#throw me a fucking bone for fucks sake

[yourtamaki]

rip my ribcage open (devour what’s truly yours)

zoro x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: tummy-pusher zoro, squirting, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, prone bone, chokehold, slight breath play, creampie, violent imagery, religious imagery, bit of aftercare.

zoro thinks you might be trying to say his name.

he’s knelt between your legs, sitting back on his haunches and rocking his hips just enough to fuck you with the fat tip of his cock. there’s a rhythm to the unsteady rise and fall of your chest. short inhale, long exhale, the same way you always sigh his name when he’s reduced you to this.

tears dotting your lashes, drool seeping from the corner of your mouth, hips bucking mindlessly trying to get him to slip in deeper.

fuck, you’re hungry for it.

zoro is not a man of many indulgences. he doesn’t allow himself to be. having too many vices can only lead to a weak mind and an even weaker will. he eats but he does not savour, he sleeps but he does not dream.

but he’d be a shit swordsman if he didn’t understand the balance in all things. denying himself all of life’s comforts would make for a rigid spirit, brittle and easily broken. so he’ll sip on some sake and enjoy its fire in his belly, he’ll nap on sunny’s deck so when he wakes, it’s to the sight of his crew set to the backdrop of the setting sun. and when the sun dips below the horizon, there’s nothing to stop him from finding you in the dark and pulling you into a hungry kiss.

that balance is what makes nights like these all the better. knowing that having you like this, spread open and vulnerable, is good for him. that you’re making him a better man, a stronger man, just by letting him take you apart and make a mess out of you. there’s no need to resist the temptation now of bending low to press his lips to your trembling ones in a slow, ravenous kiss.

you taste like need and the sweetest of sins and he licks at the roof of your mouth, knowing he’s damned himself long ago to crave you for as long as he lives.

"if you want something, you have to ask,” he says, pulling back and idly groping at your tits, pinching your nipple when you don’t answer. you throw your head back at the sudden sensation and a wild heat blooms in his chest at the sight, scorching his ribs. how easily you bare your neck for him. how thoughtlessly.

"please, zoro, please. want you deeper, i wanna feel you here,” you take his hands, sliding them down your body until they come to rest on your lower stomach. irritation, sharp and sudden, cuts through his haze.

“don’t fucking beg,” he says, low and even, “you don’t have to beg. ever.”

it’s so far beneath you to plead, he has to swallow down the growl building in the back of his throat. zoro would topple empires for you, would cut the very moon in half if you asked, and you think you have to beg him for anything?

he doesn’t wait for you to nod before he starts pushing in. it doesn’t matter if you understand yet or not, he’ll fuck it into you until you do.

there’s a moment after he’s bottomed out inside you where neither of you move a muscle. he grits his teeth from the effort of holding on to the frayed rope that is his restraint and letting you get used to the wide stretch of him. ages pass before you reach up, slowly as if to not startle the beast above you, and cup his face in your soft palm. you stroke your thumb across his cheek, just on the edge of his scar. your touch is warm and gentle and cracks something inside him wide open.

the rope slip from his fingers. he lets it.

there’s no warning, no build-up before he’s pressing both palms down on your stomach and fucking into you. you reach up to hold on to any part of him, settling around his neck, a balm on his flushed skin even as your nails dig and bite into him.

“you feel that? hmm?” his smile feels jagged and sharp, more demon than man but you only moan at the sight of it, “you feel me in there?”

it’s a strange sensation, feeling himself carve a space inside you, the push and pull. it’s filthy and more intimate than it has any right to be and he fucking loves it.

“fuck, feel you i feel—” a rough thrust cuts you off and when you catch your breath, you’re still rambling, “—so good, you’re so good.”

zoro’s been called many things in his life but good isn’t one of them. it’s never bothered him before. good men don’t claw their way up in the world and leave a trail of slaughter in their wake. good men don’t scream at the heavens and demand to be heard.

zoro is not a good man. but he can be good. to you. for you.

“breathe, baby,” he says, “don’t forget to breathe.”

he presses down a bit harder and your reaction is instantaneous, legs kicking out, the tears that have been threatening to spill over since he stuffed a pillow under your hips finally sliding down your cheeks. you take him so beautifully and something barbed wraps around his heart and squeezes at the sight, shredding him to bloody pieces.

he knows you’re close before your eyes start to flutter, can feel it building like a storm inside you and chases your pleasure with reckless abandon.

“zoro.”

short inhale, long exhale. his name a sigh on your parted lips as you clench tight around him and cum. he doesn’t stop moving for a second, doesn’t let up the pressure even as he feels you gush all over him, soaking his cock, his thighs, his stomach. his strokes stay sure and steady as he fucks you through your high.

you shudder beneath him before relaxing back into the bed and he slows to a stop to let you catch your breath. it hurts to look at you, all divine and fucked out. it’s a sight too holy for a hellbound man like him to behold but he drinks it in anyway, burns it into his mind. 

what’s one more sin to a demon?

zoro slips out of you with a hiss through gritted teeth, taking a moment to admire the creamy ring around his base, your arousal and cum still dripping off him. you’ve marked him as yours and yours alone without even trying and his cock twitches at the thought.

“no why?” you whine as he pulls back further, “give it back.”

“turn over,” even as he speaks, he’s manhandling you until you’re laid out on your stomach, hips propped up with the pillow he takes care to push under you. zoro kisses down your spine before settling between your spread legs and greeting your cunt with a broad stroke of his tongue, “i ever tell you that you taste good like this?”

“like- mmm fuck,” you say, all breathy as he circles around your swollen clit, “like what?”

“stretched out,” he murmurs, “open.” 

you’re past the point of words as he grabs two handfuls of your ass, spreads your sticky lips open with his thumbs and buries his tongue inside you. he savours the sweet little gasps you let you like the finest sake, groaning into your pussy as you start to rock your hips and grind your clit against him. he can’t catch a full breath, thinks he might be suffocating, and moans a bit louder.

a swarm of words bubble up hot and fast in his lungs, taking up space where breath once lived. half-formed thoughts try and fail to take shape in his mouth, weighing down the tongue that makes you writhe in the sheets. 

he can’t bring himself to speak but if he could, he’d show you. zoro wants to crack his ribs open so you can see the bloody wreckage you’ve caused, let you crawl in and keep you safe next to the heart that’s always, always, been yours. he’d probably burst into flames with so much goodness inside him but that’s alright. at least he’d keep you warm.

the words stay trapped where they are though and all he can do is all he’s ever known how to. he goes to work. zoro is singleminded in his task, fingers digging into the fat of your ass to keep you still while he devours you whole and it doesn’t take long before he’s pushing you off the edge he never let you stray too far away from.

he laps at your folds until you start to squirm away, crawling up the bed and away from him. he lets you put a bit of distance between you, lulls his prey into thinking it’s escaped before he pounces. between one breath and the next, zoro’s on you, draped along your back, licking at the sweat that beads down the nape of your neck. you arch into him, pushing back against the hardness digging into your ass before he rests his weight down on you, forcing you flat on your front.

“where do you want me, baby?” he asks, kissing behind your ear, “tell me where you want me.”

in this moment and in all others, zoro would do anything you told him to. you could make him hump you like an animal until he cums and lick your skin clean or stand across the room and jack off by himself with nothing but the lingering taste of your pussy to help him get off. he’d do it and he’d do it without an ounce of shame.

“want you inside,” you slur, “wanna be full.”

his entire being in the palm of your hands and you choose to be merciful.

“you sure?” he lifts up off you just enough to get a hand around his base and nudge his tip against your clit, “not too sensitive?”

“yeah, pl- i can take it.”

his grin is all teeth when he hears you correct yourself, “that’s my fucking girl. stay still, baby. let me take care of you.”

you’re soft and slick from his spit and two orgasms and when he bottoms out all at once, it’s with a low groan in your ear that echoes behind your breathy moan. sinking back inside you feels like rapture, like something he’s done nothing to deserve but basks in anyway with an endless greed.

he wraps his arms around you, one across your front groping at your chest while the other hooks around to put you in a headlock, keeping you pressed flush to him as he starts to rock into you. zoro is quiet in his worship, purposeful, and you’re nearly as quiet in receiving it, the room filled only by your soaked cunt and ragged breathing. though you don’t say anything, he can hear you loud and clear.

short inhale, long exhale.

a holy call he’s helpless to answer.

zoro fucks you to the rhythm of his name, short, devastating thrusts with his whole weight thrown behind him. he wants to live in this moment, could spend the rest of his days with his cock dragging along your walls slow and sure, relishing the way you tighten like a vice around him every time he flexes and cuts your air off mid-gasp.

but he swore an oath at your altar and zoro has always been a man of his words.

he cums with a sigh of your name, spilling inside you for what feels like ages before he collapses over you boneless and spent, his softening cock keeping you plugged nice and full just like you asked so sweetly for.

“you okay?” he asks, pulling out as gently as he can and helping you roll over when your trembling arms make it clear you can’t do it on your own.

“mhmm,” you pull yourself up until you’re nose to nose with him. zoro holds still as you scatter kisses across his face like stardust. his temple, his scar, the corner of his mouth. there’s no order, no pattern he can discern to the affection you bestow but he accepts it the way all blessings should be received. with silent gratitude.

“nothing hurts?” 

“no. but you’re carrying me to the bath.”

“okay.”

you tuck yourself into his side, reaching up to idly roll his earrings between your fingers, “and washing my hair.”

“okay.”

“and i’m gonna wash your hair.”

“okay.”

“say something else.”

he thinks for a moment, thinks of all he could never put to words and lets them stay as thoughts. instead, he meets your eyes and settles on a simple truth, “you’re beautiful.”

a smile, radiant and bright, breaks across your face. what happens, he wonders, when a demon is the cause of something as divine as your smile? it’s a question he doesn’t mind spending his life searching the answer to. 

dedicated to: mah wife @katslutski and the loml @saotoru

#zoro smut #one piece smut #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro smut #roronoa zoro x reader #god this has been in my drafts for so long

[asteralien]

no offense but if mbmbam doesn’t come to gulf shores for a twenty sun and sea surf the vibe live show then they don’t deserve the year name

#yeah we ALL know you’re going to california/the west coast at some point #you’re going to coasts across the country EXCEPT FOR the gulf coast!!! #come on guys throw me a fuckin bone #james buffett GREW UP HERE for fucks sakes #mythtakes

[joelsgreys]

softness

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Joel’s a little unsure of doing skin to skin with his newborn daughter.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. established relationship. (TW) PREGNANCY. mentions of premature birth, minor descriptions of childbirth, mentions of birth weight, it is implied that reader is breastfeeding her baby, semi accurate medical journal research, girldad! Joel, mentions of scars (Joel), mentions of insecurities and anxieties, if i missed anything, please let me know! NO MENTION OF READER’S AGE. NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER. no physical description of child except for her hair color/type. very minimal editing.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: i had this outline sitting in my drafts and i decided to finally just write it out and post it. it ain’t much, but it’s honest work. it is part of the safe and sound universe.

She’d made her entrance into the world early.

About four or five weeks, the commune’s doctor thinks.

Without ultrasounds, it’d been a guessing game.

And a fucking terrifying guessing game at that.

For several months, all you could do was hope.

Hope for a smooth pregnancy.

Hope for a safe labor and delivery.

Hope for a strong, healthy baby.

When you went into labor earlier than the doctor had predicted you would, all of your hopes shattered, the pieces falling around you like shards of broken glass you couldn’t put back together even if you tried.

“No! No, it’s too soon! It’s too fucking soon!” you’d cried out, the sheer panic setting in and seeping into your bones as a warm, clear liquid dripped down the insides of your legs and pooled around your bare feet. You had been in the kitchen making Ellie breakfast and packing her lunch for school—one second you’re standing there in front of the food pantry debating with yourself on what vegetable to throw into the kid’s lunch bag with her sandwich and the next you’re calling out for help as an intense pressure nestled itself between your hips. It wasn’t until you heard a faint popping sound and then felt the gush of fluid between your thighs that you’d realized what was happening. An unmistakable first sign of labor, you’d experienced your water breaking. “This can’t be happening, it’s not time yet!”

Joel, who by some stroke of sheer stupid luck had the morning off from patrol duty, instructed Ellie to run upstairs and gather some clean clothes along with a pair of boots and the warmest coat you owned that still fit. November had brought along the first snowfall of the season—the frigid temperatures outside were anything but kind and the clinic was on the opposite side of the commune, a fifteen minute walk he wished you didn’t have to make in your condition. “I know this is real fuckin’ scary darlin’ but y’need to stay calm. I need you to stay as calm as possible. Y’think that you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

He’d been just as terrified, but he masked it well.

On the outside, he kept a calm, collected composure for your sake and for Ellie’s too, shoved aside his own fears so he could be the support you both needed, act as the glue that held yours and his little family unit together should anything were to happen. But on the inside, he was scared shitless, to say the least. He couldn’t be certain he would have the strength to hold himself together if something went wrong, if he lost you—or his unborn child.

Admittedly, it had taken him a few months to come to terms with the fact that he was going to be a father again at this stage in his life. The thought of him changing diapers at his age was one he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around—but the moment he felt that first little flutter of movement one night as you lay curled up against his side fast asleep, something shifted. That night, he had stayed wide awake, his large hand splayed over your belly in hopes he would feel that little flutter again.

“Joel, I’m really fucking scared. What if it’s too early—”

“Baby, look at me.” He reached up and gently took your chin, holding it between his thumb and index finger as he coaxed your gaze to meet his own. “S’gonna be okay,” he’d assured you, softly. “If this is happenin’ now, it’s because she’s ready, alright?”

For a split second, that panic had ceased.

“She?”

Confused, Joel’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“You just referred to the baby as a she, Joel.”

“I did?”

“Yeah—just now.” You’d stared at him with curiosity and took a step back, cradling your belly in both of your hands. “Do you think we’re having a girl?”

Sheepishly, he had shaken his head at you.

“No, I just—m’sorry. I ain’t all too sure why I said that.”

He truly, honestly hadn’t.

It’d slipped before he could even think about it.

But his accidental slip had been right.

After thirteen hours of grueling labor in Jackson’s small clinic, you’d given birth to a little girl, the sound of her loud wailing filling the whole room like a sweet melody eliciting a sob of joy from you and a shaky sigh of relief from Joel.

“Holy shit, she’s here! She’s actually fucking here,” Ellie breathed, her eyes going wide. Her arms were still wrapped around one of your legs—despite you warning the teenager about what she would see, it hadn’t stopped her from volunteering her assistance in the childbirth process. She watched on in a mix of both fascination and disgust as Dr. Porter, a woman in her sixties who served as Jackson’s sole physician, lifted the infant and immediately placed her onto your bare chest to clean her off. “This has gotta be the grossest, most amazing fucking thing I have ever fucking seen in my life.” Gently, she set your leg down onto the bed before walking around it to stand beside Joel. His hand was stroking your hair, his dark eyes trained on his crying newborn daughter. It was the perfect moment for Ellie to run her mouth and tease, “You’re not gonna cry, are you, Joel? I’d think you’re a lot fucking tougher than that, old man.”

“Shut up,” he’d muttered under his breath, putting an arm around her and pulling her against his side. He almost couldn’t believe this was now his life—a life he would have never even known if he hadn’t flinched twenty years ago when he had pulled the trigger.

Though she’d been born a few weeks prematurely, Rosemary Miller was deemed to be healthy—a tad underweight, but nothing to be worried about just yet, according to Jackie, the commune’s nurse. At about four pounds, eleven ounces, Rosemary was the tiniest thing you’d ever seen and somehow even tinier when Joel would cradle her in the palms of his large hands. Despite the fact that you’d been reassured that the baby’s low birth weight was nothing to be alarmed about, you and Joel had been advised it was best if you didn’t take her home until she gained a few more ounces and tipped the a scale at what the books state is a normal birth weight of five pounds, eight ounces.

“We just would feel better if she were here at the clinic where we can closely monitor her weight,” Jackie had said upon seeing the crestfallen look on your face. “Besides, you tore a little and you need time to heal as well, you know.”

Left with very little choice, you’d agreed to it.

“I’m losing it,” you say with an exasperated sigh as you stare up at the drab, gray ceiling. It’s been three days since you had given birth and all you want to do is take your daughter home. In an effort to lift your spirits, Maria had tried to warm the place up and make it feel more comfortable for you. She had swapped out the rough, scratchy bedsheet the clinic provided for you with a soft, knitted blanket she had made herself. She also took it upon herself to pack you a bag with your own clothes, a couple of books to read, and your favorite polaroids of Joel and Ellie. While it had been incredibly sweet of her to do for you, you still wanted out of that clinic sooner rather than later. “I miss our house. I miss our bed. I miss our kid.”

Joel, who’s sitting in an old, worn leather armchair tucked over in a corner of your room next to the frosted window, raises an eyebrow at you and then juts his chin towards Rosemary, who is swaddled up and sleeping soundly in the plastic bassinet beside your bed.

“Our kid’s right there, darlin’.”

You lift your head off your pillow and glare at him.

“I’m talking about Ellie, Joel.”

He chuckles and leans forward in his chair. Next to him sits a brown stuffed bunny rabbit—Ellie had traded a precious comic book for it and gifted it to the baby the same afternoon she was born. 

“She’s been comin’ to visit every day after school.”

“It’s not the same,” you pout, shaking your head.

Joel sighs and glances at the cot that he had been sleeping on for the last few days—truth be told, he misses the house too. His back certainly misses the bed. “It ain’t the same,” he agrees, tiredly. His face is worn with exhaustion. Despite you insisting that he go home and get some proper rest, he’s too stubborn to listen and only leaves the clinic to take a shower and change his clothes—and to check on Ellie, who’s got a bad habit of not doing her homework unless you or Joel nag her to get it done. “M’real sorry, darlin’. But you heard what they said. Baby’s gotta gain a little more weight before we can take her home.”

Even from where he’s sitting, he can see your eyes glaze over with tears of frustration. Since the baby was born, you’ve been very sensitive, more so than when you’d been pregnant—something he didn’t think was even possible.

“If she keeps on eatin’ the way she’s eatin’ we’ll be home by the end of the week,” Joel adds in an effort to cheer you up. “Besides, you need to heal before we make that long walk across town and back to the house, sweetheart. S’not like I can just pull up the fuckin’ minivan and drive you girls home like back in the day, y’know?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Ew, Joel. We would not have a fucking minivan.” Dabbing at your eyes with the back of your hand, you can’t help but laugh at the thought of Joel Miller behind the wheel of one of those things. Then, you realize how endearing it would be to watch as he’s loading up Rosemary’s car seat into the van, the muscles of his broad back flexing underneath his shirt as he pulled on the straps to make sure it was safe and secure. You’d climb into the backseat with her and on the way home, you would ask Joel to swing through the nearest burger joint drive through because you’re fucking starving and in need of a proper meal after being subjected to boring, bland hospital food. You shoot him a small smile. “On second thought, that doesn’t sound all that bad. Maybe we would.”

Suddenly, there’s a light knock at the door.

“Come in,” you call, careful not to be too loud.

Dr. Porter walks into the room.

She had been a primary care physician prior to the world ending, according to Maria, who a couple of months ago had given birth to her son while under Dr. Porter’s care. Maria had assured you that, even though the woman never trained in obstetrics, she always went above and beyond for all the mothers to be in the commune. She dedicated her spare time to studying, lost herself in medical books she found on the shelves of the town’s library—kind of like the one that’s currently tucked underneath her arm.

“Hi there mama,” she greets, her eyes shining brightly behind her coke-bottle glasses. Wearing jeans and a sweater, she doesn’t quite look the part—maybe she’d worn a white coat once in her life, but now it was only the old, silver metal stethoscope she had draped around her neck that gave her profession away. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“I’m okay,” you say with a shrug. “Can’t complain.”

Over in his corner, Joel can’t help but snort.

Ignoring him, you add, “Bleeding’s slowing down.”

“Good, that’s good,” Dr. Porter tells you. “And how about this sweet little girl?” She smiles and makes her way over to the bassinet, keeping her voice low. “She eating well?”

“She is. Her last feed was about two hours ago.”

“How’s she sleeping?”

“Like a rock.”

“And you’ve been doing skin to skin as well?”

You nod. “Yes, before and after her feedings.”

“That’s perfect.” Dr. Porter beams at you with pride. “Keep it up and do it as often as possible. There are a ton of benefits of doing skin to skin with her. It’s one of the most incredible things that a mother can do for her baby. Actually—” She pauses for a moment and pulls the book out from under her arm. “I have been doing a bit of research and as it turns out, there are also benefits if dad does skin to skin with baby as well.”

Joel stiffens slightly in his chair. “S’cuse me?”

“I found this book in the library. It talks about all of the benefits of fathers doing skin to skin with their newborn. It was written some time in the nineties and studies were still being conducted, but I really believe they were onto something.” She hands you the book. “For being preterm, Rosemary’s healthy, but it doesn’t do any harm to try whatever you can to make sure that she builds up that immune system and stays healthy, especially now that winter’s here.” Flashing you a smile, she informs you, “I went ahead and folded the pages for you and made some notes. There’s a few benefits in it for Joel as well. Could be worth a try.”

After telling you she’ll be back in a couple hours to check on you and to weigh the baby, Dr. Porter excuses herself from your room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Curiously, you open the book to the first page that she’d folded for you and start reading the first passage out loud.

“Ongoing studies have found skin to skin between father and child have similar benefits to those that come from skin to skin between mother and child. It regulates the baby's body temperature, blood sugar, and stress levels.” You pause and look over at Joel, who appears thoroughly unimpressed. “It also helps to regulate the baby’s heart rate and breathing rate. Joel, this is incredible! I think you should—”

“No.”

Joel winces. He doesn’t mean to sound so curt.

Your face falls. “Why not?”

“That’s for mothers,” he grumbles. “Y’know, for feedin’ the baby.”

“It’s for much more than just that.” You shake your head and flip over to the next page, scanning both the text as well as Dr. Porter’s notes. “It says here that it also helps the baby pick up their father’s natural scent and promotes bonding.”

“Sweetheart, I can bond with her just fine with my fuckin’ shirt on, there ain’t no need for me to—what in the world are you doin’?” Perturbed, Joel watches you as you take a handful of your blanket, throwing it off yourself. He jumps up to his feet the second he realizes that you’re about to get out of bed. “Don’t—”

“Oh relax, Joel. I should be moving more anyway,” you say, wincing as you sit up and swing both legs over the side of the bed. It isn’t so much pain as it is discomfort—everything had been shoved up and out of place for months, after all. As soon as you stand, Joel’s there at your side, one hand on your arm and the other on your back, trying to guide you back onto the bed. You lightly swat him away with your hand. “Joel, stop fussing over me! I’m fine!”

“Baby, y’need to lie down right now—”

“Take off your shirt.”

His hands fall away from you and his eyes widen.

“What?”

“Take off your shirt and go sit down in the chair.”

The blood drains from his face and he pales. 

It’s not that Joel doesn’t want to do it. He does.

He’ll do anything if it’s for his daughter’s benefit.

Still.

The idea of laying his innocent little baby girl on him without his shirt on—it’s uncomfortable. His chest and stomach are littered with several scars. Rough, raised patches of skin that serve as reminders of a brutal past he doesn’t want her finding out about, not for as long as he can fucking help it.

Rosemary deserves to be wrapped up in softness.

The softness of your smooth, blemish free skin.

The softness of the blankets you’d knitted for her.

The softness of the stuffed bunny Ellie had given her.

Joel?

He isn’t soft.

Nothing about him is soft.

Even holding her in his hands for the first time had been something of a battle. Hands that once snapped necks and slit throats didn’t deserve to hold something so pure and innocent.

“This sounds really promising, Joel.” Slowly, you make your way over to the plastic bassinet, ignoring the dull ache between your thighs. With your back to him, you carefully begin to unswaddle the baby. You try not to wake her as you peel off her warm, knitted onesie and matching socks, leaving her in nothing but her teeny, tiny cloth diaper. Gingerly, you pick her up and turn around to face him. “If Dr. Porter thinks we should try it, then it’s for a good reason, don’t you think so?”

Joel swallows harshly.

“What is it?”

“S’just that I—I’ve got scars everywhere, y’know?”

Your expression instantly softens for him. “Joel, you’re her daddy,” you remind him, gently. “She’s not going to care about things like that.” Pausing, it suddenly occurs to you that it’s not just about his scars. It’s about something else, something that runs so much deeper for Joel. He’d done what he had done in order to survive, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t live with the shame—the guilt and the regret. Rosemary begins to fuss awake and you lightly bounce her in your arms as you assure him, “She isn’t going to care about your past or what you’ve done. Her love for you is going to be as unconditional as yours is for her. She’s going to love you no matter what, Joel. I can promise you that.”

His jaw clenches and his lips press into a tight line.

Rosemary starts to cry—she’s cold, no doubt.

The old heater in the clinic hardly runs.

And when it does, it breaks down.

“Joel, please,” you beg over her wails. “Just try it? For me? For her?”

