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anundyingfidelity · 4 months

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NO SECOND CHANCES — Brother Day/Cleon XVII

Summary: A lonely space traveler happens to save from a certain death the most annoying person of the entire galaxy, the Emperor.

Pairing: Cleon XVII x female reader.

Word count: 8.1k. (oooops).

Warnings: well, spoilers for whole season 2. Language, angst (the reader wants to die, really). Talks about suicide, talks about suicide attempts, reader having nightmares, PTSD, reader is suffering too. Some hurt/comfort, some fluff? Filthy smut (included but not limited to hand jobs, unprotected sex, oral from both parts, dirty language, etc. etc.), and end of the world sex (to Beki's arsehole bitches yay🥂). Also Cleon refers to the reader as "woman" a couple of times lol. Reader has pierced ears? (wait for it). Bittersweet ending tbh.

Notes: just trying to make slow burn in a one shot because I'm a lazy fucker who doesn't like to write stories with chapters, otherwise I don't finish shit. Uh probably OOC Cleon??? I don't know. Fully inspired by my favorite trope ever: saving the bad guy and making him humble. I don't care we're four people watching Foundation, I need to write about this little piece of shit I love him so much. Cleon XVII is a himbo I said it. Not beta, we die like bitches of the Gossamer court.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

Tagging: @curiouswildi hope you like it 🥺💘

GEN MASTERLIST!

I. BEYOND

The last thing wandering his mind was Bel Riose. Fucking Bel Riose. That idiot. They had won over him; over him, who was Empire and still meant to be for years ahead. Next, the cold feeling of space was embracing him. But he felt he was not floating around anymore.

Cleon was tied to a surface. It felt like harsh, uncomfortable metal under his back. He slowly forced his eyes open, moving his limbs and trying to escape whatever it was restraining him to do so. His wrists and ankles, as his waist, were tied by a light blue particle field preventing the patient to move at all. He was met with the roof of a ship and equipment, but it wasn't any Imperial one. In panic, he moved until he was able to shake the surface he was on, panting and grunting, feeling some pain and sting resurging all over him. The headache was becoming unbearable and the sounds coming from his dry mouth finally transformed into screams. The room doors opened and a strange voice catched his attention.

"Finally, you're awake."

Cleon obliged to follow the shadow moving around, his eyes focusing to try and see who was talking. He heard steps and the sounds of metal and glass clinking around, probably looking for medication and tools as he was know fully concius. The figure finally came to view by his side.

"I will inject this, so don't move," you said, grabbing his bicep. Cleon was about to protest, but the needle was faster and the medicine was welcomed on his vurnerable system, easing the pain and calming down the headache. "Welcome back, Eminence," you smirked to him.

"And just so, who are you?" he asked chuckling to himself, licking his lips. "What have you done to me?"

"First, I saved your life and cleaned all your bloody wounds. You should say thanks at least," you sat down dangerously close by his side, on the same surface he was on.

"I did not ask you for mercy."

"Oh, but I did," you replied, a smirk on your lips. "Perhaps I shouldn't have, right?" you took a small pencil-like device in your hand from the pocket of your pants and used it to scan his vital signs. You touched his face carefully with your fingers, examining his eyes, his heartbeat, and any anomaly that might be on his system from head to toe, but the scanner found none. Cleon watched you doing so until he asked again, his voice softer this time.

"Who are you?"

"Just no one as important as you are," you said, saving the scanner back.

"Where are we?" Cleon asked, looking around. He observed he was placed in a small medical bay.

"In space, in the middle of nowhere I suppose," you shrugged, getting on your feet again. "It seems you're recovering quite well and fast. At least that's what my scanner says. So first, I think you should want some water, which I am leaving right here," you put a flask on the small table next to him. "And before I give you this to drink, I want to make sure you will not restrain or fight back at me."

He laughed, that narcissistic smile on his face. You wanted to punch him.

"You're no match for me, woman."

"Really? Then I could just throw you out there again, you know, it's not difficult. I'm spending resources on you, surely I won't oppose to that idea," you snapped back.

His smile faded slowly, thinking. If it wasn't for you, he would be dead by now, it was true. But he was so used to be immortal and undefeteable that the situation was kind of new. He only had been vulnerable and exposed to his doctors in the palace, and you were a complete stranger. And still, you had the heart to take him in your ship and save his life. He sighed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

"Fuck, fine. What do you want me to do?"

So this was his way of cooperating, you thought.

"After I turn off the restraints, you will have to sit down on the stretcher. I will help you. Do not try to get up yet, you might feel dizzy."

With a nod he said to you the orders were clear. Next, the restraints disappeared in the air with a push on a button and Cleon felt a small relief. As you promised, you helped him to sit and he realized that the clothes he had before were replaced with a set of new pale grey robes that allowed him to move freely. You offered the flask to his lips, but he watched you with a questioning look on his face.

"Is only water, I swear. See?" you had a small sip from the bottle and he looked more at ease after you swallowed the liquid.

You offered the bottle again and helped him to slowly drink. Once he was done, you placed a small tray with fruits and dry seeds on top of the same table beside the stretcher.

"You might want to eat something," you said, breaking the silence under his fixed gaze. Even when he was sitting down and you on your feet it felt rather intimidating. "I'm still collecting supplies and food. You were certainly not part of the plan these days."

"So you travel alone," Cleon said, taking a small red fruit between his fingers and began to eat it.

"I do," you nodded. "Sorry if the taste of the fruit is not pleasant."

"You're doing your best," he said while eating, studying the room around him. You were not sure if he was mocking you or not. "What was your name again?"

You chuckled. "You're very interesting, Empire. Why don't you finish eating and rest before taking a bath?"

The next few hours, you left him to rest and escorted him to your quaters, the only place with a comfortable bed, so he could get proper sleep. Since there were no further questions from him, you got to your business and requested more provisions to the merchants. Traveling alone had made you some contacts and traders, from time to time you would request for food giving in exchange money or rare knick knacks, and within a day you had a small capsule with supplements heading to your coordinates with everything you needed. You just had to wait for now.

After checking the estate of your ship and confirming everything was working correctly, you went back to your quaters to see how the Emperor was doing. You were startled to see him sitting on your bed with a book between his hands. He looked like he just had a bath because his shirt was gone and his hair was wet, some droplets running down his skin. Quickly, you studied him. He was handsome, muscular, his skin had a beautiful tan, and he was tall and heavy as hell, something you noticed when cleaning his wounds and taking him inside your ship. The earring on his left ear was also interesting, you thought, for a member of the most important dinasty of the galaxy. Very rebellious for the emperor.

You also knew he heard you steping in but never looked up from the book because he was the first one to talk.

"Never I could imagine you would have books in here," he said, clearly interested on the pages.

