugh, or listened to you grumble about the stressors of the world. It’s for every time he’s come to you, battered and bruised, close to broken, and every time you’ve nursed him back to sanity. To health. Matthew Murdock was — is — your one-in-a-million.

Your one-in-a-million groans as he nips at your pulse, using his knee to knock your legs apart. You’re lost now with both hands tangled in his hair, while his begin to roam over your breasts before settling on your hips. Matt moves his thigh in between your legs, and presses it upwards where he hears you throb. You bear down on the hard muscle, a steady stream of moans accompanying the arching of your back. That’s the gratification you’ve been seeking, the pleasure he knows you deserve. And that he can give.

“There you go,” he purrs, waiting for your arms to go slack so he can slip the straps of your dress off your shoulders. That moment comes easily as he grinds his thigh into your pussy harder. You wonder if he can feel the growing, damp spot in your panties — his sharp exhale tells you everything you need to hear.

He reaches behind you to unhook your bra with an ease that surprises you, and then everything else follows: your dress, your panties, his boxer briefs — they’re nothing more than meaningless clothes, troublesome barriers, as they fall to the floor into one clumsy pile.

And, for a moment, as the two of you step inside the bedroom, you linger there, arms wrapped around his waist as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He’s inhaling your scent, committing you to memory, as if nothing else – nothing – will ever come close to this. To you. He’s warm under your touch, and although his muscles are rock solid, he’s soft. He’s always had a gentle quality about him, and it’s become more apparent with every subsequent layer removed, physical and mental.

Matt braces his hands on your hips, squeezing ever-so-lightly to hold you there. Right now, he towers over you, still emanating that faint devil energy that always becomes more prominent with the suit, but you know you’re safe. It’s safe with him, and it always has been. He tilts his chin downwards, feeling your breath fan across his face.

He chuckles softly, and the sound makes your body erupt into goosebumps. It doesn’t help your case, but he drags his fingertips up your arms, touch featherlight and leaving you wanting more. He says your name, and it rolls off his tongue.

When he says it, it sounds like it was made for him.

He whispers your name again as he kicks the bedroom door shut, scooping you up to lay you out on the bed.

. . .

Moments later, there he is, forearms bracketing your face, mouth on your body, mapping every contour and curve you have to offer. He’s hungry for you, leaving wet kisses on your collarbones, moving further down to play with your breasts. He latches himself onto your nipple, sucking and circling with his tongue, grinding himself into your mattress in rhythm to your moans. You’re positive the dampness pooling between your thighs is trickling down them now. And that’s all thanks to him. Matthew.

Your Matthew.

He continues down your stomach, marking you as he pleases. You’re looking at him through your eyelashes, one hand curled tightly in his hair, trying to control your breathing, but it’s difficult. That coil in your stomach, the one that’s been loaded since the first time you laid eyes on Matthew Murdock… it’s reaching breaking point. And you need to let go.

For a moment Matt’s expression is pained, but it shifts back to focus as he nears your pussy, licking his lips to affirm the scent of your arousal sitting heavy in the air. You realise his expression is one of discomfort, but only because he wants you. He doesn’t know how much control he has over his own body. He wants to drag this out, to have you until the night gives way to the morning sun, but he needs you, more than he’s needed anything else in his life. So, there isn’t much pretense as he slides his palms under your ass and lifts your pussy to his face.

God, his tongue feels like heaven.

He licks a broad stripe up your centre, tasting you for all you are, before moving to your clit, drawing tight circles with the tip of his tongue. Still, Matt needs more. Somehow, this isn’t enough. It feels as if he’s waited his entire goddamn life for this, and if that’s how long eternity feels like, then he’s going to take advantage of every moment, of every chance to study your body and burn your pleasure into the fabric of his brain. Tasting you like this isn’t enough, so he flexes his arms, and he tightens his core, and rolls you with him until he’s lying on his back.

Matt Murdock eating your pussy is one thing, but Matt Murdock eating your pussy as you’re sitting on his face?

“Fuck– fuck, Matt, just like that,” you gasp, one hand outstretched towards your headboard, the other wound in his hair.

He says something, but it’s muffled against your cunt, and it only makes you clench harder. With the way he’s lapping at you, and then the way his tongue begins to stretch you out, you realise you’re going to implode very, very soon.

He lifts you off his mouth, and the corners of his lips twitch upwards. “Now, angel, would you like to cum for me now? Or do you want my cock?”

Maybe it's the way your banter works, but the retort flies from your lips faster than intended. “Do you really have to ask?”

His mood switches in an instant, and it should scare you — but it stirs up something wicked inside. It’s as if Matt can read your mind, or pick at this new unravelling thread, because he flattens his tongue against you again, as if something’s changed in your arousal.

“I was being nice,” he growls, and something like taunting flashes across his face. He’s testing the waters a little. Maybe he’s trying to figure out exactly how you like to take it.

“Yeah?” you respond, smugness lining your tone. You shuffle downwards to where he’s holding up his cock, having stroked it once… twice, just to show off his impressive size.

There it is again, that taunting.

Well, lucky for him, he’s not the only hellraiser this side of town.