Sighing in defeat, Joel shrugs out of his jacket and he tosses it aside. With trembling fingers, he begins to unbutton his green flannel shirt—his long sleeved thermal henley comes off next and then he takes off the cotton t-shirt he wears underneath for an added layer of warmth during the winter season. As he stands there shirtless, he shivers and his flesh erupts with goosebumps. “Wait,” he mutters as he watches you take a step forward. He drags the armchair away from the window. He then sits down, his heart racing and the anxiety flaring as he gives you a subtle nod of his head. “Okay.”

You walk over to him and place her on his bare chest.

The second he feels Rosie’s soft skin on his, there’s a shift.

It’s similar to the one he felt when he first felt her move in your belly.

He calms and his heart slows—his nerves dissipate. 

And Rosemary stops crying.

She scrunches, curls up on his chest, and yawns.

Grimacing, you lean over and pick up his flannel shirt. “Here,” you say, draping it over them as a makeshift blanket. “How’s that feel?”

“Think she likes it, darlin’,” Joel murmurs, his fingers delicately brushing over her soft tufts of dark brown hair. His touch causes the newborn’s lip to curl and he catches a glimpse of the prominent dimple in her left cheek—the same dimple Sarah had inherited from him, Rosemary had inherited too. There’s a dull ache in his chest, but somehow, he still smiles as she peers up at him with sleepy eyes. “Hi, Rosie Posie. S’me, babygirl. Your daddy.”

Rolling your lip between your teeth, you stifle a giggle.

“What?” he asks, arching an eyebrow at you.

“She’s not the only one who seems to like it.”

Joel chuckles, admitting, “S’pretty relaxin’.” He presses his nose into his daughter’s curls and inhales deeply, relishing in the warm, sweet milky scent of her. After a minute, his smile falters slightly. “Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really believe it?”

Your brow furrows. “Believe what?”

“That she’s gonna love me no matter what.”

“Of course I do.”

“How can you be so sure ‘bout it?”

Carefully, you perch yourself on the arm of the chair and press a gentle kiss against his right temple, your lips brushing over his scar. “Because I just am, Joel.”

Somehow, he believes it—he believes you.

Joel tilts his head back, puckering his lips.

Grinning, you give him a chaste kiss before standing. “I’m going to see if I can get a nap in before her next feed,” you tell him, padding back over to the bed. “Do you think you’ll be okay with her for a while, just the two of you?”

“I think we’ll be just fine,” he murmurs, gingerly stroking Rosemary’s silky cheek with his finger. “Yeah. We’ll be just fine, won’t we, babygirl?”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller drabble #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #tw pregnancy #tw childbirth #tw premature birth

[fayeriess]

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ THE INEVITABLE PULL ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: on the night of her twenty-first birthday, ellie find herself in the one place she asked jesse not to bring her. a strip club.

warning(s): 18+ smut, modern!au, stripper!reader, mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, dudes in clubs being jackasses, jesse being a wingman ( thank you bestie ), dry humping ( a little?? ), fingering ( reader!receiving ),oral ( elle!receiving ), a one night stand, essentially. not proof-read!

a/n: yet another one-shot i'm bringing back. i do have a little 90s ellie drabble in my drafts that I'm working on so definitely let me know if you'd like to see that ;)

You know that feeling you get when you walk into a place you don’t want to be in? A feeling so uncomfortable that it makes you involuntarily bounce back and forth from the heels of your feet to the tips of your toes, eyes darting from left to right trying to observe the situation you were faced with. 

Ellie was unfortunate enough to be experiencing it tonight as the blood in her veins thumped into the base of her eardrums, her hands in the small pockets of the denim jeans she wore as her shoulders hunched with uncertainty. The air smelt like immeasurable amounts of liquor and what Jesse described as ‘fun times’. 

He had coaxed her out of her apartment and off of the confines of her couch on the eve of her twenty-first birthday, a smile on his face as he landed a pat with an open palm on the back of her right shoulder which rattled her, a grimace curling onto the skin of her lips. Playing the scenario back in her mind now, it seemed as if he considered her feelings which didn’t end up being the case. Sometimes, Ellie would find herself filled with slight guilt for even having the thought of her friend being faintly ignorant — but it oozed out of him as he weaved his way through the teeming club. She was barely one for small parties, preferring to linger in the corners away from unseen eyes, processing what was laid before her in the form of passing bodies. 

Finding herself experiencing how it felt to be somewhere more open — more suffocated — made her stomach tie in the tightest of knots. 

Blowing a puff of air out of her throat, Ellie felt annoyance creeping up within her as the bone of her shoulder collided with someone else’s.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going.”

Through the tumultuous beat of hip-hop music, those seven gruff words reached the canal of her ears causing the soles of her shoes to squelch on the scuffed polish of the club floor as she turned around. Deep lines formed between her eyebrows as she scowled, her fingers curling into the palm of her hand, teeth gritting together.

“The fuck?”

Ellie didn’t know whether to consider it a blessing or a curse that no matter the situation, her mouth couldn’t just stay closed even with multiple attempted efforts. It worked out for her in less violent ways fifty percent of the time. Whereas, the other fifty percent caused adrenaline to pump in her veins so quickly that her body would shake slightly, growing numb as if to prepare for whatever damage would arise. 

People tended to underestimate how much damage swirled around her balled fists due to her average stature and the fact that she was a girl. She knew better than to let things progress further, not only for the sake of not wanting to deal with it on her birthday but for the poor patron who’d most likely end up losing if he decided to take the unknown risk of a fistfight. Especially with her. 

“You fuckin’ heard me.” The man towered over her, dark eyes riddled with drunkenness and a bubbling fury as she looked up at him through low eyelids, a smirk appearing at the corners of her mouth. 

Through her peripheral vision, she could see the stares of other club-goers as they observed the altercation with interest, curious to see who would throw the first punch. It would’ve been Ellie. Seriously, she was so close to cocking her fist back just to swing it into his aging face but Jesse had a knack for knowing when his friend got into trouble because he appeared next to her before she could blink, fingers grabbing at the back of the plaid button-down she wore, trying to de-escalate the painstakingly icky tension as those who were unaware continued with their night.

“Woah.” He dragged out in an airy laugh, snaking himself in front of Ellie in case things went south. “No problems here, right?” 

Not trusting herself enough to not utter a single word, Ellie turned and let her feet carry her straight to the bar at the far left corner, jaw tight as she found an empty spot to slide herself into in hopes of getting herself a drink as it had just reached one in the morning. If she had the option to restart the first hour of her birthday somewhere else, she could, but beggars can’t be choosers — and Ellie was far from being a beggar. 

Locking her eyes onto her choice of liquor, she let the music creep back in her ears once more as her eyes clouded over, scanning the crevices of her brain for the pros and cons of having a couple of shots throughout the night, or just getting a glass straight-up. 

Clearing his throat, Jessie weaseled his way next to her before grabbing the bartender’s attention, his pearly white teething glistening under the neon lights that shone through the darkness, eyes shamelessly roaming across her body as she bit her lip flirtatiously. 

Ellie couldn’t roll her eyes, itching to have a drink in her grasp to ease the small jolt of nerves that would pinch her every couple of seconds. 

“Can I get angel’s envy on the rocks?” She asked, avoiding looking at the lady behind the bar as she nodded curtly.

 “Sure thing, honey.” Turning to Jesse, her back arched slightly as a means to pop her chest in his face a little more. The only thing that was stopping her from leaning closer was the countertop between them as she spoke lowly. 

“And for you, baby?” She drawled, voice slow. She already had a couple of drinks, which was evident through her shameless attempt at flirting which the dark-haired man seemed to be into for some reason. 

His lips quirked up, arms crossed over each other as he went to rest them on the bartop, eyes boring right into her soul.

“Same thing.” 

Ellie took the opportunity to observe her surroundings even further. Eyes moved from the people sitting in small round booths and velvet chairs to the stage that sat front and center, one of the main reasons why she had been brought here tonight. A pole stood upright under the bright white lights, metal practically sparkling, blinding her as if to make its presence more known to her than it already was. 

In life, there were a lot of firsts and Ellie had gladly experienced them with pride, diving headfirst. However, this was a completely different ball game that filled her with a small enough amount of discomfort that caused her to scratch at the nape of her neck. 

“Y’know, the least you could do is say thank you for having me deal with your shit.” Jesse chuckled jokingly, fingers jutting outward to slide the glass toward her which she took without a second thought. 

Although Ellie could sense the humor in his voice, the bitterness she felt seemed to overpower her brain before she could correctly process her words. “The least? You could’ve been a little more considerate when you decided on where to take me on my birthday.” 

She leaned closer to him, having to raise her voice to be heard through the music. “A fucking strip club. Really?” 

Raising his glass, he just smiled smugly at her which caused her eyes to roll to the back of her head for the second time that night before he clanked it with hers in a toast. “To being twenty-one.” Tilting the chilled cup toward his mouth, he downed his whiskey in one go before shaking his head to rid of the burning in his throat. Ellie followed right after, letting her eyes screwed shut as heat ran into the pit of her stomach.

“God that was fucking awful.” 

All Ellie got in response was Jesse’s arm over her shoulder as he stood on the tips of his toes, neck craning over heads as if he was looking for something in particular. Before she could ask, his eyes lit up, her body moving forcefully as he dragged her away from the bar and in the direction of a booth that was mostly empty beside three other people occupying a small section of space. Jesse’s friends. 

Truthfully, this night seemed to be getting worse as she watched Jesse slide himself in before moving in his seat, the leather squeaking as it rubbed against his clothes. Ellie licked her lips, tasting a hint of the shea butter chapstick she had applied to them earlier in the night, body growing rigid as one of his friends stared at her with wavering uninterest. 

“Who are you again? He slurred, lazily pointing a finger in her direction, swaying in his seat slightly. 

Ellie’s reply was simple and cold. “Ellie.” 

Jesse slapped him on the back, sending his torso to push forward and some of his liquor to fall out of his shot glass and onto the table in front of them. “Seth shut the fuck up.” 

Seth opened his mouth, lips in the shape of an ‘o’ before his face contorted into one of amusement, “Oh” He chuckled.

If Ellie was being honest with herself, she didn’t remember his name either. Jesse’s friends weren’t people she would necessarily surround herself with if she was looking for company. On occasion, she’d stop at Dean’s house ( the name of the only one she bothered to remember, only because he treated her like he would any of his other guy friends ) with him only because she got to smoke for free, and she’d never pass up free weed. 

Moving to sit, Ellie lowered herself before breathing in through her nose, the lighting dimming above her almost instantly as the song that was playing came to a pause before another one followed behind. 

Confusion grew on her features as the sharp clank of heels could be heard from where she was, just a couple of feet away, in the third row of seats right smack in the middle. She didn’t know what to expect. It wasn’t as if she was well-versed in the club universe because she hadn’t been in one before tonight.

She heard Dean hiss behind his teeth before whistling loudly, “Damn.” 

Averting her gaze toward center stage, she could feel her cheeks warm as she stared at you. Your hair fell down your shoulders in loose waves, your bottom lip tugged between your teeth before you smiled warmly, red nails gliding up and down your hips before you swayed them side to side seductively, moving to the rhythm of the music. Hoots and hollers filled the expanse of space, bouncing off the walls and directly into her ears. 

“Fuck, she’s hot.” 

Ellie was thankful for the darkness that enveloped the room as the crimson flush on her cheeks darkened in color even further. She shuffled back into her seat, keeping her gaze locked on your body as you spun around the pole, the string of your black thong hiking up your hip just a little higher, something she swore only she noticed. 

With her gaze boring into your frame, she watched as you swung one leg over the other, spinning on your heels before lifting yourself off the stage using the pole, your grip tightening as your feet moved in place. 

This feeling in between her legs, the ache she got from just seeing you was otherworldly, she felt wrong about it. She didn’t even know you ( as badly as she wanted to now ) to be feeling the way she did. The butterflies in the pit of her stomach fluttered so aggressively that they felt as if they were crawling out her throat as her breath hitched. 

When the money appeared, adorning you as if it was rain falling, she melted into the leather of the booth. Her eyes widened before a cough emitted from her throat, her heart picking up its pace as your eyes darted across the crowd and she swore you were staring at her as you crawled on all fours in front of the stage. 

So, the only natural thing for her to do was stare right back at you, keeping her gaze locked on your low-lidded eyes before letting someone lift the band of your thong to place a wad of cash, their fingers lingering on your bare hip for longer than necessary before you gracefully danced away. 

You were a goddess, clad in her most seductive armor that nobody could lay a finger on. Ellie could tell by the way you carried yourself, head held high and body swinging low as cash surrounded you. As awkward as she felt, she sure hoped she didn’t look the part because your eyes were still on her. 

A small smack to her arm caused her to twist her head in Jesse’s direction, a frown on her face as she tried to stare at him through the darkness. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.” 

His eyebrows raised in amusement, lips pressed together to keep himself from laughing aloud. “It’s okay you know, to stare, that’s why we’re here.” 

Putting the palms of his hands out, he gestured around him as if to prove a point. 

Ellie tutted before she grabbed a loose strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear, grabbing at the new drink that miraculously appeared ( he must’ve grabbed it off of one of the guys ) before gulping the rest of its contents down, lips puckering as her lungs developed a burn that only Hennesey could give her. 

“This is the last time I’m letting you drag me anywhere without telling me first.” She huffed, blowing out a breath that caused her cheeks to ache slightly. She averted her gaze to you again, this time watching as you left the stage, signaling the end of your set as people cheered and whistled. 

“That was something, I’ll tell you that.” She heard Dean say, his hands traveling down to his pants to try and conceal the very noticeable boner that had tented. 

Ellie pulled her lips back in a snarl, teeth out in the open as an uncomfortable expression reached her features, skin near the corners of her eyes creasing as she narrowed them in his direction. Men were fucking gross — and the way he sat there, licking his lips hungrily as if he’s made up his mind to go after you tonight  — only furthered that thought into the front of her mind. 

The leather seat dipped slightly when Jesse took the initiative to scoot himself closer to her, leaning down to yell, “Was I right?”

Ellie glanced at him through low eyes as the scent of weed hit her nose, merely shrugging in response before lifting herself and pulling down the ends of her shirt, the cotton material having ridden up. 

Se suddenly found herself staring at the bar a couple of feet away from her, coincidentally landing her green eyes on the dip of your back, the bands on your thong littered with cash still. You looked fucking amazing. Your hair was now bunched up in your right hand as you fanned your neck with the left one, your crimson-painted lips moving quickly as you spoke to the bartender she felt herself loathing after their earlier interaction. If you could even call it that. 

A high-pitched whistle beside her pulled her out of whatever thoughts consumed the spaces of her mind. It was none other than her friend, moving his head to stare at who she’d been eyeing. Finally, he saw you in the crowd of people squished at the bartop, and then his brown eyes moved toward Ellie’s face. He knew she wasn’t going to approach you willingly, even if the desperation to speak to you was written across her face in big, bold, lettering. So, he decided to be the devil — or the angel — on her shoulder. 

“Go talk to her, make a move.” 

Ellie wanted to laugh. The urge bubbled up in her throat like bile, and she let it go. Giving him the most genuine chuckle she’s given him all night, shaking her head from side to side. “I doubt she’s into girls.” 

For some reason, considering that as an option made her mood dampen slightly. Anyone here could see the confidence that exuded from you, it lingered in your sweet perfume when you’d pass by people and she was pretty sure she was falling victim to it.

Shrugging, Jesse let his lips pull into a frown, urging her further. “You don’t know that.” 

That was true, she thought as she shamelessly stared you down, her sweaty palms at her sides as she tried to inconspicuously wipe them on the denim of her jeans. Relenting, she felt her heart quicken as her feet carried her toward where you were standing under the neon lights of the bar. 

You looked even prettier up close, your unique features burning into the part of her brain where long-term memory was, trying to soak you in before you noticed she was there. 

“Did you enjoy the show?” Ellie was a goner. Your voice was sweet and sultry, low with a hint of fatigue weaved in between them as you kept your eyes down, your nails tapping against the glass in front of you. 

Ellie cleared the blockage in her throat before answering. “Uh yeah, it was nice.” 

Licking your lips, you still kept your head low but she could see you staring at her from the corner of your eyes. “You were staring.” 

So you did notice her looking at you, which meant that you were indeed looking at her as you danced flawlessly on stage. At least she wasn’t going crazy. 

Feeling the heat rise in her cheeks for what was the tenth time, she stuttered, trying to look anywhere, the confidence she once had evaporating as your light laughter reached her ears. “Everyone was staring.” She managed to spit, biting the inside of her cheek. 

“I wasn’t looking at everyone else though…” 

This made her smile, slightly bashful that you had said those words to her. Maybe you were just naturally a flirt, seeking thrills on sweet-talking club-goers only to leave them wanting more once you left. Oddly, she decided to entertain you by twisting her neck in your direction, the tattoo on her arm taking all the attention as your eyes burned into the skin peeking from under her jacket. 

You continued, “You stick out like a sore thumb, but it’s okay. I like seeing new faces.” Sliding your glass in her direction, you watched with curiosity as she picked it up, swirling the contents in the glass, ice cubes clinking against each other before she let the rest of it slide down her throat. 

Ellie wasn’t a big drinker and she was sure she’d feel the consequences of her choice in the morning, but being next to you — talking to you, was worth whatever hangover would greet her in the morning. 

Pushing for a conversation, you asked her a question. “So, did your friends drag you here or something.” 

Unbeknownst to you, that was exactly the case which she confirmed by nodding. A dry laugh came from her mouth, causing her to cringe at just how fake it sounded but you didn’t seem to mind. “Uh, yeah, that’s exactly it.” 

You turned your body toward her fully, lifting at the strap of your lacey bra, your breasts moving upward just an inch but it didn’t go unnoticed by Ellie as her eyes landed on your chest for a fraction of a second before she was looking at your face again. 

‘How’d you know.” 

“You look uncomfortable. This isn’t your thing?” 

With that question in mind, Ellie felt the vibration of the music in the soles of her sneaker-clad feet, so loud that her body hummed along with the music, the smell of weed burning the hairs in her nostrils as giggles bounced into her ears. “Not really, it’s my birthday so my friend brought me.” 

Your eyes lit up, pearly white teeth contrasting against the dark tint of your lipstick. “Happy Birthday to you then,” 

Ellie moved her mouth to reply with a small ‘thank you’ but the bartender appeared in front of the both of you before you asked her for a shot which she gave you quicker than she had taken Ellie’s drink order. She watched as you slid it in her direction like previously, a smirk decorating your lips as she made eye contact with you, putting the rim of the shot glass between her lips and letting it snake down her throat, the sensation of the burn causing a sharp intake of breath. 

Goosebumps littered your exposed skin as you felt a sudden dull ache grow between your legs. The tension was bouncing between you, deflecting off of the invisible barrier that loitered, cracking just a tad before you backed away. “I have to go now, but it was nice talking to you…”

“Ellie.” 

Giving her one last smile, you nodded. “I hope I’ll see you around soon.” 

She waved with a hand, lips pursed as you turned on your heels and disappeared behind a metal door labeled ‘staff only’.

Usually, every girl Ellie’s ever had an interaction with ended up with her itching to move away from the situation she dragged herself into, jaw tight and teeth grinding together. It was different this time, probably because it was you. The fact that she had no clue what your name was, intrigued her beyond the point of no return. She found herself stuck on you despite having a conversation that lasted all but five minutes — which felt like thirty seconds. 

Sighing, she made her way back to Jesse and his extremely drunk friends. Dean and Seth were shoving each other like fucking five-year-olds bickering over something stupid, their faces inches apart that Ellie felt like she was intruding on a private matter. 

Sitting down again, Ellie let herself endure the two hours in silence next to Jesse as the night wasted away, more drinks being spilled, annoyance growing. She didn’t know how long she was glued to that seat when she made her way outside the double doors, breathing in the fresh air that she took for granted, sighing as she ran a hand through her short auburn hair, the rings on her fingers clattering together as she did so.

 At this point, it was just nearly three in the morning. The dim street lights illuminated the empty street, the leaves on tree branches swaying with the wind in the direction it whipped in. An occasional leaf swayed to the ground as she sat on the curb, the skin of her palms peeling from the roughness of the concrete. 

“I’m fucking serious, Willow.” Moving her head in the direction of the voice, her heart skipped a beat as you stood there with your jacket in hand. You have changed into more comfortable clothes. Your thong is now replaced by pink sweatpants, baggy as they hang low on your hips, and a tank top in place of your bra. Glancing down at your shoes, she could see the white Nike socks keeping your feet warm from the cold, a pair of slides on your feet. You were arguing with someone, that much was obvious. 

The girl in front of you towered so high, it was almost threatening but you didn’t falter in your stance. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she spoke with malice. “You don’t think I’m not? You can come here and dance half naked for some fucking cash but can’t text me back.” 

You scoffed, clicking your tongue while taking a small step back. “This is my job, I’m obligated to come here.” You gestured toward the club with a finger, wilding pointing before jabbing the same finger into her chest. “I don’t need to text you. You’re not my girlfriend, remember?” 

Licking her lips, the gears turned in Ellie’s brain as she weighed her options. She could intervene, ask what the problem was, be your knight in shining armor — but she decided against it. Her palms grew sweaty once more as she continued to watch the interaction. 

The girl breathed through her nose, nostrils expanding as she took in a deep breath before balling her fists at her side, something you didn’t seem to notice as you stared into her eyes with what could only be described as hatred. 

“Fine, have it your way then.” She walked away, angrily stepping toward her car a couple of feet away from you, opening the door with such force that it nearly broke off. “Don’t expect me to take you back when you come crawling with those fake tears of yours.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving your jacket closer to your chest as you watched her get in her car, tires squealing loudly as she peeled out of the parking lot, leaving tracks on the pavement.

Turning around, you saw Ellie staring at you but still pressed against the curb as you walked over toward her, embarrassment creeping up on you in the form of warm cheeks and pressure behind your eyes. Tears. 

Rubbing at your nose with the back of your hand, you gave her a tight-lipped smile before bending down to join her. “Did you see everything?”

She could see just how embarrassed you were as you pushed the nails on your finger toward your mouth, biting at them nervously. Nodding, she spoke lowly, “Yeah, was that your ex-girlfriend?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nodded curtly. “Sadly,” 

Not knowing what else to say, she just sat there in silence, enjoying the quietness of the outside world with you next to her. The silence wasn’t awkward — quite the opposite as she no longer felt nervous or out of place as a couple of minutes passed, glances to each other being shared throughout. 

Ellie was growing tired, eyes riddled with a hint of sleep and the extended feeling of desperation urged her to take herself home. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she pressed the side button as the screen lit up, the clock on her home screen reading 3:15 am before she turned it back off again. With a yawn, she lifted herself off the curb, stretching her limbs as some of them cracked at the sensation of no longer being hunched over uncomfortably. 

Turning to look down at you, she saw that you were already staring up at her with doe eyes, lips etched into what seemed like a permanent frown. “Do you have a ride home?” The words left her mouth before she could process them and she wanted to smack herself right after. 

Nodding, you jerked your head toward the black double doors, “My friend’s a bouncer, he usually walks me home since I don’t live far.” You don’t know why you said the last part, internally face-palming at the fact that you gave her a slight hint as to where you lived. 

She didn’t know if it was appropriate to ask if she could walk you home. Even thinking about asking you sent her heart racing wildly inside the expanse of her chest. But, tonight was full of risks and she liked to consider herself a risk-taker — so she bit.

“I can walk you if you want.” She spoke quickly, rushing to explain her thought process. “I’m just saying because it’s like three in the morning and -”

You laughed loudly, slapping a hand over your mouth after it had left you. “I’m sorry, I'm just laughing because it’s kind of cute when you ramble.” You expressed, nodding as you rose to stand next to her causing her to scratch the back of her neck before tugging her bottom lip between her teeth. “But yes, I’d appreciate it if you did.” She promised that if she were able to turn into some form of mush, she would’ve in that very moment that you said her name. 

The walk was nice, to Ellie at least, as you talked to her about your job and the other girls that worked there. She listened with interest although she wasn’t a big gossiper, asking you questions about certain things to let you know that she was listening to every word you said, hanging onto them.  She saw how your steps slowed after walking around four blocks before coming to a complete stop in front of a lone door, the redness of the metal sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle of the street. 

All she did was stand there with her hands in her jeans pockets as you fiddled with the knob, wedging your key inside before pushing it open.

“This is me.” You sighed, stepping inside the dark hallway, turning to face her as you leaned your cheek against the cool edge of your front door, fluttering your eyelashes. “Do you want to like… come in and have a drink? I know it’s almost four in the morning, but I feel bad for taking up your offer of walking me home since it’s your birthday and all.” 

Ellie knew that if she declined your offer, she’d find herself on her bed, wishing she had taken you up on your offer for another drink. Like she said earlier, tonight was all about risks. She’d greedily take this one. 