"Yeah, not all of us are barbarians as you work so hard to convice yourself we are."

He chuckled to himself, looking at you for the first time since you entered the room.

"Are you from Korell?"

"The book gave it away, didn't it."

"This is very old," he said, closing the book. "You are for sure not allowed to have this in Korell."

"That is one of the reasons I left," you replied, looking around the place. It was obvious to you that he was pearing within your personal stuff because the old myth book was secured down your mattress. At least he didn't leave a mess and everything seemed in the right place. "I was a threat in my planet so Argo kept looking for me for some conspiracy shit and terrorism when all I did was oppose myself to his repression and freakshow," you continued, his eyes drew back to you. "They wanted me dead in Korell, but I am the only one to decide that, even when and where will it happen."

Cleon shifted on his seat, wondering why you were sharing a piece of your life to him when he didn't even know your name yet. Words and thoughts wandered his head on how would he answer to your words, compassion or empathy sometimes were difficult things to feel. But before he was able to speak, you interrupted his thoughts.

"I will leave you alone to rest for a while and will come back when it's around supper. I follow Kornell cycle of time, so you know... Just don't poke around my underwear, Empire," you dragged his title mockingly.

He laughed softly, going back to his reading.

"Thank you for the idea."

That was the first time you would hear him expressing gratitude.

II. GHOSTS FROM THE PAST

Around more than a week passed, and Cleon was healing and his wounds were not so visible now. You made sure to inject him every day and gave your quaters and bed for him to sleep and recover. He had took a pad you had in the room so he could count the cycle of days in Trantor. Hardly to admit, he found himself missing home rather than hatred. Sometimes the rage mixed with sorrow, but he forced himself to try and understand that it was a normal feeling due to the sudden lose of everything he once had.

Cleon had been up from some time now as he counted the end of the eighth day on the pad, and wondered why your daily visit was taking so long. It was a habit you had, to come in and wake him up with the medicine, and after it was done, you would tell him to eat some of the fruits and food on the tray you brought for him. He got on his feet and put a shirt on before leaving the room to search for you. On the pilot cabin, you had an improvised, small stickable mattress on the wall that had saved your life before, so you used it to sleep and rest the past few days while he cured. Cleon observed your figure lying down on the mattress, walking slowly and sensing something was not right. He found you shaking and trembling, eyes still closed and chest heavily breathing as your hand held onto dear life what he realised it was a gun.

He felt somehow frightened and confused. If you wanted to kill him, you would already have done it. You had made yourself clear on that. The tremor of your body seemed it was increasing and Cleon, with a gentless he did not know he possesed, tried to soothe you with his voice, removing the gun from your embrace.

"Shh... everything is fine," he mumbled, not sure of his words, his other hand touching your shoulder in soft circles. He was able to withdraw the gun from your hands and placed it on the floating shelf near by.

Your eyes squeezed and some tears flowed down your face as you sobbed still in your sleep. Cleon hesitated on what to do next to wake you up. He leaned again, his hand slowly tracing the skin of your arm, like he did when his brother Dawn was a child.

"Woman? Wake up," he whispered, shaking you a little bit and pating your arm softly, and when he talked again, his voice was a little bit louder. "You're having a nightmare, wake up."

And as he repeated his words over and over, your eyes opened wide, feeling your lungs able to breath again. But your senses still were coming to awareness, and automatically you slapped the face of whoever it was touching your arm. You heard him groan in pain and you rolled over the mattres, until you hit the floor, taking out a small blade from below the makeshift pillow of fabrics you used. The blade pointing at him as you looked around the cabin to find out it was only both of you.

"What- are you okay?!" Cleon questioned with a frown, rubbing his hurting cheek as he remained on the other side of your bed, the only thing separating you from him was the mattress.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine!"

He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Of course you are not."

"Then why the fuck would you ask that?! It's obvious I'm not fine!" you yelled. Your body was tense and ready to attack. You felt a knot on your throat, like if you were to cry again. Silence envolved you, trying to calm down. That inner voice in your head began saying it was just a dream, and you wanted to believe it. It was all in your head. It was not real...

"Do you want to kill me?" Cleon's gloomy voice echoed.

"What? No! I would never-"

"Then why are you sleeping with a damn blaster shot and a blade on your bed?!" he confronted, screaming at you, but not daring to move as you also remained standing in the same place.

"Because I wanted to kill myself!" you yelled back, pointing the sharp of the knife to you instead. His face became stern and you realised what you had said, and what was happening. Ashamed, you threw the blade back under the pillow. "Sorry, I don't want you to know that. Forget it."

You wiped the tears on your face under his piercing and concerning eyes. You forced your head to compose and burry your nightmares and memories deep inside before talking.

"I have to inject you," you said and walked back to the room, sure he would follow behind. Once you crossed the doors, you prepared the needle but Cleon remained standing near the exit of your room the whole time, arms crossed over his chest, observing you with utter worry on his face. Why? He really did not know. Probably because you were the only human and intelligent contact he had for days now, and you had the decency to keep him alive. Though he was not going to let that in his head - yet.

"Why don't you seat?" you most likely ordered. Cleon slowly made his way to you and remained standing, tall and kind of threatening. He was Emperor, after all.

"What is wrong with you?" he asked with a careful tone.

"Nothing, Empire. Just sit," you said, coldly, waiting for him to do as you requested.

"No, I need to know," he demanded, coming closer to you, jaw clenching. Anger started taking over your being and held his gaze as you replied.

"I have the right to decide whether or not speak about my personal life, I am not one of your subjects, so sit the fuck down so I can give you the last dosis of this shit."

"I need to know if I can fucking trust you after what I just heard coming from your mouth," his voice boomed around the place.

"You really want to know?! Fine, back in Korell I lost my family, my brother, my parents, my home - everything I had they took it from me! I was the last one alive and I escaped after they killed my brother in front of me and that day is still haunting me," you muttered and felt the tears forming on your eyes, but this time, of rage. "So if it concerns your own well being, like it always has been, no, I will not kill you. But you are no Emperor here, so stop that game. Some of us never gave a fuck about you or the Empire, or the Foundation and Hari Seldon, or the Church of the Galactic Spirit -I don't care! I'm tired, I just want to be free and live peacefully!"

You had not noticed you stepped closer to him, feeling the heat radiating from his body. His face was blank, as if he had been slapped again, but this time to reality. A reality he was not familiar with on his own bubble.

Quickly you grabbed his bicep and injected the dosis with him standing up. He whined in surprise. It was fast. So fast that you just removed the needle from his flesh and left the room.