You have him buried to the hilt in one agonisingly smooth motion, squeezing your thighs at his sides as his cock nudges against the spot that edges your vision in white.

He hisses as string after string of curses tumble from his lips, as suddenly he's enveloped in your warmth and your wetness, unable to think and almost unable to move. He has his hands on your waist, gripping so tightly you think it'll bruise, arms and abs flexing as he fights every urge within himself to cum inside you without giving you what you deserve.

He's pretty when he moans, and it's not just the blissed out expression on his face as you begin to move. His sounds are rich, and a little husky, laced with the kind of desperation you didn't think he could possess. You start to roll your hips, planting your palms on his broad chest as he lets you guide him into oblivion. Every drag of his cock along your walls sets your nerves alight, and he makes you feel so full you think you might burst.

He pleads your name. He begs you to go faster.

"What do you want, Matthew?" you drawl, lifting your hips up to bounce on his length, to writhe on top of him the way you realise he loves.

He's desperate, yet the authority in his voice remains. "Want you to cum for me, angel."

Your nose scrunches as you fuck yourself on him, breathing coming out in heavy pants as he hits that spot over and over and over again. His mouth curves into a devilish chuckle as you explode on his cock, fingernails digging into his skin as you pulsate and flood around him.

He takes this opportunity to reclaim his dominance, to flip you onto your back, pushing you into the sheets as he drives himself into you. His hips snap against yours ruthlessly as his forearms cradle your head and his mouth meets yours. The intimacy prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, and clearly you still have a couple good thoughts left in you, because Matt's got a weakness for this.

He breaks away from the kiss to tip his head back and groan, allowing you to pull him in deeper. Sweat blooms across his hairline as he lowers his weight on your body, nuzzling his face into your neck, breathing you in and holding you so damn close. His rhythm never falters, but his strokes change, especially as he uses his hands to push your legs back as far as they'll go.

And, as if what he's doing isn't good enough, he wrestles one hand free to rub your clit.

Oh, holy shit. If this is how you die, so be it. So fucking be it.

"Matty," you whimper, interlacing your fingers behind his neck, pulling him in to kiss you again.

"Yeah, angel," he rasps, and his lips are back on yours. They're soft, and yielding, and flawlessly moulded to you.

"Matty," you whisper, and you take him over the edge with you.

. . .

In the afterglow, with the ghost of a kiss lingering faintly on your lips, you turn to him. He punctuates your question with a sentence of his own.

"When am I going to see you again?"

"Come to New York with me."

You think of the invisible footsteps right outside your bedroom door; the ones an eternity in the making. You think of how it'd be to leave your own in his apartment, to leave him with what he's given you.

It scares you a little, because your life is here. Away from New York.

It scares you because your answer is overwhelmingly easy.

From the tentative smile on Matt's face, and the blush spreading across his cheeks, you know it's the right one.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil smut #matt murdock fanfiction #rhi writes 💻#x reader

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auteurdelabre · 1 month

Text

So Much to Lose PART SEVEN dark!Joel x f!Reader

story summary: Newly settled into Jackson city and forced to go on patrols with the miserable Joel Miller sets off a chain of events and encounters that have you questioning everything, including your own heart.

rating: 18+

tags: Oral sex (m receiving), allusions to female masturbation, brief description of animal violence, angst, praise, dirty talk, nickname: Good Girl, mentions of postpartum, mentions of trauma, dom/sub dynamics.

a/n: Alright y'all I got some amazing comments from a hilarious person on A03 and it put me in such a good mood that I'm releasing this chapter ASAP. The comments really do make me write faster, as do reblogs and comments here... {hint hint}

I love y'all for following me and since I have almost 850 followers (when did that happen?) I'm planning something special for (if) I hit 1,000 followers here, somethin' real good.

Without further ado, here's the chapter and we find out a bit more about our MC's past and she and Joel finally talk about what's going on between them. . . sorta.

Chapter 6 here

___________________________

Chapter 7: Spoiled

You thought that the fear on patrols had abated. Not only were you on horseback, but you were paired with Joel, arguably one of the best shots in Jackson City.

So when he leads you to a path you aren’t familiar with, the first icy tendrils of fear slipping through you. When he orders you to stop your horse alongside his at the mouth of a forest you feel the overwhelming urge to vomit.

“Where are we?”

You speak so softly he doesn’t hear you, he stops just outside the dense forest, sliding off Midnight and tying him off to a nearby tree. He glances over his shoulder to see you still sitting atop Chestnut, your gun on your back and your eyes scanning the perimeter.

“What’re you waitin’ for?”

“What are we doing here?”

"We need to check the forest for traps," Joel explains to you. "The other patrol group sets ‘em up for large game. We check ‘em every couple of weeks."

"Why can't we take the horses?"

"Too dangerous for ‘em inside," Joel explains. "We take ‘em in just enough to hide them but the roots and terrain are too much for ‘em. Too easy to twist their ankles."

"Why can't the other patrols check?"

"They do," Joel says gruffly. "We take turns every week. This is our week. Now stop complainin' and let's go."

You slide off of Chestnut at his order, but you make no move to go towards the forest. Too much is happening, too many noises and sounds and fears.

