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#the fuckin power this man holds on me

amedouce · 3 months

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#the fuckin power this man holds on me #ive literally got the fattest crush on him #no scratch that #he's literally the love of my life i would die for him #i would rip my heart out and give it to him #but whatever man i guess its just a “celebrity crush”#let me go kms real quick #he's my sannie #choi san #ateez #i just love him too much #i wish i could give him the world

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foxgloveinspace · 1 year

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Do you ever figure out your Type and you go Oh No cause it’s just 🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩

#very much so #haha i’m in danger #listen. big. full face coverings weather it’s mask do helmet I don’t mind. staff maybe. long cloak. mostly the mask though we gotta focus on #the mask/helmet kink ok? that the big one here. someone who looks like they can command a lot of power. and like has the confidence to just #dominate a fuckin room when they speak people listen. but they are kind and soft and pick up kittens #and maybe they hold your hand and they definitely wrap you up in their arms when sleeping #I have a size kink and a helmet kink. I don’t know what else to say ok #hold me big man. I am small and need of comfort #I’m tired. I’m trying to hard to get through this stupid af ow battle pass to get the new hero while also unlocking Ramattra cause I didn’t #start playing ow2 until like late last month. don’t wanna talk about this post is… well it started out cuase I was think of my current fav #characters and Ramattra is on the list so it’s k #ok. him. Vessel (he counts… they all count tbh). Tron. technically Vanitas but I don’t wanna uhhh. Be With Him.#hmmmm. let’s see who else. Daft Punk. they fall under the ‘just masks though’ category of this #I liked Mando at first but he’s just kinda everywhere now and it’s Too Much for me.#anyway. big strong man with a mask/helemt. to reiterate #but also like. if they have a dark aesthetic👀 that’s a major plus. Otay okay

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sanchoyo · 1 year

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my dog turned 14 the other day!!! 14 years old in human years... I've had him since he was a pubby and hes 14... woaw....🥺

#i thought abt it too hard and im choked up now KJHSDKF MY SPECIAL LITTLE OLDMAN GUY.....MY BABY OLD. BENJBUTTON DOG. precious fuzzy man #he desperately needs a haircut i gotta call the vet tomorrow aaaugh ive been procrastinating abt it but hes SOO shaggy #i hate getting him cut in the winter bc i feel BAD if hes nakey bc its COLD outside. but i dont want him to be so shaggy he gets matted...#and his fur is curly fluffy so i dont wanna hurt him by trying to comb/brush it out yk?#aside from like using my fingers very gently #id say hes doing great for his age tho tbh #hes got mild cataracts and i think hes deaf but hes got 6 teeth which according to my vet is IMPRESSIVE for his age #and like hes healthy otherwise :") he luvs getting the good wet food now bc of the teeth situation #idk i know hes old and it makes me sad to think abt too much but hes doing ok according to the vet who i trust more than my own judgement #there rly isnt anything to be done abt him losing his hearing BUT hes so smart he picks up on hand signals so #he knows what gesture means walkies or food time :) or 'yes u can hop up on the couch with me' hand pat #my cat has started picking up on the hand signals too which is funny #guy whos nonverbal sometimes accidentally teached both their pets animal sign language <-#sanchoyorambles #anyway i wanna ask the vet to do another general checkup even tho he just had one a few months ago bc i am Paranoid JKDFHKJ #top 10 reasons i need to get a job asap . i am trying not to stress abt it but #aaaugh its been difficult and bad job hunting and the idea of calling ppl too late has paraylsed me with fear #i just gotta do it ;__; gun to my own head hollering atmyself to put the phone to my ear and hit call #holding myself hostage at this point bc being gentle is NOT fuckin working SDHFHSKJ #this time of year is always bad brain time tho i need to power thru the anxiety and various Episodes and Attacks #i Bleive in myself....

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deadghosy · 2 months

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Mommy long legs reader or slender man reader x Hazbin hotel 🌚🌝

AHHHH I LOVE YOU MY GHOST ANONNNN! SLENDERMAN?? YOU FINNA BRING OUT MY CREEPYPASTA PHASEE🦆✨💗‼️‼️‼️

HAZBIN HOTEL X SLENDERMAN! READER

prompt: a faceless creature of the height of 10’5 (or 7’9 idk I got two different heights from safari lol) came to hell to serve one final purpose…get a damn job.

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Two words, scary tall…

So say your height was 10’5…

SHIT GON GET WICKEEDDDD!!!

Okay so I can see Charlie being scared staring at you as you just sit like a nice gentleman as your body doesn’t fit the whole seat… (y’know what, let’s go with 7’9…) you told Charlie you use to be a leader before you somehow came to this wrenched place

Charlie felt bad and gave you a job here so yon can stay. But she was confused when you said “somehow”’ as if you didn’t die as a Human…WAIT A MINUTE..DID YOU JUST TALK WITHOUT A MOU-

Lucifer looked up at you and was like….“What in the fucking nine circles…” and you two became friends because of how Lucifer put accessories on you like a Christmas tree

Y’know how people make slenderman wear reading glasses sometimes? That’s you. 😭 with your blind ass LMAOO (I also wear glasses dw…) But I can see you wear the glasses and residents be so confused because…you don’t have eyes for Christ out loud-

“Fuck you wearin' glasses for?” Husk said to you once as he caught you even reading a book…now he was more confused. “I’m reading…” “…..okay..” husk was so done with this buffoonery as you had no mouth and eyes. But yet you could still read, see, and fuckin talk? Yeah he must be drunk as hell itself…

You treat niffty just like how fanon slenderman treats Sally. That’s how I headcannon it.

I headcannon you to be the fanon version of slenderman rather the cannon version. Cause you being the fanon version is just sweet considering the chaos that can happen in the hotel and how you treat niffty.

I can see people thinking you are a new overlord as you had a stern aura around yourself as you had a proper straight walk as you held a high chin not showing any weaknesses.

“Woah….did you see that sinner get lit in flames…” “yeah I did.” It got so quiet so quick as angel gave you a confused face as you just stood there. 😭 Angel couldn’t tell if you were being fr or being a smartass

You were just sleeping on the couch, dead ass like a passed out beer dad after watching football. And fat nuggets sat in your lap sleeping. Then angel came and slept by you, then husk, then niffty, AND THEN EVERYONE JOINED 😭 big ass family cuddle💗💗🦆

You deadass could be the bodyguard of the hotel as you could escort a sinner who is trying to be an ass to the staff and you’re just like, “YEET!” And boom they are thrown away

You and Alastor definitely bond the most as you two got black tentacles. It’s just for Alastor it’s based on his powers when he uses his magic. But for you, it’s just your appearance as you use them to pierce your enemies. But mostly you use them when you are too bored to pick up objects with your hands

BIGGG headcannon that when slenderman do that static thingy, for you it clouds their vision and hearing as you make them pass out. Either to death or just to knock them out.

Lol I can imagine the whole creepypasta mansion going crazy while you drink tea like “this is fine” as you are in some other universe- 😭 crossover type shit

Like Drowned Ben is spam texting your phone like, “slender. slender. Help. Slendy. Octopus. Father. Help help.. help JeFF STABBED ME!”

And your tall ass is just sleeping as everything is going soooo peaceful in the hotel.

While we are at that, EJ definitely was using a book to try and to summon you with sally behind him hugging her teddy to see you again. Meanwhile Jeff was chasing Ben as he goes through a tv to hide from Jeff.

I imagine people in the hotel would hug you except for Alastor as he hates touch. But the people would dead ass hug you as one of your tentacles hold them.

You picked up angel, niffty , Charlie and Vaggie with your four tentacles as you read a book. It was a funny but cute sight as Charlie was like “:p” while the others had a cartoony ass expression or a blank one which is definitely Vaggie and husk

Adam and Lute definitely glanced at each other confused at what the fuck you were as you didn’t have a demonic or angelic aura. But you had some type of power in you. It was weird asf as you just stood there like “🧍🏾am I ugly?” They just kept staring at you

I can see you having the same expression as the picture above when you met pentious as you and Alastor was having tea just chilling with the hellish weather.

“Do you know that guy?” “I have no idea who that pest is my dear friend.” Alastor says with his usual smile as he hands you a cookie.

Just straight up tea times with Alastor is so peaceful as Alastor was kinda suspicious when you didn’t say anything if he ate a cannibalism meal. But I mean…slenderman! Reader is use to people being a cannibal.

The vees are definitely intrigued with who the hell you are and how powerful are you as you were the talk of pentagram city when you first came.

I headcannon a sinner tried to cut off your tentacles only to be grabbed by one of them and slammed to the ground. You just stood there and let static ring loudly in their head to the point it exploded.

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yawnderu · 4 months

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CW: Prostitution, hardcore sex, anal sex, threesome, creampie. MDNI.

Prettiest girl in Edinburgh, Johnny often called you when discussing his sex life with Simon, drunkenly sharing way too much information about all the things you do with him in exchange for money.

Simon was never an easily influenced man, always able to hold his ground no matter what. Johnny's rants weren't what drove him to Edinburgh, no, it was pure curiosity after seeing pictures on your socials, given to Johnny in an almost unprofessional display of trust.

I can see why Johnny's so obsessed with you. Half-lidded brown eyes are fully focused on the scene in front of him; Johnny's burly arms underneath your knees, hands holding the back of your neck and forcing you to look down at the way he ravages your ass in a full nelson.

The sight of your tight ass being stretched wide open is enough to make him hard, but he told you both he's not joining on it. It's downright disgusting, he tries to convince himself, calloused hand running up and down his almost painfully hard cock, rubbing the slick precum that seems to be leaking out of his tip like a faucet.

“Show the LT how fuckin' wet you are for 'im, bonnie.” Johnny whispers into your ear, slowing down for a second to adjust you on his cock before he keeps slamming his hips into your ass, fucking into your puckered hole harder and deeper.

You barely manage to make eye contact with Simon, half-lidded eyes barely managing to not roll to the back of your head at the lewd sight in front of you. He looks too good— too fucking good not to be yours. Your hands drift down to your leaking cunt, two fingers opening your wet cunt for him to see the juices dripping down freely, wetting Johnny's cock and balls.

He tries to be strong, he truly does, but you're straight out of a porno, pretty cunt glistening while you give him “fuck me” eyes. Simon is a strong man— but he's not that strong. Like a sailor being lured by a siren, your pretty moans call to him, standing up to his full height and walking to the lewd scene in front of him.

His bared hand goes under your chin, forcing you to look up at him as he starts to rub his hard, veiny cock on your folds, gathering some of your wetness, his other hand gripping your hip tightly as he begins to sink into you. The sensation of your tight, wet cunt wrapping around his dick sends a surge of pleasure through his body, muscles tensing up as he brings you closer.

“You okay, love?” He whispers into your ear, pulling you back against him and thrusting deeper into you with a more forceful motion once you nod your head. The thin wall separating your cunt and ass lets both men feel each other moving within you, the contrast between Johnny's brutal fucking and Simon's gentle love making being the perfect contrast to make you tighten up around their cocks, arms wrapping around Simon's neck while you bring him closer.

Simon groans deeply as your lips eagerly crash against his, both of his hands now gripping your hips tightly, the wetness and tightness of your pussy enveloping him completely as he holds you in place, thrusting into you with deliberate force.