III. WHAT YOU REALLY KNOW

According to the Trantor cycle, evening should be now. When you left him alone in the room, Cleon spent the next hours by himself, and since he watched you looking up for garments and food around the ship before, he made sure to get those without speaking to you. Not that you wanted to talk either. He noticed you sitting on the main pilot seat, looking at the stars and the void through the glass the whole day. He got concerned for a moment, but decided to let you be as he, also, understood that some time alone was necessary.

However, Cleon thought to talk to you finally and say something. Anything to get you back to reality and forget your bad dreams. So he found himself making his way to sit on the other chair of the ship. He prepared the words to say inside his head, but it was more difficult to speak out loud.

"I think I owe you an apology," he finally said, taking in the view of space. You nodded slowly your head. Nobody turned to see each other.

"It's nothing. But apology accepted I guess."

"It's not nothing. I rarely thought about what other citizens and planets are going through... I'm so sorry it happened to you."

"I would like to say that was not your fault, but since the Empire withdrawal from Korell, living there definitely became so much worse," you confessed, very aware of the genetic dinasty and some of the things previous emperors did, which did not change much. They were the same man after all. Cloning again and again...

"Probably should apologise for that as well," he said.

"Yeah, it's too late, but thank you."

Cleon could still sense a feeling of resentment in your voice. He thought you were right to feel that way, but he was also going to try and make you understand him.

"I never had a mother, or a father, and my brothers are the same man as me, so it's hard to understand that some people lose their family and loved ones. I was born with that loss already... That's why I wanted to end the genetic dinasty."

"You are the eighteenth?" you asked, not knowing exactly why he was opening to you.

"The seventeenth."

"That's a lot of you though. Do you remember anything from the past?"

"I do not. But our memories are always saved. Everything that happens in Trantor is recorded and kept as data. If I want to know something about a previous Cleon, I would just request it."

You turned your gaze to finally see him, he looked in awe with space as he spoke.

"So what was your motive to destroy a planet?"

He turned his eyes to you. "I believe you didn't care about Empire or the Foundation."

"That doesn't mean I want to see a genocide, your Eminence."

Cleon stirred on his seat, with a strange feeling of guilt, sadness and regret. For some reason, the title falling off your lips made everything worse.

"You saw it," he said. "How? You're no part of the Foundation, at least you're lying to me."

"No, I am not! I did a stupid space jump without course and I ended here, unfortunately." You were growing tired of the conversation. "I don't know why we keep talking. We're both shitty people anyway."

Cleon chuckled, not to mock you, but because of the whole situation you were in together.

"I know you are. Brave enough to kill yourself, taking another life is nothing compared to your own."

You locked your gaze with his, thinking if he was he judging you or flattering you.

"And have you, like, tried to end with your life at some point? You must feel lonely, under the shadow of a clone, not allowing you to be, well, you."

He let out a deep breath, avoiding your eyes.

"I have not, but my genes are already compromised and adultered. No surprise if any of us dared to commit suicide before," he replied, looking to the void. "In any case, if something out of the ordinary is to happen to my brothers or myself, we have another clone with our same memories, same age, everything; prepared to be woken up and take our place. Like if we never existed."

"That's fucked up," you scoffed. "We are never trully free, are we."

You got on your feet to look up for something to eat and forget your small talk. You knew he had searched for fruits and dry food because you heard him moving around and then leaving a couple of times, but you had nothing through the whole day. Cleon followed your steps, leaving enough space between you both as you took a couple of apples, giving one to him.

"The jump, how did you do that?" he asked, taking a bite of the fruit. "You don't have spacers."

"The rebels are smart people. A lot of members of the Foundation replicated your technology."

"I thought you were not involved with them," he insisted.

"I am not, but I would never deny any help. That my support doesn't rely on them doesn't mean I will let a chance slide."

"You're not answering my question."

You pulled the sleeve of your shirt up to show your bare wrist to him. There was the same device Hober Mallow and the Clerics had, inserted on your skin.

"I use this.”

"This is a whisper ship," he mumbled.

"Smart. Yes, sort of."

Cleon scoffed. "So that means we can land somewhere."

"About that, uh, we can't."

He moved to throw the remainings of his fruit with a confused look. "Why?"

He heard your sigh as you covered your wrist again, looking away from his deep eyes.

"I- I threw myself to space because I wanted to kill myself," you started, avoiding his gaze. "I didn't care how long would take me, I just wanted to blow up my ship. Just end everything. But then I saw you, floating, dying... and for some reason I couldn't let you die. I didn't know who you were but I saved you. There's no energy or fuel to make another jump. I don't have that. We are far from what Terminus was now. From any planet, form of life or civilization... plus you are unarmed. You still are weak and anyone could kill you," you finished, and waiting for some reason that he could forgive you for giving him any sort of hope. "I'm sorry, Empire."

Beyond madness, Cleon felt you were worried for him. Not the kind of sentiment his brothers or palace workers would do, but a real one. Because you knew saving him was condemn him to death anyway. But this felt much better than dying alone. He had sins, past despiteful decisions and ghosts hunting him, as so were you. You just addressed your feelings and your life together in less than a day. And you were right, none of you were never trully free, but as crazy as it might be, being lost in space with you felt like freedom to him. Finally, he was far away from everything that was keeping chained to a life and responsibilities he never asked for, living under the shadow of an egotistical emperor.

There was a strong impulse growing inside him and before his rational voice began to scream it was a bad idea to continue, he had cupped your cheeks between his hands and his lips pressing hungrily against yours. You whined, surprised of the warm feeling of his mouth, his tongue hurriedly asking for permission to taste you. When oxygen was not enough you pulled away, shocked and panting. You barely noticed your hand around his forearm, recovering yourself from the best kiss you had in some time.

"Cleon," he whispered, kissing your lips one more time.

"What?"

"Just call me Cleon. I'm not Empire anymore."

You kissed him in response with the same eagerness he had before, heart beating strongly in your chest. His hands caressed every inch of your body, from your neck, breasts, your hips, your soft thighs, your ass... he touched you with desperate fire while you moaned against his mouth, liking where was this leading you, more than you wanted to admit.

That was the first time you gave in to him completely.

IV. TO LOVE AND TO BE LOVED

You moaned against his lips, those that forcefuly broke the heated kiss you shared as he ruts into you desperately to reach his own climax. His flesh hitting against yours made an obscene harmony that echoed the confines the ship, far from civil and coherent noises fell from his lips as he sucked into the skin of your neck.

"Fuck, yes, right there," a broken whimper escaped your throat, your nails scratching his back, your walls clenching around his cock. "Cleon..."

The sound of his name being moaned by your sweet, raspy voice, caused him to slow down his thrusts just a bit.

"I still don't know your name," he whispered, bitting your bottom lip only to kiss you wet again.