The nod she gave you sent shivers up your spine, her body moving inside your house as a means to shield herself from the chill night air. The temperature difference made her realize just how buzzed she was as she stood in the darkness of what she assumed was your living room. 

From behind her, she could hear the little ‘plink’ of the light switch as you flicked it on, light flooding the room. 

“You can place your coat here if you want.” 

She turned, raising her eyebrows to see what you were talking about until she saw you hang your jacket on a hook near the door, a hand behind you to take hers from her. She shrugged it off quickly before handing it to you, watching as you stood on your toes to hang hers on the hook above the first one hammered into the wall. 

Moving past her into the kitchen, she had no choice but to follow as you lit the room once more, the small island catching her attention immediately due to how messy it was. 

As if you were reading her thoughts, you spoke with some embarrassment in your voice. “I would’ve cleaned up if I knew I was going to be bringing guests over.” 

She eyed the items around the small area before shaking her head. “No, it’s okay, this allows me to scan for conversation topics.” Was it weird that she said that? Well, you didn’t seem to think so as you laughed heartily from your stomach, hands pulling at the fridge handle, browsing at the limited options of liquor. 

“Uh… do you want a shot of tequila or a glass of Rosè?” She heard your muffled question to which she answered quickly. 

“Tequila.”

“Alright, my kind of girl!” You exclaimed happily, setting the bottle down on the island and grabbing two shot glasses from one of your wooden cabinets. 

Twisting the lid off, you poured the liquor into the small glasses which caused her to stand across from you, drunken eyes watching as you handed her one. She took it before staring into your eyes once again, hungrily this time, as you rubbed your thighs together under her gaze. 

The both of you tilted your head back in unison, downing the shot quickly before you waltzed to where she was standing, eyes never leaving hers as you brought your face closer. 

You didn’t know why you did what you did, and neither did she quite frankly as she stood, stiff and with ragged breaths as you closed the small gap between the two of you. She immediately returned the kiss, her back digging into the edge of the island counter, as you pressed against her, grabbing the shirt she was wearing, tugging it with need. 

With a hand snaked around your back, she moved the other to grab the back of your neck, forcing your teeth to clash against hers as her tongue made its way into the deliciousness of your mouth. You moaned, entwining yours around hers wetly, her warm breath mixing with yours. 

She met you all but four hours ago, and here she was, in your house kissing you as if her life depended on it. 

Her hands moved to your ass, squeezing through the material of your sweatpants as hard as she could when you ground your hips against hers, wanting to dissipate the aching throb between your legs. 

Noticing this, Ellie moved her hand to the front of your sweats, fingers dancing down your naval and onto your folds, opening them slightly to rub at your clit. You whined, pressing your forehead against hers with a hand on the nape of her neck, squeezing slightly. The action caused her to rub at your swelling bud even faster, keeping note of the way your face contorted into one of pleasure, your eyes in the back of your head. 

“You like that, hm?” Seeing you like this, your body pressed against hers leaving little to no space to even breathe made her the wettest she’s ever been. 

You only put your head in the crook of her neck as a response, teeth grazing at the skin below her ear as she shuddered, your slick pooling into her hand when a finger entered you, stretching you oh-so deliciously. 

A sob ripped from your throat, your teeth digging into her neck as you bit to keep yourself from being too loud. Ellie couldn’t help the groan that escaped her when she felt you nipping at the base of her neck, stomach tying into knots at the thought of even just getting to fuck you. 

“Oh, my g-god.” You stuttered, paying extra attention to the finger that was moving in and out of you quickly, grinding yourself onto it lower, with such haste that you just had to scream out. 

“C’mon, baby, I know you can say more than that.” She slurred encouragingly into your ear, the hand on your ass pulling you even further into her as she shoved a second finger in without warning. 

“Feels so fuckin’ good.” You were boarding on tipsy at this point, and not just on alcohol, but the feeling of her fingers as they wormed their way back inside you relentlessly. 

You heard her chuckle, “That’s it, that’s right.” 

Her breathing in your ear, chanting praises, the sensation of white heat building up in your stomach became overwhelming as you clenched around her fingers, releasing all your built-up sexual tension. Or so you thought because when Ellie slowly put her fingers that were previously inside you into her mouth and sucked them dry, you went almost animalistic. 

“Sit on the counter.” You purred, eyelashes fluttering at her, your lids low with arousal and drunkenness. 

Ellie wasn’t one to find herself obeying others, especially in sexual situations,  but for some reason, she found herself doing exactly what you said with a slight tint to her cheeks that wasn’t just from the excessive amount of alcohol she had consumed throughout the night. This hangover was gonna be a bitch.

You loomed over her, arms on either side of her, palms pressed against the counter. “Let me taste you.” 

The pattern of her breathing changed, making her chest rise up and down quickly before she uttered something almost incomprehensible to you. “I’m not the one usually receiving.”

The smile that you gave her was devious as your hands toyed with the button of her jeans, “Please?” You found it pathetic at the way you begged her, but you didn’t care, not one bit as she nodded her head, letting you unclasp the button before you tugged them off along with her black briefs, throwing them somewhere in the kitchen to find later. She felt the cool marble of the countertop against her bottom as she grasped at the edge of the counter with her ringed fingers, looking down at you with so much lust behind her eyes that you could’ve just come for the second time right then and there.

“I’m gonna make you feel good.” You hushed, kissing the inside of her thighs with fervor before swiping your tongue over her cunt, lapping at her juices as they leaked onto your tongue. You sucked harshly at her clit causing her to sob once, hands digging into your hair as she ground her hips into your face further.

 “Mhm,” You moaned into her core, feeling her throb against your mouth, tongue flicking quickly at her clit, her arousal mixed with your spit sending her mind to an entirely different planet as her eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. 

You were staring at her the entire time, your arousal wetting the material of your underwear, making them stick to your folds as you shuffled your hips to move into her more, feeling her shake above you. 

“O - oh my god, fuck.” She whined, lip quivering as her legs shook, an orgasm so intense that she grew numb, letting her spend get sucked onto your tongue before you removed yourself, dabbing at the sides of your mouth with a finger. 

Ellie Williams was completely fucked and love-drunk on you, and she didn’t even fucking know you.

#ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou #tlou part 2 #tlou2 #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams

[lovifie]

Darkfic!Gaz, nothing too extreme but this is not loverboy!Gaz, this is more of It-makes-me-want-to-laugh-at-you-when-you-cry!Gaz.

TW: emotional manipulation, a bit of dubcon, mentions of kidnaps

Everyone has a limit, and Gaz is not an exception.

He is still made of meat and bones, and emotions can be tamed but not ignored forever.

Working in the military takes a toll on everybody, both physically and emotionally. And survivor guilt is the worst of them all.

Gaz is back from his last mission, but many of his colleagues won't. Ever again.

Too many casualties.

Too many lives lost.

Too many injured.

And he is fine.

Not even a scratch he could pick at to feel the pain he deserves.

He shouldn't be walking home so freely, dozens of families are about to find out they will never be whole again.

And he is walking home to you, happy to welcome him back as if he was a hero, dinner warm on the table and you talking to him about your day.

As if he would care about how your colleague invited you to a company dinner in a couple of days. People died today, he couldn't care less.

But it seems you cannot get the memo.

“Can you shut the fuck up for a fucking second? Shit! I have been out for months, I just want some fucking quiet time and you keep fucking going on and on about you. How can you be so selfish?! Fuck! Just shut up, for fuck sake!” He says, standing up from the table and dropping his half-eaten dinner on the sink before walking upstairs to the bathroom to shower.

He regrets it the moment the words leave his lips, the hurt look on your face as if he had just hit you. 

It had happened before, the pressure of his work gets too much, he keeps it in, not being able to complain to anyone, until it overfills and in the end you are the one that takes the fall.

He hates himself for it, you are literary the best thing he has, his sweet girl, always willing to take him in, more ways than another, always willing to listen to him, always patient, always kind.

And this is how he repays you, with shouts, sex and apologies. That's the cycle.

He'll get out of the shower and you'll be lying on the sofa, not wanting to share the bed with him, he'll pull you apart and back together on said sofa, and once you are satisfied and pliant he'll take you to bed to sleep on his arms. 

Until it happens again. 

He gets out of the shower, towel around his hips, and goes down to the living room. But you aren't there, his brows furrow; maybe you are picking the blanket from the room. 

So he goes upstairs again, smiling when the room's light is on, and enters; smile quickly dropping when he sees you. 

No. No. No. No.

His stomach sinks when he sees the suitcase open on top of the bed, clothes being thrown inside by you.

He can see the tears in your eyes, but you don't look sad, you look angry. You have never been angry at him, he can't wait to feel it.

“Hey, hey, hey, what are you doing?” He asks stepping closer, closing the suitcase so you can’t put any more clothes in. 

You huff, looking at him with hate and tears in your eyes as you try to move his hand away from the suitcase. “I'm leaving, Kyle” 

No, no, no, you can leave, he needs you, how can you leave him? What will he do without you?

“Why? Love, please, stop, talk to me, please?” He begs, making you throw the t-shirt on your hand to the floor.

“Talk to you?!” You shout at him. “Maybe I should talk to you the way you talk to me, Kyle! Then maybe you would get an idea of how much it hurts!”

He deserves it, he knows he does, but you have never spoken this loudly to him before, and it stirs something inside him. It makes him wonder if he can make you moan as loud, scream his name. 

“I know, love. I'm sorry, I really am. You know that, right? You know that I love you to bits?” He asks, manipulation at his best. But you don't fall for it, you are far too smart to be blinded by his hurt expression. He tries to cup your face, if he can touch you he knows he's got you; but so do you, and you quickly move his hands away from your face.

“If you loved me you wouldn't treat me the way you do, Kyle.” You argue, clever girl you are.

“How can I not love you, dear?” He asks, body moving closer to you. Your hand rests on the middle of his naked chest, keeping him back. It's the back of your hand that touches him, almost as if your palm was too good to touch him. 

Your touch is cold, both literally and figuratively and that makes him start to panic. What if you actually leave? What if he can't fix this before is too late? What if it is too late? 

He needs you, he needs the control he has over you. Everything in his life constantly feels out of control, his superiors barking orders at him, enemies playing with him, and comrades dying on the battlefield without him being able to do anything about it. He needs to feel he is in control of something, even if that something is a someone and even if that someone is you.

He still pushes closer, the heat from his body pooling into the coldness of your touch. He resists the urge to smile satisfied with how your body betrays you. Kyle does love you, even if it is in an unfair, distorted and macabre way. And he knows you love him, in a genuine, comforting and undeserving way. 

His hands manage to get to your face, pushing his face forward to kiss your cheek. Baby steps.

“C’mon, love. I'm sorry, please. I won't do it again, I promise. I'll work on it, I promise I never intended to hurt you. I'm sorry, it's the job, I promise. I love you, darling. I really do.” He says, as he drops kisses on your face, lowering to your jaw and the moment he reaches your neck, he smiles, hidden from your eyes, knowing he is keeping you once more. 

Shouts, sex and apologies. That's the cycle.

“Kyle…” You protest, your hand still on his chest and some fight still in you, but he can work it out of you. 

“I'm sorry, dear. I'll treat you better, I promise. As good as you deserve, I promise.” He has you against his chest now, and he feels your hand slowly turning on his chest; your palm much warmer against his skin. 

He sucks on your neck making you whimper and he needs every bit of self-restraint not to laugh at you, not to laugh at how easy it was. He shouldn't have gotten nervous, he’s got you eating out of his hands.

The part of his brain that is still human, that tells him that you are still human starts to talk to his dismay. He knows it! He perfectly knows that he is a monster for how he treats you, that you should be with someone a hundred times better, such a sweet girl stuck together with such a horrible man.

But one of the many traits that make him such a horrible man is how egoistic he is, so he will keep you, even if you don't want to. He'll keep pushing you away and locking the doors so you can't run. Tomorrow he'll burn the suitcase, he is not letting you get this far ever again. 

A glimmer of guilt sits at the bottom of his stomach, a useless feeling. It only means he needs to get inside of you soon, fill himself with the love he so little deserves and fill yourself with empty lies of eternal love.

He grips your thighs, urging you to jump on his hips. You resist for a second too long and he slaps your asscheek making you jump with a whimper.

“I'm gonna make you feel good, love. I'm sorry. I'll make it worth it, I promise.” He says, still biting your neck. The towel around his hips falls at some point, not that he cares; it would get in the way anyway. Just as much as your clothes are, he doesn't bother to let you back on the floor to take them off. He simply grabs the material and rips it on your crotch leaving your cunt exposed. 

He is still standing, he doesn't want you to be able to rely on any support, he wants you to feel that if you don't grab him you'll fall, he wants you to need him just as much as he needs you. He slips his hand behind you, getting a finger inside of you making you whimper as you hide your face on his neck; clinging onto him and he loves it. 

This is how he wants you, desperate for him. Just like he is for you. At his disposal, just for him.

He can feel the wetness dripping down his fingers, he knows he should add more fingers before sinking you on his dick, but he wants to feel you stretch around his dick, moulding yourself just for him, shaping your insides only for him.

You bite his shoulder when he does and he smiles, loving it, he needs it. He needs the pain you inflict on him when he is like this, the bites on his shoulders, the scratches on his back, the kicks on his lower back, all of it. He deserves, he deserves much more. You could sink a knife into his shoulder, cut him to his hip dragging the blade and he would still feel you need to do more.

He is so horrible to you, he knows he hurts you, and he wishes you could hurt him back, let him know what is like. But you never do, because you are too good to hurt the man you love and it only makes him want you to hurt him more. 

He grabs your hips hard, making you bounce on his dick, the room filling with your moans and the sound of skin slapping on skin. There are no more thoughts inside his head, already forgetting the faces of those men who died today, already forgetting their names. This is why he needs you, it would consume him alive if it wasn't for you. He needs you.

You cling to him, moaning his name, you mind forgetting his harsh words already only being able to focus on the way his dick is hitting so deep inside of you. 

He makes sure to go round after round, his seed spilling out of you making him grunt. He should get you pregnant, stuck with him for real that way, forever.

It's only when you can no longer talk that he gets in the bed with you, hugging you tightly, too afraid you'll think about leaving again. 

It's usually at this point he can finally relax, go to sleep and forget about the nightmares his days have been.

But a new nightmare arises when he says, “I love you” and you answer “I know”.

Tomorrow, he is burning your suitcase and he is tying you to the bed. Enough playing around with him, he is here, and you don't need to go anywhere. 

Shouts, sex and apologies. That's the cycle.

And that will remain the same.

Whether you want it or not.

This was my first try at writing something more dark-ish. I'm not really sure if it even classifies as it, but. I hope you guys enjoy it anyway 🩷🩷

@waiting-so-long this is what you have done to me. I don't know if this fits the vision you had but I hope you enjoy it my dear! 🩷🩷

@sgtgarricks here you have it as well, wait no more 🩷🩷

T-List: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @glocuseguardian3rd @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @lunari0 @dukeofjjune @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @dilara-del @multifandomheathenannie @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago   @tooloudarts

#call of duty #cod x reader #cod #task force 141 #call of duty x reader #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #task force 141 x reader #141 x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz #gaz fanfic #gaz imagine #call of duty imagine #kyle gaz x reader #kyle garrick #cod smut #call of duty smut #kyle gaz smut

[wizardrousactivity]

The Rat, Dead Dog. 

The Rat, Dead Dog. 

“I’ve told you, it’s not me-” — You were trained to never fall under pressure, your pleas falling under his deaf ears. Another cut to your calf when he doesn’t hear you forthwith giving up the information, it doesn’t matter how desperate you sound, nobody is here to save you anymore. They can’t trust you anymore. 

He’s trying to convince himself he doesn’t feel bad, that he’s only doing his friends a favor. Getting rid of you for good - dispensing with the waste of the world, which unfortunately had to be you, didn’t it? The only person that he thought he could trust, you bewitched him. The mask had slipped off because of you, the imperfections were perfected because of you. Now it’s only a cold shoulder - if he’d even give you that. “Give us the fucking information,” The use of your moniker is the way he’d gain your sultry glare. 

You’ve been beaten and battered for days by Simon, and it still feels like months the longer his torture traverses. The metal of the chair you sit on starting to turn red with gore. You fear to lose yourself, if not for the keen rage that fumes, revenge written on its blemishes. “I don’t have the information you want.” You never thought you’d be in such a position with him, a foolish hound falling victim to your framing.  

It’s surprising you weren’t immediately cut off with another lash, the gash he’s continuously spread starting to reach your bone, you dread the stinging of your flesh, held back by a grunted-sob.  For only a second you see his gaze soften with emotion he lacked, like he truly wanted to believe you, and by-god did he wish to - in the event that the threads didn’t lead to you. He swallows. 

There’s too much evidence against you, and his team. His own pathetic feelings aren’t worth the risk of keeping you around, he doesn't think he could handle having you captive with them for long, holding a rat that was dressed up with a story just to use them, use him after everything that happened. The sight would haunt him if you weren’t gone, the weight of his loved one turning out to be a spy, living in a room on base.

The depravity of reality sets on him now, painfully dawning on him. 

He needs to dispose you. For everybody’s sake. 

His hand white-knuckles around the knife, your chest tightens while the behemoth starts to stand to his full stature - an unpredictable mongrel you can only imagine what is coming next, his dilating pupils trembling as he looks at you with terror. The task of your murder would save his mates, and eat him from the inside once he was finished. If there is no information you have to spout - you are better useful dead to them, they could get it themselves. “Simon..” There's no response from him. You are not needed anymore. Don’t make it painful. 

Yet you’re saved by the bell, his head turning as the call from the mohawk is made. Shouting for his arrival with urgency. You only look to the floor as footsteps echo, signifying his leave for the day. "Fuck you."

The gashes in your legs have pooled themselves and made home around your feet, cold air running along the insides of your flesh, and you shudder against your constraints - the feeling is enough to make you nauseous with the sensory you experience. There’s nothing for you to throw up anyway, if there was, it would be your intestines. 

Your heart cinches, as you sit there with the thought of having to live with the fact you’ve been framed, then to die known as the rat in 141, that’s all you’ll ever be now. You’re just another damaged dog, you’ve joined their cult of forever deprecating. Their muffled banter plays beside your ear as you weep.

You’ve accepted that your funeral won’t be made, that nobody will ever honor your death or mourn during it.

#call of duty #cod angst #cod x reader #simon riley angst #cod simon riley #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #does it hurt?

[chososdiscordkitten]

Toji Zenin In Bed.

Pairing: Toji x Afab!reader Content: No plot, just porn. use of doll, baby, prone bone, choking (?), oral (F&M), fingering(F), established relationship, implied multiple rounds, just overall how I think he throws down.

(a.n) one of my favorites out of the how jjk men fuck, personally.

MDNI

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Prep with Toji was something you thought you had to ask for- thinking that he’d fuck you not caring if it hurt. But if you were in a relationship- he'd prep you even if you didn't ask. So he would, ‘for your sake’ he’d say. Toji would let out feigned groans of annoyance. Almost treating it as a chore at times. But when he got into it- he'd make sure you were well stretched to take him. As impatient as I think he’d be, he'd still find the patience to tease you.

Toji preferred to eat you out, lazily lapping at your clit as your hands threatened to pull his hair. “You asked for this-” he’d mumble against you with a smile, taking a thick finger and circling the tip against your entrance. Feeling your fingers press harshly against his scalp, “Fuckkk-” with a drawn moan you looked down. Mouth agape as he pressed his middle finger into you, slowly working it back and forth. 

Not even licking faster against your clit, he made you squirm from a few sloppy opened mouth licks. With furrowed eyebrows you bucked your cunt up to his mouth- hoping he'd grant you the decency of being nice. Only for him to pull away from your cunt, making you let out a small whine, “And you call me impatient.” he’d smile before wrapping his lips around your clit. Blinking his eyes closed as his finger made small pumps inside of you.

Making sure you were close- thighs threatening to push against the sides of his head, face churned in pure pleasure, your hands gripping tightly on his hair. All you needed was one push before you were crushed with the waves of an orgasm. But Toji being well- Toji, he pulled his mouth from your clit- making your back unarch and an exaggerated groan leave your lips. Making him look up at you with a pie eating grin- happy to edge you if you kept being a brat.

“You're so mean~” you'd pout, feeling him press sloppy kisses to the plush of your thighs, “You like when I’m mean.” he retorted, sinking his teeth onto the skin of your thigh. The teasing smile on your lips falling when he pressed his mouth back to your clit, slipping his middle finger from your cunt and pressing it to the neighboring one- feeling one of the hands on his head brush strands of charcoal colored hair from his brow bone. Admiring the sight of the brutish man between your thighs.

And when Toji was feeling nice- he'd let you cum. And cum, again and again. Isn't that what you wanted? Relishing the feeling of your cunt gushing onto his chin, scissoring his fingers to be sure you wouldn't complain of it hurting later.  

Toji rarely asks for you to blow him- not seeing the point in it. Once again showing that impatience. He knew why he had to prep you- but there was no need for you to make a mess of your lips just for his own pleasure.

But when you’d offer- when you'd crawl between his knees as he watched a game, pouting eyes looking up at his scary figure. Roaming hands on his thighs, making him look down at you- all but asking ‘what d'ya want.’ with a cocked brow- All he needed to see was that little smile you gave him, and that glimmer in your eye and he knew you wanted something to suck on.

So he’d offer his fingers first- trailing his calloused thumb on your bottom lip. Dragging it down slightly, parting your lips to invite him, wrapping your plump lips around his thumb and sucking lightly. Making him watch you with a focused gaze, pulling your lips from his thumb, pressing light kisses to the side of his pointer finger. His lips parted as he watched you- “Aren't you a doll.” he scoffed; almost in disbelief, seeing you press a kiss to the tips of his middle and pointer finger. 

Tongue poking out a bit from your lips as you pressed the tips of his fingers to it. Taking his other hand and gently palming his twitching cock in his sweats. Making you suck on his thick fingers with even more excitement. Your greedy hand landing atop his- urging him to hurry.

Toji would gladly let his cock harden in your mouth- “You want it so bad?” he'd say, pulling out the semi that formed in his sweats by just looking at you. Not even tilting his head down to look at you now- he watched you with flickering eyes from the tv back to you. Toji liked to pretend your mouth didn't make him feel much. Not wanting to give you the satisfaction of knowing he could cum from just your mouth.

Oh but when your hand would caress his heavy balls full of what you were looking for- and greedily suck his fat tip? Toji couldn't help but reward you with a few grunts, muttering small curses as his head threatened to tip back onto the couch. “That's it baby-” is all you needed to hear from him to keep going, swirling your tongue around his tip as you eased yourself down his shaft. Wanting him to cum into your throat instead of making a mess. 

Various low moans and muttered praises fueled the need to make him cum. And with a sinister smile- cock deep in your throat ignoring the brimming tears in your eyes, his balls contorting in your palm as louder groans slipped from his lips. You felt small dribbles of his seed trickle down your throat. Fucked out expression on your face as Toji looked down to you- Letting out a huff with a smile, seeing your throat gulp. Drinking all the seed he gave you- 

And just to be sure, as your lips dragged up his shaft, satisfied hums from Toji’s lips as your lips halted at the edge of his tip. Tongue pushing against the small v below it. Humming as your lips sucked harshly. Making him to hiss at your greedy tongue, low eyes looking at you as his hips threatened to buck back into your throat. Biting his lip as you let his tip pop from your lips, smiling as your hand pushed his shaft to your cheek. Feeling it pulse against you, “Tsk- So greedy.” he hummed, trying to feign annoyance at your need to please him.

His favorite position would be prone bone. No debate there, he liked being able to cage you into one place, having easy access to your neck. Never hesitating to sink his teeth into the delicate skin on your shoulder. Toji liked the position so much that doggy would be an easy segway into putting you into that position. 

What he liked most was how deep he was able to fuck you, pillow holding your hips up at the perfect angle. Dripping cunt making him let out a breathless sigh. He liked pulling your neck up, making your back arch harshly. The tip of his cock pressing against your entrance, everything inside of him telling him to bottom out immediately. But the sight of your flushed expression, eyebrows pinched as you awaited him, always made him want to be nice to you.

So as he scanned your face, his lips would part- harsh hand holding you up by your throat. A smirk would creep onto the corner of his scarred lip. Hips slowly rolling into you- making a choked whine fall from your lips at the stretch. Knowing it would feel worse if he had taken any less time to prep you.

Toji tries to be gentle for you- but again. That impatience rears its ugly head at him and makes that man shiver. 

A few slow rolls of his hips is all the kindness he could muster in those moments. With a low gulp he dragged his fat cock from your cunt, choked moans forced from your strained throat as your eyes rolled to the back of your skull. You saw small blurs in your vision when his hips snapped against your ass. 