Johnny's grip on you tightens as he sets a punishing pace, his hips slamming into you with each powerful thrust, brutally fucking your tight, warm ass. The sound of your combined moans and the wet slaps of his hips meeting your ass fills the room, fueling your lust and driving the men further into a dominant frenzy. Simon's grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging into your flesh as he fucks into you harder, deeper.

“Fuck.” Johnny groans from behind you, voice strained with need.

“Gonna fuckin' cum inside ye, hen.” His voice is laced with desperation and need, throaty moans leaving his lips as he slams into you. With one final, powerful thrust, he spills himself inside your ass, emptying his balls deep inside you.

So many rules are being broken— not using a condom, letting them cum inside, kissing... even threesomes are forbidden, yet both men are so worth it.

Simon sets a punishing rhythm, his hips slamming into yours with full force. His groans mix with your whimpers and moans, creating a symphony of raw desire, feeling Johnny letting go of the hold only to wrap his arms around you, holding you in place while his cock softens inside your ass.

Simon's pace quickens, thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his own release, bringing you in for another messy, needy kiss to muffle his own moans. He's lost in the moment, fully consumed by the primal need to claim you. As his thrusts become more frenzied, he can feel the familiar coil of pleasure building deep within him.

His hips jerk uncontrollably as he empties his heavy balls deep inside your needy cunt, being milked by you when he feels your orgasm hit you as well, whiny moans spilled into his mouth. He pants heavily, his grip on your hips loosening as he comes down from his intense release.

Both men carefully pull out of you, setting your tired body down in bed before you're being pulled to a hairy chest you're very familiar with— Johnny's. He plants soft kisses on your forehead, tired words of praise leaving his lips in the form of whispers meant only for you to hear. You feel a stronger pair of arms wrapping around you from behind, your flush pressing against Simon's firm chest as he buries his face on your hair, letting out a deep sigh of exhaustion.

He's definitely visiting Edinburgh again, with or without Johnny. Maybe even make a private Instagram account to talk to you, too.

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gl1tteryzebra · 1 month

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kinda can’t stop thinking about rafe fucking me somewhere jj can see as a way to mark his territory on me 🤭🤭

anon darling it’s just like you’re tryna distract me from my responsibilities, this is so fucking hot (sorry this took so long)

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you struggled to maintain balance against the slippery surface of the glass pane; one leg curled around rafe’s hip, the other acting as a wobbly support beam for the rest of your body.

shallow puffs— and on occasion, a groan —slipped past the blonde’s lips. aside from that, the only other noise reverberating throughout the dark room was a product of sarah’s so called ‘charity case party’ downstairs.

rafe’s less than affable sentiment toward the pogues was no secret, but at least when you were around it gave him something else to focus on— even if their presence still got beneath his skin. tonight was different, however. different in the sense that he was given a reason to pick a bone– and unsurprisingly, he snaffled the opportunity up like a provoked animal.

even if a kind heart resided somewhere beneath jj's signature tattered tank top, this didn't stop him from being a real pain in the ass from time to time. it started when you arrived home from country club, loud laughs floating through the front door as the group of friends congregated around the kitchen, enjoying a few beers.

rafe had been intent on dragging you upstairs as fast as your legs could carry you when the mischievous blonde made a harmless jibe at your boyfriends 'anti-social behaviour'. rafe merely rolled his eyes, continuing to trek toward the staircase... but then jj just had to bring you into it.

"hey man if you don't wanna stick 'round that's cool, but you're misses is more than welcome... gotta spot for her right here." your eyes scrunched closed as he obnoxiously patted his thighs; you knew where this was headed.

when rafe chuckled, the sound was ugly and humourless and regretfully familiar. you were forced to hold him back as his large frame lunged at jj, a brief commotion ensued– sarah and kie screaming and clawing at the boys to stop– before your boyfriend finally came to his senses (it was a suicide mission going 1 v 3).

he flung an arm over your shoulder, wiping a small blotch of blood from his nose with a snort. "i'll be lookin' out for you at the club, jj, hopefully we can continue this civil conversation then."

you were quick to coax him onward as the other blonde shouted out an equally childish response.

rafe's emotions only ranged between 0-100. he was never happy, but ecstatic, and the same went for the other side of the coin; he was never mad, but fuming. that's why when you reached his bedroom and he began the process of aggressively tearing off his clothing, you knew you were in for it.

and that was how you ended up here: splayed against the cool glass of rafe's bedroom window, exposed from your head down to your toes as his hips flick into yours ardently. the pool was just around the corner of the weatherboard plantation, and you scrunched your eyes in embarrassment, praying no one would venture so close to be able to see.

“someone’s quiet." he huffed out, lips latching onto your neck as your head falls back in a choked gasped.

"the others, they could–" your voice dwindled into an airy mewl as he angled his hips upward, hitting that one spot that scrambled you brain.

"yeah, that's the fuckin' point." his ravenous mouth latched onto your , doing everything in his power to draw you out from your shell...and it was working.

he snickered "rafe–"

"c'mon, gorgeous. this is my fuckin' house, let'em hear– it's all they'll ever get."

you knew what he was referring to, or more accurately who he was referring to. the possessiveness practically oozing from his dark gaze, those strong hands that pinned you to the spot. he groaned when you tightened around him, face falling into the crook of your neck. sensing your end, his fingers ventured down to your swollen clit. "that's it, come on my cock."

your cheeks burned as you did just that, a loud wail of his name being extracted from your raw throat. he joined you shortly after, grunting as he pulled you into a sloppy kiss. you orbs were glossed over and delirious, and he smirked, tapping your cheek. "'m gonna go shower, don't forget to go pee."

you nodded and your gaze briefly flitted to the backyard as rafe sauntered into the bathroom, widening as a flash of blonde disappeared from view.

sincerely ~ 🦓༝༚༝༚

#rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron x reader #obx smut

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sanguineterrain · 5 months

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in your hands | jason todd

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Summary: Jason thinks he's too big to be loved. You show him that that's impossible.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings/tags: bathing together, sad jason, brief dissociation, i hc jason to have body dysmorphia and i wanted to explore that, non sexual nudity, washing your partner, bruce angst, hopeful ending.

A/N: as always, if you like this fic, tell me through comments and reblogs :)

the divider

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Tonight, Jason comes home far away.

You clock it as soon as he walks in. He’s moving on autopilot: boots by the door, helmet on the shelf, gear in the closet. He washes his hands, hangs up his jacket, and then he stands at the doorway. And waits.

You’re never quite sure what he’s waiting for. But you know that he’ll stay stuck in his head if you don’t step in.

“Hey, baby,” you say, cupping his cheeks. “Hey. You wanna eat or clean up first?”

The change is instant. As soon as you touch him, Jason is there. You’ve never mentioned it to him. It frightens you too much to explore, knowing that you’re his tether. You don’t want to think about what that means, having the power to anchor a man who used to be dead.

He looks at you, meets your gaze head-on.

“Did I disappear?” he whispers.

“Little bit. It’s okay.”

You keep stroking his cheeks, avoiding his shaving cuts and the freshly split lip. There’s a bruise around his eye and on his temple.

“Wanna wash up,” he finally says, but his hands cling to your waist.

You pet the back of his neck. “Want me to go with you?”

“Please?” He glances at the kitchen. “But if you’re in the middle ‘f something, then—”

“No, Jay. C’mon.”

You take him by the hand and lead him to the bathroom. Jason undresses while you draw a bath. Soon the bathroom starts to fog up with steam. You pour in some Epsom salts for his muscle aches—you know he should soak more than he does.

You turn off the faucet. Jason is in his boxers, staring at himself in the mirror. He picks at his autopsy scar, presses the puckered white flesh until it turns red.

“Jay,” you say gently. “C’mere, honey.”

His hands drop to his sides. Jason goes to the bath, pulls off his underwear, and sinks into the water. It’s a generously-sized tub. Jason had gotten his old tub replaced for a larger one after you’d mentioned that you liked baths. Soon enough, you’d introduced him to the wonders of hot baths for his sore muscles.

Even with its size, Jason still has to bend his knees slightly to fit. He pushes himself up easily. A little water sloshes over and dampens the edge of your shirt. Jason curses.

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head.

“It’s okay, honey. You want me to come in?”

He nods. You pull off your shirt, then your pants and underwear. Jason folds in on himself to make room, but you stop him.

“I’ll just sit between your legs, Jay. No problem.”

You step into the bath. Jason holds your wrist so you can sit down without slipping. He stares at his hand on your arm after you’ve sat.

You reach over for a washcloth and pour a lightly-scented soap. You lather it up first, then rub it over his shoulders, his chest, his stomach. Jason is perfectly still.

“Can you lean over, baby? So I can get your back.”

Jason obediently leans over. You smile at him as he holds himself up with his core. You know Jason’s not just strong, that he’s agile too. He’s very good at wielding his body.

You wash his back. This close, you can see the contours of his muscles, how broad he is.

When you’re done, you wring the soap out of the cloth and cup water in your palms to rinse the suds off of his skin. You catch his gaze in the mirror across the tub. Jason turns his head.

“God, look at me. How are you not afraid every time I come stompin’ around?”

You stop pouring water and rest your hands on Jason’s biceps. “What do you mean?”

He scoffs. “I’m like a huge, fuckin’... monster. Too big, too loud. I’m—” He swallows, bows his head. “How can you look at me?”

“Jay, honey. You’re not a monster.”

“Bruce thinks so,” he whispers, and straightens. “He can barely look at me. Every time he does, ‘s like he doesn’t even recognize me.”

His hand quietly swishes through the water to claw at his autopsy scar.

“This is all I am. Just violence. ‘M too big for anything else.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and pull his head into your chest. Jason hugs you back. His shoulders begin to shake.

“You’re more than your body,” you say. “You’re more than what the Pit made you. What you were.”

He shakes and cries into your neck. “I was small. People loved me when I was small.”

You pick up his head. Jason’s eyes are thick with tears. You lean in and kiss his Cupid’s bow.

“I love you.” You brush away his tears with your lips. “I love you so much, Jay. That’ll never change.”

“Too big for it,” he rasps.

You shake your head. “No, Jaybird. You’re never too big to be loved.”

“I’m s-scary.”

You kiss his temple, rub between his shoulder blades. Jason clings tighter.

“You don’t scare me. You never have.”

He pulls you closer, so you’re chest-to-chest. You straddle his stomach with your legs and hug Jason as tightly as you can.

“I was good when I was small,” he says. “I don’t–I don’t know how to be good anymore. I wanna be good, I do. I don’t want Bruce to think I’m bad. I’m still good.”

You take a deep, shuddering breath. “Oh, Jay. Baby. You are good. You came back to make a change. You’ve always been good. You’ve got a good heart. Nothing’s going to change that. Bruce is stubborn and stuck in his head. But you’ll always be his son. And you’ll always have people who love you.”

“What if I’m not worth it?” he whispers. “What if I’m too lost?”

“Then I’ll go out and find you. And we’ll come home together,” you say. “You’ll always find your way back home.”

He smells like soap and Epsom salts. You kiss his autopsy scar. Jason shakes more.

“Let me wash your hair, baby,” you say.

He nods, tears on his lashes. You wet his hair and pour shampoo. You rest your lips on his cheek as you lather the shampoo, detangling tiny knots with your fingers. Jason bends at the waist so you can rinse off the soap with the faucet.