"J-Joel, I can stay with the horses." You don’t even hide the panic that’s crept into your voice.

"I said let's go," Joel huffs, gripping you by the upper arm and dragging you into the forest with him. He keeps his grip on you the entire way to the traps, almost knowing that the second he releases you, you’ll go rushing from the horrible dense of the forest.

Your feet drag but his grip is so strong that it doesn’t matter. Eventually you fall in line, marching alongside him. He doesn’t see that your eyes are closed, that he’s guiding you blindly through the forest. You simply lean into his grip, letting him lead as you follow.

When you reach the traps a short while later he finally releases your upper arm. You find you immediately miss the safety of that grip and you are sure to stand close to him as he looks over the metallic traps.

“Why do you put them here?”

“S’where we find most of the game,” he explains distractedly as he surveys them. “Bait hasn’t been touched though, so nothin’s come by recently.”

He makes a circle around the perimeter and you can’t help but follow like a lost puppy. All of a sudden Joel stills. You can see the way his back goes rigid, his body coming to a full stop so abruptly you almost walk into him.

You hear it, the gentle popping noise and you feel your body go numb with shock.

Clickers.

This is it. You're done for. You can’t even reach for your weapon, can’t even move a fraction. You’ve gone rigid, your eyes blown wide.

Joel raises his gun and you wait for the creature to come charging out of the woods. You're confused when it goes off and a large bird falls to the ground away from you, thudding to the ground.

You’re still frozen in spot, watching as Joel walks over to it, nudging it with his foot. Satisfied he takes it by the beak, carrying it back to where you still stand looking terrified. His brows quirk.

“S’wrong with you?”

"I thought it w-was one of them,” you whisper. “A clicker."

"Clickers sound different," Joel tells your blanched face. "More of a wet sound. But these birds sorta sound like em. S'why I kill em when I can."

Joel looks to see your gun still strapped to your back, not even produced and you see irritation cross his face.

"What would you do if you saw a clicker heading your way?" Joel asks you as the two of you walk through the forest back to the horses. "If you had no weapon and I wasn't here?"

Joel isn't one for casual conversation so you're immediately on guard. This is a test. But one you don't know how to pass. You glance around at your surroundings, noting the rocks and fallen branches from the trees.

"Fire maybe?"

"You're gonna hunker down and build a fire while an infected is racin' towards you?" Joel scoffs.

"Oh right," you mumble, feeling shame paint your cheeks. Your eyes scan around you again. "Get a sharp stick? Stab it?"

"You get close enough to stab one you're already dead."

"A rock-"

Joel's deadened stare thrown over his shoulder at you stops you from guessing further and humiliating yourself. The two of you continue walking in silence before he finally breaks it.

"If you see something coming towards you and you don't have a weapon, you gotta think smart," Joel explains. "You climb a tree, a good sturdy, tall one with thick branches. Infected can't climb trees."

"I've seen ‘em climb ladders," you argue. "And cars."

"Barely," Joel says patting the large tree trunk to his right. "And they'll only try to climb if they hear you up there. Once you're in the trees you stay still and quiet. Same goes for Raiders. You hide yourself in the tree and don't move. It's your only hope."

"Okay."

"Repeat it."

"If I am unarmed and in danger I need to climb up a tree," you reply flatly. "I need to remain quiet and out of sight."

“Good.”

You shakily make it back to the horses and continue on with your usual patrols. When you get inside the old building and finish your log notes you pause to look at your dual signatures. How his wide printing almost looks like its shielding your tiny script.

He’s not as sullen as usual and you know it’s because of what’s going to happen. You share your lunch in an easy silence before you’re on your knees between he and the wall, your eyes covered by the red scarf, your hands bracing your thighs. His cock fills your mouth deliciously and you feel warmth blooming behind your ribs.

“Swirl your tongue,” he orders breathlessly and you acquiesce. You love that he tells you exactly what he wants. You love how good it feels to do this right, to have the rest of the world fade away, where all you can hear and smell and taste is Joel. To feel his heavy hand on the crown of your head, holding you gently in place.

He barely talks, just let's you bob your mouth along until you feel that familiar stutter of his hips that tells you he's close. He comes quickly today, his voice gruff.

"Swallow it down."

When you pull off him minutes later he doesn't unwind the scarf right away. You hear him breathing above you as he tucks himself away. Moments pass and you sit patiently, head cocked in curiosity. You feel as if he's staring at you, and you can't understand why.

Finally he comes to unwind the scarf from around your eyes. You expect him to wordlessly walk from you, but instead he’s panting softly, his cheeks stained with red. He looks at your mouth, his tongue trailing over his lower lip.

"Show me your tongue," he demands in a low voice.

Even though this request seems unlike him you tilt your head back, opening your mouth widely and sticking out your tongue to show your clean tongue.

You feel strangely vulnerable pierced by the quiet gaze of Joel Miller. You've done much filthier things than stick out your tongue but you're never been looking at him while you do it, able to see the haunted eyes that stare back at you.

"Good girl," he rasps.

You watch him zipping and buttoning his jeans before he casts one last look at you. He blinks slowly and then strides from the room, his face back in its customary scowl.