"And yet you're fucking me, isn't that enough?" you teased, rolling your hips to meet his own.

He gave you a smirk, that fucking handsome smirk you hated so much. He took you with his strong arms, flipping you around so he was now on his back and you got control on top of him. You sinked down his dick setting a reckless rhythm, his thrusts matching yours every time you went down, his grip hard on your waist, marking and bruising your skin. One of his hands massaged your bouncing breasts, one after the other, pinching and then, you felt his mouth biting your nipples and chest, as he leaned your body to him for easy access, with slow grunts and groans that didn't sound human anymore.

His cock repeatedly hit that sweet spot from the position you were taking him, increasing the tension inside you. The sensation of his hands coming back to your sides and making its way to your ass cheeks to guide your bouncing hips became too much so soon. You cried as you felt drunk and high, muscles tense as you finally came. Cleon held you tight, fucking into you as you reached sweet release. His tongue traveled down your collarbone and breasts.

"Cleon," you moaned, your hands on his chest to support your body better. You felt him twitch inside you, knowing he was dangerously close too. Quickly, you slid off him, taking his girth, slick with your own wetness, between your hand you pumped him hard, easing his own release. His seed coated your palm, sprinkling on his abdomen.

"Shit, you're great," he praised, voice dark from lust. His fingers tangled into your hair, his forehead against yours as you recovered from the intense sex session you had for the second time that day. He kissed you sweetly, like a sweetness he only had discovered in the short time with you. "I wish I could know your name."

"You can call me your savior," you gave him a playful smile.

After a shared lazy kiss, you got on your feet, legs still shaking, and left the bed to clean yourself in the small place you called bathroom right next to the only room of the ship. Once finished, you threw the cloth away, and looked directly the mirror, or poor attempt of it. In the damp glass, you watched Cleon appear to embrace your body against his, your back touching his chest muscles and his hands roamed your abdomen while he left butterfly kisses on your shoulder. His big arms around you, pressing your figure to his own, huge in comparison entrusting protection.

The nineteenth day it was, and you spent it exploring your pleassures, talking nonsense and overall for Cleon, thinking he might love you. The confinement had flourished different kinds of feelings and sentiments inside his heart. He finally learned to feel something else besides hatred, power, or selfishness. The more you spoke to him, the more he grew to like you. You were far from perfect and so was he, and the way you opened your heart to him - the man who was to wed a powerful queen, govern thrillions of people around the galaxy and kill a few others - caused him to feel unworthy of anything coming from you. The man he grew up to be slowly disappeared as long as you had him under your light and spirit; his old self was fading away. And it scared him, but excited him at the same time. Even when he was very aware you were near the end together, he had nothing to ask for but to perish with you.

"What's in your head?" you whispered.

Cleon had no longer been tasting the skin of your neck, his chin pressed on your shoulder instead with his mind running a million thoughts by now. He took a glance at the damp and dirty mirror of how perfect you looked, bare and exposed in body and soul, only for his eyes to witness the true beauty of being alive. Of being human.

"You."

A loving smile curled up on your lips, looking directly into his enamoured gaze through the mirror. He decided he wanted to remember you like this in the afterlife.

You finished marking the last spot with an 'x', a wide grin over your face.

"I won."

"Yet again," Cleon chuckled. His laugh had grew sincere with you as he settled on the floor on the cold floor of the pilot cabin, just giving enough space for the board between you and him. "And what is your question, person-I-not-know-the-name-of?"

You just had finished playing another round of a silly game. It was an old Terran game, and you were surprised it made it this far across the galaxy. It was good to pass the time though. It kept you and Cleon thinking about other things besides dying. The fuel and energy, along with the water, were lowering on their levels. Food on the other hand was not a worry, you knew you could request to the traders as long as energy was functioning to make communication with them. However, the energy of your ship had to be loaded in land, just like fuel. And you had no place to go now to do that.

Being together as long as you had the resources was the main goal now. So many things crossed your mind as you talked about everything and nothing at the same time the past days.

"Have you ever been in love?" you asked after some time thinking.

You thought maybe it was the first time in Cleon's life that he was finally able to think and behave on his own, with no burdens about a dinasty to protect or pleasing his council.

He was taken by surprise as you spoke. He immediately remembered Demerzel, his loyal advisor. His relationship was merely sexual, but there were no feelings that would assimilate to what love is in reality. For sure, his own clone should have been woken up by now with no further consequences. For Cleon, it felt like he was actually erased from existence forever. He was disposable, just like his brothers. But thinking about your question, his answer was no. He never knew what love was. Not from Demerzel, certainly not from Dusk, Dawn was slightly different though, he did love Dawn but not the way you were referring to. He never knew the love from a mother or a father, nor family. Sareth hated him, so even if they got to marry he knew there would be no space for such sentiment. His own future children with the Queen of Cloud Dominion would have grown up without an essential part of being human.

"No," Cleon finally gave an answer, his gaze went soft as he realised what you just became to him in a matter of days. "However I sense something different when I am with you. And I don't recall to know what that is."

You smiled. "Isolation tends to create adjustments in those who suffer it."

"And have you?" Cleon asked back. "Have you ever felt it before?"

"I did... With my parents, my brother, my best friends, and a couple of assholes who broke my heart."

He chuckled, admiring the charm you had to brush off the hardships in your life. You smiled back at him. Gods you loved seeing him like this, like if he was happy and nothing had happened.

"And how is it?" he said.

"It's affection, it's addictive, not everyone can escape from it. You feel like you belong somewhere, that your life is strangely complete," you mumbled, locking your gaze with his own. "And it hurts a lot. But as you go through that path, you get to know the most beautiful kind of pain."

"Does it hurt now?"

You swallowed hard, that familiar knot on your throat. You were not expecting to feel this way. Not for the Emperor, not for the clone, not for Cleon. Yet one does not control love. You don't decide to love someone without a reason. And what else could two lost souls do in the middle of the galaxy with no purpose but to wait and die? You had opened your deepest fears and secrets to him, not expecting Cleon doing exactly the same. He trusted you and you trusted him. You slept in the same bed, ate the same food and fruits, fucked like animals everyday and yet there was an emotional connection in between you thought would never know again after so many years. How could you not fall for him when everything was crumbling? Finally, you nodded your head, feeling the tears burning in your eyes.

"I always have been alone, Cleon, but my soul seems to have a little love to give. In the end, love is what makes us human."

Cleon put the board of the game away and leaned closer to you, his hand caressed your cheek, cleaning the tears falling down your face as he pressed his forehead with yours. He kissed you softly, swallowing your pain, as a way to say he was hurting too.

V. VOYAGE

It was the thirtieth day on the ship.