You tap his hip and Jason sits up. He slips his arms around you again and tucks his chin into your neck.

“Don’t let go,” he says, suddenly desperate. “Don’t–don’t let me go.”

“I won’t, Jay. I’m right here.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood fanfiction #jason todd imagine #jason todd angst #fluff #soft jason todd #batman fanfiction #dc fanficton

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gloxk · 5 months

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Sneaky linkin’

(Eren Y. Armin A. Connie S.)

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A/N: i’m not COMPLETELY back, but I am making a slight improvement w my mental health… so here’s sum slight for yall🤷🏽‍♀️. I kinda hate this but maybe yall will like it..ion know. Luv ya tho. 17+.

Synopsis: Aot men as sneaky links.

Warning: Smut.. F/M

━━━━━━━⚠︎━━━━━━━

Eren! ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ———Back seat bandit

Eren..is definitely a back seat bandit. It’s mainly because he has a nice car, why not show it off?

Now, all i’m going to say is (Persian rugs- jacquees version.) Oh lawwwd, he definitely plays that while giving the most sloppiest, nastiest, messiest, back arching back shots ever. This man does NOT play.

Hair puller, choker, dirty talker. He’s the type to make you tell him how good he’s fucking you. “Uh-huh, right there? You like that baby?” And you better tell him too.

The hair pulling thing just comes by instinct. You could be giving this man the sloppiest head ever, deep throating him till hes hitting the back of your esophagus and all. The type of head that makes him feel like he’s shifting reality. He will tug your hair to get a real good look at your face, saliva dripping down your chin and red coating your face. A face that just screams ‘ Am I making you happy?’. He would stare at you with a shit eating grin just while the camera flash hits your face.

Degrading as fuck. He would just say some shit to boost his ego during sex. “I know you like that shit, stop acting like you don’t.” & “You can scream my name louder than that. Try again.” & “Stop fuckin running.” Don’t be fooled now, he’s also going to talk you through it and give you reassurance. “You doin so good f’me.” & “it’s all yours mami.” & “You look so pretty right now.”

Ugh this man just loves to have his hand wrapped around your body. Around your waist, neck, thighs, hands—it don’t matter to him. He loves touching on you. Any time yall link his hands just find their way over your body.

Connie! ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ——— Any time any where

Connie..is the type of guy who can fuck ANYWHERE. Car, room, closet, random family bathroom at a gas station—he don’t care.

If you’re down, he’s down. Y’all could be out shopping and he fucks you in the dressing room.

This man LOVES when you ride him. He would just watch you in awe while you bounce up and down on him.

Definitely a talker during sex, he loves telling you how good you’re doing. “Mhm—fuck—I love when you do that.” & “Cmoonn look at me while you do it.” & “Arch that back mama.”

Now, he’s a recorder. He records everything. He has a little folder in his phone dedicated to your link ups.

Although he’s gonna dick you down anywhere he can, his favorite place is the shower. Got some music playing in the background (P power - gunna) while he’s plowing into you. The shower couldn’t even cover up your loud moans.

Pull out ? Nah, “You wanna be grown, let’s be grown baby.” He doesn’t believe in wasting, so either you sucking it up or taking that shit.

Armin! ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ——— munch

Armin..is an eater. He’s gonna eat like it’s his last meal every fucking time. His tongue game is vicious. Absolutely diabolical, the messiest head you will ever get.

Salvia dripping on the couch, tears falling from your eyes due to overstimulation, legs locking around his head—he still wouldn’t stop. He won’t stop till you force him to.

Hold on now, Armin ain’t just an eater, he got good dick too. He’s a saint that’s gonna fuck you like a sinner. Let him get some liquor in his system and you’re going to be begging for round 2.

Speaking of drunk Armin, he’s gonna fuck you against a wall. Just something that’s going to happen one way or the other. One leg in the air while the other dangles just above the floor, his hands gripping on your ass so hard it leaves a mark.

Oh it doesn’t stop there either, he’s going to stumble his way to the bed and take you there too.

Hella vocal whimpering, moaning, whispering. He’s going to let you know your pussy good. “God-you feel so fuckin good.” & “Please keep doing that.”

Loves teaching you new things, different kinks, positions, anything of the sort. I know he just loves exploring and experimenting things with you. He’s a freaky freak for sure. <3

━━━━━━━⚠︎━━━━━━━

whore…

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alwaysshallow · 6 months

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― blood on my shirt, rose in my hand

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SUMMARY: Simon Riley knows you have bad experiences with dating, but he also knows you don't really need no one but him. He's gonna provide you anything. So you can imagine how he could change, when for the first time, you think you've found the one man who's right for you. To your surprise, weird events happen during the time you date Nick. Thankfully, Simon's there to help you. (11,4k)

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A/N: this is SUCH a long piece, so some of it is here, but the full version is on AO3. i hope you're gonna forgive me for this one </3

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"It's not like I'm ugly, right? I thought about it. If I'm ugly, so that's why it doesn't work out." you sip your favorite wine, looking right at your best friend, who has been listening for the past hour your ramblings about dating.

"You're fuckin' stupid, but not ugly, pet."

He's the best friend in the world – you can say this, meaning it with your whole heart. In fact, he's the best friend everyone probably wished to have, at least in your mind. Not only here for you, but loyal, you can tell him basically anything. He wouldn't say a thing, even if someone was nagging, and he was mostly a good adviser; all the qualities you looked for in a best friend, right?

And he was brutally honest, like right now, but you don't mind it. Simon Riley had this thing, and even if sometimes you were almost offended at his bluntness (like this one time, when he told you you're a crying mess and you act… worse than a toddler), you mostly appreciated it. Your other friends couldn't compare to his honesty, this man was not the one to lick your ass.

Or, so you thought.

"Excuse me?" you raise your eyebrow, laughing, while shaking your head. "You should, I don't know, tell me I'm amazing and they don't deserve me. Or so." you joke; it causes him to roll his eyes.

"That's what I told you. Different words, but the same thingy."

"Right."

It sometimes sucks for you that Simon isn't a girl. He has this unbelieveably annoying guy thing, where he just can't be delusional with you, and he can't just mourn over some hot guy. His way of thinking is… on the other level, he totally skips the mourn part, the part that is pathetic; he's just saying things like "move on" and "there's a lot of them anyway". Again, you love it, but you really wish you could cry about guy being so pretty that it hurts, without him rolling his eyes.

Yet, when you're more in mad mood than mourning one, his attiude is just perfect. He's the one to encourage you to scream, he even brought you a few times to rage room when you needed to smash a few things, not to mention the attiude he was setting you in. Powerful, not giving a shit about a "piece of a man that doesn't deserve you".

Simon sighs. "You're worryin' too much. Really that desperate?"

You huff, as you sink more into the plushy couch in your apartment. "I'm not desperate. It's just…" you take a few seconds to think "being love starved."

"Sex starved, you mean."

"Love starved." you send him a look.

"Mhm. You fancy plushies, hugs, and all shite like this?"

"You're so fucking British, it hurts" you laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, I want something like this. Someone to hold me, someone that cares about me and I know it. Sex comes in package, of course, but it's just… ugh, I want a man" you groaned.

You feel as pathetic as ever, when Simon doesn't respond – because how exactly should he? He wasn't vocal about things like this, he usually just nod his head, and there it was, another topic. A miracle it was that he was already listening to your date rambling, not cutting it off because he was uncomfortable or something.

Dreams about your love life… more girly conversation.

Mostly – you know guys who loved talking about it, obviously, and you adore it pretty much, especially when you can know their perspective on some things, but… Riley wasn't really one of them. He had "simple hookups" as he said one day, when you asked him about doing double-dates. It wasn't even an option, he just liked to ocassionally fuck and that's all.

So you stopped trying a few months ago for a double-date. Instead, you focused more on finding a man that would meet your expectations at least in the middle, and that was exhausting, to be honest. Tinder dates were just a disaster after disaster – if it wasn't some catfish, a guy that wanted to marry you and have kids after two weeks of writing, it was most definitely a guy with a desire to bang you quickly.

Romance was dead these days, you noticed. That wouldn't keep you away from trying to find someone, though. Patience was a key in things like these.

"Maybe you will set me up with one your friends? It wouldn't suck. You know them." you think out loud.

"Definitely too much wine f'you." Simon takes your glass, and pours all of the liquid to his mouth, swallowing it like it was some kind of juice, not alcohol. "You don't want a guy from military in your life. Trust me."

There's some sternness to his tone, at which you raise your eyebrow. It was just a funny comment from your side, nothing else – you know by the heart that this man doesn't like the idea of connecting his two worlds. "I know, Simon. Just joking, right?"

You place a hand on his. It's a comedic, yet, heartwarming view, when you see the size difference.

"And, you're pretty cool for a military guy."

He huffs. It seems like pretty cool offends him, but he doesn't say it out loud, so it can be only your imagination working. "You met me before I enlisted. 's different."

"How different?"

"You knew me before military."

He doesn't give you another answer that night, nor the continuation of this one – he brushes you off, like you are some kind of bug that is disturbing him, and brings up another topic, about his deployment. He asks if you can watch his apartment when he's gone, take care of it; it's stupid, Simon knows that you will always agree, but it's the need of asking you anyway.

And, he likes coming home, where he can smell your perfume, where he can see that you made some changes. You tend to do that a lot, mostly buying stuff to his apartment. "It looks worse than room in the hospital" you always say, when he cocks his eyebrow with amusement. He doesn't say that, but he finds it really adorable that you care so much, to make his space… cozier, even if he's not really attached to it. Mostly, it's for your comfort when you come to visit him, and that happens a lot; not like he minds it. Anyone else would be banned from his apartment, but you? Oh God, you wouldn't be, not in the milion years.

You could probably be the worst ever to him; call him names, punch, anything, and he would still be your Simon. It's what he was used to, to being by your side, no matter what time, no matter if you were in the good mood or not; your presence was everything to him.

Not like he'd ever confess that, but it is what you know, silently.

Yet, you are so good to him. Always sending him letters or texting him when he is on deployment. A couple of times, you sent him little things too, if he forgot something, photos included too, but new ones; mostly you captured views, but you were here once or twice. His happiness may not be that visible to outsiders, but his heart is full every time.

"My girl", he'd tell boys when they saw a polaroid of you, swiftly tucking it into his vest because no one was allowed to see it more than three seconds.

Often, Gaz joked if you are actually his girl even if you're not dating, but it sounded so bizzare to Ghost. How would you not be his? Thirteen years of friendship counted as something beyond being only his best friend, no? At least in his mind it was like this. He was used to you dating briefly other guys, but it lasted maybe a few months top. Nothing serious, probably his hookups were more meaningful than your relationships.

So you can easily imagine his confusion, when your mutual friends tell him big news about your new object of interest; someone that he doesn't even know yet, but he's not really his fan on the beggining.

It was just a month of being away.

His eyes are on you now; you are embarrassed, looking anywhere but at him. You don't even speak, you just wave your hand in dismissive manner, trying to change the topic because you don't really want to talk about it. Not in the presence of your best friend, at least.

It works for everyone but Simon, and you know it by the way he looks at you, processing what he just heard. Changing a topic, sudden talkativeness from your side is like buying time in that, time precious to think what to say to your best friend later on.

Because you know for the fact that he'll ask. He always does, and now he has a reason.