You listen for the front door downstairs to open and shut. You can’t even make it to the bathroom before your hands are sliding under your jeans and you’re whimpering as you bring yourself off to the rumbling chorus of good girl that echoes in your mind.

///

Later that week you artfully arrange the paper flowers in an amber wine bottle you got from the Tipsy Bison. You rest it on your kitchen table smiling at the colorful arrangement. After making Maria's second bouquet you found yourself eager to make one of your own to brighten the space. You like looking at it, enjoy seeing the bright colors in your unadorned home.

You take the secondary bouquet of colorful flowers and wrap them in a strip of old cloth. The weather is drizzling and you don't want them to be ruined. You hide them in a small linen bag you use for groceries and then pull on your coat.

The walk towards the dining hall is pleasant despite the drizzle and you're surprised at how many of the children laugh and run through the falling droplets. When you were a child there were always video games and television shows to occupy your space indoors on gloomy days. These children have none of those luxuries but you can’t help but observe that they look more joyful than you ever did.

No wasting life.

Breakfast with Jennifer is a quick affair. She’s with that group of friends you met a while ago. The only one who stands out to you is tall Luke with the easy smile and soft countenance. He makes you feel at ease when you’re around him.

“Have you been practicing your shooting?” Jessica asks, looking effortlessly beautiful in her oversized sweater. Luke glances up from his breakfast, intrigued at the conversation. You pretend not to notice.

“Uh, not really. I don’t have a working gun of my own.”

Jessica is wide-eyed. “How could you not tell me? I have one that I don’t even use anymore! Come by tomorrow and I’ll show you how to use it.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Jennifer insists with a smile that makes you feel warm from the inside out.

You’re incredibly grateful for the kindness Jennifer has shown you, and despite how popular and well liked she is, she’s taken you under her wing. She has nothing to gain from it – except perhaps intel on Joel which you never seem to have. But you’ve noticed she asks about him less, she’s more interested in you.

It’s like she might be your friend. The first real friend you’ve had in a long time.

The walk over to Maria’s place is a quick one. The raindrops have stopped thankfully, but you worry that the swollen grey clouds above you might open up at any second.

The door opens on your first rap as if Tommy was waiting for you to arrive. He gives you a warm greeting, opening the door further and the aroma of fresh coffee floats out to greet you.

"Hi. Is Maria around?"

"Yeah she is, we actually have some folks over now-"

"That's fantastic," you say to him quickly before producing the flowers from inside the makeshift wrapping. "I tried some new designs out. Thought Maria would like 'em. Have a good morning."

He takes the bundle from you before you prepare to take off. You're so happy to hear that Maria is doing better; it makes your heart feel full.

"Wait, I wasn't sayin' that so you'd go," Tommy chuckles, long fingers touching your shoulder to stop you from leaving. "Come inside. We're havin' coffee. Maria’d love to see you."

You pause before you think of what awaits you at home: nothing really. An empty house, no family, no books you haven't already read over and over. What could it hurt especially when it seems like his desire to have you come in might be sincere?

"Okay."

You’re about to toe off your shoes when you notice the scuffed boots and mud splattered sneakers sat next to the door and you feel your stomach flip. You recognize those boots.

Tommy doesn’t notice your sudden reluctance, he simply ushers you into the living room where everyone sits chatting quietly before the fire. Maria and Ellie are deep in conversation next to each other on the couch. Joel sits in one of the armchairs, his ankles folded. He looks so at ease, his eyes on Ellie and a paternal look of love in his eyes.

The second you enter the room however and his dark eyes move to take you in, you see the gentle curl of his mouth disappear.

Good girl.

You feel a flutter of nerves go through you and you force your attention to the back of Maria’s head.

“Look who dropped by with more flowers,” Tommy announces before looking at you. “You want a coffee or somethin’?”

“No, I’m fine thanks.”

Maria looks up from where she sits next to Ellie on the couch and smiles at you. Joel gives you a lazy once over before turning his attention to the gently roaring fire. You don’t miss the tic in his jaw and for a moment you actually feel guilty that you’ve broken up this peaceful morning for him.

“I’m so glad you came back,” Maria enthuses, her dark eyes shining with delight. “Please come take a seat.”

You settle into the empty chair by the fireplace opposite Joel as Tommy hands the flowers to Maria. You haven't seen Ellie much since she got irritated with you about the whole Jennifer thing. You give her a tentative smile from across the room, grateful when she returns it.

"That's so cool," Ellie marvels, touching the paper petals gently.

"I wish I knew how to make these," Maria sighs happily as she gazes at them. "Seeing the other ones every day makes the place feel so cheerful. I'm gonna put these ones in the baby's room."

"I could teach you how to make them if you wanted," you offer gently. "It's not too complicated."

You hope you don’t sound pathetic and needy. There’s something about Maria’s vulnerability that calls to you. It makes you want to protect her in some way. You realize belatedly that it’s not just your Aunt she reminds you of, but your sister.

"I don't think I'd have the patience," Maria says with a gentle wave of her hand. "I just like looking at them."