Your hand that tried aiding the strain on your torso reached up to grab his wrist. Feeling his tip nuzzled deep inside of you, using the bed to his advantage. Bouncing his cock in and out of you shallowly, making sure to angle his hips to the spot he knew you liked him to pay so much attention to. The slapping of his hips against your ass making a smile form on your face from how filthy they sounded. Toji leaned his head down beside yours, lips curled into a cruel smile as his unforgiving cock made your eyes twist to different directions. “You like it that much baby?” he mindlessly huffed, feeling your cunt squeeze around him at the heat invading your ear. With clenched teeth you managed to open your eyes, looking up at the ceiling hazily. ‘Yesyesyes-’ you whined through clenched teeth, without permission and babbled sure. But you wanted him to know he was doing a stellar job.

He isn't much for dirty talk- but he let out a few grunts in the sound of curses when he was close. Thankful that you couldn't see his unfurrowed eyebrows and scrunched nose. “F-fuck-” he huffed with a low groan, the quick pace he took stuttering against your skin- and your whines and breathy moans didn’t help.

Toji’s eyes fluttered closed, straightening his back as he focused on trying to keep a steady pace. Only for your other hand to reach back to him, cracking his eyes open- his blush spreading on his chest as he let out heavy breaths. Taking the hand that was on your hip and grasping onto your reaching hand, holding it tightly was all he needed to feel himself succumb to the wave crashing through his body. 

Sloppy imprecise thrusts as he fucked his cum deeper into you. The hand on your throat easing up, allowing you to let out satisfied hums as he rode himself down. With one last deep stroke Toji’s hips relaxed, inhaling deeply as he pulled his softening cock from you. Lazy eyes looking down at your back, releasing your neck from his rough hand and tossing himself beside you. 

Pulling you to turn over on his chest as he closed his eyes. Feeling your breathy lips brush against his chest, pressing small kisses to his plentiful pecs. Aftershocks trembling through his body in small waves, coming close to drifting off to sleep but he felt you staring. Blinking open his eyes unknowing how much time had passed. Seeing you look at him with a glimmer in your eye. 

Toji huffed, “Again?” he asked with feigned annoyance. Knowing you all too well. A sinister smile creeping on your lips as he sighed. You only placed an opened mouth hiss to his sternum, “I can't keep up with you-” he smiled, enjoying the idea that you couldn't get enough of him.

-

this has been in my drafts for an unforgivable amount of time. I can't just let this collect dust.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #fushiguro toji #jujutsu toji #toji zenin #jjk toji #toji x you #toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji fushigro x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu sorcerer #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen fanart #jjk art #jjk fanart #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk toji smut #jjk toji x reader #jjk toji fushiguro #jjk toji zenin #dilf toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin x reader #toji zenin x you

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Perfect Score - Epilogue | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: months have passed since the finals with no sign of Aemond, making you wonder if anything has changed | Word Count: 6k~ | Warnings below the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: p in v sex, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), degradation, praise, *a finger in the bum*, butt play, ass eating, orgasm denial, creampie, ass slapping, pussy slapping, face slapping

A/N: *don't get emosh, don't get emosh, don't get emosh* I can't believe it's really REALLY the end! I've had this idea for the Epilogue for AGES and can't wait for you all to read the last instalment of our figure skating couple <3 would die for them and hope you enjoy!

"Good, but bend your knees!" You shout to El who's still got her hands outstretched haphazardly, wobbling on the ice as others whizz past her, knocking her off balance.

She throws a middle finger.

Charming.

You laugh as she pushes off to do another lap, reaching down between your legs for the bag and pulling your phone out for any new texts.

Nothing, you sigh.

El makes you jump, bumping into the ledge, "Will you stop being a simp and checking your phone every two seconds? He's going to text you!"

You click your phone off, "I know. I'm just so impatientttt…" you whine, exaggerating your frustration.

El rolls her eyes, "He'll get in, bud"

"Ew, don't call me that"

"Besides, if he gets rejected, he could always be your new manager, pal" she grins.

"You're so fucking gross, you know that?"

She shrugs, a grin that spells victory, "that'd be kinda hot to be fair. Going everywhere with you to competitions, organising your hotel rooms, fucking you over his des-"

"El! For fucks sake" you whisper-shout, heat rising to your cheeks.

A few other skaters on the ice turn their heads in judgment, making your face burn with embarrassment.

"Gods, so uptight" El jokes, a mischievous grin on her face.

To tell the truth. You missed Aemond. In all aspects.

You hadn't had sex since being in Dorne. And you hadn't seen him since the hospital.

Even though you texted most days, after months of seeing him everyday, it was quite the shock to the system.

It felt like there was a hole, conveniently Aemond-shaped, that was deepening the longer you two were separated.

"Oof!"

You both look up, to see Floris on the ice, wobbling her way back onto her feet, grimacing, "I'm ok!" She reassures, pushing off to skate slowly.

You nod in Floris' direction, "Is she okay skating?"

"Yeah, the physiotherapist said it'd be good to get her doing things like this again" El replies, looking over her shoulder at her sister.

She turns back to you, "Your manager doesn't hang around here anymore. Not since Floris has started coming back".

You resist the urge to frown.

Coward.

“Got you”, El smirks mischievously, "will you tell me what happened one day?"

It was something you’d thought about for some time. To tell her, or not? Floris certainly didn’t know the deeper details, but you knew she would have had suspicions.

Aemond was obviously unbothered if such information circulated, having put a very large proverbial wall between him and Otto the moment he was discharged from hospital. And yet, it still wouldn’t feel right, airing out all the Targaryen dirty laundry like that.

Even if he said it was okay.

But maybe, on a deeper level, Floris and El at least, deserved the truth.

"One day" you promise.

The cold winter chill nips at your bones, even through the layers of thermal clothing you've got piled on, the thick socks, boots and an overcoat, it still feels positively freezing.

“Who are you texting, missy?” you tease, bumping El on the shoulder, shoving your hands into your thick coat pockets.

She flushes, from the weather or the embarrassment you are unsure, but she puts her phone away quickly, “Nobody, you nosy cow”

King's Landing Winter Wonderland, Christmas Market and trinket shops, though it's far too early for any of that, it gets the people into the spirit. Stalls line the market square with several of them selling holiday related items as well as food, with an ice rink circling the entirety of the perimeter.

The air smells of mulled wine, cooked meats and the laughter of families and couples alike. With their warm breath creating clouds of white with each exhale.

El has you excitedly tucked into her arm, telling you all about her newest boyfriend, who for all intents and purposes is both hot and a keeper.

Ah, so that’s who she was talking to.

"He's already talking about us moving in together! Before the end of the year" She says excitedly, but her face falls, "but…I don't want to leave you in the lurch paying the rent by yourself".

You scoff, "I won't take you away from good dick because of fucking rent" you smirk, "if you want to, go for it".

She arches her eyebrows in uncertainty, "You sure?"

You pat her gloved hand with yours, "very", you smile, "as long as he doesn't steal you away from me, I want the lowdown".

"Oh you'll get that alright", she laughs.

Having poked your heads into a few stalls, and several sips of mulled wine later, you smirk as El is glued to her phone. Again.

"That your man?" You ask.

She quickly puts it away, biting her lip, "Yup" she replies, "wanna go skating?"

You roll your eyes, "It's not like it's my fucking job, El. Sick of it".

"Oh come on! I won't have to use the kids stabilisers anymore!"

She gives you her wide, puppy-like eyes.

Ones you know you can't refuse.

"Fine" you sigh.

She is far too excited to say that literally a few hours before she was struggling to use her two flippers to stay upright on the rink. Nevermind going backwards.

It’s quite entertaining to see her drag you by the hand excitedly to the ticket gate.

“One ticket for skating, please! Size 5!” she beams at the receptionist, who looks like he’d rather be dead right now.

You furrow your brows, “One? Did you want to go on by yourself and I watch or-”

“Nope! Just you” she grins.

“Me? El, what in seven hells are you on abou-”

She shoves the skates into your hands and practically pushes you past the gate, waving you off, “no questions!”

You don’t even really have time to cuss her out/question the situation, it feels like your brain is in overdrive.

There, either hand leaning against the entrance to the ice rink, where the public are zipping around slowly, laughing, pink in the face, hand in hand, is Aemond. The familiar ribbons of platinum hair that have fallen from the hair tie, now slightly waved from the moisture in the air, sways with the breeze at his shoulders.

He has that slack smirk on his face, his tall broad form leaning on one side, ankles crossed with the low quality skates on, tapping the tip onto the ice.

Even in a heavy looking coat, his hair messily done up and pink cheeks from where the cold had been hitting them, he still looks every bit as handsome as you remembered him.

It makes your heart sigh to see him smile at you with that glimmer in his eye. Blinking slowly and admiringly at you.

"Hey, Princess", he greets warmly.

You almost drop the skates in your hands, the cold wisps of wind making you realise now that your eyes are all wet.

You're sure his name slips out before you crash into his arms, flinging yours around his neck.

He smells just like he used to.

And all those good memories just flood back at once, making that wetness behind your eyes form actual teardrops that line your cheeks.

You feel him laugh a little, one of his big hands on your back, "missed me then?", he prods in a smooth tone.

Fuck. His voice.

You didn't realise you'd missed hearing it so much.

When you pull away, to properly look at his face, he's still smiling, in that classic 'Aemond' way.

You're so engrossed with just looking at him, you nearly flinch when you feel his thumb wipe your under eye softly, wiping the moisture away.

His gaze softens, "don't cry. I don't look that bad, do I?"

Giving a watery laugh, you shake your head, "Just missed you".

His hand is still around your waist, inadvertently pulling you close to him so your hands hover over his chest, "Now, now, don't get all soft on me".

Your cheeks hurt from smiling.

"How?.."

Aemond gestures with his head, "El organised it".

"But…she's-"

"With her new boyfriend, don't worry. It's just us, princess" Aemond smiles, picking up the skates you'd dropped.

"For old time's sake?" He smiles.

And all you can do is blush and smile up at him like a little lovesick teenager.

It feels utterly strange to get back on the ice with Aemond again, even if it is a public one in the middle of a Christmas market. Even more so that he's not flinging you around in all sorts of twists and jumps.

But it feels nice.

Hand in gloved hand, you glide about together, catching up.

Alicent, you learn, has gotten back in touch with her long time friend. Aemond furrows his brows when he recollects that usually she's on facetime with a glass of Dornish Red in one hand and creasing up in front of her iPad at something her friend has said.

Aegon. Well, he's Aegon. Aemond's words, not yours. But he's working on getting a teaching qualification so that he can coach skating instead. It's nice that he was able to find something to use his skills for. Other than womanising.

"Had minor surgery on my nerves…they think it'll do the trick for some years, hopefully forever" he says as you weave on either foot.

"Well that's good" you smile, "does it feel better?"

He nods, "Oh and Hel has a new partner".

You look over quickly, one eyebrow poised, "And? Was I right?"

Smirking, Aemond has to resist the urge to roll his eye, "Yes, you were right".

"Yes! I knew it! I knew she was bi!"

You flush when some families around you look over when you shout it a bit too loud.

Oops.

Aemond tugs you to his side by your waist, humming in a kind of quiet laugh. A comfortable silence descends, just enjoying one another's company.

"I got in", he says suddenly. Stealing your attention again as your feet synchronise in short glides.

"Got in?"

"KLU".

"KLU? Oh my god-" you surge up, his face between your hands, but he doesn't complain, and kiss him fiercely, "Congratulations, Aemond. Oh my gosh, that's-"

You beam with pride.

And you can tell he genuinely loves it, by the way he blushes slightly.

"And" he goes on, his face close to yours, smirking at the confused look on your face.

"And?..."

He licks his lips before he speaks.

"I got a place" he adds, "and was wondering…if you…"

He trails off. And your face settles into realisation. Your heart hammering in your chest, like the engine of an old train.

He shrugs, clearing his throat, “You know, because we basically spent all our time together during the championships…”

You swallow thickly, "Really?..." it comes out weaker than you intended.

He nods, “It’s just out of town, not far from here really” he gestures in the vague direction with his head, the hand that’s resting at your waist dropping somewhat.

Blinking the emotion from your eyes, you swat his chest playfully, “Alright, Mr Moneybags”

He doesn’t laugh, like you expect him to, but he does smile at least. At this point, you seem to have come to a stop, your skates nestled between his to keep you both stable.

His darkened gaze just looks at your face. Studies it.

Like he’s opened a book and is reading through the pages.

When he looks at you like that, you can’t help but feel a flutter deep in your chest. It feels like he is drawing on you softly, like a thousand little butterflies have landed on your face, and are slowly opening and closing their wings.

You shudder when his warm, ungloved thumb brushes against your cheek.

“What?...” you smile at him affectionately.

He hums, a cloud escaping his lips as he speaks, “I’ve missed you”.

All you feel is the ledge of the ice rink press against your lower back and yours and Aemond’s noses brushing against one another as he presses his warm, comforting lips to yours.

He takes his time, moving languidly against your lips with a soft, wet beat, his tongue parting your lips as if he had been waiting all this time to taste you properly.

He tastes just as you remember.

A hint of cigarettes that he’s tried to hide with spearmint.

When you break away, you can’t ignore the warm feeling that blooms in your gut. In all the time you’d spent apart, you forgot how his lips felt on yours, how his hands felt on you, and how his mere presence around you made arousal creep up your thighs.

Gods, it’s been so long.

A blush creeps up your neck to your face, and Aemond smirks.

“Stop that”

Your lower lip catches between your teeth before you reply, “What?”

He leans against the ledge, caging you in with his own body.

“Blushing”

His voice lowers.

“Otherwise I’ll give you something to blush about”

The tension was thick as you and Aemond trudged through the Christmas Market after vacating the ice rink. You tried to lighten it by doing idle things like looking at the homemade ornaments on one stand, to sharing a cup of mulled wine between you, feeling the way the liquid warmed your insides.

That warmth was nothing compared to the way Aemond looked at you.

It reminded you of all those months ago, at the hotel, before the dynamic of your relationship changed. The way he used to stare at you from across the room, in what you wrongly thought at the time was out of disinterest and detest.

How wrong you were.

Shooting off a quick text to El, who you were sure was already back at the flat anyway, enjoying all the ‘assets’ of her new boyfriend, you walk hand in hand with Aemond back to his apartment.

He was very intent on showing you his new place. And your insides fluttered in anticipation, heat crawling up your neck.

His apartment was nice. Not that you expected any less. It was several floors high, showing a good view of King’s Landing and the bright, illuminated Christmas Market in the square below. Even from here, through the tall and wide windows of the living room, you could see the couples zipping around the ice rink, as you both were just a few moments before.

It had that ‘new apartment’ smell, but whenever you brushed past a coat of his or a blanket, it smelled like him. The walls were bare, but you were sure that Aemond would decorate when he was properly settled.

“Is Vhagar going to be coming here?” you ask, cupping the warm mug of tea in your hands as Aemond gives it to you.

“Maybe. She’s quite settled at Mum’s though so…I don’t want to make her anxious”.

You nod, “It’s a nice place”

“Will look even better when you’re here” he smirks, bending down to huff himself onto the sofa, “I’m sure you have better ideas than I do on interior design”.

You simply watch him for a moment, the warmth of his apartment making your previously cold hands feel prickly. Your fingers tap against the ceramic, the sound of Aemond’s playlist rumbling quietly from a speaker in a different room.

Placing the mug on the coffee table, Aemond exhales as your legs rest either side of his torso, moving to sit atop him with your hands stealing beneath his shirt, watching as his pink lips part for breath.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, princess” he murmurs against your lips as he leans up, his large hands squeezing your ass, moulding the flesh to his grip and eliciting a low gasp from your lips.

"Who says it's a game?" You whisper back, teasing him by brushing your lips against his, moving your hips on him and smiling when you feel him harden instantly.

" - fuck - "

You know he hates it, just hates it, when you smirk at how pent up and desperate he gets. But you just can't help it. Not only is it all too easy, it's just too fucking tempting too.

How easily such a large, overbearing and domineering man, can be subdued to a mewling, near-begging mess just by the soft movement of your hips.

"Baby, please -"

Reaching down between your bodies, Aemond outright moans when you palm his erection through his jeans, sitting against his thigh quite obviously. You tease your hand from the base to the tip, squeezing through the denim, seeing the way Aemond almost knits his brows together in barely-contained pleasure.

And any time he tries to reach up, to kiss you properly, you pull back, allowing him to chase you.

"Oh, fuck you-"

You yelp in surprise as Aemond lifts you, keeping your legs around his waist as he pushes his bedroom door open and dropping you onto his mattress. And before you even have a moment to sit up on your elbows, he's on you, kneeing your legs apart and caging you to the bed with his body.

"Can't fucking wait any longer - need you, baby-"

Fuck, even the way he says that has arousal pooling between your legs, the desire to push your thighs together strong, but weakened with Aemond's body keeping them apart.

He's so fast and rough, the way he unbuttons your jeans and pulls the denim down your legs, taking your underwear with it, that you feel for a moment he may have torn something.

He practically fucking growls when he he looks between you, his thumb teasing your clit, finally able to look upon you the way he's wanted to for months.

"Already soaked for me, aren't you?" He coos lowly, teasing your bud in sure, confident circles, before swatting your heat firmly with a wet smack, "such a good fucking slut for me".

You mewl, pressing your lips together, a flush enveloping your face at his words. It's been so long since you were intimate with him, it will take a few moments to get used to it again and fall into that rhythm.

That, and you can't help but flush in embarrassment at the realisation you've not shaved your legs, genuinely not having expected to see him today.

It doesn't seem like Aemond cares.

With a fist over the collar of his shirt, he pulls it over his head, showing his lean and well-muscled torso lit with a warm amber glow from the bedside lamp.

You jolt in surprise as his fingers pull you by your thighs further down the bed, a gasp flying past your lips as his tongue and teeth nip and kiss at the inside of them. The sensation bordering on pain and pleasure at the same time.

"You don't know how long I've waited to taste your sweet pussy, princess"

You have an idea, by the way Aemond mouths at the crease between your thigh and hip. But you don't say it out loud. The anticipation of his mouth so, so close without touching you where you need him most is agonising.

" - fuck - Aemond -"

Your back nearly arches off the bed as he flattens his tongue against your warmth, swirling around your clit first before diving into your folds to feast on you, his fingers digging into your flesh for leverage. The feeling of his grip into your flesh burns pleasantly as he tugs you towards him, your lips parting with hurried pants tumbling out.

Your legs tremble as his low moan vibrates through your core, electricity creeping up your spine as he laps at you with vigour, his sharp nose nudging at your clit as he moves side to side to eventually fuck you with his tongue.

For a split second, you worry if he can actually breathe.

But as your embarrassingly quick orgasm starts barrelling towards you without warning, it somehow gets pushed to the back of your mind, you reach down, threading your fingers through his hair, chanting his name as if it’s all you can say as he groans against your cunt.

His hands hold you down by your thighs, tugging you back to his mouth in soft micro-movements as you shake against him, head thrown back against the pillows with your breath hot in your chest, unable to catch it well enough to form any other sound than moaning unabashedly.

Aemond outright moans as you cum against his tongue, the lewd sound of him licking up everything that comes out makes a heat creep up your neck. But you can’t find it within yourself to be embarrassed. Not when he makes you feel like this.

You can feel the moisture on his face when he takes mercy, drawing his lips away to kiss and nip at the inside of your thighs again, giving one firm bite before he pulls away with a smirk on his face, no doubt happy at the mark he’s left behind.

Your eyes feel heavy as you lift your gaze to him, now perched on his knees as he pops the buttons of his jeans off, the veins on the back of his hand straining, making you feel somewhat lightheaded.

“ - can’t wait to fuck you again - you don’t know how long I’ve wanted be buried inside that pretty little pussy -”

You lick your lips as your mouth goes dry. He always manages to do that. Somehow turn you into a limp, mewling mess in no time at all.

Something you have in common, clearly.

With your heart beating erratically, body throbbing in the afterglow of your orgasm, that feeling is enhanced still when Aemond tugs at his length needily, his shoulders rising and falling with the desire to just stuff himself inside you as deep as he will go.

You can only watch in awe as his fingers wrap around himself, the tip ruddy and desperate, with arousal coating it with every slow and calculated fist. His stomach muscles clench and unclench uncontrollably, his chest muscles moving steadily with each deep breath.

It feels exciting, how utterly small you feel when he leans over you, once again grasping your legs to spread them before him. His long, thick fingers tease your slick folds, before he guides the fat head of his cock to your centre, watching with parted lips at the way your eyebrows furrow in both relief and pleasure as he stretches you around him slowly.

“ - ohfuck - ”, he moans lowly, sinking himself slowly into your warmth and basking in the closeness it offers, “ - fuck, baby, so tight for me -”

Being with him like this again is like sinking into a warm bath, with the rolls of steam batting at your face. And his words are so soft, they’re like dozens of little snowflakes settling on your face in a flurry. All cold and numb, and yet warm and fuzzy at the same time.

It’s completely instinctual, the way you turn your head, slightly embarrassed as Aemond holds either of your legs apart, his pelvis smacking against yours as he eases himself into a steady rhythm.

“ -aw, don’t tell me you’ve gone all shy on me -” he mocks, his eye glimmering with mischief as he looks down at you, “-where’s the needy, little slut I used to know, hm? -”

You gasp as Aemond pushes both hands down, pressing both of your legs towards your shoulders, bending at the knee so that he can kneel higher, using the new position with gravity to fuck down into you faster and rougher.

The new position has you pretzeled before him, completely unable to do anything but throw your head back against the pillows and turn bright red at the wanton, breathy moans that slip out.

“ -Aemond -”

“ - what’s wrong, baby? -” he coos, “ -is this too much for you? Hm? I know you’re more flexible than this -”

Fuck.

Each rough push of his length into you from this angle has the curved head of his cock brush against your sweet spot with devastating precision. With every thrust, the air seems to expel forcefully from your lungs, not helped in part by the fact that Aemond has your legs pressed hard against your ribs.

All you’re able to see through bleary eyes is the way he smirks down at you with his hair stuck to his tacky face, his chest heaving with hurried breath, and every now and then, his neck muscles straining as he tips his head back and groans loudly as you inadvertently squeeze his length when he bullies the end of you.

The air is charged, hot and humid. And you barely register the fact that music is still playing in another room, and that the curtains are pulled back. Though there’s no chance of anyone being able to see you both from how high his apartment is, it still makes your insides tighten that it’s happening so unabashedly with the city right below you.

His hand drifts down your thigh, watching as you squirm beneath him as he presses hard on your stomach, your eyes closing tightly at the feeling of him closing you around his length as it pistons roughly into you. He smiles slightly, almost as if he can feel how deep he reaches inside you.

“ -Oh fuck, baby - can fucking feel you gripping me -” he moans helplessly, leaning over, the sweat on his forehead slightly illuminated by the warm lamp’s light, “-does my girl like being a dirty little slut?”

You barely even register he’s speaking, everything sounding utterly muffled and just too much all at once. His low voice only serves to make that coil wind tighter in your gut, reacting to the way he never lets up his pace once.

You jolt slightly when he taps your cheek twice, a little rougher than you’d anticipated.

“ -I’m fucking talking to you -” he growls, moving his hand from your stomach up to bunch the shirt in his fist, exposing your pebbled nipples to the warmth of the room.

You nod helplessly, “Yes - yes -”

It’s all mindless babbling, and Aemond knows it as he grins, his eye flitting down to watch the way your breasts bounce as he fucks you.

“ -please, Aemond -”

“ -please what, hm? You want to cum, is that it? But you’re too fucked stupid to say it?”

As much as you hate to admit it, his words send a bolt of humiliation through you that does nothing but excite you, your core throbbing around his length with every calculated word he says.

"Aw, poor thing -" he jeers, "- I'm going to have fun with you-"

Wait what?

This isn't said 'fun'?

Oh shit.

Before that familiar coil can wind itself any tighter, Aemond pulls back, grunting as he manhandles your hips to turn you over and his palm cracking against your backside, smirking in victory at the mewl it gets out of you.

The skin there blooms with warmth, more so as Aemond’s tantalisingly hot skin presses against it once more, your lips parting in what can only described as a relieved moan as he slides into you again, his cockhead hitting the spongey end, filling you utterly.

"-Aemo-"

Smack.

"Not my fucking name, Princess. C'mon, you can do it" he purred, pressing his hand against your back, pushing against your spine and forcing your face against the sheets.

A choked moan almost slips out, with him tugging your hips up to him in such a curved position, his cockhead bullies your sweet spot, dragging his length along your sensitive walls, propelling you to an overwhelming orgasm.

"Go on - beg me for it or I won't let you cum-"

The idea of him denying you yet again when you were so close last time just seems utterly unbearable. So despite the humiliation rocking through your core with each harsh smack of his hips, despite the overwhelming heat of the room and most of all, despite your pride.

You do.

"Please - daddy - need it-"

If you could see him, you'd hate it.

Because he grins. Ear to fucking ear like he's wanted to hear it for months.

"Aren't you gonna beg me for permission to touch yourself?"

You suck in a breath, squealing muffled against the sheets as he gives another hard thrust. Clearly, despite appearances, on the verge himself.