You have your reasons why you haven't told him. "It's nothing serious. That's why I didn't tell you." your voice is a little more silent than usual, but he can hear it anyway. You two are taking a walk to your apartment with no one around; and it's awkward one.

Simon seems like he doesn't want to say anything about your poor choice of men. It worries you; he always wanted somehow to make fun of you or make comment. Now, it's just a nod, like he gets it, but you know it's not it. He doesn't get it.

But you don't know what it is.

"C'mon!" you nudge him, and when it doesn't seem to affect him, you stand right in front of him. A little wobbly because of alcohol, your vision isn't so great too, but it makes him stop in his tracks. "Say something."

"Somethin'" he grumbles, and you can't help but roll your eyes. "What? Told me-"

"-I know what I told you!" you cup his face in your hands. Your head is a bit hazy, but the intensions are clear; making him talk and soft. It always works, so you have a lot of hope. "He's a good guy, but I want to meet him a bit closer to be… certain about him, you know? You've heard me whining about boys a bit too much."

"You can tell me everything." he muses, and you can't help but smile at that. Of course – of course you can tell him everything. You never doubted it for a second, and you think of yourself as stupid, doubting that he wouldn't want to hear about it. "Ill be the judge of that, though. Good guy thing."

"I can't be trusted?" you tease, and when he lets out a low chuckle, you grin even more. It's like a reward after him being his grumpy self.

"No." he shakes his head. "You don't know what is good for you. But that's why I'm here."

Under the influence of alcohol, you didn't pay too much of attention to his words; probably you wouldn't pay attention to it even if he'd say this when you are sober. Simon as your protector – it's so natural, you don't even need to think about it as something weird. It's just the way things are for thirteen years, everyone knows this.

Your friends, who were a bit reluctant on the beggining, but two parties later, when he joined the competition of drinking on time and wasn't drunk at all, he won over their hearts.

It was tougher with your parents, when you were in highschool. A little distanced at first, they constantly asked where were his parents (which, you told them, was rude asking, especially to his face), telling you how much of a bad news he could be for you. Suggestion of him ruining your future was the worst, you never thought of him this way; that discussion caused you to give them the silent treatment for a few days.

Apparently after that, suggesting that Simon is around you too much, clinging to your side and giving you "weird glances", they stopped the narrative, admitting that the boy might be damaged, but not broken. You still felt like they're judging their every move, but seeing that he had pretty good life plan, seeing that he thought about military and went here actually? Hell, they completely stopped being suspicious in any means.

Riley just had this thing of charming people, even if they didn't like him in the beggining. He had everything under his finger, trying to keep things under control – it was like that… pretty much since the beggining of his life. You met him when he was an adult, but he always liked to keep things under control; people, things that he cared about. What belonged to him was sacred, untouchable for anyone else.

The possessiveness started in his early childhood with toys, when he absolutely despised everyone who just wanted to touch his things, to lay their dirty, filthy fingers here. In early classes, it was considered just rude.

When he was older though, he started fighting for various things. Knowing he has the advantage, he used his legs, fists, when he had to, and no one was looking, besides the actual victim. He wasn't stupid; he knew how troublesome the public can be, he also knew the power of manipulation a bit too well to get caught so easily. Wasn't the plan, getting caught; it once happened, but because he wanted to; he even broke his own nose, making it like the other guy did it, just to get what he needed. The reputation of kid who was broken in the childhood, so he's just not opening on others was… suitable, for him. No one could suspect anything, especially when the kid just happened to be "attacked" by one of the popular ones, right?

The idea of power was something that Simon truly desired from the beggining; maybe it has something to do with the lack of his parents in his life, being transferred from one foster family to another. Maybe it's just him being a little fucked up – who knows.

What mattered, was the fact he had you. You, so sweet, so considerate to be by his side, to be protected by him, to be the person who "opened" because of her. Little did you know, he opened just because he wanted to be closer to you, not those fuckers you hang out with.

If you knew his past, you would have another reasons in mind, why he showed up to meet your potential new boyfriend. Jealousy, posessiveness, power complex, him being a control freak who can't give you to anyone he personally doesn't trust – if ever, considering you were his precious best friend. He isn't willing to share.

You aren't really aware of him being this crazy. You think of his flaws, and you see someone that has been damaged, someone that you can and will help, if he just asks for it – or if you'll see he needs it. So, naturally, you help, and grin the widest you can, when you see him in the door. He shows completely unexpected. It doesn't take you long to wrap your hands around his neck, tight, as you hug him.

Happy as always because you can see your friend, happy as ever because moments like these means a lot to you. When he's deployed, you can't even see him, so you're taking all in when he's right in front of you.

"Hope 'm not interruptin'." he murmurs into your hair, as his head is practically buried in them; he has to bend down a little to be at your level, but it's something he enjoys. The power.

"Never." you say immediately, not even hesitating in your statement. "Actually, you found a pretty good moment."

"That I did, eh?" his eyebrow arches, as he straightens up.

"As always. Nick's here, you have to meet him."

|READ THE REST ON AO3|

#ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x you #ghost #ghost cod #simon riley x f!reader #cod x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #best friends to lovers #best friend simon riley

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devilmademewriteit · 1 year

Text

Let Me Love You Like A Woman (Let Me Hold You Like A Baby)

part 3 of Dark But Just A Game

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pairing: (pre-ellie) joel miller x afab!fem!reader

summary: you’re in his place. you’re in his bed. will joel ever be anything more than your dad’s friend who occasionally fucks his frustrations into you, or will you always be strangers?

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, oral [m receiving] fem penetration, unprotected sex) so 18+ only content; fem afab reader; mentions of reader having long hair; pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel); dubcon (power imbalance); age gap; dbf!joel; angst; mentions of murder and torture.

beta reader: @millllenniawrites loml forever

word count: 4.1k

no use of y/n in this fic

Click here to read part 1, Dark but Just a Game.

Click here to read part 2, Pretty When You Cry.

(neither are totally necessary if u just wanna read some filth, fluff, n angst, all u rly need to know is that they’ve fucked twice before & he’s dad’s best friend lol).

a/n: thank u for all the support on this series. i’m literally so obsessed with all of you it’s not even funny. enjoy this while we collectively grieve the end of the season, & i’ll be here writing fic in the meantime. Don’t forget to join the taglist for any and all upcoming work! -em <333333

—

It had taken all of ten seconds for you to lose your shirt, your jeans, and your most beloved pair of (now ruined) panties after stepping foot in Joel Miller’s apartment.

“‘Fuckin’ soaked already—been thinkin’ about me all day, huh?”

And those tantalizing fingers. They were third on the list of things you thought about when you touched yourself, right after his cock and the insatiable look that haunted his eyes when he was inside you. Joel’s talents were wasted as a smuggler—he’d have made a fantastic pianist or maybe a guitarist with the way that index and that damned thumb conspired to make you sing for him.

“Anyone else touch you here since me?“ “No, Joel—just you—only you.” “Attagirl.”

He’d gotten you fully naked (something he’d never bothered to do before) and writhing in his grip in a matter of seconds, laying rough kisses down your spine with patience and attention. Every single one was a spoken promise: I’m coming back for you.

“Look at you, baby, takin’ a real man all by yourself.”

Hands on your hips, knees pressed to the worn-in mattress—every other word in the English language omitted itself from your vocabulary as Joel drew his name from your lips over and over and over again, the thick length of his cock easing you to oblivion with every gratifying stroke.

“Gonna make this pussy come til’ you’re begging me to stop, sweetheart.”

Feeling his cum drip down your thigh, barely having a second to breathe before being manhandled onto your back, hands searching your body, mapping you out like a foreign land before taking him in again. “It aches, Joel.” Crying softly into his neck, tears of pain and ecstasy leaking down your cheeks. “M’jus’ breakin’ you in, angel.” The smell of his hair anchoring your senses to right here, right now as release washes over you again and again and oh, Joel’s hands on the outsides of your thighs to steady your shaking legs.

“Eyes up baby, wanna see ‘em while I’m comin’ on that pretty face.”

Joel tasted like salt and sin and his stickiness on your cheeks felt warm like a late august sun. Watching you blink your lust-filled and trust-filled eyes, grabbing a fistful of your tangled hair, Joel memorized the way your pouting mouth looked painted with his seed. Thick, dark eyebrows creasing together as a groaned ‘fuckin’ hell’ fell from his open lips—with you, he became an artist, and with him, you were a blank canvas.

Now, the moonlit room was quiet; with every primal need purged from both your systems, your exhausted bodies lay entangled, empty and content. Joel’s heartbeat had settled a few minutes after yours—you’d made note of it with your ear pressed to his chest. But every twitch or fidget from the hand resting on the curve of your waist had your own rhythm picking up double-time, sending hot blood coursing through every now-aching limb.

“You should go,” he grumbles after a while, eyes still closed, body still at rest. Fucking you had basically rendered the man comatose. “Your dad’ll raise hell if he sees an empty bed.”

You scoff. “It’s not like he’s ever cared before—remember when Emma and I snuck out to the old mall and I radio’ed him to get us out?” Joel chuckles, remembering the fond memory. After all, it had been him and not your old man who’d shown up to kick down those crumbling cinema doors, partly rescuing you but mostly reaming you out for being such a careless, stupid teenager.

“And either way, Miller, I’m an adult.”

This time, it’s Joel’s turn to scoff. “Jus’ ‘cause you’re legal, dun’ make you an ‘adult.’ You still whine like a kid.”

You giggle softly as he mocks your indignant tone, feeling the lungs beneath you rumble subtly, too.

Joel was always softest and at his most vulnerable after sex. Well, aren’t all men the same? You figured it was just the nature of the act that left its participants a little more tender and a little less inhibited after its completion. It was strange to remember that Joel was a man like any other.

And the man that you’d allowed to ruin you so skillfully, to burn himself on the archives of your mind, somehow remained a complete mystery to you. He was a tangled web of stifled emotions, unspoken sentences, and chilling stories you’d heard from your inebriated father.

If there was any time to untangle him, it was now.

Joel’s t-shirt is damp with his sweat, and yours, too. What a shame that he hadn’t removed it earlier. He was so very impatient when it came to fucking you, and despite having enough patience this time to get you naked, he didn’t bother to give himself that same treatment. At this point, you felt too self-conscious to ask, pretty well certain that he’d turn down your request, anyways. Peeling your profile from the navy blue fabric, you gaze up at him inquisitively, a steadying hand pressed tentatively against his broad chest.

“Can I ask you something?”

Your voice sounds small, like that of a scared child. It makes you cringe.

“Hmph,” he grunts, eyes firmly closed.

Better than nothing. A start.

“Well,” you begin, painfully slowly, tracing timid circles under his collarbone, “Sometimes, I think—”

“S’great, sweetheart,” he interjects in mock earnestness. “Good for you.”

“Knock it off, Miller,” you slap his shoulder playfully. A sly, amused expression teases his features.

After a long, heavy pause, with only the trickling and creaking of the old building occupying it, you soldier on.

“Sometimes, I think that when you’re… well, fucking me… you, well, you kind of use me to—vent.” There. You’d said it. “Like, your frustrations.”

A long exhalation escapes Joel’s lips as he mulls over your words, choosing eventually to respond with cautious and dismissive humor.

“This your way of askin’ me if you’re more’n my human Xanax?”

“No, asshole.”