"I wanna learn," Ellie pipes up, making you suppress a pleased grin. "I like flowers."

"Since when?" Joel murmurs with a smirk. You sneak a glance at him before looking back to Ellie who frowns at her father-figure.

"I've always liked flowers."

"Thought you were dead set on learnin' to bake," Tommy muses over his coffee mug. “I

"Maybe I wanna learn both," Ellie snarks back at him. "Is that a fuckin' crime?"

"Language," Joel mutters in her direction.

"I'm happy to teach you both," you say with a little laugh to yourself. "Thought I can't say I'm an expert on either."

"Really?"

"Yeah, of course," you say before your eyes sail over to the unmoving authority figure by the fireplace. "If that's okay with you?"

"Only if she's done with her chores," Joel finally supplies with a sigh, gripping his coffee mug a little tighter. "And if you don't break the damn oven."

Of course his assumption would be that you'd break something. You try to hold in the grimace that threatens to spill over your features.

Ellie makes a little hiss of victory before giggling at you. You feel the frost from your Jennifer misstep is behind you now. The sound of Douglas’ cries break into the room and both Maria and Tommy quickly move into the bedroom to console him. You look back at Ellie.

"How's school?"

"Boring," she answers honestly. "Can't wait until I'm done with it."

"I miss it," you tell her honestly as you shift in your chair. "I really loved being in class, sharing ideas, learning."

"You're weird."

"Ellie," Joel warns.

"S'fine," you say with a soft chuckle. "I am weird."

Before Joel can reply Maria and Tommy have re-entered the room with Tommy holding a drowsy Douglas in his arms with Maria trailing after the two of them.

"He heard your voice and wanted to say thank you for the flowers," she says kindly.

You smile as Douglas is placed gently into your arms by Tommy while the glossy eyed Maria looks on. You smile down at the sweet angelic face, your voice a soft murmur.

"Well, you're very welcome, Douglas."

The baby blinks, grunting a moment and wiggling. He's warm in your arms, but not heavy. You slowly rock him in your embrace inhaling the sweet scent of milk and that intoxicating baby smell.

"Hello," you coo softly at him as he stretches. Maria joins Tommy on the couch next to Ellie, curling her legs under her.

The rest of the group has begun talking about the movie playing this weekend. Trying to decide between a western and some Disney thing someone found on patrols. You're distracted by Douglas' long eyelashes over caramel skin. The pout of his pink mouth and the way he gurgles a toothless smile up in your direction.

"Adorable," you murmur, grazing his cheek with the pad of your thumb. "Aren't you just the sweetest thing, little Miller?"

You grin widely down at him, wanting to press a kiss to his downy forehead but holding back. He's not your family after all. Instead you take his tiny hand in yours, marveling at the perfection of his small fingers dwarfed by your own.

"He's so perfect," you mutter more to yourself than anyone else.

"Gets his good looks from his mama," Tommy says throwing his arm over Maria's shoulders. He presses a kiss to her cheek as she grins.

"Ain't that the truth," Joel murmurs, drawing a good natured chuckle from Tommy.

"You want kids?" Ellie asks you bluntly, forcing the attention of the room your way. You take a moment to consider the question.

"I dunno," you finally answer honestly. "Never really thought about it."

"I sure don't," she replies easily. "They're noisy, they stink, and they’re just too much work."

"Same could be said for teenagers," Joel murmurs behind his coffee cup, drawing chuckles from everyone but Ellie who gives him a playful shove.

You suppress a smirk before your finger traces down the soft cheek of Douglas''. He blinks up at you, gurgling again.

"Motherhood looks natural on you," Maria says in a voice laced with sorrow. You know what she's thinking. Tommy is glancing at her with concern in his features.

"Not as natural as on you, Maria," you assure her kindly. "I promise."

Maria nods but it's clear she doesn't believe you. You don't know that you believe you either. But she needs to hear it, needs to know that she possesses it even if it doesn't feel like it right now.

Tommy shoots you a grateful smile that you return. You can only imagine how hard it is to love someone so much and not be able to fix them. To have so few options to help now in this new world.

"So you’re interested in the kitchen still, Ellie?" Tommy teases her. "Gonna whip us up somethin’ good? Be a real Martha Stewart?"

Ellie wrinkles her nose. "A who?"

Ellie starts talking about the kitchen but you're distracted by the bundle in your arms. Douglas has fallen asleep again and his tiny snores makes your mouth curl into a bemused smirk.

You feel eyes on you and when you glance up you're surprised to see Joel's steady gaze on you holding the baby. When he catches you looking his way, his eyes snap over to his brother who is explaining all about Martha Stewart.

"We've got stuff to do," Joel says pushing himself up from the chair. "C'mon Ellie."

"I wanna stay."

"You've got chores," Joel tells her firmly. "And you've put ‘em off all week. Let's go."

His tone is stern but his face is pure patience as Ellie sighs dramatically. She comes to a stand sighing again and about to leave when she seems to remember something and steps towards you, her face suddenly animated.

"How about Sunday for baking? You can come to ours."

Go to Joel’s house? The thought has you in a panic, your eyes darting from her to Joel. "Uh, if it's okay with-."