Your last try to get and land in any planet failed. As much as Cleon told you to stop, that everything was fine, you felt you had to keep trying until your last day. But the ship was basically to zero fuel and soon energy will follow. You used the control panel of the ship, hopefuly to find a near by land, but luck was not on your side. There was nothing. You don't know exactly how many miles you traveled with no course for a month. It was getting beyond bearing.

Frustrated, you pulled away the holo of the map and the calculations you did in the air, throwing a lose screw of your seat directly to the glass. It did nothing, but you were starting to hate the view of the stars and nothingness sorrounding.

"I told you to stop that," you listened to Cleon, who seemed just arrived to the pilot cabin.

"I had to try," you stood up, walking towards him. Your arms embraced his waist and he took you in with the same warmth.

"You're worried."

"I am not," you whined. "I should have sent for help with the merchants."

Cleon broke your hug and cupped your face between his hands, leaning closer to you.

"No, we should end this now," he whispered, his brows furrowed.

"No!"

"Why not? You wanted to do it even before you found me."

"Because now ending me is ending you too!"

Cleon felt your pain, but there was no other option to make than to blow up the ship anyway. Even if you were to land somewhere, what was for him? You were not able to go back home, and Cleon was discarded at this point. The throne could not have two of the same in the middle. Hiding and running away sounded like a good choice, but still, where? There was nothing left, but he found comfort with you.

"I am okay with this," he said. "I told you. You have to do it."

"Cleon-" you plea was cut by his voice.

"How much time do we have?"

"I don't know, a couple of days at last."

"Then do it. You said you were to decide when and how you would die, this is the time," he remembered with a stern voice. "Take it."

You let out a shaky breath and pushed him to press your lips to his own, like saying goodbye. But you still would not accept this fate. Not like this. You kissed him with hunger and need, your tongues tangled up as your mouths danced together.

"I just have- I can't yet," you mumbled once the kiss was over, leaving you both seeking for air. "Can we just fuck each others brains again and pretend none of this happened for a moment?" you asked against his lips, your hand now on his cheek, caressing the stubble on his face. You always remembered to help him shave and that was one of the most normal things you had to do since you found yourself confined with him. The most casual and mundane things to do became

He nodded. "Yes, my love.”

Cleon kissed your lips with the same hunger and desire, his hands caressing every inch of you until he lifted you up, your legs quickly went around his waist. With eyes closed, you let him guide you to the bar fixed against the wall of your ship.

He made sure to throw everything that was on the surface to the ground to place you in there. Once you were sitting, he pulled your legs apart to stand in the middle of them, and full with lust, his lips and teeth marked your neck and collarbone. You moaned sweetly, palming his groin still covered with the fabric of his pants. He traveled down your breasts, kissing over your shirt until he took it off. He was lucky you decided not to wear bra anymore. He sucked on your tits and nipples, grinding his hips against your hand.

You tried to pull his pants away, but he finished the job first, pulling away from your chest. After his pants were discarded, his shirt followed. He also got used to no underwear so he stood exposed all for you. A true god he was, looking perfect and like if every inch of his body was created for you to worship completely.

Cleon hurried in getting you out of your clothes, and in minutes you were naked and feeling his tongue dancing on your belly. His fingers and massive hands teasing your thighs, avoiding the place where you needed them the most. You moaned when he finally used a single digit to rub your slit, collecting your wetness. He rubbed your clit, mouth going slow and dangerously close to your pussy.

You laid your back on the bar and Cleon grabbed your thighs to have you exactly at the edge of the surface, ready to eat from your heat.

"Cleon," you cried out his name, your fingers tangled on his hair as his tongue licked your most sensitive parts.

He kept your hips in place, fucking you with his tongue and licking your folds, going to your clit. You couldn't help but whimper and moan, removing his hair to see just how much he yearned your cunt.

You tried to roll your hips but his grip was too strong. He looked up to lock his dark gaze with you, his humming creating strong vibrations down your core. He played some more, using a finger to tease your entrance. You were about to cum just by watching him.

"Cleon, please-" you gasped when he inserted a finger inside you, thrusting slowly. "Please, I want to taste you too."

He stopped, looking your flushed face for a moment. Your eyes were begging to suck him right now. He released your pussy with an obscene sound, pulling his tongue and hand away, but your wetness still shined on him. You got on the ground with his help and started to kneel down, kissing his skin, from his chest and then abdomen, licking and biting to leave your marks on his sculptured muscles. You made sure to adore and suck the skin of his navel, knowing he was insecure with not having a belly button. Still without it, he was more human than he could ever get to accept because you have seen that on him.

Cleon grunted once your hand wrapped around him, his hand on your scalp. You gave him a far from innocent look from your position before licking the head, rolling your tongue around it, lubing it with your saliva. His desperate groans led you to wrap your lips around him, pumping with your hand what you couldn't reach with your throat yet. You had to learn he was big for you, so a little of warm up for your mouth was a good start.

He cursed under his breath, thrusting his hips a little to go further, slowly, and you welcomed his cock with a small gag once he reached the back of your throat. He moaned darkly, your rubbed your thighs together when he started to fuck your mouth. Both his hands taking the sides of your head as you choked and gagged around his lenght. You felt him throbbing but he quickly pulled out, and left you empty and with drool falling from your lips, your pussy now aching and clenching around nothing.

"So beautiful," he purred, the touch on your scalp soft now. "But I want to finish inside you."

You nodded, obedient. Cleon helped you to sit down on the bar again, he stayed between your legs, spreading them wide, you held onto him, arms around his neck. He entered slowly, the warmth of your walls swallowing his cock, inch by inch, until it disappeared completely inside your dripping cunt.

You shivered, broken moans falling from your lips. Cleon muffled your low cries with kisses, waiting for you to get used to him.

"Fuck me, Cleon," you mumbled against his swollen lips.

He complied happily, thrusting and pounding into your heat, with a frenetic and brutal pace you had learn to love. You hid your face in the crook of his neck, yor nails scratching his arms and back. His cock touched all the right places inside you and he whispered sweet nothings into your skin, fucking you right under the light of the stars and the void of space.

He moaned along with you, wishing heaven or whatever it was after felt exactly like this. Like you, with your arms around him, your sweet voice calling his name lovingly and whimpering for more, giving your soul to him and only him. Your walls started to clench and his hips stuttered, aproaching a craving release. But in between, he heard a word against his ear you never mumbled before, turning his lustful eyes to you and slowing down his thrusts.

You repeated it again, he was visibly confused but kept ruting into you.

"My name," you said, fingers now caressing his hair.

He smiled. He knew it now. The stranger who saved him had a name after all. Cleon kissed you fiercely, repeating your name again and again between wet kisses. You were close to release, feeling one of his digits rubbing your clit as you moaned together. The wave of electricity took your body first, clenching your pussy around his cock. Cleon followed soon after, rhythm slow and tense muscles, until he spilled inside you, coating your sensitive cunt with his seed.