He hums quietly. The distant sound of a gunshot travels through the open window, dragging you both back to the present moment.

A forced sigh. “I wanted to ask you what you’re trying to get off your mind.”

Joel tenses almost imperceptibly underneath you, an air of seriousness collecting around him.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he grumbles, amusement fading from his tone. “M’not really interested in talkin’ about our feelings together.”

The harshness of his words only entices you to push him again, to understand the man who so clearly understood you. There was something there–likely many things there–that he had fucked into you. Things that you now need to know. Things calling to you like an abandoned childhood home.

You want to pull him into yourself, crawl under his very skin and exist there for a minute or two. In his bed, in his place, and you’re still worlds apart.

“I’m not asking you to talk about your feelings, Miller. I just want to know that I’m not letting, like, a total, raging maniac climb between my knees.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. His eyes flit open, and as soon as they do, you recognize the vacant, apathetic expression that had characterized him for you all these years. He grunts, pushing himself up on his elbows, and you sit up, yanking at the tangled sheets to cover yourself.

“Ever been outside the QZ, sweetheart?” He asks, his poorly restrained temper slicing through his words.

Looking down at your hands, you trace the cream-colored creases stretching along the blanket, shaking your head no, side to side.

“S’right. Not a single man on this planet that’s not a total, raging maniac. Enough fear, thirst, or hunger…” something truly terrifying creeps onto his expression, a vision of darkness, unlike anything you’d ever seen before. Not with soldiers, not with your father, not even with Joel.

“Everyone’s a killer.”

You swallow slowly, trailing your eyes up to meet his charged gaze. The room feels cold.

“Are you?”

His shadowed eyes narrow with irritation. “Am I what, sweetheart?”

“A killer.”

Then it’s regret and violence corrupting his features, and before you know it, Joel Miller is somewhere else. It takes a long time for him to come back to you (if you can even pretend to claim that Joel had ever been with you in the first place).

He hesitates, huffing quickly with frustration and looking away for a brief moment before focussing back on you—conceding to your question with a quick nod.

An acidic taste collects on your tongue, but his answer isn’t surprising. You’d always known in some way that Joel had taken lives. Still, it felt strange to hear him acknowledging it, to see the pain that admitting to it caused him. His actions actually bothered him. That meant he had a soul in some jagged, twisted form and that certain things could affect it. Thinking about that made your temples hurt.

“For what reason?”

You can’t help it—you’d come this far, and it felt like failure to quit prying. It doesn’t matter that Joel’s a grenade with no safety lever. You know it’s only a matter of time before he explodes, but you’d grown up diffusing your father daily. Bombs were your specialty.

“Does it matter?”

Upstairs, the floorboards creak softly. It almost makes you jump.

“I think so.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, brow furrowing with irritation. Otherwise, he stays surprisingly level. Some hopeful part of you tries to whisper that some softer part of him actually wants you to get under his skin.

“Alright.” You stare at him, stunned at his forfeiture, as he breathes a dark, humorless laugh. “But you’re gonna hate me for my answer.”

There’s a loaded pause as you gape expectantly at him. His head falls back, eyes fixed to the chipping, washed-out ceiling.

“In the early days of the outbreak, before FEDRA had the QZs figured out… things weren’t easy. You gotta understand that.” His gravelly voice cuts through the room’s silence, vibrating through your stilled body. “I’ve killed, tortured, n’hurt more people’n I can count. Sometimes to save myself, sometimes someone else, ‘n other times… other times jus’ because. And,” he groans, laying his back against the pillows as his harrowing monologue comes to a close, “It wasn’t always life or death, either.”

You pull the sheets in close to your chest, shuddering partly due to his words, partly due to his delivery. As if he was warning you. As if he wanted you to hear the truth and…

And punish him for it.

With his eyes shutting again, he can’t see you studying him. He’s probably assumed that a look of abject horror has poisoned your complexion. As you angle yourself to view his resting body—the pained expression causing his eyebrows to furrow, lips pressed tightly together—an overwhelming rush of adoration expands in your lungs, swelling inexplicably and uncontrollably in your chest. Your thoughts blare at full blast inside your racing mind.

Joel was capable; he had blood lust and an inner violence that meant he felt, deeply, and he’d die—or even better, kill—for those he loved. He was…

Joel was perfect.

Maybe it was a fucked up thing to feel—maybe it meant that you needed to be studied by a team of psychiatrists. Either way, the thought of his agonized soul, carrying on out of sheer spite and a reluctant desire to protect his own had you melting at his side. Joel wasn’t static, unfeeling, or a ghost, he was real, and he was alive. Growing up in a near-dead world haunted by once vibrant cities had made that trait alone extremely precious.

He remains still while you move his arm, wiggling next to him to sit back on your calves and looming over his unyielding form. Maybe he thinks you’ve pulled a gun on him and is just giving you a chance to pull the trigger.

Dropping the pale sheet from your breasts, you caress Joel’s harsh jaw in one hand, sneaking the other down, down his stomach and under the waistband of his briefs.

His eyes surge open, finding yours and filling with confusion. You burn with affection, a kind of fierceness that wasn’t there before.

Brow creasing, eyelids fluttering as he hardens in your grasp. You wordlessly entice him once again, bowing down and over to press tender kisses to his neck.

“I could never hate you, Joel Miller.”

He whimpers softly as you stroke him—tantalizingly slow in big, long pulls—it makes your heart flutter to hear him whine for you.

A refreshing reversal of roles.

You ease your way down, trailing your lips down his scarred side and over to his front, exploring the strip of grey hair marking the center of his abdomen.

Joel watches you, longing on his lips, but the uncertainty still lingers. You need him to listen.

“I’d kill and torture if it meant survival—” you arrive at his hard length, pumping it in your hand right next to your softened features.

“And I would kill and torture for you.”

Without breaking eye contact, you part your lips around the tip of his cock, drinking in his fascination as you take him in slowly, wholly. The head of his thick, impressive length kisses the back of your throat.

Once again, you’re filled with Joel.

A soft hiss, and then his face becomes a symphony of pleasure, disbelief, and, finally, hunger. His large hand caresses the back of your head, capable fingers tangling softly in your hair as you glide up and down his length, tasting the salt of his pre-cum and your own acidity on his satin-smooth skin.

He only parts from your stare when you draw lazy, adoring circles around his tip, throwing his head back and grinding out a ‘Jesus Christ.’

It’s almost too much for him when you start using your hands, making it your life’s purpose to eagerly please every inch, every square millimeter of him. You drag your tongue from the base of his length all the way up to the top, silver-lined eyes boring intensely into his own.

“Shoulda let you do this sooner,” he breathes, gently pushing your head down until your nose brushes against those dark, curly hairs. “Look so fuckin’ pretty with a mouth full of cock.”

There he is.

You pull off him, strings of saliva trailing down from your lips to the glistening tip of his length. “You wanna come on my tongue?”

In a haze, perfectly slowly, Joel throws his head back with a low growl. You stroke him affectionately, spit and his own salt collecting between your fingers as you wait patiently for his reply.

Then he pushes himself up to a sitting position, wrapping his rough hands around your upper arms and easing you up off his length. “Not this time, baby.” You’re straddling him, taking in the unfamiliar care spoiling his tone and softening his hard features when he leans forward, locking you in place like a missing puzzle piece he’d spent his whole damn life searching for. His cock rests between your bodies, pressing exquisitely against your abdomen.

“Only got one more in me, sweetheart. M’not plannin’ on wastin’ it.”

He lifts his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks between them like some kind of priceless, fascinating object. It all feels so paradoxical: innocent despite the filthiness of his words, gentle despite the forest fires blazing in his gaze. Searching your eyes, he runs the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone.

And he kisses you.

It’s not bruising at first—it’s a soft, curious question, an experiment. The grey-flecked hair of his mustache brushes the crescent of your Cupid’s bow, and the feeling almost brings you to tears. So you lean into it, deepening the kiss with hard pressure, searching for the answer on his tongue. That’s when his hands tangle in your hair, and his lips steal the oxygen right out from your lungs as he reciprocates fiercely.

It’s like watching a prisoner take his first steps out into the sun after being held in isolation for a decade. You wonder if it had been that long for Joel.

Without breaking away, you trail a hand down the fabric of his t-shirt. Then, you’re grabbing it from the bottom and hitching it up his abdomen. He pulls away just a half-inch to meet your heavy-lidded gaze, his own marked with apprehension.

“I want all of you,” you plead breathlessly, sliding off his starved lips.

Joel ducks his head, staring at the meeting place between your fingers and his cotton.

“If…” he tries, words clumsy, voice gruff. A bit of bashful humour underscores his tone, too. “F’I let that happen, you’ll see that I’m really jus’ an old man, angel.” You begin to protest, having come prepared with another I-like-them-old-and-decrepit speech, but he cuts you off, anticipating your reaction. “Jus’ been a long time since I looked fit enough for somethin’ like you.”

It’s almost too ridiculous. Joel Miller, worried about how you’ll receive his appearance after you’d deep-throated him for admitting to Geneva-convention levels of violent crime.

This time, it's your turn to cup his face, cradling him reverently between your hands with passionate devotion.

“You and me might be different on the outside,” you begin, surprising yourself with the conviction dripping from your own tone. “But deep down? I’m just as rotten as you.”

His mouth breaks into a genuine smile, and he chuckles, creases lining the corners of his eyes as if carved there by God’s own hand. Nodding with concession, he shrugs his shirt off; you reach out to help him to pull it off entirely.

Scars, definition, and tan skin stretch with every shaky breath he takes. Fuck. The tips of your fingers explore him, honoured by the feel of likely being the first in ages to claim this spot, and that one, and this one here, too–Joel’s turned you into a conquistador, a crusader.

“You’re so, so handsome, Joel.”

It’s not enough to see him, wholly exposed, flesh-blood-skin-scars-and-muscle. Nothing’s ever made you feel so safe and so warm; Joel is a worn-out, hand-me-down jacket that you can’t seem to part with; he’s candles during a thunderstorm, a thick blanket begging you to wrap yourself in it. You want him on you, against you, inside you.

So you take the man, and you kiss him—ardently.

His breathing hitches when you grasp his length, and it stops completely when you slide it between your slick folds, pulling every inch of him inside yourself appreciatively. You swallow his groan as he inhales your gasp.

Your hips move together in tandem. Rocking against his thighs as his hands anchor into your hair, or on your breasts, your ass, your waist—Joel holds you as close to himself as physically possible, threatening to crush you between his arms, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip with a starving kind of need.

Old habits die hard. Joel gets swept up in the way you start struggling to kiss him back, the involuntary clenches of your cunt around his impossibly hard cock, and your helpless fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. Sliding his hands under your ass, he holds your hips steady. Then, he’s spreading you open to receive him more readily, dictating the rhythm, the angle, and the brutality of how he fucks you.

Ruining you to completion was quickly becoming an addiction.

He smiles against your mouth when you give him a muffled “mmm,” releasing your lips to watch, a captivated audience, as your eyebrows knit together, relishing the sound of your lungs filling with short, pleading gasps.

“Gonna be bruised inside n’ out, baby.” Joel’s promise barely registers over the clap of his skin against yours and your own wanton moans. A thoroughly cock-drunken expression and the worship of his name on your tongue win you some hard-earned praise.

“Taken me so many times tonight—been such a good lil’ toy.”