"Joel is that okay?" Ellie claps her hands in front of her dramatically and she turns to face him. "Pleeeeeease?"

Joel moves his tongue to the corner of his cheek, looking thoughtfully at Ellie’s desperate face before sighing wearily.

"Just tell me what I need to get," Joel says to the space beside your head. "Eggs ‘n stuff like that."

"Sure. I'll give you a list on Thursday."

Joel nods, still not making eye contact with you but that's okay. You don't really want him to. Just the mention of Thursday has you slick between your legs. You may not like Joel Miller but the thought of what the two of you get up to on patrols makes it easy to get through uncomfortable interactions with him.

The door creaks shut behind them as they leave and you take a few moments to rock the baby in your arms until Maria gives a soft yawn and you worry you’ve overstayed your welcome.

"I should probably go too.”

"Don't go," Maria insists almost desperately, her eyes wide. "He looks so happy with you holding him."

You see the tears gathering in her eyes and you adjust the baby in your arms before sliding off your chair. Tommy seems to sense that you need privacy because he gathers the empty mugs and walks into the kitchen to wash them.

You stand, coming to sit next to Maria on the warm couch. She looks at Douglas warily, as if he's a stranger's child.

"Hold him, Maria."

"I can't."

"You can," you insist softly. "He's your son."

"I know he is," Maria says, tears gathering at the corner of her eyes. "I look at him and I'm so confused. I carried him; I fed him with my own body. Why don't I feel that connection like other mom's do?"

"You're not the only one," you tell her, hand on her shoulder. "My aunt went through the same thing. Gave birth to my cousin and felt nothing. She wasn't herself for months. You’re not alone, Maria. You’re not a bad mom; you’re not a bad person. This isn’t something you’re doing on purpose. It’s your brain.”

Maria shakes her head, as if the words don’t mean anything. You know she hears them, but she can’t accept them.

“You have a husband and friends to support you. I promise you that you'll get to the other side. I promise."

You know that it's a heavy gamble. But she needs to know that there's hope. She needs to know that this illness has plagued women across centuries. She looks at Douglas’ sleeping frame and after a moment of hesitation she allows you to place him in her arms. You watch as her eyes get soft, her breathing slowly decreasing.

"Some days I really feel like he's mine," Maria murmurs as she drags a gentle finger down the slope of his tiny nose. "Some days my heart feels like its overflowing. And sometimes that's worse than not caring."

You're silent, just listening to her speak.

"Love makes you weak and afraid. I've never been afraid of anything," Maria tells you, rocking Douglas gently in her arms. "But now that's all I am. Like one exposed nerve.”

Fat tears are sliding down her cheeks. You can’t help but run a soothing hand down her spine, rubbing up and down gently. She accepts your touch, even melts back into it.

"We shouldn't have done it," Maria hiccups a sob. "We were fucking idiots to have a baby in this world."

“You aren’t an idiot,” you insist. “You and Tommy loved each other so much you wanted to create life together. How is that stupid? That’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”

Maria sniffles, tears dropping onto the blanket holding Douglas.

“All I can think about is what I'd do if Raiders broke in. Or what if Douglas got bit? Or what would happen if Tommy and I got killed on patrols? I'm terrified to leave him alone. Terrified that something is gonna happen to him if me or Tommy aren't around."

You can hear the clattering of mugs being washed in the kitchen. You wonder if Tommy is listening and you hope that he is, because you worry he might be having the same fears.

“Douglas is going to grow up, just like all the other kids in Jackson City. Happy and safe and loved. He’s going to grow up to be a good person just like his parents. He’s going to be smart and kind and who knows, maybe he’ll be part of finding a cure.”

Maria blinks over at you as if just realizing this possibility.

"Maria I never had kids," you tell her, hand rubbing over her own. "But I had a younger sister and she felt like my kid sometimes. Especially when my parents got separated when we were fleeing the city.

Maria stares at you, rubbing the tears from her eyes.

"When the pandemic started my mom was visiting her Aunt in Wyoming," you explain. "My sister and my dad and I, we escaped to the nearest QZ."

“I never saw my Mom again,” you explain and you’re shocked at how deadened your voice sounds. It’s no longer a hurtful memory, more just a patchwork on the quilt of your trauma. Its life, you’ve accepted it. “The first day I got here I was sure I’d find her here. Sure that she survived somehow.”

“But she wasn’t here,” Maria finishes for you. “I would have recognized the last name.”

You shake your head slowly. “She wasn’t here.”

You think Maria might want to ask more about your history but you hear Tommy's voice filter in from the kitchen.

"Joel, what're you still doin' here?"

Your head snaps to look over your shoulder. Joel is here? Had he heard anything? The thought curdles your insides. It was hard enough sharing this much with Maria. Knowing that Joel might have overheard is much worse.

"Saw Jason out by the gates and he said that the lumber’s coming in Saturday,” Joel mutters. You can't see him in the next room but you hear the scrape of his boots on the wood flooring. "Thought you’d wanna know so you could get a group together.”

The two men mumble back and forth to each other and you hear the telltale sound of the door opening and closing behind Joel. You feel your heart hammering in your chest, suddenly anxious at the thought that Joel knows about your life.