"-can I - can I touch myself - please, daddy -"

"-fuck- baby, touch that little clit for me, yeah? - want to feel you cum-"

His voice is strained, pushing you with each thrust further and further against the sheets, your arms near giving out with the weight of him on you. With difficulty, your hand snakes between you and the mattress that constantly dips with how rough Aemond is being, and finds your bud, running the slickness that has collected over it, tying up your pleasure into two feelings.

Aemond’s lips part, staggered breaths the only thing coming out, as he feels your walls flutter around him, looking down at the way your bodies meet with a soft smack every time. You feel so warm and tight, gods he’s wanted to cum since since you started touching him through his jeans.

But now, pulling you by your hips to spear you onto his cock, he’s so so close.

Just wants to feel you first.

“-baby, you’re doing so well for me-” he breathes quickly, his gaze flitting briefly from where he’s pistoning in and out of you, to your sweat slick face, pressed against the sheets, biting your lips harshly as you pleasure yourself in tandem with Aemond’s movements.

As his hand slid down past your hips, his thumb tracing the bottom of your spine, you suck in a harsh breath when he softly grazes over your puckered hole, still fucking shallowly as if to tease you and him into teetering on the edge of a climax.

You're barely able to see behind you, pressed so hard into the sheets, but he looks good fucking you. His chest shines with perspiration, the chain dangling around his neck teasingly, and his abdominal muscles clenching and unclenching with restraint.

And then you see him smile.

"-oh? We've never done this before have we, princess?-"

Oh shit.

After all the exertion of your passion so far, your slick has easily made its way onto your thighs, so Aemond doesn't have to move much to drag some of it on his thumb and circle your hole with light, delicate motions, moistening the area.

Humiliation creeps up onto your face, eyes slipping shut. No guy before has ever really tried to do this. So this is uncharted territory. But despite the brief embarrassment, you have to admit that the feeling of Aemond ever so slightly pressing his thumb against you as he continues to thrust brutally into your cunt just feels new in the most amazing way.

His other hand still grabs the flesh of your ass, tugging you back to his cock in a frantic rhythm. The mewls coming out your mouth now sounding so unlike your own.

Aemond knows by the way your hips move up to meet his touch that you like it, but are too embarrassed to say.

"-how about it, hm? - you want me in both your pretty little fuckholes? -"

"-yes - yes, please daddy, I-"

Making sure his thumb is slick enough, your puckered hole also, he slides in slowly, using the palm of his hand to grasp whatever of your ass cheeks as he can.

You almost hear his choked moan.

"-fuck-, you're so tight here, princess - you gonna let me fuck it one day, hm? - you'd be so fucking good here-"

The batting of his cock against your upper walls has you very nearly sobbing outwardly, combined with the feeling of him in such a new place, pressing in, you'd forgotten you'd stopped pleasuring yourself. Completely embroiled in this feeling.

He chuckles darkly, crooking the digit ever so slightly, leaning over to press against your back "-you'd fucking let me as well, wouldn't you? -"

The curling of his other fingers on the flesh of your backside has him smiling at the sounds it emits from you.

“-did I say stop, hm? Keep touching yourself - cum for me-”

You know that as soon as you do it’s all over.

His voice, combined with all three feelings at once, tugging at that pleasurable spot inside you that has white, hot pleasure soaring through your bloodstream, has a long, choked moan filling the space between you. And you’re surprised to hear that the same sound slips past Aemond’s lips as well, the air of his breath batting against your neck as he tries to bury himself as deep inside you as he possibly can.

You’re trying to suck in breath without really realising it, the earth-shattering orgasm making your body go all rigid for a moment before you relax against the sheets, with the pleasant weight of him above you.

Everything feels warm. His bedroom right now feeling like a large blanket has enveloped you both. It seems a weird thing to think in the moment, with Aemond’s half naked body hunched over you, his cock twitching and pulsing, whimpering as he is still emptying himself inside of you and feeling the aftershocks through your fleshy walls.

All his micro-movements seem overly-sensitive. And when Aemond exhales, lifting himself off your back, lifting your lids to open your eyes feels like the most difficult thing you’ve ever done.

“-sorry-” he whispers cautiously as he pulls his softening cock from you, immediately feeling the warm rush of cum coating your inner thighs.

Warmth blossoms once again to your cheeks as he stays still, and you think he must be staring at the way he leaks from you, sighing in a sort of perverted admiration.

You don’t even have time to open your mouth before his thumb slips out your other hole, only to jolt in shock once it’s immediately replaced by his tongue. All those dulled out endorphins that were dissipating into your limbs feel like they all gather back, and you squeeze your thighs together, fisting the bedsheets so tightly they could’ve torn.

Both of his hands seem to find their home on each asscheek, spreading them so he can easily swirl his talented wet, muscle around your hole, fucking moaning as he does it. All your nerves ring semi-uncomfortably, overstimulation nipping at the edges of the pleasure.

“-fuck, Aemond, no no, please-” you plead, emitting a weary, exhausted laugh when he chuckles and pulls away, landing one softened smack against the flesh.

“-Mm- another time-”

Lethargy pulls at your body as you lay on your front, blinking slowly as you feel the mattress rise, pressing your lips together as Aemond disappears into the en-suite, tucking himself back into his jeans.

A moment later, he comes back with a warm washcloth, offering to clean you up. But you simply smile, pushing yourself to sit up, “I’m good”, you smile, with a flushed face, feeling slightly bashful after what you’d just done together.

One long shower together later, you lay in his bed, looking out at the city beneath, the cascade of brightly coloured lights littering the dark space between buildings. Aemond’s shirt easily reaches to your thighs, with nothing beneath, not having anticipated staying over anywhere today.

Aemond sighs calmly, his chin on the top of your head, pressed against your back, with one of his hands running through the tresses of your hair, every now and then stroking at your scalp, which has your eyes slipping shut at the pleasant feeling.

“Well, princess? Do you like it?” he asks, his voice all soft and tired.

You meet his lilac gaze, tilting your head slightly in question.

“The apartment”.

“It’s perfect”, you smile, reaching up his cheek and running the back of your fingers over it, the scar tissue feeling slightly different in texture over your skin, “you sure you want me to move in?”

He blinks slowly, a smile rising to his lips, his hand coming to yours and pressing a soft, tender kiss to your wrist. And though not directly sexual, it makes your belly do little backflips, feeling so intimate and captivating that warmth floods your skin through his lips.

“Of course, princess. I can't do this without you”.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard | @bellstwd | @blairfox04 | @hb8301 | @jamespotterismydaddy | @mochi-rose | @nenelysian | @natty2017 | @randomdragonfires | @risefallrise | @theoneeyedprince | @thelittleswanao3 | @tsujifreya | @urmomsgirlfriend1 | @valeskafics | @watercolorskyy

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep | @boofy1998

#aemond #aemond fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond smut #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #aemond x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemomd targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fan fic #aemond targaryen fan fiction #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfic #modern!aemond x reader #modern!aemond targaryen #modern!aemond smut #modern!aemond targaryen x reader #modern!aemond #modern!aemond x you #modern!aemond x fem!reader #a perfect score #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters

[shanastoryteller]

HAPPY VALENTINES!!!!! Draco and wizarding politics please?

a continuation of 1

He makes consistent use of his office at the ministry because cultivating and maintaining relationships from the manor is difficult. Not impossible, as his father did it for decades, but he had his mother to plan and charm and grease the way through her own relationships and get-togethers. Draco has only himself and if he throws too many luncheons and parties on his own behalf, he looks like a man of leisure, which if he his parents were still running the manor might be something he'd be able to work to his advantage - Blaise is doing it beautifully - but current circumstances require him to show his hand a little more transparently.

Unfortunately, the downside of deliberately making himself available and approachable is that people feel comfortable approaching him.

His office door is always slightly cracked unless he's meeting with someone, which provides ample eavesdropping opportunities and leads to people strolling in whenever they have something to discuss.

"Draco!"

He looks up and his smile drops as his eyes narrow. She's never that happy to see him.

Susan Bones drops into the chair across from his desk, a grin on her face that has him double checking the corners of the room. "I heard Harry is courting you."

He closes the door with a wave of his hand, using too much force because his door slams shut with a bang that makes him wince. He never slams his door. He's blaming it on Susan in the next casual conversation he has in the breakroom. "Don't spread rumors."

"What rumors? I heard it from Hermione," she says.

The problem is if he kills Granger, no one will believe it wasn't ideologically motivated, which will really cause a backslide in all the progress he's made with his reputation. "Granger is regressing to her favorite childhood pastime. Making my life difficult."

"Think you're getting that a little backwards there," Susan says, leaning back and resting her feet on the edge of his desk. "I think it's a good thing. Merlin knows Harry's a fucking wreck when it comes to politics, he needs someone to help him out."

He deeply wishes they didn't have so much policy in common. "Agreed, but that person isn't going to be me. Perhaps he'd like to have a gamble with probably thousands of people desperate for the opportunity?"

"They'll lie to him," Susan says. "You've never bothered."

Well, he doesn't think that's something he should be punished for. "I don't see how that makes any difference when he doesn't listen to anyone anyway."

Susan snorts and then levels a finger in his direction. "That's exactly what I'm talking about."

For fuck's sake. "Did you have something important to discuss or are you just here to irritate me?"

"I'm multitasking," she says. "Did you read Rosewood's proposal?"

"Unfortunately," he sighs.

It's too bad that Potter has a moral center. He'd be willing to give some advice for an unlawful arrest or two, but he's just not that lucky.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #harry potter

[insanermin]

and still i answer your call when she doesn't answer at all

pairing: ellie x fem!reader

warnings: toxic relationship, no nsfw, mentions of vomit, reader is stupid, soft ellie, curse words, not proof read, will never proof read im so sorry

word count: 1,3k

summary: you find yourself at ellie's place again after you fought with your girlfriend, not a first. or; you don't realise that ellie has loved you for a long time now.

it's probably past midnight but nothing matters anymore. blurred vision, narrow path, broken streetlights. thoughts fleet your mind as cars drive past, your heartbeat picking up the pace.

why on earth were you in a relationship when all you did was fight, get insulted and humiliated?

for god's sake, this is the third time this month you walked down this road, sobbing. your screen lights up, the brightness gives you a headache after all this crying. you ignore it, because you feel like your bones would give up any second if you chose to concentrate on something else.

pacing through her living room, ellie checks her phone twice, even thrice, but no new message yet.

'need me to come pick you up?' delivered.

just about when she made up her mind to get dressed and pick you up, the door rings. sighing in relieve, ellie opens the door, while taking a look back, making sure everything's in place. blanket on couch? check. water and snacks? plenty. tissues? ready to be used. she hears the heavy footsteps that belong to none other than you, nervousness starts to creep up on the nape of her neck. even though you've been friends for a year or two, ellie can't help but feel nervous around you and she'd never been able to ignore it. and there you are, mascara smudged, flushed cheeks and a red nose. but it wasn't the only redness ellie was concerned about. her eyes wander down to the bouquet of red roses your holding upside down.

oh, someone fucked up big time, ellie thinks to herself.

but before anything, she pulls you into a hug, mumbling a 'you okay?' into your hair. it's ridiculous how she could still ask this while seeing your swollen from crying face, but you still shake your head. however, you know that she cares immensely about you, otherwise you wouldn't be at her place at 2 am. her arms are no longer around you and she takes the bouquet from your hand and puts it on a coffee table. you take off your jacket, throw it to your left while you let yourself sink into the couch. ellie has watched your every step carefully, she's scared you might faint right in front of her because you've lost all colour in your face. a lot of time has passed sitting in silence, until ellie decides to speak up. she seems to hesitate, her eyebrows furrowed.

"so, what happened today?" she asks carefully, placing her hand on your thigh. you look at her hand placement, then at her. the way she looks at you makes you wish that your girlfriend ever looked at you like this, with so much care. you take a deep breath, then decide it's best to tell your friend what happened.

"i told her she should stop talking to her ex, i saw her ex text her 'i miss you' the other day," you say, feeling your tears swell up. ellie returns a soft 'mhm' signalising that she's listening.

"and then today, she bought me these flowers to apologise, but when she apologised, she fucking said her name instead of mine," you watch ellie gasp in shock, passing you some tissues as tears start to stream down your face.

"then we argued, she said she can't help but think about her, i told her i'd leave and then she started to insult me, threatened me even and i couldn't take it anymore," you spare ellie the details because you don't want her to worry too much, you know that she worries a lot about you.

ellie looks at you, pours in some water for you, all in silence. it confuses you because usually, she'd be much more talkative but today, something is different about her. if you weren't so upset about your own situation you would've asked, however you don't have the strength.

you drink some water, put it back on the table and as soon as your hands were free, ellie pulls you back and lays your head on her chest. you've needed this. you needed some comfort, comfort your girlfriend couldn't give you. you feel ellie's chest rise as she sighs.

"fuck, you don't even like roses..." she mutters disappointed, which surprises you. how did she know? when did you tell her? but her stroking your head seems to make you forget everything, objectively speaking, her big and rough hands had a nice feeling to them, they make you feel protected. you're in no position though to think about this, ellie is just a friend and you're in a relationship. and only now you realise that ellie has prepared all your favorite snacks, ready to be eaten just for you. how often have you been here? you know that ellie hates all of them, but still, they're here just for you. this isn't good, you need to stop thinking, you need this silence to end.

"want to watch something?" you ask, ellie nods. she picks up the tv remote, turns the tv on and stands up. you look at her confused, she holds out her hand, telling you to wait. you sit back, watching her silhouette. has her body always looked this good? you can appreciate when someone's attractive, so this means nothing. she squats in front of the tv, searching through the mini tv cabinet. a triumphant 'aha!' emerges from the front, ellie turns around to you, holding madagascar 2. you honestly don't feel like laughing at all, but you can't help but giggle a little.

"what the fuck, why do you have this?" you question, squinting your eyes to check if it's really that what you think it is.

"we talked about it once—" she's back to squatting, putting the dvd in,

"—and you said you really liked this movie back then—" ellie comes back to the couch, looking up to her sure is an interesting view. objectively speaking.

"—so last week i was on a flea market and saw they had this movie, it made me think of you," ellie says, her arm around you again, pulling you close to her. two things: why are her arms so big and she thought of you?

"wish my girlfriend was a little more like you," you say while leaning your head against her shoulder. a little more like her. for fuck's sake, ellie doesn't know how much longer she can do this. watch you suffer, watch you cry, watch you completely look the other way. you haven't left ellie's mind ever the two of you started talking. at first she thought she was just excited to have a new friend, but the more often you laid in her arms, the more her feelings grew. and she hated to see you hurt like this, when she knew that you could have her. it doesn't even stop there, because how come you wish for your girlfriend to be like her when she is literally there? how come you see all the things she does for you, but never questioned its intentions? fuck, she'd never make you cry or leave her place in the middle of the night, she'd talk it through, she would...

but what are would have's when ellie knows your blinded by the way you're hurting, you'd never see ellie the way she sees you. she'd stop the world for you but until you realise that the world would start spinning again. fuck your girlfriend, she didn't even know you hated roses, she doesn't know you the way ellie does. in fact, fuck her so much, because the last time she made you cry, you started puking and ellie was there the whole time, held your hair up, rubbed your back, washed your face, carried you back to her bed, made you some tea and even tucked you in bed. if she only could speak the way her actions do, her pouring her heart out would've been long overdue.

"i'd treat you so much better than her..." ellie whispers into your hair, but you've fallen asleep in her arms long ago.

a/n: sorry it took me so long to post, also BRYSON TILLER WILL BE ON TOUR OH MY GOD all credits to bryson tiller when i listen to his songs i think about ellie <333 anyway inspo was 'no longer friends' bryson tiller.

#ellie #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us 2 #ellie x fem!reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie one shot #ellie fluff #ellie angst #ellie fanfic #ellie fic #writing #lesbian

[unsaidace]

Y’know what, we’re going full swing for the unhinged BoBs today, I don’t give a shit anymore. I’m seeing people trying to spin Ryan’s latest interview again, and I’m actually sick of it. They pushed me away from a ship I loved because of their incessant ramblings about “comphet” and “couch theory”, I’m fucking done.

Ryan has told y’all multiple times now that Eddie is a straight man. Oliver has told you that they’re not doing the “queer man in love with his straight best friend” angle. Tim has told you that Bucktommy is “a romcom for Buck”. JLH has told y’all to let it go, and she was the OG captain of this ship. That should tell you something, but no. You lot have to keep banging on about “oh, they’re just throwing out red herrings, it’s coming, I can feel it!” and “Bucktommy bones!”. You’ve been feeling it for six seasons now. It still hasn’t happened. Give it a fucking rest.

You’re taking BTS pictures of the cast hanging out on set, literally not even in character, and spinning stories about “oh, Tommy isn’t even interested in Buck, look how far apart they are” and “Buck and Eddie touching shoulders again — Buddie canon S8”. I don’t know how many times y’all need to be fucking told before it sinks in, but I swear to God, if you don’t open your ears and listen for once instead of only hearing what you wanna hear? I’m gonna start throwing shit directly at your faces.

Bucktommys are just trying to enjoy our CANON ship, and some of you lot are consistently trying to ruin it for us with your FANON one. You don’t like Tommy, fine, nobody said you had to. Literally fucking nobody. But that doesn’t mean you get to use your ship to trample all over ours because you’re so deluded that you really think you’re going to get Buddie in season 8 when, from all signs so far, Tommy will still be Buck’s love interest/possibly official boyfriend, and Eddie will still be two-timing Marisol with Kim. I hate to burst your bubble, but here’s a newsflash for you all — you’re not getting Buddie next season. Ship it in fanon all you want, but for the sake of literally everyone else’s sanity, stop trying to influence the fucking show with it.

#911 abc #911 season 7 #911 season 7 spoilers #Ace Rants 🗣️ #new rant tag cuz this shit’s just gonna keep coming #yes this is bitchy and mean. do i give a singular solitary flying fuck? no.

[livingemkayde]

ch iv. tacit

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter four of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. love triangle forming formed. lots of angst, miscommunications. very brief mentions of sexual situations. age gap, reader is 23 and joel is 35. Tommy is 30. (ages of all characters and plot do not follow canon strictly for the story’s sake).

summary: tommy miller 'accidentally' sets joel up on a blind date on your night out. you're definitely not happy about it, and neither is joel.

a/n: tried something kinda new with this chapter. Been feeling like my writing as a whole lowkey gives bare bones considering all my edits and things i cut out so i tried to keep most of my ideas, just refined them more. ~ THIS SYMBOL REPRESENTS POV CHANGE. Really trying to rein in the idea that they’re fucking terrible at communicating and they interpret situations differently (but differently in such a similar way). If yall liked this please lmk. and dont worry things will get better in the next chapter (i already have half of it written).

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“I did good, didn’t I?”  What the fuck. “What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair.  “She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.”  “You invited her?” you ask, your voice small. “Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.” 

“Are you serious?” you almost want to hit Joel upside the head. 

He just nods, raising his beer to you and chugging down a good portion of it. 

“God. You’re kidding, right?” You turn back to Tommy. 

“Sorry, baby. Dead serious.” 

“Jesus,” you shake your head, tipping back the remainder of your second drink. 

Tommy’s birthday. On Sunday. As in like, two days from now, and you had no clue, not until this very moment, the two brothers staring back at you like they don’t see the issue with this. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“‘M tellin’ you now?” Tommy laughs. You shove him playfully. 

“Well, we have to throw you a party,” you announce, shaking your head at the thought that maybe, if Joel didn’t say anything, you wouldn’t have known about Tommy’s birthday at all. 

“No, I don’t think —” 

“No excuses,” you say, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a shy smile. “Joel and I will take care of it. Right?” you look over at him, but he stares back with wide eyes. 

He stutters out words, trying to give an excuse, but doesn’t get very far. 

“Joel and I will throw you a party,” you say, giving Joel a teasing look. “You gotta up my pay, Miller.” 

“In your dreams, I pay you plenty. And Sarah’s an angel — I’m basically paying you to sit around and hang out.” 

“‘S hard work,” you chuckle, the boys laugh. “Can we use your backyard, Joel?” 

“Why.” 

“You have a pool…and a barbecue…and a lawn.” 

“Jesus. ‘S like y’all don’t own houses.” 

“Great! Party at Joel’s,” you smile at him, teasing almost — flirting. But you reel it in at Tommy’s voice. 

They start talking about something regarding the current state of Joel’s backyard and you get lost in the conversation, itching to approach the bar and get another drink. 

Your phone buzzes, it’s Olivia calling. You excuse yourself and make a quick break outside. 

“Hello?” 

Hey babe, so how’s it going? Am I interrupting anything??

You roll your eyes. 

“Liv, c’mon. Tommy is here with us,” you say into the phone, peering back at the brothers perched on a high table through the window. 

Ugh. Fucking buzzkill. So you’re not gonna make a move tonight? 

“Jesus. No — no.” 

Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me. 

“If I get some alone time with him then maybe we’ll — talk about it. I guess…” you look back to them again. Joel’s eyes catch yours and you turn around quickly. 

“I dunno though. Tommy’s being clingy.” 

He’s always clingy. Sneak Joel into the bathroom, maybe y'all can go for round two.

“Liv!” you chastise, your cheeks heat at the thought. 

Keep me posted. And have fun, girl. 

“I will, thanks. Love you, bye.” 

Love you, bye. 

You hang up, rubbing your hands on your upper arms to shield yourself from the cold. You need another drink desperately. 

You walk back in. The roaring crowd meets your ears immediately. Dim string lights and a couple shots in and things had been going — good. 

Relatively good. The best you could hope for out of your Friday night out with the boys. 

Joel isn’t being an ass and Tommy is relatively chill so things have been good. It’s fun being out with them. Especially when Tommy might be too distracted by the crowd to see you staring at Joel — the way his biceps stretch the cotton of his t-shirt. The way his lips curl around his glass. The glint in his eyes when he laughs. And you know for certain, Tommy doesn’t notice Joel’s hand resting on your thigh for a couple, fleeting seconds every so often.

You approach the bar and ask for another drink. You’re not sure where you stand with Joel, you two haven’t been afforded much alone time since the phone call. But things might finally feel good. Especially between the brothers. 

Maybe it had been way too good — way too calm — because something always had to fuck everything up — and this was that moment. 

A long legged blonde walks through the double doors like a scene out of a movie. Somewhere deep down in the teenage part of your psyche, you want to say her clothes are ill-fitting, her lipstick — a garish shade of mauve, her hair — coarse and utterly damaged. But it’s not. She’s none of those things. 

She's perfect.

It's been two days since the incident on the phone. Joel and Tommy have been sort of MIA with a big part of their project — coming back home late, when Sarah’s already asleep. You got your car fixed (all on your own) so you leave them with some leftovers on the table as soon as they get back. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” 

Joel had said when you pointed out the food on the table last night. You recall everyone’s eyes widening, the pet name slipping from his lips with ease. It sounded like butter to your ears — fighting the urge to smile a mile wide and kiss him like you’ve been begging to do since the day you met. But you knew Tommy noticed, you all noticed. Joel brushed it off with a cough, saying something about how it had been a particularly rough day. 

Tommy didn’t say much about it. But he wasn’t acting strange which was good. Even tonight, he’s still acting himself — it’s a bit of a relief. 

Even now, when surprisingly, Tommy stands and greets the woman, pulling her into a hug. Joel stands too, though he looks a bit confused.

You stare at them from the bar, Tommy says something to Joel, obviously introducing the blonde to him. Joel’s face contorts into recognition at the name, maybe Tommy has mentioned her before. 

You don’t even notice the bartender placing your drink down in front of you, abandoning it and beelining towards them. The drink sweats on the bartop, alone. Forgotten. 

“Why don’t you go with Joel?” Tommy says, ushering her towards Joel’s side. “Grab her a drink?”

You look up at Joel in passing, the blonde on his other side, you try to keep your face normal, but a look slithers onto your brow. He knows exactly what you’re trying to say. 

What the fuck?

His eyes scrunch for a half second, saying, I don’t know, either and stalks away with the blonde. You watch them leave, but Tommy’s voice snaps you out of your trance, a heavy arm braces itself over your shoulder as you both watch them approach the bar. 

“I did good, didn’t I?” 

What the fuck.

“What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair. 

“She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.” 

“You invited her?” you ask, your voice small.

“Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.” 

Joel looks — you don’t really know what he looks like. He doesn’t look completely uninterested, but you can spot the glint in his eye a million miles away. And when he lacks it too, like right now. 

But maybe you like to imagine what his eyes look like — just for you. How you can feel his glances from across a room, how his eyes meet yours through a crowded bar and never let go. Like a string attaches your irises and pulls you, locked together, forever. 

It doesn’t seem like he’s looking at her like that but you’re beginning to realize you know nothing of what these boys might do. 