Your lips slide down the stubble and the rough skin of his cheek, limp body giving out with every punishing snap of his hips. Still, you attempt speech, stammering out a “Joel, I-I want—” that’s mostly unintelligible.

“I know, baby,” he coos, words muffled by your hair, hot breath fanning out over the valley of your neck. “S’hard to use your words when you’re jus’ so full, huh?”

After finding the strength to straighten up and face him, your mouth moves from its permanent ‘ah’ shape to string together a pleading, desperate sentence. Joel doesn’t make it easy for you, picking up the intensity of his strokes, dragging you to the edge of bliss.

“I wanna—I want you to show me how to ride you—to take you—please—let me make you come.”

He laughs softly into your shoulder: the sight and the sound of a woman begging to do the work was a kind of rarity (albeit an appreciated one, at his age) in his experience. Acquiescing, he lowers you back onto his broad thighs, slowing his rhythm, and giving you a chance to catch your shallow, uneven breath.

“Only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

Like a true cocky bastard, Joel leans back against the mess of strewn pillows, casually tucking his hands behind his head and leaving you to steady yourself on top of him, velvet walls still fluttering and squeezing adoringly around him.

You hold yourself up with your palms pressed flat against his chest. Rock slowly and carefully against his hips, observe the sight of your fingernails pressing into his unyielding chest. A whimper tumbles from your sore, parted lips as Joel’s tip nudges your inner-most sensitive spot.

“Eyes on me.”

Hardened hands reach out to circle your waist. “You look at me when you’re riding,” he instructs.

“Show me how grateful you are for this cock.”

His voice is strict and firm but gentle all the same. Joel relaxes underneath you. It feels good—so good—to watch your body undoing his own; it feels even better when he flexes involuntarily inside you, stretching open your sore, aching, and somehow still needy cunt. Locked into his lustful, dominant gaze, you speed up, throwing your hips back to grind enthusiastically against him. He watches first your eyes and then your breasts, palming them, teasing your hardened nipples roughly.

“You wanna touch yourself?”

Low and gravelly and filthy, his question looms over your body, only adding to the soft thud drumming inside the eager bundle of nerves between your thighs.

He makes you realize that you really, really do.

You nod eagerly at him; Joel gives you a knowing expression of sympathy.

He never could help his condescension at watching you crumble so easily from so little.

“Show me, angel.”

So you do–Joel holds you steady as your hand falls to your clit, drawing clumsy circles over that one aching spot. Your fingers are frustratingly unskilled compared to his, but at this level of arousal, you’ll do anything to ease that mounting pressure. You focus hard, multitasking through your euphoria.

Him watching as you pleasure yourself excites you. Squeezing him harder, riding him with newfound passion—Joel groans as his long-awaited orgasm builds between his thighs, watching you bounce up and down his tense, throbbing length. His darkening eyes beckon you to keep going, to tip him over the edge.

You want to fall into them when he comes inside you.

He knocks your hand away, replacing your index and middle fingers with a broad, calloused, impatient thumb against your grateful bud. “Ohmygod–Joel–” and the rush worsens, his fingers acting as catalysts for the all-too-familiar sensations spreading across your core.

“With me, baby,” his voice is gruff, restrained by need, want, lust. “Lemme feel you comin’ when I fill you up–s’it, good fuckin’ girl–”

Tears collect on your lashes, and a sob heaves from your throat. You reach your climax for him, the ache from your clit spreading to overtake every inch of your body. Joel comes too. He tucks your head into the soft, damp skin of his neck and fists the hair at the back of your head. Your legs ache with absence the moment he pulls his fingers away from your core. Still, his only instinct as his seed spills between your walls is to pull you into himself as tightly as possible, to intertwine himself wholly and eternally with your young, devoted soul.

He doesn’t let you move after it’s over. One arm circles your waist, the other snakes up your back; it feels like standing at the base of the pearly gates of heaven. When his laborious exhales brush the top of your spine, it’s those damn angels sighing.

And it feels like he’s here. It feels like you’ve landed somewhere together, no longer strangers but something else. Something new. Something stronger. Sweeter. And worlds more dangerous.

Joel Miller running his thumb up and down the plunge of your neck. Joel Miller cursing himself for allowing you to take a hammer and chisel to the walls he’d spent painstaking years putting up, eternities before you were even born.

Joel Miller realizing that he can’t find it in himself to let you leave.

“For the record, sweetheart—I’d torture n’ kill for you, too.”

You have no trouble believing him, smiling softly against his shoulder.

—

TAGLIST: @mads-grace4 @anyas-stuff @liviloo12346 @bookofbee @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @stardust-chords-enthusiast @fruitcupsworld @sallymilkweed @maudlinflowers @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @daydreamerblues @spacelatinos4life @totallynotastanacc @honeycovered-bandaids @daddy-din @cedricbitch @tiredbuthappy @sweetpea99 @ghostfanwriter @daixylie @witchy-jadda @ninebluehearts @jbcalway @jasminedragoon @inkedells @ayehomo @chapterhappygirl @raeluvshammett

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Tumblr on mobile loves to destroy my fics by screwing with the last few hundred words SO here are the lyrics to Let Me Love You Like a Woman by Lana Del Rey lmao <3

I come from a small town, how about you? I only mention it 'cause I'm ready to leave LA And I want you to come Eighty miles North or South will do I don't care where as long as you're with me And I'm with you and you let me

Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me shine like a diamond Let me be who I'm meant to be Talk to me in poems and songs Don't make me be bittersweet Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me hold you like a baby

I come from a small town far away I only mention it 'cause I'm ready to leave LA And I want (need) you to come I guess I could manage if you stay It's just if you do I can't see myself having any fun, so

Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me shine like a diamond Let me be who I'm meant to be Talk to me in songs and poems Don't make me be bittersweet Let me love you like a woman Take you to infinity Let me love you like a woman (let me hold you like a baby) Take you to infinity Let me love you like a woman (let me hold you like a baby) Take you to infinity

We could get lost in the purple rain Talk about the good old days We could get high on some pink champagne Baby, let me count the waves

Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me shine like a diamond Let me be who I'm meant to be Talk to me in songs and poems Don't make me be bittersweet Let me love you like a woman

—

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pearlzier · 1 month

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you look so pitiful right now. you're tucked into your boyfriend's arm, staring blankly at the phone in front of you as you attempt to ignore the aching pains filling your entire body. god, period's fucking sucked. you felt like hell, and even if chris didn't want to make it all about himself—seeing you so distraught made his heart ache in all sorts of dumb ways.

“if i could kick the shit out of your cramps, ma,” he spoke up, careful not to move you, “i would. i'd fuckin’ destroy ‘em.”

a small, faint smile plays on your lips at his words and you subtly shift a little closer, using him as a makeshift heating pad. not like you didn't already have one, but any extra warmth was good. “believe me, you'd have a hard time trying to get past me beating the shit out of them,” your words are lazy, a tiny bit uncomfortable to get out. this only makes chris whine a little more and he nuzzles his head into your shoulder.

“are you sure there's nothing i can do to help? anythin’?” his brows raise, fingers brushing over your arm in a gentle pass. you really can believe you got so lucky to get a guy like this, but you're in a bit too much pain bleeding out for you to uh, register that. “y'know, i heard uh.. a little trade secret, babe.”

you know full well he's gonna say some dumb shit, but you encourage his behaviour almost instantly. “i'm all for it,” you mumble into his arm, brows raising a little.

a little giggle almost instantly slips past his lips and he runs his fingers over your cheek, before he mutters, “period cramps can be relieved in some uh, intimate ways.”

“christopher—” he practically beams as he sees you giggle, and he raises his hands as if to surrender, before he gently shifts you over onto the other side of the bed so he could get up and grab you something to eat from the cabinet.

the man came prepared.

“okay, okay, what d'you want? we got everythin’,” he lifted a packet of chips, eyeing it for a moment before he glanced over at you, “what, as they say, tickles your fancy, huh?” he was such a dork, god. your dork, but still.

your eyes lift to look at the options he has available, and you slowly slink yourself upwards to see them with a little grunt. chris runs a hand through his hair, showing off the food he'd raided from the fridge without matt or nick noticing. “can i..” you frown for a moment, letting the wave of pain pass before you spoke up again, “surprise me, actually, i don't think i have the energy nor brain power to pick.”

“surprise you? gotcha, one sec,” he folded his arms over his chest, blue eyes flickering over the food before he grabbed the little packet of muffins, then grabbed you a drink as well. “these alright? i may be a bit rusty,” a grin plays on his lips, and he shrugs his shoulders.

“nah, you're all good,” you chirp, a smile brightening your face as he very accurately gets your favourite foods correct. “come back, please, i think the cold is seeping back in.”

a self-satisfied smirk tugs at his lips and he makes his way back over, muttering a quick, “too fucking good,” under his breath before he slinks back under the covers beside you, placing the muffins down onto the tray alongside your drink. “comfy?” he asks after a moment, voice a little softer.

“yeah,” you gently place his hand over your tummy to try get some of his warmth before you place your own over the top, sighing gently as you relaxed into his touch. he let his head sit against your shoulder, resting his chin happily.

after a little while, chris notices you fidgeting a little and he gently brings you into his chest and gently grasping at your tummy. “i got you, i got you,” he muttered, plucking your phone from your hands and holding it in one of his so all you had to focus on was holding onto him. laying back against the headboard, he breathes evenly. “just relax. i know it's hard.”

“you're the best, you know that?” you mumbled gently, sighing softly. even when your pain was insane, chris managed keep you relatively sane. your hands slide down to his and you interlace your fingers together, a little smile playing on chris’ lips. “the best.”

“just doin’ what i gotta for my girl,” he shrugs his shoulders gently—”s'no biggie at all.”

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☆ 𝅄⠀ㅤׂ also asking who tryna be on the taglist <3

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo blurb #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo drabble #matt sturniolo drabble #matt sturniolo blurb #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo triplets blurb #sturniolo triplets drabble #nick sturniolo #divider by plutism

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yanderefarm · 28 days

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priest!vox x male!reader

cw; religious imagery, belly bulging, impact play,

a/n; this is so fuckin messy im so sorry i was possessed by this au idea. happy easter. ill try to work on requests tonight

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in life vox was a televangelist who stole money from dying people to pay for private jets. and in death he's a demon with a tv on his head and the conviction to convert. every converted soul belongs to him, every soul a stepping stone as he climbs to the top. not much has changed.

well. until you walked into his life.

if the demon wants to preach then he needs something to worship. it doesn't matter how you got his soul but it belongs to you. he doesn't hate it too much except for when he does because you let him keep the facade of power. he can be the big tv man all he wants. in the end he belongs to you.

in the end he crawls on his knees before you every night. he says sweet begrudging praises as you grind your foot on his thigh. you drag his leash until he's sat between your legs and you tell him to pray.

his mouth so clumsily goes up your thigh before you have him gratefully kissing your thick cock. and before he knows it he's static and buzzing as you fuck his throat. his own cock is hard underneath his suit and perfect for you to grind your foot on until hes begging to cum.

once you've fucked his throat til he's dizzy the real fun starts. you take your time gingerly removing his clothes before you order he do the same. every article of clothing he slides off your body is followed by static-y kisses and gently worshipping touches. he helps you step out of your pants and begins slowly tracing his fingers up your legs before you give a harsh tug on his leash.