Tommy enters back into the room, his eyes on Maria. He sees her holding Douglas and you can see the sun break into his previously cloudy eyes.

"I should get going." You stand, looking down at Maria’s tear-stained face. "Sorry for showing up unannounced."

"You're welcome anytime," Tommy assures you warmly before coming to sit next to his wife. He slings his arm around her shoulders, looking down at his son in her arms.

"Yeah," Maria agrees with a watery smile. "Please stop by again soon. I mean it."

“Okay, I will.”

///

Joel seems strange on patrols today.

It started with handing him the list of supplies you’d need for baking. Instead of a smart remark he just nodded, taking it from you and shoving it into the back of his jeans pocket. The ride to Teton Village had been in its usual silence, you noticed that the snow from last week had turned into a slushy mess which meant the horses moved a little slower.

By the time you reached the old building with its log book you were more than a little eager. You’d woken up that morning particularly slick between the legs, a Pavlovian response to patrol days.

Joel is still near silent, not even looking at you when he brings out his bag for lunch. He pushes your sandwich and thermos to you, watching you carefully as you eat. Normally Joel stares anywhere but your face during patrols, unless he’s getting angry with you. Today however he seems a bit tense, his gaze a bit heavier than usual.

It makes you uncomfortable. It makes you wonder what he’s thinking.

“I feel like Chestnut was walking a little weird the last mile or so,” you observe to break the silence. “Do you think you could take a look at his horseshoe before we go?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

The quiet stretches on,

“So what was the lumber for?”

“Huh?”

“You mentioned lumber back at Tommy’s,” you say, feeling like the peanut butter is sticking to the roof of your mouth. “I was wondering what it was for.”

“S’for repairs on the window upstairs,” he tells you gruffly, taking a large bite of his sandwich.

“Oh right.”

You decide not to press things; he doesn’t seem to be in the chatting mood. Lunch passes slowly, despite your anticipation for what comes next. Your heart is actually thrumming when Joel wipes his hands on his jeans and tilts his head for you to follow him.

You go into the room with the fireplace and couch and watch him shift into a comfortable seated position. The old frame creaks under his bulk and he stares at you standing, waiting and watching him. He undoes his belt buckle, the clinking noise causing your thighs to press together tightly.

You walk towards him, eyes on his large hands.

"On your knees."

You acquiesce without thought, your jeans biting into the cold floorboards below. Joel watches you from under hooded eyes. The sight of him seated there disheveled, belt unbuckled and legs spread does something to you.

When he doesn't make a move for your scarf or anything else you feel a prickle of insecurity go through you. You blink up at him, swallowing only to have him frown down at you.

"Do you actually like this?"

You don't like the way he says it, like there's something wrong with you if you do. You stand shakily, your eyes on the floor as you give him your murmured response.

"I do, yeah."

Joel is a statue with eyes that burn like coal. You feel them even if you don't see them until you peer at him still seated insouciantly there on the couch.

"You like me orderin' you around?" His voice is grated around the edges, his eyes holding nothing but disbelief. "Tellin' you what to do?"

"I like you being in charge," you correct.

"Why the fuck would you want somethin' like that?” Joel insists, cheeks pinking. “Someone orderin' you around?"

"I think you need it the same way I do. Only you need to be giving the orders. Am I right?"

Joel swallows and you see his large eyes widen a fraction as he takes in your words. You feel strangely emboldened by his lack of response, by the fact that you’ve taken him by surprise. And perhaps since you’ve been doing this for over a month you feel that you can voice this.

"Am I right?"

He still doesn't reply, instead he crosses his thick arms over his chest and just stares you down. It doesn't intimidate you like it once did, but it does prompt you to answer him.

"Because when you make the rules and do the ordering my mind goes quiet," you explain softly. "I'm not afraid, I'm not angry, I'm just... Free. I'm not in control but I'm choosing not to be."

And you know just by the way his shoulders relax that Joel understands. He understands because it's what happens when he has you under his palm, mouth sliding on his cock, when he wraps the scarf around your eyes and tells you not to touch.

The choosing. The control.

You’d known from the very first time he'd given you the order. You'd seen in there in the dark of his eyes that he liked the dynamic.

But you sense the hesitancy in him, a guilt that he shouldn't be enjoying it so much. His eyes take on a large, wounded appearance and it’s so clear that he’s wondering if he’s done something wrong.

"You've never given me anything I didn't want, Joel.”

That seems to get through to him, because he blinks away that little lost boy gaze.

You lower yourself to a kneeling position at his feet again. But you make no move to touch him. You simply bow your head, your hands clasped demurely on your thighs. You hear him shift unconsciously in his seat.

"What're you doin'?"

"Tell me what to do, Joel."

You stare at his boots, never venturing to his face but you can feel him watching you, his large hand twitching at his side on the cushion. He looks down at you with uncertainty as you eventually tilt your face up to him.

"Tell me what to do," you urge him again in a voice barely above a whisper. "Please."

You feel a rush of relief go through you when he nods and you can see the hard length of him through his jeans. You gingerly pull the scarf from around your neck, letting it hang in your grip loosely. You wait for him to retrieve it, eyes on the floor.