Catching your breath, you remained together. He sucked on your neck softly, your name was the only thought inside his mind. And as much as you loved his touch on you, you remembered there was something to do still.

"Cleon," you called, getting his attention and feeling he was pulling out of you with a low groan. He looked at you with loving eyes and you smiled. You brushed his hair with your fingers pulling him to yet another smooth kiss. "It's time."

He knew it was. In silence his fingers found his earring, twitsting it and pulling it apart. He took it from his ear and placed it on yours carefully. You were always amazed at his touch, how rough and yet soft and gentle he could be.

"So you can remember me," he smiled when he was over. You let out a laugh and curved your llps in a grin. "It suits you."

"Thanks, Cleon."

Cleon leaned down to kiss you one more time before cleaning both of you. You dressed together as if you were not about to meet finally death. For some reason, you saved everything that was not on their cabinets or initial positions, packing all you could, like if you could take those belongings with you, most of which were from your family. One day Cleon asked why you had clothes that could meet his height, being taller than a lot of people around. You told him it was from your best friend. You thought every piece of clothes or souvenirs would help someday, but it never crossed your mind that it was going to be this way.

When everything was was done, you and Cleon settled in front of the control panel, however, before you could start the holo, a loud explosion could be heard. You frowned, turning to Cleon.

"Did you-? Ah!"

The ship almost overturned as something heavy hit the side, making you trip and fall over with Cleon on the ground. Again, an explosion was heard, far from the ship but clear enough to say it was getting closer, and seconds later, the ship got hit but this time on the glass, almost breaking it over. Quickly, you both stood up and saw what was happening.

"A black hole..."

"Look, there are debris around," you pointed a huge piece that looked the size of your ship, but that definitely was part of a much bigger one. You saw the debris and metal being swallowed and destroyed by the black hole. It wasn't pacing fast, but wasn't slow either. It looked like it was talking its time for much bigger things to eat, such as your ship. Cleon called you, taking your hands and pressing his forehead to yours. You could feel he was shaking, and your skin grew cold. You realised it was really happening now.

"Do it," he said. "Destroy the ship."

After a moment of hesitation, you gave a nod. He kissed you deeply again. You turned the holo to activate the ship and program its own destruction.

"Self-destruction mechanism activated," the computer confirmed.

"We have sixty seconds," you mumbled, tears already forming in your eyes. He cut you off with a kiss. You would miss those warm lips on yours.

"That's enough for me," he said. You smiled and he did the same.

"I love you, Cleon," you embraced his body with a hug. "I am happy I met this kind of pain with you."

He cupped your cheeks, pecking your lips, smiling down at you, saying I love you too. You, the one who saved him and gave him a second chance. Or at least a moment of relief. A place and a person who allowed him to be himself and find things he never knew would have.

"We have more in common now," he whispered. "We are both alone and hurting somewhere in the galaxy.”

#brother day x female reader #brother day smut #brother day x reader #cleon xvii #cleon xvii x reader #cleon xvii smut #foundation 2021 #foundation fanfiction #foundation apple tv #foundation imagines #isaac asimov foundation #lee pace #lee pace fanfiction #lee pace x reader #lee pace smut #brother day foundation #foundation season 2

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honestly-oceanie · 1 year

Text

Marked me like a bloodstain || the dangerous ones edition + some additionals

Synopsis: drawing something on them

Warnings: if you are in a relationship where you are scared of your own significant other, leave the relationship already before it becomes more difficult. A romantic relationship must have mutual respect, trust, comfort and security with one another, it is not always about the butterflies and blushing.

《Dion Agriche, Jeremy Agriche, Rezef Hill, Dylan Sean Blade, Eros Orna Vasilios + two additionals | gn!reader》

{Supposedly fluff♡ | ▪︎imagine/scenario▪︎}

The Way To Protect The Female Lead's Older Brother

Dion Agriche

🦋 You decided to do this for no apparent reason. Or you just wanted a reaction from him.

🦋 You asked Dion for him to hand you his arm, he stared at you first as if questioning you why... now you really started to regret asking as his sharp gaze was rather uncomfortable.

🦋 Before you could retract your request, Dion reach his hand out to you without a word, indicating that you may do as you please. It took you awhile to process his action but you chirpily did as you initially planned. Using the pen against his skin.

🦋 You proudly showed him your artwork and explained it to him knowing that he definitely does not understand it. He just nodded then ruffled your hair before leaving. Now you're left wondering if this was even worth it at all.

🦋 Meanwhile outside the door, Dion stares at the doodle you did on his palm. It felt weird having the pen's ink on his skin though it did no much harm on him except painting some part of his skin black, he certainly won't use a pen as a weapon as he deems it useless.

ଘ・┈┈・✧・┈┈・✦・┈┈・✧・┈┈・✦

The Way To Protect The Female Lead's Older Brother

Jeremy Agriche

🦋 "You will do anything for me, right?" You asked your boyfriend and he nodded vigorously.

🦋 You asked him to sit still and closed his eyes and Remy followed you obediently. He could feel something poking on his cheek that seems to have a liquid substance but he didn't dare peek as you haven't told him to open his eyes and he trust you with his life.

🦋 After you completed your drawing, you let him open his eyes and you pass him the hand mirror so he could see it. Jeremy's eyes widen as he sees what you have done, he takes a close inspection of it.

🦋 You're growing anxious and scared, had you crossed Remy's invisible line? You had always been free to do as you please with him as he allows you too that you forgot about boundaries. But before you knew it, he tackles you with a tight hug and started showering you with kisses, he tells you to do it again. After both of you are satisfied, you ruffled his hair as you professed your love for him, grateful that he still allows you to do things.

🦋 Remy won't mind whatever you want to do with him as long as you do it within the confines of his safe and private room.

ଘ・┈┈・✧・┈┈・✦・┈┈・✧・┈┈・✦

The Villainess Is A Marionette

Rezef Hill

"Prince of Eldyme Empire"

🦋 You've been so bored out of you mind these past few days, you can't talk to anyone unless you want them to be gone, your servant's changes almost everyday depending on their loyalty to their master, whom is your partner, Prince Rezef.

🦋 Kayena does visit you at times to keep your sanity intact but not for too long, for some reason Prince Rezef just knows when to interrupt.

🦋 Since you pretty much have no one but him then he should be your target right? He doesn't want you to rely on anyone but him then so be it.

🦋 You ordered your current personal attendant to call for him, after a few Rezef finally came and told the servant to leave you alone. He then sat down beside you and asks why you called for him, you told him that you wanted to spend some time with him and asked him to give you his hand and he didn't hesitate, glad with your willingness and obedience.