"what's that for-" he starts to growl but when he looks up into your sharp eyes he silences himself.

"Look at me, Vox." You command him in a voice that sends shivers up his spine. You grab his chin with one hand and examine him carefully, watching as his eyes follow you with rapt intensity.

"Tell me who you belong to." You order and he lets out a shakey breath before he repeats your name back to you.

"Tell me who you worship." You move your bodies closer until your considerable height is looming over him. Again he says your name with a shakey voice.

"Who is your god?" Your grip on his chin tightens hard enough to crack his screen. He yelps before he declares your name as firmly as he can.

You shove him to the bed and climb over his slim and small body. It's so easy to hold his arms above his head. It's so easy to treat his body like a toy. His lanky limbs move over your shoulders as you line your girthy cock with his already stretched hole. Your repeated nights of "worship" have stretched him out to perfectly fit your cock. You slide into him watching his face glitch as you press against his sweet spot.

"Do you want to go to heaven Voxxy?" You coo so sweetly as if it's a gentle promise.

"Please- Please please please-" Already he's begging for you. He craves the salvation only you can give him.

And with his pleading you drag your cock out of his needy hole. And then you slam your cock back in, drilling into him. Your large hands grab his thin wrists as you begin a steady and brutal pace, you use his arms as leverage to dig your cock deeper. You can both see the outline of it clear in his stomach with every rough thrust. The sound of skin slapping mixes with the buzz of electronic malfunction as your cock melts Vox's brain.

"Go-ah- God please please- God ru-ruin me" His voice is so pretty.

Of course you have to. You flip him on his stomach and one hand goes to push his head to the pillow while the other wraps around his cock. You begin fisting his cock relishing in the muffled buzzes of delight only interrupted by his whorish begging. He begs so pretty.

"Please save me fr-from my sin- Please- Salv-AH-tion. Mercy. Fuck. Please please please-"

You press your thumb so cruelly to his slit.

"You don't get to cum before your god."

And he sobs. But he still thanks you. Of course he'd thank his god.

He thanks you for every bruise, every hand print on his ass, every second he can't breathe, every minute of pain and unbearable pleasure you subject your dear priest to. After you make sure he thanks you, then you'll reward him with kisses and gentle stroking of his cock. Nothing that's enough for him.

Even when you finally fill his ass with cum he still sobs and begs and pleads. You have to slap his ass just to make him behave.

"Say your prayer." You order and your ever obedient priest complies.

He begins his soft prayer to you thanking you for ruining his sinful body. And between his legs you increase your gentle strokes until he's shouting and crying. You squeeze his pathetic cock as you milk him of his cum and spill it all on the bed below.

That's not the end. It only marks the beginning as you begin your jackhammering thrusts again.

But once you allow him to lay limp in your arms you give him a gentle kiss.

"Such a good boy. I'll have to reward you." You could swear after you spoke his buzzing sounded like purring.

#top male reader #dom male reader #male reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin x male reader #vox x reader #vox x male reader #sub vox #sub hazbin hotel

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chrolloluvr · 2 months

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💰Things you do that make Mammons heart flutter 💰

Note: Female!Reader 🩷🩷, not proofread!!

Warnings: Cussing, mammons got a HUUGE ego but i love him🥺

Calling him cheezy nicknames. Things like Mamm, Mammy poo, big daddy (his favorite), MooMoo, sugar daddy etc. Its embarrassing for him, especially when you call him these in public. Because he wants to come off as powerful, but when you say these to him, it is guaranteed to give him a noticeable pink hue to his cheeks

Giving him an imnense number of compliments. Or in particular, purposely pandering to him. Lets say you compliment how good of a partner he is, or how he treats you so well. He will be taken aback by your overly suckle comments towards him. He knows he treats you well, but by you telling him just fuels his already large ego, and proves that you truly see how much effort he puts into you.

Wearing or using his merch. If this man ever catches you wearing any of his merch, he will be like a happy, doting 9ft tall puppy. He will say how absolutely irresistible you look. 'Jesus, y/n. Cmon, do a little spin for me, yeah? M'baby looks so fuckin' cute.' He most likely will make you wear Mammon themed panties around the house.

Wearing his clothes. Lets say he gets home from a long day of planning and saving, and he sees your adorable self, covered in his giant clothes, especially big on you, covering your body. He will go absolutely feral. He thinks you are already the most stunning woman in hell, but when he sees you in his jingley clown hat? He feels his heart beeting out of his chest. And my god, what a woman you are. He will grab your waist with both of his hands, and snuggle the shit outa you. And he wont let go.

The size difference. It. Is. So. Obvious. People point it out all the time in the media and on Sinstagram. He's probably at least 10ft tall, so your basically shorter than him. He absolutely lives for it. He will constantly tease you for it. And he loves that it makes him feel more dominant. He loves that you have to literally break your neck to look up at his face, or that he has to reach down to give you a smooch. He will put things on higher shelves, just to see you struggle and ask him for help

Speaking of so, he adores when you ask him to help you with things. Such as asking him for help opening a Nutella jar, all the way to asking for help unclipping your bra. It shows you need him. And that churns out a feral side to him. 'Babe whats with all the ruckus- ohhh your trying to reach the top shelf? You're so cute, always needin' my help' Sometimes, he purposely wont help you, just to see your precious reactions he is always so greedy and eager to see.

Carrying you. His favortite ways to carry you is over his shoulders, under his arm, and facing him, with his hands under your plush thighs. He loves holding you close to him, because I, ( along with other authors ) believe he is naturally cold. So holding you close to him lets him tear his walls down for a bit. You feel like a small flee while being carried by him. If hes carrying you over his shoulder, he will slap your ass, and listen for the sweet sound of your squeaks every time he does it.

Resting your head between the nook of his neck. He loves when you do this, and you know he does. Sometimes, you will whisper in his ear how much you love him, and how he is the best thing to come in your life, and watch as you swear you can see his eyes soften and look at you lovingly. You are probably the only person to ever see that from him. He also has a thing for sniffing you (which I get into in my future hcs), so he likes to smell your hair, as he grabs the back of your head. He would never usually be that vulnerable around you, so you must know his weaknesses extremely well.

Hearing you brag about him. He knows you show him off to your friends, as well as the rest of Hell. But let's say he walks into your shared master bedroom, and your on the phone. 'Sarah, I'm being serious. Mamm treats me well, stop worrying about me. Im fine, yes. Yeah he a bit of a control freak, but who isnt? I love him for him. Im not joking, no-' He is in utter shock. you are talking about him, and your defending him? Yeah, be prepared for a looooong night. He will never forget about you saying that. And he will never bring it up, since he doesn't want to come off as a wuss. You genuinely love him. The fact that you said that and you didn't know he was in your vicinity is wild to him.

If you look up at him with your big doe eyes. God, you better stop it if you don't want to be manhandled and praised. You just look so innocent and cute, and he just wants to come up and squish your puffy little cheeks like the gif below ⬇️ .His heart feels like it's running laps, but he wont let you see that. He keeps his cool demeanor, as he tells you 'Babe, you think that shits gonna work ok me? Really fuckin' smart arench'ya?

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ozarkthedog · 1 month

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Awhile ago you wrote a fanfic of someone using their gold chain and pendant to keep you quiet and now that I’m staring at all this new Lucien content that’s all I can think about 😵‍💫

Dropping his chain into your mouth as he has you pinned up against that garden wall to help you keep quiet from the rest of the party goers 😮‍💨

yeah ok, babes, i got you. i moved them to a bedroom cause i think it’s naughtier. 🙃

18+ mdni — warnings: lucien flores x afab!reader. sex with a stranger. he makes you suck on his chain. feral sex. creampie. no spoilers. w.c. 486

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Another powerful thrust has your lips dropping open, a frantic moan bubbling from the tight confines of your throat as he harshens his hold on your hips and cruelly grinds the base of his pelvis against your clit.

Lucien tuts his tongue and shakes his head dismissively. The sound makes you feel small, like a child caught stealing.

“What am I gonna do with you?” He husks, leaning in to swipe his tongue across your lips, earning him another gasp. He tips his head toward his chest, his salt and peppered chin shifting as he clenches his jaw. From under his hooded, dark eyes, he burrows into your soul. “You wan' everyone to hear you fuckin’ a strange man's cock?

Your insides swirl with nervous arousal. This wasn’t like you. You’ve never fucked someone within hours of meeting them, but the moment you caught Lucien's eye across the small dining room, you knew you’d never be the same.

“As much as I love hearin’ you whimper,” he lets his words hang in the dimly lit guest bedroom before thumbing at your trembling bottom lip. “Open up, baby,” he commands, reaching for his chains.

You let him invade your space, parting your splayed thighs even wider and practically smothering you into the soft bedding. He drops one of his golden chains past your parted lips and into your mouth. “Thatta girl.” You suck on the small metal emblem without thinking. You’re so dumbstruck, and you only want to make him happy.

“Keep that pretty mouth shut. Don’t wan' anyone interruptin’ us.” He grits, forcing the tendons in his neck to swallow hard as your cunt swirls around his length.

He cants his hips and drives home, pushing past your tight, slick opening and deep into your warmth. Your eyes roll back as he molds your insides around him. He’s so fucking big you can practically feel him in your belly.

He snickers above you, shoving his hips harder as a muffled moan rumbles from your closed lips. “Lookin’ so fuckin' pretty with your holes filled.” he drawls, pawing at your hips and pulling you back onto his cock. Your cunt quivering at his words. “You like bein’ fucked by a strange man? Havin’ him take you apart in your friend's house?”

Blazing white heat erupts in your belly. He was right. You loved every depraved minute of this. Of him. Your core clenches, choking his cock as you come with a ragged, muted moan. He hisses, jaw clenching hard as he frantically thrusts his slick-coated cock past your vice-like opening. “You gonna take everythin’ I give ya, yeah?” he snarls, barring his teeth.

He doesn’t wait for a response before he comes. A deep, gravel-filled moan tumbles from his parted lips as he fills you to the brim and presses himself as deep as he can go until you’re a mewling mess around his cock and chain.

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feel free to scream at me -> 💌

be sure to follow @ozzieslibrary for fic updates!

#lucien flores #lucien flores x reader #lucien flores x you #pedro pascal

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thecuriousquest · 4 months

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Dirt Bag (Daddy Loves You Part Two)

Yan!Step Dad Toji x Fem!Reader

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @murderofravens

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW, rape/non con vaginal sex, rape/non con anal sex, heavy spanking, possessive tendencies, guns, death threats, pot references, degradation kink, Daddy kink, all characters are 18+

Master List

Part One

My Ask Box is currently closed while I catch up on requests. Thank you for your patience and understanding.

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OR

You guys do not get along with each other AT ALL, and he takes this out on you by being petty as fuck. If you’re not going to be his good little girl, then he’s going to be stern as fuck until you can get your fucking shit together.

He tells you this every time you try to argue about curfew, every time he sees you’re about to go out dressed in those snug jeans and a crop top.

Honestly, he couldn’t give a fuck about what you wear, but he’s petty, so he’s going to order you to go back upstairs and change.

You got a problem with it? It just means he gets to spend more time keeping you at home while arguing with you. Argue too much and he might just pull out a wooden spoon and smack your ass with it a few times until you back out of his reach and shoot up to your room about as fast as a bottle rocket.

Damn. The power a wooden spoon holds, huh?