"No scarf," he rasps. "I know you'll listen. Close your eyes."

You do, feeling that tingle go through your body at his order. His large hand comes to the crown of your head, fingers snaking through the strands and tugging your face up. You keep your eyes firmly shut, not even considering peering through your lashes to see his face. You have your orders.

"Take me out and suck."

And you do, just as you have every other patrol for the last month. Only now it feels so much better because there’s no confusion. He gives you take, you give he takes. Your submission driving him forward, his domination calming your overworked nervous system.

"You do like takin' orders," he observes with a groan. "Like bein' told that you're a good girl."

Your breathing elevates when you hear that term and you just know the corner of his mouth twitches.

"Yeah. S'what I thought."

His hand is still wrapped in your hair, tugging you gently. Your lips feel rubbery and wet as you take him deeper. Your hands remain clasped on your lap. When you feel Joel twitch on your tongue you give a soft sigh through your nose, a feeling of blissful satisfaction.

"Look at me," Joel murmurs.

You take a moment to consider if you heard him right, but then he repeats himself and you slowly gaze up the length of him. He's tilted over you with heavy eyes, mouth parted. A greying curl is stuck to his sweaty forehead.

"Christ," he grits through his teeth. "Look ‘atcha there, mouth stuffed with my cock."

Desire blooms in you, snaking behind your ribs, down your veins, into your very bloodstream.

"What happened to that soft thing makin' cookies?"

You happened, Joel.

When Joel's quiet rasp reaches you again you physically shiver.

"You like bein' on your knees for me?" Joel grunts as his hips jerk forward.

You nod, your cheeks hollowing as you take him deeper into your throat. He lets out a strangled noise, tossing his head back.

"Fuck!" Joel glances down to see you still staring up at him, lips swollen around his shaft. "Look away now."

It doesn't sound like a cruel order, more a plea. You close your eyes, giving a small noise of protest when Joel brings himself out of your mouth.

"Wanna come on your tits," he instructs with a rasping growl and you hear him stroking himself furiously. "Take em out for me."

Despite this being uncharted territory for you both you don't hesitate. Your hands fumble with your sweater and you pull it over your head, tossing it to the floor. Joel watches as you unclasp your bra, letting it join the sweater. Your nipples tighten in the cool air of the room.

You're still not looking up at his face as instructed; so you don't know what he thinks. All you know is that the stroking is increasing.

"Head back, eyes closed," he pants, his voice tight.

You tilt your head back, eyes firmly closed. You feel vulnerable in this position, an animal who has bared their neck to a predator. Despite this you cup your breasts, offering them to him.

"Good girl," Joel says with a grunt. "Fuckin' good… So good for me."

And the praise hits you so strongly that you whimper aloud. This is what sends Joel over the edge and he comes with a strangled groan, painting your tits with stripes of his warm spend.

Your dual panting fills the room and you wish you could see yourself covered in Joel Miller's come. You wonder what he sees when he looks down at you covered in his essence. Proud? Embarrassed? Guilty?

"Open your eyes."

You blink them open immediately, your gaze flying to your chest covered in him before glancing up at him. Joel is breathing heavily through his nose, looking at you as if he’s still not convinced you’re real.

He reaches towards you and you don’t flinch when you watch his thumb come to gently trace over your right nipple, the spend there clinging to his digit. You feel a shiver run through with the contact of his hand on you.

You watch mesmerized as his palm cups your cheek, his fingers curling gently against your jaw. His thumb hovers scant inches from your swollen lips. Your eyes can't help but dart to his face again and the sight of his eyes blown black makes you quiver.

"Open," he says barely above a whisper.

Your mouth parts, eyes still on his face. He slowly lowers his thumb into your mouth. It rests there on your tongue, heavy and damp.

"Suck."

Your lips wrap around his thumb, licking the digit clean before sucking it suddenly, nestling him into the concave of your upper palate like he belongs there. He watches this all with quiet fascination, eyes strangely sorrowful through it all, like it pains him to do it. You suck, your smooth tongue cradling his wide thumb.

His hand is still cupping your cheek, even when his thumb is removed and drags down your lower lip, his gaze watching its descent. His brows saddle when you sigh gently, eyes locked with his.

And then he yanks his hand from you so quickly that you flinch. You’re completely thrown by the behavior, covering your chest instinctively. He looks at you kneeling between his legs and he shakes his head as if to clear it.

You shuffle backwards as he stands abruptly. You sit there at his feet, covered in his cooling spend, shooting him a confused look.

"We ain't doin this anymore," he tells you brusquely as he quickly zips up his jeans before buttoning it with trembling fingers.

"Why not?"

"Cuz I said so," he mutters before he shoots an ugly sneer your way. "You said you like takin' orders so this must be your lucky day."

You can only shake your head in disappointment as he leaves the room. You don't know what happened but Joel is back to his old, asshole self. The door below slams behind him and you go to the bathroom to clean yourself up. Today there is no sliding your hands underneath your jeans and getting yourself off.

All traditions have been spoiled by Joel's selfishness.

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

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