It’s not like Joel owes you anything in this moment — and you’re not asking him. You know what he has to do to save both of your asses from Tommy’s precise, unwavering eyes, and he’s doing it. He’s strong — but you’re not sure if you’ve got that kind of fight in you. To let him go, with wandering eyes and wandering, delicate fingers braced all over his body. Maybe this is how he feels — no — now you’re certain your feelings match Joel’s in those fleeting moments when he catches you with Tommy. 

It leaves you feeling sick. Guilty? Sure. Sad? Oh, definitely. 

Jealous? Yeah. That one. 

Even if it might be unrightfully so. But you keep it down the best you can. 

“You think they look good together?” Tommy says from the table now. You don’t remember him moving. 

“Yeah,” you reply in a soft voice. 

He clears his throat when you stare at them for too long. 

“Yeah,” you say again, louder, when you turn to him. He smiles back. 

“‘S what I thought, too.” he throws some trail mix into his mouth. “Think she might be good for him.” 

“Good for him,” you echo, absentmindedly. The only thing you can think about — and look at, for that matter — is the way her manicured fingers brush over his arm, and how he doesn’t push them away. 

Good for him.  

She seems good for him. Maybe all he needs is a bobbing blonde bimbo in his life. Something to brighten up his day. You thought you were good for him. Thought you were good for his life. Thought you were good for everyone. 

But when he laughs a bit — you can’t help but wonder: what do you think you know anymore? 

“You alright?” 

You snap your head to Tommy again. 

You feel like crying but you bite back the desperate tears. 

“Yeah,” you say, the feeling in your throat rising with your reply, and even more so with the next. “‘M fine.” 

You watch the bartender set a drink down in front of the unnamed woman and she accepts it graciously. The pair begins to walk back, she’s close to Joel’s side. You bite your tongue, whipping out your phone instead to sneak Olivia a sad, solemn text.

You look down, the tears pooling to the front of your eye, momentarily blurring your vision like someone just released a flash bomb in the bar — maybe an ambush — this certainly feels like one. 

You can’t really read the legibility of your writing, knowing it's littered with typos, your thumbs moving faster than your mind —  saying something about a woman and Joel and almost regrettably because of how in the moment you are right now — how fucking stupid Tommy Miller is — even though you know this is far from his fault. 

The pair stands before you. The woman smiles down at you — your body failing to stand until Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, ushering you up to your feet. 

Why is everything coming out of Tommy’s mouth muffled to your ears? 

Maybe Joel can see the unshed tears in your eyes, but he stops the introduction on its head — the pity clear in his voice. That you can hear. The honey-rich, southern — homey — sound of his drawl punching through the sound barrier of stupid teenage hurt feelings and childish jealousy wrapped around you like a blanket—

“You alright, sweetheart?” 

There it is again. That fucking pet name that holds you in a vice grip, sends shooting electricity down your spine, makes you want to scream out to the entire bar — please — please. Just stop this bullshit, end it. Press rewind to five minutes ago when things seemed to be going good and make this — fucking please — make this stop. 

But you don’t say that. The tears recede at his voice, you smile up at him like a scene rehearsed and then back to the blonde. She stares at you, her brow a bit cocked and at his words — you know this is far from the acting normal you and Joel unspokenly try to adhere to. Even in the worst circumstances — like this one. 

“Yeah,” you brush him off quickly, he moves to speak but you cut him off, a surprisingly cool tone braced on your lips. 

“Nice to meet you,” you smile, taking her hand, telling her your name. “Tommy said you’re his neighbor?” 

“Yeah that’s right,” she laughs. “Quite the handyman.” 

“I try my best,” Tommy jests from beside you. She laughs. 

“Caroline,” she finishes with, dropping your hand. You smile back. 

She’s pretty, and nice, and fucking funny and you want to be so fucking mean to her because she’s got her hands all over Joel and she’s insanely gorgeous but you know better. You like to think you're far from your teenage years — even if you feel like you’re drowning in your numbers. 

You can see her better in this light. 

A lump in your throat forms because what’s even worse than her being pretty is that she looks older. 

More like Tommy — more like Joel. 

More age appropriate. 

Less like you. 

“So what do you do?” Caroline says as you all sit. 

“Oh. I’m Joel’s nanny—” you stifle an awkward laugh. You’ve never said that out loud. 

“Joel needs a nanny?” she bites back with a witty smirk on her face. Everyone laughs. 

“I’m Sarah’s babysitter, just got my bachelors in May though,” you laugh back. She nods. 

“What did you study?” 

“English.” 

“Ah. English. Remember those days.” 

“What do you do?” 

“I’m a journalist. Work for some company no one cares about, blah blah blah. You get it,” she says, sipping on her drink. 

Great. Journalist. 

“Do you like it?” Tommy asks from beside you. You get lost in her words, not really hearing anything besides how she's better and farther along in a similar field as you. 

You mumble something to Tommy about how you need another drink, hopping to the bar when everyone settles into the conversation. 

Like clockwork, you can feel Joel’s eyes on you, tracking you across the bar and when you slip further into the crowd. 

You push through to get to the bathroom but when you arrive, you freeze. 

How could you be so stupid? 

You’re surprised the door to that bathroom doesn’t show your fingerprints and scratch marks from the other side. You remember it being nicer than it currently stands before you. A small smile finds its way to your lips at the thought. Everything seems to fade when you think about that night — when you think about how Joel makes you feel. 

But you can’t go back in. That would be setting yourself up for the ultimate failure. Disqualifying you from the race because of a faulty start. 

You push into the next bathroom, some ways down the small hallway. 

The door shuts behind you, a rumbling tune plays through the walls of the bathroom, shaking the mirror and ruining the look you try to get at yourself. You can almost see the fatal flaw written on your face through the rippling glass: the thought that this would ever work out between you and Joel. 

~

The woman beside Joel keeps touching him. 

It’s not that it bothers him, particularly. It’s just that he can feel her wanting need pulse off her body like a fire alarm. The thought that he might look her way now is comical. Especially when you slip towards the bathroom. The same fucking bathroom all those weeks ago. Like it’s been sitting here waiting for the two of you to get inside and let hell break loose. 

But it stares at Joel and bites back with teeth and fangs when you slip inside. Normally a smirk or even a wide smile would be wedged on his face from the implication. Follow me inside, tell me what you’re thinking with your actions, not words. Pin me up against the wall, let me say your name. Let me tell you I’m yours. But everything about right now screams the opposite of That Night. 

It’s different this time. Instead, he can feel the sadness at your greeting and the look in your eye that followed. 

Tommy is such a fucking idiot.

 Joel’s always known there was a temper on Tommy since they were young. And there has always been that godforsaken sibling rivalry because Tommy turned out to be a good man. And as Joel reasons with himself — maybe Tommy is a better man than he is because all Joel wants to do is follow you into the bathroom, see if you’re alright, ask you to forget about this nonsense and just stay with him. Don’t let this push you to Tommy. Don’t let this ruin everything that’s been building. 

Maybe that makes him a bad man for wanting. But maybe it also makes him a good man for not following through. 

He can’t even drink anymore. The light beers are clearing from his head, but honestly, he was dead sober at the sight of you with unshed tears in your eyes. 

But when you emerge from the bathroom like nothing is wrong, Joel falters. He isn’t sure what to do when you request a drink from the bar — and he isn’t sure what to do when it turns out to be a shot, you down it in one gulp and don’t ask for a chaser. 

Maybe you want it to hurt. 

It’s the first indication that something — anything — is wrong. And Joel would wager a million on what that something is. 

Joel thought it had been clear the night of the dinner at his house. He thought his silent words snuck into Tommy’s brain enough to send a clear signal. Back off, dude. 

But apparently it didn’t. Because this woman is sitting next to him, and her hand rests on his knee now. And she keeps snaking her fingers through to rest on his bicep. And he’s just about had enough. 

“You should come. Right, Joel?” 

“Huh,” he pushes out, looking back to his brother. 

“To my party?” 

It’s almost like Tommy is pleading with him. And he’s not sure what to say. Of course he doesn’t want her to come. But it’s Tommy’s party and the kick under the table from Tommy’s boot forces the words out of his mouth even though he wants to say the opposite. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Tommy gives him a look. Joel knows this woman — Caroline — is nice. Hell, she might’ve even caught his eye if he wasn’t worshiping the ground you walk on. Maybe Tommy knew that too, and that’s why he invited her. She seems nice, and funny, but Joel can’t get you off his mind. The thought of you — like a bee who won’t quit buzzing around a flower. 

“Need some water. Y’all want anythin’?” 

They shake their heads and give their thanks but Joel wasn’t really paying much attention to them anyways. He can only look around the bar and see an apparent lack of your figure — anywhere. 

He stands and searches for you, only to see your figure in a flash, walking towards the entrance. He catches your arm and you turn to him, a feigned, sad smile appears on your face. 

Jesus. 

You can’t even look him in the eyes — hold the unbreaking eye contact he made a mental note of when you two first met. 

“What a’you doin’?” Joel asks, trying to keep his voice from wavering. 

“Need some air,” you say. 

Joel follows you wordlessly. He doesn’t care if his date or his brother sees him walk you out. It’s nothing to hide from. You guys are — friends. 

The cool air hits his skin. He sees that you’re cold, but doesn’t want to hold you against him like he desperately needs to — at the implication that maybe you’d turn him down. Or worse, push him away. 

“So…a party,” Joel starts with, grimacing internally at his chosen words. 

“Yeah — if you don’t wanna help, you don’t have to. I was just joking in ther—” 

Joel cuts you off. It hurts a bit — the thought that you think he wouldn’t want to help you. 

“I do — wanna help.” 

You smile shyly. 

“Pick me up tomorrow? We’ll go shopping.” 

“Be there at four, Sarah's goin’ to a friend’s for dinner and a sleepover.”

“She’s got more social battery than me,” you chuckle, looking back into the bar. 

“You ‘n me combined — maybe she got it from Tommy.” 

“Maybe,” you echo. 

Suddenly, the air feels less playful. 

“I didn’t know,” Joel starts with because he doesn’t know what else to say. His words make you laugh a bit. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. All he wants is you. 

“I know —” another laugh, but he knows you think none of this is funny. “You don’t have to explain yourself.” 

Is it just him or is the glint in your eyes gone?

“No, I…Jesus. Tommy just — fuckin’ — I don’t know her, I — know of her. But I didn’t tell him I wanted to meet her.” 

“Joel,” you say, your voice breaking a bit. “It’s okay.” 

But it’s not okay. He can see that much displayed on your face. 

“She seems nice,” you note. His brows furrow because he can tell you’re being genuine. Why does it seem like you want him to admit it too?

“C’mon,” he says, a harsh chuckle in the form of a crisp breath escapes his mouth, pleading with you— 

Stop this. 

~

“What do you want me to say?” you whisper, breathless. He stares back at you like he doesn’t know what could possibly be running through your head. You need him to say his truth now. Or honestly? You’re not sure it’ll ever come out and you’ll be left behind forever. 

“Anythin’ but that,” he breathes, the air puffs cold around your face.

You want to speak but nothing comes out. You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold biting through your thin top. He looks unmoving and warm. But he stands with his hands shoved in his pockets. 

Why isn’t he holding you?

“Well she does,” his brows cock at your words. “Seem nice.”

“I don’t like her. I —” 

I like you. I want you. I need you. 

It’s on the tip of his tongue. Maybe he’s about to confess and the dam holding all your feelings from the last month will break through. But he’s searching for the words — and that’s when you know. Because he shouldn’t be searching for anything. Not when it comes so easy to you. Not when what he makes you feel is threatening to spill from your lips at every chance you get. He shouldn’t be searching for the right things to say when you can think of a million possibilities. 

He steps forward, grabbing your hand in his. His fingers play with yours as you wait with bated breath. Waiting for the —

Be with me, stay with me. Forget about them. Forget about everything. I just need you. 

You hold out for one last moment. Maybe he can’t articulate his feelings as well as they ring true in his mind. 

You step back a bit, moving to turn, moving to open your body as a silent invitation for him to follow you. Your fingers pull on his a bit towards your direction, pulling him, propelling him towards what you want him to say. But he doesn’t say those words. Instead— 

“Where are you goin’?” 

Your hand holding his fingers pulls slightly again. A life raft. A beacon of hope. The last twinge that you have to offer him so he can finally break down his walls and be with you. 

Because that’s all you want. You just want him. 

“Home.” 

You say it. It might be the first time since Caroline walked through the doors that he’s looked into your eyes. You’re pleading with him. With every ounce in your body. Just fucking say it. 

It's a silent invitation, you ask him with your eyes. And with the fingers pulling at his. 

Come with me. To my house, to my bed. Stay with me. Come with me. Leave them behind, and stay the night, stay till the next night too. Forget about the blonde laughing at Tommy’s jokes. Hell, forget about Tommy. Just fucking ditch this hell hole and take me home. And come with me and don’t ever leave. 

Please. 

But it seems like you both don’t talk as well with your eyes as you thought. And it seems like you don’t know this man in front of you at all. 

Because he steps back a bit, nodding, dropping your reaching fingers, and says those fatal words that solidify your fatal flaw. 

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.” 

~

Joel arrives at Caroline’s house. She somehow convinced him to drop her off at home. She keeps insisting Joel come in for a night cap. But he’s too fucking sad and pissed to even consider speaking to her for another two minutes longer. 

His head pounds. But not from the alcohol, from the quiet heartbreak settling in his chest at the memory of your words. At everything that had happened that night. It was meant to be a fun evening. But when he left you outside the bar, and ran to fetch Tommy, he knew this would go down in one of his most regrettable moments. And his most sad, too. 

Home.

The word rings in Joel’s ears. But you looked so fucking sad and you were already moving away from him. He had failed to say what he really meant to say — I want you. I just need you.

Maybe that truly was the end and maybe he failed to say what he thought and it turned you off. Made him unwanted in your eyes. 

Solidified the fact that he might never be a good man. 

Not like Tommy. 

But you were turning away — your fingers hanging onto his because he was the one who grabbed your hand first, and pulled you towards him with his fingers, his eyes, with his body — desperately. 

You kept pulling away — pulled away with sad eyes and he desperately wanted you to stay but he couldn’t make you do anything. Not when you look like that and you sound equally sad and broken. 

So he thought of what you deserve. Maybe even what you wanted at that moment. 

He finally dropped your hands, the warm spots your fingers held — were trapped under, brushed against the cold and Joel shivered. 

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.” 

He said it, but didn’t want to act on his words. He wanted to be the one to drive you home and to slip into your house, then maybe into your bed after that. 

But he wasn’t — you didn't want him to. 

He was sitting in the truck outside Caroline’s house as she pulls all her best tricks to get him to come inside. 

But he brushes them all off, and drives back in silence until he slumps in bed. 

~

“Fuckin’ — sit up, Jesus,” Tommy says, pulling your body upright in the passenger seat of the truck. 

You grumble with him. 

“‘M fine laying down. Stop micromanaging me.” 

You’re drunk.

The shot you took before talking to Joel outside the bar was beginning to take root. And all the other shots after that, when Tommy ushered you in to grab one last drink, and you just happened to down three more before leaving. 

“‘M not — mircomana— you’re a fuckin’ piece of work.” 

You smile lazily at him. 

“Like you aren’t?” 

He laughs back. 

There's a tense silence after Joel’s name pops up on Tommy’s phone that sits comfortably on the center dash. 

Tommy speaks first. 

“What’d you and Joel talk about?” 

“Oh, nothing,” you say, his head twitching a bit at your too-broad, overarching answer. “Your party,” you say when you think he might pry too much. 

“Joel isn’t gonna help you with that, you know.” 

His words make you freeze. Joel actually was going to help  — or was supposed to before the shit show outside the bar. 

“We’ll see. Can do it on my own too, though.” 

“Thanks again for offering, I — I know it’s dumb.” 

“‘S not dumb. ‘N I wanted to do it,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. 

“Well thanks anyways.” 

You hum in response, looking out the window into darkness. 

“What’d you think of Joel’s date?” 

Your eyes widen and suddenly, you don’t feel as drunk, sitting up a bit at his question. 

“That’s what it was? A date?” you say with a nervous chuckle. 

“I guess,” he laughs. “Don’t know what else to call it.” 

“She’s nice,” you say, echoing your words to Joel. Somewhere in the back of your mind you note how that sends a pang to your chest. 

“I don’t know if he was interested,” Tommy notes. 

That doesn’t really give you as much relief as you would’ve hoped for. You’re not hurt because of Caroline. You’re hurt because of everything that happened after. When you tried to get him to take you home, and he pulled away. 

Tommy continues when you don’t respond. 

“Took her home though.” 

Now that sends a shooting throb to your heart. 

Like it’s saying Of course he did. Even though that doesn’t seem very much like Joel at all. 

“Really?” 

“Yup. ‘N I think she’s comin’ to the party. Seemed excited ‘bout it.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly. You’re sure that’s not helping your case when trying to be indifferent about Joel’s dating life. 

Tommy pulls up to your driveway. 

Tense silence follows after he puts the truck in park. 

“Is that —  like —  an issue?”

 Your heart starts beating a little bit faster.

“No, why would it be?”

“Just wonderin’,” he says with a sigh.

“Is it an issue for you?” 

“No. Think she’s good for him.” 

There it is again. 

Good for him. 

Are you not good for him?

You brush it off quickly, moving to unlatch your seatbelt. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, but Tommy’s hand reaches out and stops your movements. You tentatively look up, scared of what might be looking back. He looks a bit pained, or maybe scared — though his hardened brow doesn’t give much emotion. 

“I had fun tonight — you looked — look good,” he says, pulling you a little closer, he’s starting to dip his head ever so slightly. If you weren’t paying him so much attention you might not have even noticed his movements. 

You don’t pull away. 

That would be the end of everything with your friendship. But you would be lying if you said you weren’t terrified — apparently the look is clearly etched on your face. 

He laughs a bit suddenly, pulling away. 

“Jesus.” 

“What – what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. I —” he pauses for a long time. 

You’re scared of what he might say. 

“Can I…can I take you out? Like — just the two of us?” 

You stare at him with wide eyes. You force yourself to breathe, a couple short puffs of air slip past your lips. 

“Oh, I — like you want to go out for food?” 

“Food,” he huffs out a short breath mixed with a chuckle. It makes your breath hitch, the uncertainty and knowing he’s acting so strange right now. 

“No, like — like a date. I guess.” 

_

chapter v. just you

taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. (for this series, i took the liberty of adding you to the taglist if you commented that you wanted more parts on chaser. you can let me know if you want to be taken off) kisses!

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#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #the last of us hbo #joel miller #joel miller self insert #the last of us #joel fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal as joel miller #joel miller smut #smut #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #joel x you #tlou fanfiction #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #dom!joel #dom!joel miller #tommy miller #chaser

[bulletswithribbons]

"Fucking hate journalists"

Kai Anderson X Fem!reader // NSFW

Warnings: Kai Anderson. You guess it. Very little plot, degrading, non-con/dob-con, mentions of murder, implied masochism, rough oral sex (m receiving), gun play, slut shaming, hair pulling, let me know if I missed any.

Summary: Kai breaks in your house to teach you your place after non-stop asking him back handed questions during the interview. Events eventually take a twisted turn, you were never that much of a good girl anyways.

Word count: 2.5k

a/n: This is my first ever fic, I've read plenty and wrote smut before so I'm pretty confident. But first time publishing so here we go.

Interviewing Kai right after his campaign was not the best call at all, especially the way you kept pressing him. You knew you shouldn’t have but this is war whether he knew it or not. You took a vow on yourself to make him expose himself on his own. You’ve always been suspicious about him but you had no proof of your accusations, and calling someone out based on your gut is not really professional, especially as a journalist. 

Even though someone had to confront him about his mistakes and fear mongering, your questions only made things worse, for you at least. You pushed too hard, making him feel small in front of the media. He could sense your suspicion with every question, and it's clear you put a big dent in his ego.

You were sitting on your desk, ticking your pen as a form of anti-stress. A bit of a mess actually, papers scattered, pens strewn about. Newspapers and magazines pile up, post-it notes plastered everywhere and a coffee cup long forgotten. Your desk lamp sits on the edge, casting a soft, warm glow in the room. You've always preferred gentle lights especially when working, it helps you think.

Your thoughts spiral around making your headache worse than it already is. How could you possibly put him down, once and for all..?

A bone-chilling breeze whispers over the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You enjoy it while it lasts, a refreshing breeze in this stifling hot night. It must have come from the window behind you, although you don't remember leaving it open... It doesn't matter. Nothing does as long as you still have work to do.

Your slender fingers reach for your white blouse, unbuttoning it. Once removed, you toss it aside, letting it fall to the floor, trying to cool your temperature down. You're digging through Kai's files, searching for a gap to use against him. It wasn't your job to do so. But as a journalist of course, you'd investigate and research to report the facts and keep people up with the facts.

Perhaps it's because you take what he says in the media personally. After all, a part of you is a feminist, a part you're not ready to let go of, at least for the sake of all the women who fought for their place in this world. You see through his manipulation tactics because you've seen them before. You know a narcissist when you see one.

"Fuck!" You shout as you throw the papers off your desk.

"Hm, come on now, how dare you throw these papers. We don't want little big mouth to lose her temper." He tsks, with an overly sweet tone dripping with sarcasm.

Shocked, you recognize the voice as you feel something hard poking you in the back of your head, trailing down to your neck, detaching your hair that was hardly holding up in the messy bun. Cold, metal. Sudden realisations hit all at once, but most importantly is the outsider in your house -your room- you pissed off earlier this day holding a gun to your head.

"Mr. Anderson, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. What the fuck are you doing in my house?!" you ask, your voice rising towards the end. You're trying your best to stay calm. One mistake, and you’re dead. Young lady in her 20s corpse’ found shot in her bedroom because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

“Mr. Anderson?”He repeats after you, chuckling. “They’re always respectful when fearful.” A sinful smirk tugs his lips, a look of pride in his dark cold eyes after hearing his last name coming from your trembling lips. “But I would have to politely decline your offer. I’m here to fix the mess of a situation you’ve just created for yourself. After all, I don’t want to lose voters over something so foolish. Especially this… close to the election.”

"Like hell I—or anyone with a brain that knows right from wrong—would vote for you!" You yell as you stand up from your seat.

His jaw clenches and nostrils flare, showing his annoyance. His grip on the gun tightening as he lifts the gun up to your temple, his finger twitching on the trigger. His voice, on the other hand, remains eerily sweet. “I really think you should keep your voice down.”

You swallow, your throat drier than ever. 

His voice lowers to a whisper, "I see you started learning. Good girl, I'm proud of fast learners." He takes a step towards you, his free hand stroking your chin and cheek, his touch alone giving you goosebumps. The gun rests on your temple, his eyes darting around the room.Then his focus shifts back to you. "Get on your knees," he orders and pulls his hand away from your face.

“I’m sorry?” You rush out, your eyes widening.

“Now,” he responds, his tone dripping with impatience as he jerks his gun to signal his order. “Expecting company?” He inquires looking down at your —bra only— chest.

You crouch down on your knees, his gun still pointing to your head. “No,” you respond short and clearly. For a minute, you believe you saw him smile slightly. A smile of pride.. 

“You’re such an obedient slut, aren’t you?” He pauses, “You defied me, made a fool of me in front of everyone. That doesn't go unnoticed.” He whispers, his voice pitch getting higher towards the end.

“So you’re going to shoot me? Because I hurt your little pathetic ‘man ego’? Because I’m small and vulnerable while you’re big and strong?” You retort, fake amusement hiding your fear.

“You’re smart. Most girls aren't smart. Well, that was the plan.” His smirk widens, his tone sounding even more sadistic as he slowly traces the gun barrel around your jawline— tracing it slowly with the tip of his gun. You notice him staring at your lips. “But now, seeing how big of a mouth you have, I’m going to show you what whores like you are made for.” He informs, his tone bled dry of emotion.

“The kitchen and carrying useless men’s babies. I Get it, trust.” You lash out. Although you know keeping your mouth shut is probably the better option, especially in this exact situation. But that never really happens, at least not most of the time.

Kai’s grip tightens on the gun as his rage begins to seep through his body. His other hand darts out to your face and before you even notice it, a slap lands with a sharp crack, sending a jolt of pain rippling through your cheek and leaving you on the floor. It stings, you can feel a red mark in its wake. Leaving you feeling shocked and humiliated.

You were lying down there on the floor, your body stretched out, limbs motionless. There was no sense of ease in your posture nor the room, rather a stillness that borders on tension. Even the air itself felt stifling.

Your eyes widen at the sight of his free hand darting to his zipper, pulling it down tooth by tooth. “You see, you just know how things work.” His tone becomes condescending, he pops the button and grip the waistband of his pants pulling it down until it’s enough to pull his dick out. “You have such a delicious looking mouth. I'm sure it has been put to good use for the benefit of passing by men. I'm guessing you've had a lot of fun.” He grabs the elastic of his boxers, lowering them down over his balls and pulling out his half hard cock.

You stare at him, your face frozen in shock. “You’re sick!” you shout.