🦋 He was quite amused when you started drawing on his palm. He knew you like art so much, maybe he should give you an art room as a reward for reciprocating his love. After you finished, you gave him a kiss on the cheek and thank him for his cooperation, you tried to be as lovely as you could with him to avoid upsetting him and might get yourself killed

🦋 He gave you that prince charming smile again and told you: "Anything for my princess." As he kisses your cheek too.

ଘ・┈┈・✧・┈┈・✦・┈┈・✧・┈┈・✦

I Tamed A Tyrant And Ran Away/ The Taming Of The Tyrant

Dylan Sean Blade

"The 13th Prince"

🦋 Dylan had receive losses in his life, first his mother, next his master, and now he obviously won't allow the same with you.

🦋 As the ink of the quill pen that you are holding spread across his skin, it reminds him that you are still there. As your warm hand holds his arm to keep him steady, it assures him that you are a real existence and not just a fragment of hallucination of his fever dream.

🦋 Soon you completed your work, Dylan kissed your palm that once held the quill pen previously. He swore to you in his heart, anything you wish upon, just order him at your will and he is eternally at your service. That is if you reciprocate the same loyalty to him.

🦋 He'll do anything you say as long as you stay and don't run away.

ଘ・┈┈・✧・┈┈・✦・┈┈・✧・┈┈・✦

Your Throne/ I Want To Be You, Just For A Day

Eros Orna Vasilios

"Crown Prince of the Vasilios Empire"

🦋 As the assistant of the Crown Prince, it was customary that you will meet other people, yet however, the Crown Prince seem to disagree. For some odd reason he likes to keep you to himself, he normally doesn't allow you to meet other people, which you're actually glad about as you don't like to socialize anyways.

🦋 Today is unfortunately an exception, you are forced to be a part of a meeting. You know it's going to involve a lot of people but you didn't expect it to be this many. Your social anxiety is getting the best of you, you're really really trying your best to seem normal as possible. Still, you can't help it when you fidget.

🦋 You subconsciously started swinging the pen that is in between your thumb and index finger. You didn't notice that the point touches the Crown Prince skin as you swing it.

🦋 Eros suddenly grabbed your hand, forcing you to a stop. You flinch at the sudden contact (hopefully no one noticed), you turn to look at the Crown Prince beside you. He put the meeting to a halt and asked everyone to scram.

🦋 After all others had left, he turned to you, his hand still holding yours while his other hand held your jaw. His gaze on you was so sharp and intimidating you couldn't face him at all so instead you looked down and there you saw what you had done.

🦋 Your nervousness and shock was completely visible to Eros who laughed at the sight. It wasn't helpful at all, you know what kind of person your boss is and it made you feel scared of him, already overthinking of what may happen to you, yet Eros only calmly stood up from his seat and held your jaw stronger, making you look up at him.

🦋 He merely told you to calm yourself first before you return to his office. With that, he patted your head before leaving you alone with your thoughts.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

2 Additionals 《Callisto Regulus, Cale Henituse》

ଘ・┈┈・✧・┈┈・✦・┈┈・✧・┈┈・✦

Death Is The Only Ending For The Villainess/ Villains Are Destined To Die

Callisto Regulus

"Crown Prince of the Eorka Empire"

🦋 Since you had nothing to do, you decided to go annoy your partner. As you arrive in his office, you just slam open the door and there, revealed your peacefully sleeping partner resting on his table with his arms as his pillow.

🦋 But you weren't just gonna stop there just because he is sleeping. After closing the door, you approach the table Callisto is sleeping at. Your eyes comes across the pen that lays beside him.

🦋 Grinning evilly, you pick up the pen and started doodling on Callisto's face. After some time, you notice his brows furrowing, indicating that he was going to fully awake soon, so you place back the pen from where you found it to avoid suspicion and skedaddled before you get caught.

🦋 Callisto stretched his arms that he used as his pillow. Finally getting the motivation, he stood up from his seat and decided to walk around a bit, as he walked past a mirror he noticed something and stopped on his tracks, he walks back to the mirror and saw his face now covered with doodles.

🦋 There is only one person that he allows to enter in his office without needing permission nor knocking and that person is most certainly the culprit of this. But he needs to wash his face first.

🦋 Callisto finally found the culprit, reading a book at the library as if they hadn't done nothing at all. A dark shadow looms over you thus you couldn't read properly anymore, you were going to scold whoever it was yet it turned out to only be your partner, Callisto, who was smiling back at you.

🦋 I suggest you sleep with one eye open tonight, he warned, and you were obviously gonna take this advice as you know very well what was gonna happen on your beauty sleep.

ଘ・┈┈・✧・┈┈・✦・┈┈・✧・┈┈・✦

Trash Of The Count's Family/ Lout Of Count's Family

Original! Cale Henituse

🦋 You and Cale have known since you were just little kids, you two had grown with such a strong friendship, you both were unseparable and unbreakable.

🦋 Lately you've been noticing that things have been a little different between you and your great friend. You both had barely spend time with each other not even trying to check up on the other. You've been busy with your duties as the heir of your family, and Cale busy doing his own stuff. Even when you both happen to cross paths with each other, he acts as though he doesn't notice you at all. Today however, he couldn't turn around anymore.

🦋 You were sitting on the tree you and Cale had claimed as your own, accompanied with leaves dancing with the wind as you compose poems on your newly-bought notebook yet you feel so uninspired. Your heart couldn't help but feel restless as you began to comprehend the growing distance between you and Cale.

🦋 Had you done or said something insensitive to him without realizing? No that couldn't be possible, you're aware of topics that are deemed taboo to Cale. Is it because you haven't spend a spare time with him? But Cale is knows how you are busy with your duties and you did promised to him that if you had the chance, you'd take a day off with him. Is it because you hadn't checked up on him? You know how reckless he can be yet miraculously he can still stand on his own two feet. You trust him a lot to know that he'll be fine though you still feel worried about him everytime.

🦋 And speaking of the devil, there he is, standing beside you with wide eyes as he didn't expect to face you today. You grab his legs and forcedly plop him down beside before he could run off, you are on top of him with your hands on either side of his head to avoid him from escaping. While you are determined to bring back the bond you both once shared, Cale's face is almost of the same color of his hair, he is extremely flustered from the position you're both in, if anyone could see this they would surely misunderstand.

🦋 You confronted Cale and he explained to you that he just didn't want to bother you at all, you sighed in relief, you thought you had done something wrong to him. You moved back to the place you were originally sitting as Cale finally gets to sit down properly.