It makes him feel bigger than he already is.

But he isn’t in the mood to argue when he sees you walking inside with a boy. Neither of you get even five steps in when he rolls his eyes and stands from the living room couch. Fuck, work was hell. Killing for money today was just awful. Now he has to deal with you and some fucking idiot?

He pushes you towards the stairs, roughly. You fall on the fourth step on your ass, hitting your elbow on the hard wood.

“What the fuck’s up your ass, old man?!”

He doesn’t even bother with you as he fixes his eyes on the asshole in his doorway.

“Out,” is all he says as he points towards the screen door that just shut a few seconds ago.

“Whoa, man, who even are you?”

He looks stoned. Of course he looks stoned.

“I said-“ he grabs his gun, the same one he took on his mission earlier. “Out.” He cocks the gun and points it straight at the guy wreaking of pot. “Now.”

And that sobers him up pretty quick because he’s out the door in less than two seconds.

You watch your step dad put his gun back in his waistband, and you scream at him.

“Why do you ruin everything for me?!”

His eyes finally turn to you, dark and cold like a moonless sky. He grabs you by your jaw, pulling you in close while keeping your ass on the steps.

“I hafta protect you from scum like that because you’re a fuckin’ idiot.”

That’s the only reason he gives you as he tucks you under one arm, keeping you close to his hip.

“You kick, I’ll start spankin’ you.”

But you don’t listen to his warning, so you thrash and beat on his bulky thigh through his sweat pants, never relenting until a firm palm comes down on the pocket of your jeans.

You elicit a guttural cry from the impact, feeling fire blossom across the cheek he just smacked.

“Oh, you asshole! Fuck you, Toji- OW!”

It only gets worse from there. He walks to his bedroom that he shares with your mother, and as he walks, he roasts your ass. The jeans make you feel like you have zero protection because it just hurts so fucking much.

“Toji!” you cry out as he throws you on the bed, bending you like one of those art dolls made for posing.

He manhandles you onto your stomach, giving you your real punishment as he tears your jeans off of you.

“You’ve been a real bad girl, ya know that? Disregardin’ Daddy like a fuckin’ bitch.”

And it’s so much worse now to feel his hand, which could be just as bad as a belt, bite into your supple skin. You break down, snot dripping from your nose as tears spill over your lashes. You grip the shitty comforter, kicking every once in a while when the burn gets so bad that you just can’t control your limbs.

“Toji, stop!”

All he hears is a demand, and nobody orders Toji around. Especially not his dirt bag daughter.

It takes a while to get you there, but you finally lower your head in acceptance, submission as you murmur “please, please” while crying so terribly.

And Toji can’t help but palm the meat of your ass, the doughy flesh now sporting a horrible scarlet.

“Damn, that’s gotta hurt, hon,” is all he says as he massages your raw skin.

You hear rustling coming from the bedside before there’s a presence in between your legs. You’re quick to try to turn over, but one large forearm across your lower back keeps you right where he wants you.

“This is kinda yer own fault, ya know? Such a filthy little slut.” He impales you, splitting you with his piercing cock. “Damn. So fuckin’ tight. Who would’ve known? Thought you’d be loose with the way ya act and dress.”

You feel like your soul has left your body, not even hearing your own screams as your step dad fucks you on the bed he shares with your mom.

“Stop it! I hate you!” you wail as you pound your little fists into the pillow.

Toji coos at you. “Come on, hon, don’t be like that. Want me to fuck yer ass instead?”

The shock of his words still you, and you whimper and plead for him not to.

“Then tell me ya fuckin’ love me so much. Tell Daddy ya love ‘em.”

This is the sickest kind of “love” imaginable.

Gasping for air through a sob stuck in your throat, you feel your stomach roil as you repeat the words he wants to hear.

“I love you, Daddy.”

“Yeah? Yeah, love ya too, hon.”

The control he has over you is strangling as he bullies that little spot that has your hips bumping into the mattress. He reaches underneath you with one hand, supporting himself with the other. Just like that, he fiddles with your clit, pinching and twirling the puffy thing.

You stiffen as something builds and continues building until you just can’t keep still anymore. You let go of the tension, and Toji can feel your juices all over his thigh-slapping cock.

But Toji isn’t a nice man. No, Toji is a terrible man who kills people for money and fucks his dirt bag daughter until she breaks as a punishment.

He pulls out of your throbbing pussy and lets his wet dick nestle against your asshole. Your eyes widen when you feel him pushing inside.

“I told you I loved you!”

“Yeah, I heard ya. Daddy loves ya too, baby girl.”

He pumps deep inside of you, skin-on-skin contact so rough it sounds like clapping. Your freshly spanked ass so raw and bruised that you cry every time he pistons into you.

And finally, finally, the moment he’s been waiting for, you collapse into the bed in a heap of sobs and messy whimpers. Oh, it’s so good to watch you no longer hold yourself up on your elbows. With your face in the scratchy pillow case, he pulls you back by your pony tail and whispers the worst things into your ear.

“I’m all ya got, hon. Don’t worry. Daddy will take such good care of his baby girl. Yeah, no more bein’ bad for Daddy. Next time ya act up, Daddy’s gonna think you want it real bad in that cute little pussy and tight ass. Ya got me?”

And you’re so distraught you can barely respond, but you somehow find the capability to say, “Yes, Daddy!” because you fear what he might do if you call him anything else.

The laughs from above you confirms your suspicion that you made the correct choice in calling him “Daddy”. He pounds your fluttering little asshole, calling you “his bitchy little brat”, saying that you won’t be like that anymore though, telling you he’s going to be a lot more firm with you from now on because he doesn’t like the dirt bag you’re turning into.

And he’s starting with the friends and boys you hang around. Whispering in your ear that he’ll kill them all before he lets you officially turn into one of them.

You tighten up in fear, crying because doing that makes it worse for your poor, squelching hole. You nod along, agreeing with him for now.

And when your step dad is on the edge, he jizzes inside of your asshole, filling you up. When he pulls out, he’s fascinated by his white hot come spilling out of you, dripping between your scarlet cheeks, disappearing between the folds of your pussy.

“Atta girl. Knew ya could take it.”

A final clap of appreciation to your sore bottom has you sobbing a fresh round of tears.

He rolls his eyes and rubs your back, pulling you in close to him as he lays his head on the pillow. What’s even worse is that you’re so tired you actually fall asleep on his chest.

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diejager · 4 months

Note

Can i make a request?

i thought of this yesterday what about y/n or the reader has been in 141 for 2 years now and one day 141 gets a new member konig but y\n or the reader is 26 and konig is 19 i feel like this has to be done😍😍

also konig: shy,sweet,tall,big,puppy like for the reader

reader: small,short,sassy,mommy🤭🤭

PLEASEEEE!!!!!

Young Cw: major canon divergence, bullying, intimidation, beating, protective reader, tell me if I missed any.

He hated attention, having people stare at him because he was tall —unnaturally so, towering over everyone despite his young age and timid and anti-social demeanour. He was grateful, really, after Laswell called in some favours to have him transferred from his platoon to a British Task Force as a trainee, someone on probation while he trained and learned how to integrate with the team. He worked well with them, the tall and muscular battering ram that opened up a path and shocked the enemy, working flawlessly beside to team, and yet, he couldn’t work up the energy or want to socialise with them, to open himself up and let them see the raw and softer part of his mind.

That, however, was the least of his problems, they were cordial - nice - with him, Soap and Gaz even went out of their way to include him in their banter, throwing jokes and good-minded laughs, Price acted as the protective figure of his team and extended it to him, Ghost - ever silent and glaring - didn’t mind looming over others and growling orders when someone overwhelmed him, and you were no stranger to threats and blackmail to get someone off his back. His problem, the biggest one, were the envious glares and insulting hisses older soldiers threw at him in hushed tones and occasionally glances when he found himself alone, either training or walking around.

Even in a place where he could let out all his aggression and pent up frustration, he was still victim to bullying, verbal rather than physical, no one would dare lay a hand on him when he was the youngest of the Task Force and under their protective eye. Despite the shielding from brutality, other men still found time and places to openly beat him down with demeaning and aggressive words, belittling his exploits, his awards and all his hard work to escape the hell of his little village (his Mutter was the only exception, he willingly went back on Holidays to see her).

“Look at that giant freak. Reckon he’d break if we put too much weight on him.”

“Bastard’s only here because he’s tall, that’s all he’s good at.”

“Aye, makes sense, never liked him. He might be a nepo baby, pop’s probably a powerful man.”

His Vater was a piece of shit that left him long before he was born, leaving his Mutter to fend for herself and rot away to feed and provide for him until he joined the army to care for her.

He didn’t want to give them more fuel, to retaliate meant more bullying, he learned that the hard way as a child. All König could do was take and take until they got bored, walking away from him to busy themselves with something else. That didn’t mean he didn’t get mad, frustrated or insulted, his hands curling into fists to hold itself back from pummelling them, they were his superiors, he’d be discharged or thrown out for hitting his superiors, especially since he was a foreigner and still new.

“Fuckin’ bastard is glaring.”

He was unknowingly glaring at them, he couldn’t help it, then he turned away, his gaze wandering to the floor before they’d escalate it. He heard one of them spit something out before he stomped towards König, shoulders and chest pushed out to seem bigger than they actually were in an attempt to intimidate him. Standing before him, he felt someone raise their fist, ready to strike him for simply glaring at them after months of being subjected to their intimidation. He was ready to stop them if needed, not a pushover or someone who’d take a beating quietly, eyes cued on the raised arm of an older man, but then he fell, moaning loudly as he fell to his knees.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, huh?!” You appeared behind him, yelling out at the man you just kicked.

They were as surprised to see you, their faces draining of colour as the others scrambled to come up with an excuse. You snuck up on him as much as you did on them, using his height and size to your advantage to land your blow. You moved to stand before him, a shield to a man as tall as he was, protecting him with a vicious glare and damning words, and somehow, he found himself gripping onto the back of your jacket, your name printed on the back and the Task Force’s insignia on your sleeve.

“He was disrespecting us, Lieutenant!”

You didn’t hold back your disbelief, scoffing so loudly that other people had turned their attention to your group.

“Disrespecting? Do you take me for an idiot, Corporal? I’m no blind,” your words were silencing, sending them panicking for another reason to excuse their actions, something disbelieving or idiotic, “This isn’t the first time I’ve written you up to HR, Corporal Matt, Davis, Brown. You’ve done this many times with other operators, especially to König.”

“That’s because-”

“Save your fucking excuses and fuck off!” You nodded away, watching them scramble off.

Glee and smugness filled him, a disgusting feeling that he couldn’t help but enjoy, even as you huff and turn to look at him, head craned upwards to meet his eyes with soft adoration. You were always so warm and caring, as if you weren’t made to be the ruthless killer people made you out to be, but he’d seen you kill, the cold and calculated look in your eyes when you were deployed. You patted his arm, a smile gracing your lips as you reassured him that they wouldn’t bother him anymore.

”Time for dinner, yeah?”

He learned the next day that they were transferred to another base, seen packing up their bags with black eyes and bruises littering their bodies. Sparring, he heard from whispers, from one at to another, the word spread and he found his days quiet and anxiety-free.

“Danke, Leutnantin.”

“You know my name, König. I think you’ve earned the right to say it.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig cod #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig #tw: bullying

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