“Am I now? You're the one who's been around so many men in your life. You should be used to it by now.” He grins, his hand holding his gun and moving it from your cheek to beneath your chin, pulling it up, so you were looking at him. “You should be grateful I'm bothering to even look at you.”

Although the men you’ve been with aren’t that many, you don’t bother to waste your time explaining. He believes what he wants to believe.

“Get back here,” he orders as he starts to pump his cock, the veins bulging beneath his grip. A bead of precum glistening from the tip.

You crawl back to him on all fours, doing as he says, and getting back on your knees, looking up at him. “Are you going to hurt me?” you ask.

He pauses for a moment before tilting his head with a small grin. “Isn’t that what you deserve? Do you want me to hurt you? Is that it? You like pain? Is that what you crave, y/n?” 

Fear… Regret.. Along with arousal.. Unwanted arousal specifically. You always knew you had a thing for troubled —twisted— men, but this is beyond fucked-up. Not to forget, he’s your worst enemy. He’s any woman’s worst enemy.  Feeling your pussy weeping in response to his tall figure towering over you is not really something to be proud of. The heat between your thighs only grew bigger every second and you knew you needed to get rid of the feeling.

He stops pumping his cock, his hand darts to your head caressing your hair with —almost— a soft touch.

“Suck,” he orders.

Your eyes widen, your tongue ready to curse at him, “I’m not going t-” 

“I won’t ask again, suck.” His hand darts up to your face squishing your cheeks painfully together. “You run your mouth a lot, might as well put it to good use. I’ll show you what exactly happens to smart mouths. Suck it like the slut you are.” His eyes burn with anger while he’s squeezing tight, his voice dripping with venom. The tip of his heavy warm cock caresses your soft lips, tempting you to bite it off.

He roughly lets go of your face, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head to the back to force your mouth open.

He forces the tip past your teeth, hatred spewing from your eyes.

“Wider,” he demands, but you want him to beg. Beg for it on his knees and switch the table, be the one with the gun ordering him around like a house pet. Getting back your dignity sounded good but not enough if you compare it with its consequence, having your life taken away from you.

You ignore his request. Making him reinforce his hold in your hair, pulling at it harder making your jaw drop so he can get deeper to your throat. The salty taste of precum evades your taste buds.

You loved the taste of him, your mouth watering with his cock inside it. But you couldn't admit it, of course you never would. It didn’t take too long for you to wrap your fingers around the base of his shaft.

Your head bobbing up and down. A breathy moan escaped him.

“Do enlighten me,” he breathes out, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Your tongue massaged the veins that swelled on his thick cock, flattened out on the thickest one underneath and flicked at the tip.

Ragged breaths escaped his mouth as you began to inch your way down, taking in more of him. The tip of his cock bumped against the back of your throat. Kai tightens his grip around your hair, and shoves your face down against his cock, making you gag around him, violently forcing you to deep throat his dick, making you gag. His length occupying your whole mouth down to your throat. You were practically choking, but he didn’t really care about it, he’s there for one reason and one reason only, teaching you to know your place.

“Fucking whore. You thought you were so smart with those non stop questions?” He pauses panting as he thrusts harder into your throat, the sound of you gagging and the wet thrusts echoing through the room. “Fucking hate journalists. Tell me… Who got the upper hand now?” 

You can't help but ignore him once again. It's not like you would give him what he wants and come undone beneath him, right? Of course you can’t answer him, after all you’re his number one hater. But even haters would give in when it’s the most mouthwatering cock a man can ever have. 

When you avoided answering, or maybe couldn’t answer since you were basically choking on his cock. His dick alone is enough to murder you if he wanted to. It only made him thrust faster, the asshole didn’t stop mouth fucking you even when he noticed your cheeks turning to a bright red and your eyes watering. Your cries turned him even more on. Kai forced his cock further into your throat, until your nose was pressed in the bush of his pubic hair.

Finally, you gave him a wobbly nod, motioning that he has the upper hand.

His head fell back to his shoulders, “That’s good to hear.. You’re learning, you’re such a good girl…Fuck…” 

You smile at the praise. Surprisingly, him being somewhat ‘sweet’ only made him ten times hotter. 

Tears keep running down your red cheeks, your cries echoing through the room.

“Just so you know, I’m enjoying this. Your whimpers are music to my ear.” He groans. “But god dammit don’t whine like a fucking bitch.” He spits at you and it lands on your cheek. Add it to the list of body fluids covering your face, along with the sweat gathering at your forehead and drool drenching your chin. 

You moan around his thick cock, sending him vibrations through his whole body. After all, you’re not putting on an act, you are enjoying it which is something you, yourself, are afraid of. But mostly you were focused on getting oxygen into your lungs. And maybe he is right, as always. Maybe there really is a part of you that enjoys the pain. That burning stinging sensation in the back of your throat. It’s scary because it’s true. 

His thrusts then began to lose their rhythm, but still managed to keep up with his pace. You knew what was coming for you. You shut your eyes, dramatically accepting your fate. Your jaw was already tired from him using you. His shaft was heated up, thrusting in and out of your red swollen lips. His hand gripped on your hair even more tightly holding you in place while his hold on the gun loosened. 

“My cock is a reward, tasting me is a blessing. Fucking thank me for letting you suck me off.” He says between breaths. 

No response, just a wet sticky cough. But afraid of his reaction, you choke out with a full mouth, “thank you.”

You could promise that you felt the disgusted face he did, “what a filthy bitch didn't your parents teach you not to talk with a full mouth?” He says while non-stop grunting like a wounded animal. That's probably what he is anyways... A wounded animal.

Few seconds later, ropes of cum spurt out from his dick into my throat, milking it after the abuse it went through when he was hammering into my mouth. He pulls out from your mouth and tug his dick back into his boxers then his pull his pants back up.

“Swallow,” he orders. “Fucking swallow my cum.” Kai grabs your face and presses his fingers into your cheek flesh.

Desperately, all you wanted to do was spit it at him, right in his face, but you don’t. You actually swallow like the obedient little slut he said you are. His seed slides down your throat, alongside your dignity and maybe your hatred towards him. 

Your fingers reach to your face drying up the tears that ran down your cheeks and the saliva running down your chin along with lines of cum. Looking up to him, you see him breathing heavily. His body working hard to get the oxygen he needs from how hard you sucked him off.

He looks at you up and down, judging you, it can't be anything good.

You expected him to do something, whether beat you up, shoot you, the least of it is spit at you telling you how much of a filthy whore you are.

But he didn't, and you were grateful for that... For him..

The taste of him still lingers at the tip of your tongue. You lick your lips unintentionally and in the most discrete way possible. Last thing you want is having him know you liked it and boost his ego, not that it could possibly needed any more promotions. But he already knows, you're sure of it. The way you sucked the life out of him like it was the best thing you laid your lips on, you can't hide that from anyone.

He turns and walks to the door, completely silent. What could he be possibly thinking about...?

He pauses at the door, turning his head to see you, he’s sweaty.

“If I see you run your mouth about any of my work, newt time will be much worse.” He promises, which you thought was kind of cute.. Promises… 

Zipping up his fly, and slipping his gun in his pants, he finally turns away and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

#kai anderson #kai angst #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson smut #kai anderson x y/n #kai anderson x you #kai anderson ahs #ahs cult #fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic writing #fic writing

[gxthicwxrm]

Fire Like A Targaryen Pt. 2

Pairing: Daemon Targryen x Fem!reader

Summary: the aftermath of the attack on your family

Warning: Angst, fighting, cursing, mentions of child death

Masterlist - Part One

---

"Where were you, Daemon?" You say his name like a curse. Gritted teeth, you circle your disheveled husband, who sits at the end of your bed. His head leans into his hands before running them through his hair to look at you.

"My love, I am so sorry-" He starts, reaching out to you before you smack away his hand.

"NO! WHERE the FUCK were you when a man tried TO KILL OUR DAUGHTER?! Huh? This blade almost killed both of your children, and you can't tell me the truth? You are a coward, Daemon Targaryen." Tears burn down your face as you throw your arms to your side, tossing the bloodied dagger onto the white sheets while he stands, stepping towards you. His cheek, damp with tears, glistens in the glow of the fireplace beside you.

"Tell me where you were. Please, Daemon. You owe it to me to tell me the truth." You let him grab your hands as you look up at him, looking for honesty in his blue eyes.

"I was with Rhaenyra." Everything you feared was confirmed at this moment as your heart stills. Dropping his hands, you slowly step away from him before turning to face the wall, feeling the heat against your face from the fireplace as a fire inside your soul goes ablaze. Your world collapsed as you lay between a blade and your child, and your husband, the man who swore to you, made a vow to you, was getting his dick wet. 'Why are you surprised?' A nagging voice echoes in your head, your voice.' You knew the man you married.' Blame creeps into your bones before a realization takes hold.

"Of course you were. Of course, only you would bury yourself in another woman as your two children and wife were brutally attacked. What is wrong with you?." You snarl, turning towards Daemon. He is speechless, with his arms stretched out to you, making you scoff.

"I have sacrificed so much for this Targaryen name. I have balled up and thrown my pride and dignity out the window for the sake of this family. I have shed blood for this family. I have KILLED FOR MY FAMILY. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE BUT FUCKED A WHORE?" Screaming, you throw a glass vase from the table to your left, narrowly missing his head as he dodges it.

"Enough! Stop this! You speak of sacrifice! Huh? I have killed many to protect this family. Blood doesn't stop covering my hands, Y/N. Every day I go to battle, I think of this family. I think of my daughter. Of my wife." He reaches for you, but you smack him away. Luckily, he pulls back and resorts to picking at his cuticles. His outburst caught you off guard, as he had been silent for the rest of this argument. Unknowing what to say next, you walk away from him, heading towards the door.

"I wasn't fucking her." He whispers, making you abruptly stop before turning to him.

"What?" The shock was clear on your face as you swore you heard him wrong. "What did you just say?"

"I wasn't having sex with Rhaenyra when you were…when the two of you were…I wasn't fucking her. I wanted you to know that." He sits on the bed's footboard, pushing his hair out of his face.

"Then what were you doing with her? Making fucking quilts?" You spat, unable to believe the words he was saying. He's lied to you over and over about this same woman. "So you deny being with her after admitting you were? Liar." You shake your head, mumbling the last part.

"I was leaving her." You scoff at his words. "Please listen to me. I wanted to break it off with her. I have been unfaithful to you and our family and wanted to make it right. I wanted you and Alys and our family. Not her. I swear to every God that exists and doesn't, my love. I am so sorry I wasn't here to protect you, Alys, and our son. I have failed our family too many times; I know this. Just please allow me a second chance. A chance to be the man our family deserves." You've found yourself moved to his side, sitting on the bed. His words moved you, but doubt still rang in your head.

"How do I know this isn't another lie? How do I know you are truly over her?" You ask, defeated, as your anger leaves your body and tears fill your eyes.

"If it helps, you can ask her yourself. She will not lie to you. She never has." His words were correct, seeing how Rhaenyra was the one who told you about their affair. "But I will spend every day of my life proving it to you until my last breath." He declares as you silently take in his words.

After a moment of silence, you have decided your plan of action.

"I will have my own room." You finally say, breaking the crushing silence. To your side, you see him turn to look at you as you stare straight ahead.

"Y/N, pleas-,"

"Let me finish. I will have my own room until I can trust you again. Alys can choose which room she'd like to stay in if she doesn't go between them. I can't pretend this didn't happen and go back to normal, not overnight. I need time." You state, nodding your head in satisfaction before finally turning to him. His features look broken in the light illuminating the fireplace. Tear streaks mark his face as you fight to reach to brush them away but curl your hand to stop yourself. He takes in your features, deciding how serious you are before deciding not to push anymore.

"How much time?" Daemon finally says after a moment of silence. Without hesitation, you answer him.

"As much time as it takes to forget the images of you with her, Daemon. I want to forgive you for our family, our daughter, and me. But I need time. I'll stay here tonight but find a room for myself tomorrow."

"Okay." He says with a sad sigh.

Despite how hard you fought against doing this, you found yourself knocking on the dark wooden door. Once the door swings open, it reveals the silver-haired heir to the throne. Her glossy hair is messy and sticking out in tendrils as she uses the door to cover her nightgown.

"Y/N. Hello. This isn't the best time this moment-"

"Are you and Daemon done?" You throw the words at her, but she barely flinches; barely. Her eyes give away her surprise at your confrontation.

"Uhm, let me get dressed, and I'll come out." She goes to close the door, but your hand stops the wood.

"No. You have been sleeping with a married man, your uncle." You lower your voice at the last part. "You owe me this. Are you still seeing him? I could care less about status and the throne. This is my family. Answer the damn question." You growl through gritted teeth, grinding them so hard you thought they were crushing into powder. Rhaenyra almost looks scared for a second before she blinks it away, standing straighter before looking into your eyes.

"He broke it off with me. I won't lie. I didn't take it well at first. But we aren't meant for each other. It was a mistake. For both of us. He told me it will be one of his biggest regrets for not bonding with you and leaning into me." Her words light a different rage in you as you hold back from grabbing her. With a deep breath, you ask your final question.

"When did he break it off?"

"The night of the attack on you and your daughter. He was leaving the room as the guards met him in the hall and alerted him." She says, still hovering behind the door when someone shuffles in, making her look into the room before turning back to you.

"I am sorry, Y/N. As a woman, as family, I should've told you about the affair. I should've ended it. Nothing I say will take my actions back, but it is one of my biggest regrets too." With that, turn away from her halls before returning to your chambers, where your daughter lies in your bed. Blowing the candle out, you lay beside her before pulling the covers over you and closing your eyes to let sleep take hold.

part three coming soon!

#daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen x fem reader #house of the dragon angst #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon imagine

[abbysbitch]

Piedmont | Ellie Williams (pt.1)

part one

a/n: i hope you guys enjoy, I seriously wasn't even expecting like 10 people to see the announce post but 200 notes? are you kidding? thank you all so much *kisses every one of your foreheads* i hope this lives up to the anticipation, i feel like i didn't do it justice but i dont wanna postpone anymore so have at it

cw: pet names (babe, baby, pretty girl, pretty thing, princess) the TINIEST smidge of a blood kink(reader bites her lip too hard), edging, fingering, cum eating(kinda?) slight angst, making out, prob more that i missed

wc: 4.1K

tags! @acecardly @dani-ellaed1 @sevignyes @nil-eena (if i missed you its because i couldn't find your handle when typing them in)

Ellies always hated you, for arguably no reason.

 It’s pathetic really, seems like since the day you guys have met she’s had it out for you- whether it be throwing snarky comments at you or just being an ass in general, it’s always been a competition between the two of you. It’s been years since you've had a somewhat civil conversation with her. 

Ellie was just an outright dick to you. Since the time you guys were sent on a mission over a year ago (just the two of you, which Ellie bitched about to Tommy for approximately an hour), she was just awful towards you.

You tried so hard to get her to like you but nothing seemed to work. During socials you’ve tried countless times to get her to engage in even a card game between you, Dina and Jesse and shes always declined. You’d go up and try to start a conversation one time and - to say the least when you went home you cried out of pure frustration.

You didn’t hate Ellie, just hated the way she hated you, for fucks sake you had a crush on her that you couldn’t seem to rid. But who could blame you when she had those gorgeous green eyes and auburn hair that just seemed to frame her face so perfectly when she put it up to get it out of the way. And her tattoo- you’re sure she's caught you staring before. Staring because of how bad you wanted her fingers inside you.

Especially with the way that she carried herself. Careless, and always with such a serious look on her face. Her sarcasm entertained you; of course only from afar. 

And god she was just so beautiful.

It hurt, knowing you couldn’t have done anything for her to like you. Not even just a little. Not even just enough to be acquaintances. You would’ve been at least happy with that.

So it seems like just your luck when Tommy asks another favor of you. And just your luck when he invites Ellie to ‘tag along’.

The air was cold, and the bone chilling tension between you two even colder. 

It was now around 6pm, and you had gone to the stables to tack up and get ready. Though you weren’t supposed to go out until 7, Ellie had already beat you there. Attempting to break said tension, you shakily start with “Make sure you tie her-”

“I know how to tack a fucking horse.”

Ouch

Obviously it didn’t help anything with the tension and unbeknownst to you it was going to stay that way for a while even as you left the gates of Jackson into the harsh winter of the outside.

You and Ellie keep on the path, looking for anything that was asked of Tommy to bring back. It’s only been 30 minutes of absolute silence and you’re starting to get mad with her stubbornness.What did you do to make her hate you so much? Nobody else seems to have a problem with you, so why does she? To be fair it didn’t matter before, but now that the two of you are in the middle of fucking nowhere and she’s not saying a word, it’s really getting to you.

Not being able to stand it any longer you decide to say something.

“What is your problem with me, Ellie?”

She turns to look at you for just a moment and then gazes back to the path in front of her. God, you just wanted to curl up and die of embarrassment. Of course she wasn’t going to say anything, because she didn’t care enough to have this conversation with you. 

Staying silent was the hard part of it all. So desperately did you just want to scream at her for everything she's been to you. She makes you feel like a fucking burden and, duh, it doesn’t feel good. At all.

So many more minutes pass by without a word. The air’s even colder by now, your watch showing the time as half past nine. Goosebumps have spread across your skin and your legs are shaking. Shivering was an understatement. It’s pitch black, making you even more on edge now than you were starting this little assignment. You decide to go off the path in search of a cabin you’ve been in before. For some reason this out of everything else causes Ellie to speak up.

“Where the fuck are you going?” You immediately notice her tones changed completely from the beginning. It was rougher and she sounded like she was genuinely going to snap at you.

“A cabin.” You state flatly.

She looks at you for only a second and then reverts her gaze back to the trail in front of her. You can tell she wanted to say more but kept her mouth shut for your sake, so you indulge.

“It’s getting cold and I want to warm up a little. If you don’t want to follow me, suit yourself, but it’s not on me if Tommy gets all mad.”

She scoffs as she follows you through the overgrown brush that covers the trail, taking interest in the way you pick at the greenery along the way. Why were you so intent on taking all the leaves off the different trees? She wasn’t just looking at you now, she was staring. 

And she couldn’t stop.

She watched the way you rode ahead and shook your hair to get it out of your face, watched the way you would drink out of your bottle, watched the way you’d rub your hands together to get rid of the cramps in them. She kept watching- no, staring at you.

You’d be lying if you said you couldn’t feel the eyes on the back of your head. It honestly concerned you. What was she planning to do? Hurt you? Worse? Every bad thought ran through your head within the span of just ten seconds. You were in the middle of nowhere, it was the middle of the night and you’re with someone that absolutely despises you. What couldn’t go wrong? It’d be a perfect place to hide remotely anything, and your mind went to the worst possible option of that being you.

Not feeling the need to mention anything you keep on the trail. At this point you see the cabin a little bit ahead of where you were. You let out a sigh of relief and kept on. As you reach the cabin, you both stall the horses in the small barn nearby and head inside.

“This is an absolute shithole, are you kidding?” Ellie starts, “what is this going to do for us from the cold?” She scoffs as she follows you around the house, surveying it like you two are spending the night there or something, which is far from true.

“Listen, it’ll work for a while and then we can get back out. Can you stop bitching for once and just chill out?” You were getting irritated at this point and she's pushing your limits. Egging you on, wanting to know how much you can really take.

“I’m the one bitching? We wouldn’t even be here if you weren’t such a pussy about the damn cold!”

“Like I said before, chill the fuck out Ellie.” You try to deescalate the situation.

“I’m pretty fucking chill, I just don’t get why we had to stop here, are we not wasting time?” At this point you realize she just likes to argue for fun.

“If you’re so worried about wasting time then go on your own and do this shit! I never asked for you to come with me in the first place!” You are so close to absolutely breaking. You’re so frustrated with her and her shit you could just cry.

“I never volunteered!” She just kept pushing and pushing you, god you hated her so much in this moment.

“Do you know how fucking irritating you are? Ever since I came to fucking jackson you’ve had it out for me for absolutely no reason at all! What the fuck have I ever done to you? Wanna explain or are you just going to keep treating me like shit?” You had finally broke.

You could tell Ellie wasn’t expecting that. She looked taken aback. Good, you hope it got to her like she got to you this whole time.

“Yeah, stay the fuck silent.” Now you’re the one pushing.

She stares idly tracing her tattoo, the tension clearly eating her up alive. She's at a loss for words right now- her mind is blank as she just looks at you. Not saying a single word for what feels like minutes when she finally decides to sigh. She stands up and walks towards you, still silent. You move backwards and she doesn’t let up as you eventually hit the wall with a gasp and she cages you between her arms. “What’re you-” you try, but with the way she was staring into your eyes, with a different look than normal, you found your words to be stuck in your throat. When were her arms so…big? It never hit you how tall she truly was, but now with her towering over you and her so close? As much as you’d want to think of her like that again, right now just wasn’t the time. 

Jesus, she groans. And it goes straight to your cunt but you know it shouldn’t.

“I guess I’m upset at the fact I’ve always wanted you and couldn’t have you. Do you know how frustrating it is seeing you make friends so easy? Flirting with Jesse so effortlessly? This whole time I’ve wanted you and you couldn’t have cared less. Never batting a single eye at me. I’ve wanted you since you stepped foot through those gates and its making me fucking crazy.” 

“Ellie i-” you try but are immediately cut off by her going,

“I know that’s not what you wanna hear but if I’m being honest I needed to tell you or else the guilt was going to eat me alive. I’m sor-” She shakily breathed out before she was cut off- by you. 

Closing the gap at her confession, you captured her lips in an aggressive kiss, making her whine on impact. Using your shaky hands you cup her face, trying to find a way to stabilize yourself and she catches on, slotting her leg right between yours. The sound of your mouths moving was erotic and her actions even more so. She bit at your bottom lip, silently asking you for access, letting out a breathy moan that was followed suit by her licking the same area. Her mouth was absolute bliss and every lick into it had you wanting more. More of her, her noises and her hands as they traveled slowly up and down your sides.

You pull back to catch your breath and she whines at the loss of contact. You stay for a moment, just listening and watching as her chest heaves up and down. Everything in the room is far too hot for your liking and you fix it the only way you know how.

“Take this off, now.” You motion her shirt up and off her figure. Fuck how cold it is outside, you need to feel her bare skin on yours- and god the sight was beautiful. Her toned abs felt so good under your touch, and her arms were veiny in the right spots, it was so unbelievably hot.

As she holds you tight against the wall- bodies directly pressed against each other, you do the same- grabbing the hem of your own shirt and lifting it above and off you. Sliding your hands up her stomach, you lightly yelp as she takes her own on your hips and forces you down on her thigh. Gasping at the contact, you chase after her lips like she did prior, and she groans. Now you’re desperate to hear it again, and again. You crave it.

She takes your hips and moves you across her thigh even harder now, almost as if she's desperate for you. Chasing your high rather than hers, but still for her pleasure. Grabbing at her shoulders as you take it into your own hands, you start grinding on her. God, her thighs were so hard and toned it was giving you just the right amount of friction. Leaning your head back she takes the opportunity to litter kisses and bites all over the exposed skin. You swear you’re in heaven and you’ve barely even started.

“Jesus baby, I can feel how wet you are through my fucking pants. And I haven't even touched you .” she spoke against your neck. Making a mental note at the nickname. You were biting your lip so hard you thought you tasted blood, and the fact turned you on soooo much more. 

Ellie kept her assault on your neck, but this time she trailed her hands along your body, stopping at your bra and sighing an, 'is this okay’? Taking your far too fast nod as a yes, she snakes her hands behind your back, snapping the bra off and slowly taking it off you. She threw it to the side and suddenly started to grope you, squeezing your tits and slightly grazing over your nipples as you jumped at her aggressiveness. She was giving you so much but it still wasn’t enough.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” she says as she starts on your breasts, sucking and biting at the flesh, leaving the area all sensitive and purple, and leaving you even more desperate.

Her threatening gaze stayed on you the whole time she played with your mounds, sending a wave of hot heat straight down to your cunt. The fact she had this effect on you was concerning you, but you were too entranced by her right now to notice any of it.

“Ellie,” you whine after her as she continues the assault on you, moving back up to your collarbone and jawline. She was staring at you like you were her prey, and she was the predator. 

“Hm?” she taunts against your ear and just hearing her voice alone made you so wet. God, the hold she had on you was crazy, and you’d barely even started. Even though she was the one that confessed to you just moments prior it seemed as though she was almost in charge of the situation regardless of you pouncing on her.

She had you grinding on her thigh even faster and harder now, pressing you into the fabric so you could get off, even if it was turning you on even more, it still wasn’t enough, you wanted her inside you, so bad. You needed it.

“I- …need more” You manage to say throughout moans and whimpers. Although she had just started, you think she’s already made you dumb. Off her thigh.

And that’s exactly what she wanted from you. To be so fucked out all you could say was her name over and over again, like a mantra coming from your lips, but she didn’t think it’d be so fucking easy nor did she think it’d happen so fast.

“Tell me what you need, baby,”  She says, spit dripping down your throat from how much she was sucking on you. Licking it up she brings her head to look at you.

At the words, you pulled her hands from your body and pushed further and further down until reaching the waistline of your pants.

“You’re gonna have to use your words, sweet thing.” She said as she swoops back down between your breasts. You could feel her smirking against your chest and god, she was going to be the death of you.

Being too desperate to be embarrassed you utter, “Ellie just fuck me, please” You were so needy and just needed the smallest amount more from her to teeter you over the edge and straight to your orgasm. “Atta girl.”

 She breaks past your waistband and ventures her hand further down until she reaches the part of you that wanted her the most. You gasp at the contact as she starts rubbing close circles on your clit, turning you into putty. Grabbing at her shoulders, you press your lips against hers once again and this time you’re the one licking into her mouth with a different kind of neediness behind it. She notices your legs wobbling and removes her hand from her spot in your pants and grabs your hips to gently move you over onto the couch nearby. Whimpering as your hips chase her hand she chuckles into you, pushing you down lightly.

Panting and trying to catch your breath you start, “Why haven’t you told me sooner Els, we could’ve done this so long ago.” Ellie just stares at you from her place straddling you, watching the way you look into her eyes and watching as your chest rises and falls from the heavy breathing.

“Why does it matter when I have you right here and now, falling apart in front of me?” she says with a smirk and your scoff doesn’t last long before she's on you again, kissing you with more passion than before. The kiss was softer, and wasn’t as rough with you as before. She moved against you so sensually and slowly and it was driving you crazy. "I've wanted this for so fucking long" she spoke against your lips before she slot her hot tongue into your mouth and moaned when she felt your own swirling around it. 

With your mouths still connected, she slides her hands down to your hips, grabbing for just a second before she moves down into your pants, slowly sliding them off and leaving them to pool at your ankles. With your panties still on the air hits where you were wet, chilling you for just a second before she breaks away from your mouth with a trail of spit connecting you together.

“You remember that one summer where you, Dina and I went down to the river and swam together for hours,” She started at the same time as her mouth attached to your pulse point.

“Yeah- fuck, why?” you asked between sighs and whimpers. Your brain’s so dumb right now, you barely even recall the situation she’s asking you about.

“That flimsy pink bikini you wore- fuck. You don’t even know how bad I wanted to devour you right then and there,” she kept on, drawing even louder moans from you at her words.

“The first time I saw you in something like that and, shit, I thought you were the hottest girl I’ve ever seen,”

“And now I have you in front of me like this, even more exposed. God, fuck I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Every single thing she said had you wanting her even more, although you couldn’t even say a thing because of how hard she was sucking at every inch of your body. She starts working her way from the base of your neck down to the valley between your breasts sprinkling kisses and bites all over. (and probably hickeys, you were too stupid only off her words to notice.) 

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty.” As you whine at the words you cover up your exposed breasts with your arms, so overstimulated with the way she’s speaking and touching and kissing you. You’re so drunk off her touch, her voice, so drunk off of her.

“Don't hide from me,” and with that she takes your wrists and pins them just above your head onto the armrest. “I wanna see all of you.” she finishes as she licks down from your neck to your breasts letting out a groan when she looks back up at you with that gaze, your doe eyes meeting hers and she smirks- she fucking smirks.

As she gets closer to where you want- need her most, she starts kissing at the inner parts of your thighs. Biting and leaving marks that are sure to be there for the next couple days reminding you of the things that took place (as if you’d want to forget).

Still soaked from being edged just moments ago, and now even more so with her actions, you plead with her to give you what you want.

“Ellie please, need you s’bad.” You’re whimpering for her touch, where you need her the most.

“Patience princess.” God, you feel like you’re going to die, what makes her take so much pleasure in teasing you and making you wait for more?

She licks your cunt through your panties, eliciting a moan she has to hear again. She bites at the fabric and slowly slides your panties down off your hips and leaves them to gather with your pants as she slides a finger straight through your slit, sighing when she feels and hears just how wet you are, and just from her.

“All this just f’me, babe?” she sighs into your thigh where her head was resting as she thumbed your clit lazily, loving the sounds you and your pussy made. 

Continuing to toy with your heat, she starts picking up the pace little at a time, leaving you a whining mess underneath her.

“More please el-” You start but are then cut off as she slips two fingers inside you, scissoring them making you groan lowly.

“I don’t think I caught you, what was that baby?” Babbling nonsense as she hits a particular spot inside you that has you moaning so loudly you take your arm and try to muffle your own sounds with it, biting down so hard you know you’re gonna bruise in the morning.

You can’t handle her teasing but at the same time it feels so good that you bite back whatever you were gonna say in response to any of it. Her fingers plunging in and out of you felt like ecstasy, and you were fucking hooked.

The sounds your cunt was making were obscene and absolutely disgusting. You were so wet and you can’t recall a time someone had ever made you feel this good. Ever. Your slick was leaving onto her forearm and soaking her fingers, slowly making its way onto her tattoo, which you couldn’t peel your eyes off of. The way her arms flexed while she was finger-fucking you was almost hotter than the way she was gazing up at you from her position between your legs.

You were so close on the edge now- riding the wave of white hot pleasure as she thrusts into you harder. And she could tell. Tell how close you were from how hard you clenched on your fingers, your muffled noises coming from above her and the amount of wetness that had already dripped down onto the couch just from her fingering you alone.

Taking your arm away from you she starts, “you’re clenchin’ so hard around me, you gonna come all on my fingers pretty?”

“Mhm, uh-huh” with nothing but incoherent words coming out of your mouth you try to warn, “‘m gonna cum ellie, f-fuck don’t- don’t stop.”

“Cmon baby, cum all over my fingers,”

And as if it were literally on command you cum so hard you swear you see stars, white hot flashes of your climax taking over leaving you loud and breathless, and Ellie loves all of it. “shit, good girl, good fucking girl.”

 She keeps on with fucking you with her fingers, letting you ride out your high as much as you possibly can. Moments later, she takes them out slowly, earning a drawn out whine from you as she kisses the inside of your thighs once again.

 She takes her fingers that were previously inside you just moments ago into her mouth, sucking and swirling her tongue around them. Although you had just come, you could’ve again just at the sight.

She comes back up to your collarbone and licks a long stripe up to your neck, whispering into it praises as she nips at the skin that is your earlobe.

“God you’re so pretty when you're under me like that,” She says to you- capturing her lips on yours once again. The kiss being messier than ever, feeling her tongue slide into your mouth just to take yours and suck on it-a mix of drool and teeth turning you on even more. Pushing her back onto the couch so you were the one on top of her now, you grab at her hips and start grinding down on her thigh once again. You taste yourself on her tongue and she pulls away just as fast as she had gotten up to kiss you and abruptly goes, 

“Wanna feel you on my tongue, fuck i need it, come sit on my face.”

━────༺༻──━───༺༻────

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #the last of us ellie #tlou ellie #the last of us ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams the last of us smut #ellie williams the last of us x reader #the last of us #tlou #lesbian #wlw #lesbian smut #wlw writing #wlw smut #wlw imagines #tlou smut #tlou ff #tlou fanfiction #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams ff #ellie tlou ff #the last of us ellie smut #the last of us ellie williams smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us ff

[autisticlancemcclain]

“You dragged us out of bed at eight thirty in the goddamn morning for what?”

“You remember how you got married on a random Thursday without telling anyone?” Hunk says, instead of answering the goddamn question. Keith and Lance both groan as loudly and obnoxiously as they can. Lance makes a point to yank their blankets over his head as he falls back onto the pillows.

“Just ignore them,” Keith whines, slinging an arm around Lance’s waist and pulling him back in. Lance goes willingly, inclined to follow those instructions.

“Nope. Nuh-uh.” Something soft and round pelts Lance on the shoulder, then the hip, then lands square on his head. “Up you get.”

“Fuck off,” Lance gripes again, peering over the covers to glare at Pidge, who is gleefully digging through their sock drawer to hand Hunk more ammo.

“Nope. Get up, losers.” Hunk huffs. “God, I don’t even understand why this is taking you so long. You went to bed at eight-thirty. That was twelve hours ago. There’s no possible way you’re still sleepy.”

Lance pauses. He glances over at his husband, who’s grinning just as wolfishly as he is.

God, Lance loves him so much. Verbal communication is for dweebs. They’ve got this shit in the bag.

“We went to bed at eight thirty,” Lance agrees, pretending to be nonchalant.

Keith hums, following along, leaning back with his arms folded behind his head like he’s the most unbothered bitch on the planet. “Right, right, we did.” He pauses for dramatic effect. (It will never cease to amaze Lance that people think the Black Paladin is some sort of stoic, serious asshole. How even he used to think that. Keith grew up with Shiro, for fuck’s sake. There’s not a bone in his body that isn’t at least a little melodramatic.) He glances over at Lance, finally giving the game away with a wide grin. “But I don’t remember us doing any sleeping.”

“Funnily enough, me either!”

It takes Pidge and Hunk a moment for the implication to sink in, and their identically disgusted faces when it does immediately make Keith and Lance burst out laughing.

“You two are nasty,” Pidge protests, throwing eight more sock pairs with increasing violence. Keith and Lance are too weak with laughter to stop her, barely holding their hands in front of them to stop the onslaught. “I hate you. Hunk, suffocate them.”

“I’m considering it,” Hunk mutters darkly. He shakes his head rapidly. “God, the imagery.”

The best part is that it isn’t even true. They walked up to their room at eight-thirty, got ready for bed, talked for maybe three minutes, and then fell asleep immediately like old people. It was excellent.

But fucking with his friends is always fun.

“Just be downstairs in twenty minutes,” Pidge says, aiming another ball of socks at Keith’s head. Keith manages to catch it, and Pidge scurries to hide behind Hunk before Keith can whip it back. “We’re going out.”

The two disappear before they can ask anymore questions, making a point of loudly stomping down the stairs and ignoring their questioning.

“We could just ignore them,” Keith suggests.

“That’s true,” Lance agrees. “We could even have sex for real? That would piss them off.”

For a second Keith looks like he’s really considering it. He gets that cute little furrow in his brow that he gets when he’s concentrating. It does wonderful things to Lance’s ego, that the thought of sleeping with him gets the same furrow of concentration that fighting a war does.

But eventually, as Lance knew he would, Keith sighs. “We should probably see what they have planned.”

Lance smiles. “Maybe.” He heaves himself up, offering a hand to Keith to pull him out of bed, too, then drags him to the bathroom. “Let’s get dressed.”

———

They make it downstairs twenty minutes later, dressed and ready to go. The kitchen is overcrowded, as it usually is, with Hunk and Adam cooking something delicious at the stove, Pidge standing guard over Shiro so he doesn’t curse the kitchen with his presence, and Veronica trying and failing to look cool for an earnestly oblivious Allura. The real grownups — Coran, Krolia, Miguel, Marcela, and Lisa — are chatting over some fresh fruit at the table, Luis trying and failing to convince the twins to eat their food instead of throwing it at each other. Marco is nowhere to be found, likely having escaped to the garage when the kitchen got too loud.

They’ve been home and settled for quite some time, now. But all his family safe and in one place still makes something fragile clink around in Lance’s chest.

“Well good afternoon, mijos,” Marcela teases.

“It’s barely nine, Mamá,” Lance says, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek before taking a seat. Keith hesitates a second, then Marcela taps her other cheek, so Keith follows Lance’s example and then kissing his own mother hello before sitting down next to Lance. His face is a little red by the end of it, still unused to the casual affection, but his smile is small, pleased.

“I never get any kisses hello,” Shiro grumbles into his coffee mug.

Keith doesn’t miss a beat. “That is because you are irritating.”

“Can it, boogerbrain.”

Adam slides a plate piled high with pancakes between them.

“Before you two kill each other,” he says drily. The fondness drips off of him, made even more evident by the way he pinches Keith’s cheek as he walks past, slides his hand down Shiro’s shoulder as he sits next to him. His diversion is successful, however, and both brothers call an unspoken truce in favour of stuffing their faces.

“So,” Pidge says, mouth full, several minutes later. “You guys got married on a whim.”

Keith glances at Marcela. “That is an exaggeration,” he says loudly, as if Lance’s mother isn’t well aware that her son is the type of dumbass to say yes to an impulsive wedding proposal.

“It’s really not,” Allura, Hunk, Shiro and Pidge say at the same time.

Keith scowls.

“Anyways,” Hunk continues, “since y’all didn’t actually let anyone know you were getting hitched, we never got to do fun wedding things. Like a bachelor party.”

“Or an actual wedding,” Allura points out, which is met with various snickers.

Lance leans back to exchange a contemplative glance with Keith. While he doesn’t and never will regret the way they got hitched, he supposes there are some things they missed. Having a dumb drunk party with their friends doesn’t sound bad at all, actually.

“Alright,” Lance says, nodding. “We’re down for that. What are we doing? Heading to the beach?”

“Oh, no,” Veronica says, grinning wildly. She pushes up her glasses as if she’s a dorky anime character. “Get ready for something way better.”

———

An arcade.

Their friends have dragged them to an arcade.

“I haven’t been to one of these in years,” Keith comments, taking in the bright lights, strange and minorly unpleasant smells, and sounds of screaming children.

Lance squeezes his hand. “Me either, but don’t worry. We’re going to crush it.”

“Hey, whoa, hold on,” Veronica says, making a T sign with her hands. “It’s a bachelor party.”

Keith and Lance blink at her.

“Yes,” Lance says, extra slow so she can understand. “For us. We got that.”

Veronica continues to look at them like they have a couple screws loose — which would normally be fine, because that’s a particularly favourite expression of hers to wear around Lance, only the rest of the team is looking at them funny, too.

“Since when do bachelor parties involve both parties?” Hunk clarifies. “Split up!”

“What? No way!” Keith protests. He pulls Lance closer to him. “I married him, so I get dibs!”

“Nope, no way,” Allura says. “I already called dibs on Lance. You get your own team to lose on. Good luck.”

Look.

Lance is loyal, okay? He made a vow. Keith is his number one. His ride or die. Blah blah blah.

However.

Before he fell in love, before Keith was the person he turned to, before Keith was his friend, even, Keith was his rival.

And rivalries don’t just die. They just get pushed aside, really. He lets go of Keith’s hand and sidesteps towards the Blue Paladin. Keith’s face of betrayal makes him smirk.

“What,” he taunts, leaning back all casual-like. “Afraid to lose, Kogane?”

Like clockwork, Keith’s face smooths into something cocky and testy and really, really hot.

“Like hell, Kogane,” he scoffs. “I’m going to grind you to dust.”

Hunk claps his hands. “Excellent. Keith, you stand by that plant, Lance stand across from him. It’s team picking time. Keith gets to pick first because Allura already threatened violence if she doesn’t get Lance’s team.”

Allura smiles primly, skipping over to stand with Lance. Her braids — courtesy of Lisa and Sylvio — swish cheerfully behind her, pink beads clinking. Lance high-fives her when she gets close.

“Ready to annihilate them?” Lance asks.

Allura grins. “We won’t even need anyone else.”

Blue’s presence roars in both of their head at the same time, proud and smug.

“Dibs on Hunk!” Keith shouts.

Lance gasps in betrayal. “What? No!” Keith only sticks his tongue out at him, and to Lance’s horror, even Hunk is grinning!

“Sorry, man,” he says, not sounding very sorry at all. He accepts Keith’s fist bump. “Keith is just the obvious winner, here. You know I pick the non-losing side.”

“I’m cutting you out of my will,” Lance informs him. He is, too. Hunk can have squat, since he’s a quisling.

“Just choose your next teammate, goober,” Hunk says.

Lance turns back to the pool of options, gaze critical. His initial strategy had been to choose people with opposite strengths to him — those better with luck games, or trivia. But if Keith’s strategy is to choose people that will cripple Lance, then he needs to adjust accordingly. If he loses this he’ll never forgive himself.

“Shiro,” he says definitively. Having Keith’s brother in his team will make Keith sloppier, because Keith physically cannot handle being on an opposite team of Shiro without the absolutely blinding urge to beat him. He’ll be so focused on one-upping Shiro that he’ll be less focused on doing games properly.

They spend the next ten minutes carefully choosing their teams and making faces at each other. In the end, Keith’s team is made up of Hunk, Adam, and Veronica. Lance’s team has Allura, Shiro, and Pidge (everyone else decided to step away from what they knew was a competition that was bound to get out of hand and stay home — which, fair). The second the teams are finalized, Lance pulls everyone away, guiding them to a little corner of the arcade so they can Strategise.

“Okay,” Lance starts, mentally planning a map of the arcade and its games. “We need to out-ticket them, so prioritize high-payout games first, skilled games second. Anything that’s a guaranteed thirty tickets is a game worth playing a few times. Anything you know you can demolish, hit hard.”

“Are we cheating?” Shiro asks.

“Foul play at least,” Lance confirms. “Pidge, feel free to accidentally make machines work better for you. Allura and Shiro, feel free to bat your eyelashes and weaken Veronica and Adam with your wiles.”

All three teammates nod seriously.

“Will do. And you, Lance?”

Lance grins, unbuttoning his blouse and stuffing it in his bag, leaving only his cropped red t-shirt that makes the brown of his eyes look darker. He clips on some sparkly earrings, then slathers on some lip gloss.

“I am going to make it impossible for Keith to focus. Let’s go!”

———

(Keith watches as his husband hunches know a huddle with his team, face drawn and serious as he explains his plans and ideas. Shiro, Pidge and Allura watch him with similar intent, splitting off after a couple minutes of discussion with the seriousness they once employed marching into battle.

“We’re going to lose, aren’t we,” he asks the group at large.

Hunk pats him heartily on the back. “Most definitely. Let’s go, team!”)

———

There is a lot of chaos, as one might expect.

The arcade is certainly not empty. Parents chase after unruly children, unruly children chase each other. Many young teens hog games in an attempt to turn a profit on their token investment. Hobbyists are worse. Regardless, competition sings in Lance’s veins. He spends inordinate amounts of time at the shooting games, knocking out shot after shot — in one game lasting so long that he amasses a crowd of awed spectators.

“Holy smokes!” one child yells. “He’s been here forever! He can’t lose!”

“You think he’s a super spy, or somethin’?” their friend whispers.

Lance smirks. Or something.

As the point counter in the top left corner of the game ticks higher and higher with every zombie he slays, he starts to imagine how he might gloat with his upcoming hoard of tickets. Drape them like a scarf, perhaps, and sashay past Veronica? Count them very slowly by Adam? Get Shiro’s help in forming them in an L shape and point them in Keith’s direction?

Before he can decide, there are several annoyed shouts in the small crowd behind him, and seconds later someone pops up next to him, filling his nose with the scent of pine and sandalwood. Keith plants himself behind where Lance is seated, arms on either side of him, and leans over so his head hangs upside down in front of Lance’s, blocking his vision.

“Hey,” he says, grinning.

Lance shoves his face away. “Buzz off! I’m trying to beat you!”

“You’re hogging the zombie game, is what you’re doing.”

“Duh!”

Lance shoves his face away again and this time he goes, which should make Lance suspicious, but his guard is down and his focus is elsewhere. After a moment, he hears his husband clear his throat three times, just like he does before he addresses a crowd of people as the Fearless Black Paladin.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“People of the arcade!” he shouts, and lord above Lance married a drama queen no matter what anybody says about it. “Are we going to let him hog the zombie game?”

A voice that is most definitely Lance’s irritating sister calls out: “No way!”

Another voice, Lance’s traitor best friend, calls out: “He’s had it for twenty minutes! I demand justice!”

The crowd, either bolstered to air their grievances due to other aforementioned complaints or just happy to be part of a mob, take up the chant: “Off the game! Off the game!”

“The people have spoken, sweetheart,” Keith says, smirking so wide his eyes scrunch up.

Lance rolls his eyes, but he’s annoyed to find that he can’t quite suppress his smile. “You’re a dick for brains.” He purposely misses his next shot, ending the game, and the crowd cheers. The screen flashes once, then a red number pops up in the middle: 456. Tickets begin to shoot out of the slot.

Lance turns towards his husband and chuckles evilly, taking great joy in his newfound scowl. “Try to keep up, baby.” He tears his last ticket from the slot, gathering them up and patting Keith on the chest as he walks by. Allura, Pidge and Shiro whoop and cheer for him, high fives and fist bumps all around as they all show each other how many tickets they’ve garnered so far — well over a thousand. They’re killing it.

They spend the next forty minutes flitting from game to game, winning forty tickets here and ninety there, even losing a game or two. They spend half their time actually playing and half their time messing with the rest of their friends, calling out confusing answers for trivia games or straight up poking and prodding at them to mess up any games of focus. It’s a miracle that any of them manage to win at all, really.

After a couple hours of play, the two teams have mostly evened out — Lance hasn’t been keeping exact count of his tickets, or anything, but his pile and Keith’s pile look about the same.

“I have an idea,” Allura shouts over the noise of the arcade. “A final win!” She tilts her head towards one of the larger games in the arcade, blasting pop music through the area and flashing bright lights.

DDR.

Lance grins at her. “‘Llura, you are a genius.”

She preens. “I know.”

“Shiro! Pidge! Cover for us!”

They nod, and Allura and Lance rush to the Dance Dance Revolution machine, quickly flipping through the options as they see Keith and Veronica booking it through the crowd through the corners of their eyes. Finally they land on the best option for them, and Lance slams the start button just as Shiro tackles his brother to the ground. Synth beats blast through the speakers, and Aqua’s Barbie Girl starts to play — game on.

“Fuck!” Adam shouts, knowing they’re about to lose.

Lance cackles. If there’s one thing he and Allura can do, it’s absolutely crush this game.

And they do — the hit every beat, perfectly, not even one misstep. Every stomp is in unison, every pop of their hips coordinated. (They had weeks and weeks on the space road trip. They know what to do.)

By the time the song ends and Allura and Lance step off the machine, tickets flying through the slot, Keith’s team has accepted their defeat with hanged heads.

“Hand over half your tickets as a losing tax and bow before your queens,” Lance says smugly, as he and his teams twist their tickets into ugly crowns, wearing identical smirks.

“All hail the winners of pressing little buttons on dinky arcade games,” Veronica drawls because she is a sore loser.

Allura winks at her. “Thank you for your concession, insect,” she teases.

Veronica goes bright red. Lance snickers.

They make their way to the prize booth, handing over their absurd number of tickets. Pidge uses hers to buy a ridiculous amount of candy. Allura goes ham buying a bunch of Earth trinkets to bring back to Coran. Shiro sees a dookie little toaster from the seventies that is devoted entirely to cooking hot dog buns, laughs himself to tears, and buys it immediately. Lance buys himself a giant stuffed lion that happens to be blue, because once he sees it it’s impossible not to. The four of them goad their gifts to the losing team as they trade for their own shit, much to the annoyance of the grouchy employee.

It’s stupid. It’s juvenile. Every single one of the prizes is cheap.

It’s so, so much fun.

On the walk back to the house, Keith falls into step with Lance, pulling him back slightly from the rest of the group. They all shoot knowing smiles in their direction, for once not feeling teasing, and jog ahead to give them space.

“Got something for you,” Keith says casually, looking straight ahead.

“A consolation prize?” Lance jokes.

Keith grins. “Something like that.” He digs around in his pocket, closing something in his fist and holding it out in front of him. He makes no move to open his hand or offer the thing to Lance, walking on casually. Lance is burning with curiosity.

“You remember when I first asked you to marry me?”

Lance snorts. “Out of the blue, on a random Monday, in the common room? Yes, I remember the day my life changed forever.”

Keith’s smile gets softer. He reaches over with his free hand and links it with Lance’s.

“You told me I needed a ring to ask you.”

“Mhm. And we got one later.”

“That’s the thing.” He stops them, turning to face Lance head on, indigo eyes bright and sparkling. “I got us wedding rings. But never used one to pop the question.”

He takes a tiny step back, and then sinks to one knee, holding up a cheap diamond ring from the prize booth. Lance laughs out loud, and then gets choked up by the emotions that flare up at the sight of his husband on one knee, and tears build in his eyes.

“Lance Kogane,” Keith says dramatically, but there’s a look of real seriousness in his eyes, a stubborn streak of love. “I kind of botched the asking, my first time, so I’m going it again: will you marry me?”

“Yes, dorkbrain,” Lance chokes out. “Of course.” He holds out his left hand, and Keith slides the dinky little ring onto his forth finger, resting it above his real wedding ring. He stands up and wraps his hands around Lance’s face, leaning in and kissing him softly.

“Just checking,” he whispers.

Lance smiles, leaning their foreheads together.

Fitting, he thinks, deciding to stay right where he is for a while, that they’d do everything backwards.

How lucky he is.

———

parts 1-5

#theyre such LOSERS #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #established klance #married klance #just say i do #longpost #my writing #fic #allura #princess allura #lance & allura #shiro #takashi shirogane #broganes #team as family #hunk #hunk garrett #pidge #pidge holt #garrison trio #veronica mcclain #veronallura #fluff and humour #brown-eyed lance