🦋 You fiddled with the pen you were holding, then suddenly you remembered a memory from your childhood with Cale. You indicate to Cale for him to give you his hand and he did, wondering what you were gonna do but didn't dare ask. You started doodling on his wrist, a stickman and a stickwoman both holding ice creams.

🦋 "Is this–hmm... is this suppose to be us?" Cale guessed, you nodded cheerfully then asked him if he still remembered that day, and he cracked in a fit of laughter remembering that time you both tasted ice cream for the very first time, your reaction was most amusing.

🦋 The sun had already set to let the moon shine for the night, yet none of you bothered as you and Cale were too busy remembering memories you both share since your childhood up until now.

🦋 Who would have thought that happiness can be cut short that easily. Those laughter that you should cherish fades into mere memories. It was only yesterday but today is a new day, and new day can come new beginnings.

🦋 You didn't expect that your friend who just came back to normal, is not him. Your friend you've had a strong bond with, is not him anymore. Your friend you grown to love, will never be him. But is it really over just like this?

🦋 Same bodies but different souls. Can you really not be happy with him anymore? Are you really gonna lose this friendship? Could there really be no bond that may form at all? Is it really impossible to fall in love with the new him as he is? Or will you still cling to the hope for him to return as he was?

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗

Honestly, Oceanie

╚══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╝

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iceman-kazansky · 10 months

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Band of Brothers Appreciation Week, Day 3– Hurt/comfort

Requested by: nobody, appreciation week

Pairings: Richard "Dick" Winters x f!reader

Warnings: Angst (obv), mentions of death, reader kills a 16 year old, pinning for a bit, drunk reader, probably swearing, mentions of God, kissing, uhm.. I think that's it??

A/n: I POSTED THIS REALLY LATE IN THE DAY BECAUSE IT WASN'T YET FINISHED, sorry for that 😅

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

The world was cold that day.

You had stupidly thought that maybe, just maybe, the memory would leave. It wouldn’t ever show it’s ugly face to you again. Maybe even disappear forever.

But of course, that wasn’t how the human mind worked, wasn’t how any problem worked.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

You remember the way you had been walking through the cold confines of Bastogne, rifle in hand and snow crunching loudly beneath your feet while you walked.

It was then you heard it, the snapping of a branch a few feet away, a dark figure in the woods, moving through the trees, causing you to dive for cover behind a large coniferous tree.

The figure continued walking, unsuspecting of the danger you posed as he grew nearer and nearer. He nearly walked into you, but a surprised yelp left his lips when he emerged from the brush to see you, gun out and trained on him.

And then you’d shot him.

The peppery smell of gunpowder fresh in the frigid air and the beautiful white snow stained a sickening crimson blood as the bullet you’d placed between his eyes severed something in its wake.

Before you pulled the trigger you’d gotten a good look at his face, the boyish features and soft eyes. He was just a kid. No older than 18. And you’d killed him. Took his life with your gun. With your hands.

It was a long walk back to the front line Easy company was occupying, each second that passed felt like an hour, the snow a repetitive Crunch-Crunch-Crunch under each fall of your foot.

You’d reported the German soldier straight to Dick, and something must've been apparent on your face for he’d asked if you were okay.

And as you intended to tell anyone who asked, you told him you were fine. Afterall, Why wouldn’t you be?

But that had been days ago. Yet, you still weren’t over it. Now you were stationed in Haganau. Perhaps a drink would calm your mind.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

That is where you found yourself; the bar.

Hours passed while you drank your sorrows away, and as far as you were drunkenly concerned, that's all you'd be doing tonight. Another ale was passed to you from the bartender when you asked, and you sat, sipping on the yellow liquor and enjoying the burning sensation it left in your throat.

Most of the regiment that had been gathered here earlier in the evening had already left, but a few stragglers were scattered in the fetid bar. The doors opened in the quiet bar, and you spared a glance backwards, barely recognizing the familiar face who had just walked in the bar.

Something in your mind told you that yes, it would be logical to quit the addictive drinking you were getting yourself into tonight, but your selfish want to pleasure yourself into forgetting was greater.

The familiar ginger approached you, hand cupping your shoulder gingerly in the late hours of the night. It was time to go, for the hangover you would experience tomorrow would not go well.

Dick helps you stand, arm hooking underneath your armpits to hoist you up onto your own two feet and offer a steady source to lean on. He guides you out of the bar and into the empty streets, where not a whisper can be heard in the chilly night air.

The cold of the night offers some sobriety in your drunken haze, the breeze tickling your cheek brisk against your sweat-beaded skin, hot from the bar. In the darkness you stumble, still guided by Dicks strong hands, "Watch your step," He says, voice soft while he resteadies you from tipping.

There's a large lump in your throat, choking you and ever more reminding you why you drank today, what atrocious thing you'd done not very long ago. You want to seek help, want to tell someone, anyone, willing to listen, the things you'd seen and wanted to unsee in this wretched time called war.

In your stupor, you look over your shoulder at Dick, who continues to guide you through the dark, not able to see the pain flickering in your eyes. You want to tell him.

The thought makes you disgusted with yourself, No! Your brain screams, I could not put him through the things I've seen, the things I've done, willingly.

Too preoccupied in your own thoughts you stop, Dick following shortly after, a puzzled look crossing his beautiful features.

For moments you both stand in the middle of the quiet street. There isn't a soul around. Not a whisper in the frigid night air.

The tension is thick, and you feel as if there is an unbearable weight, pressuring you into the truth. As if it's holding a gun to your temple, threatening you to tell your thoughts.

And the way Dick is staring at you isn't helping. He has your heart thump-thumping wildly like a race horse in your chest.

"Do you.." You start out shakily, but stop, because that doesn't sound right.

"I was drinking.." again. It doesn't have the right sound to it.

What was wrong with you? Spit it out.

"I hate war."

Wow. Great way to start off how you're thinking. Who doesn't?

"I hate this place. I do. And I don't know why I'm acting like this. I haven't had a problem with killing before," there you go! Your consciousness is cheering, find your words, "but he was a child. With a mother and a father waiting for his return, that will never happen because of me."

Dick looks at you, a deep fire of sympathy sparkling in his irises, "In order to survive in war one must kill or be killed. It isn't your fault. You were doing what you needed to in order to survive."

"But it is my fault! I shot him. Straight between his damn eyes. He looked no older than 16, Dick! And I-" You're stumbling. Oh god, what a way to make a damn fool of yourself. A foolish girl with some foolish emotions she can't handle.

You don't even realize the way tears are rolling hot and fast down your cheeks, small hiccups interrupting your sentences. You feel like you are drowning in anguish, appalled by your own actions. And he must be too. He must feel disgusted in you.

Yet still when you look up at him, standing a few feet taller than you, his ginger hair darkened in the short moonlit night, you don't see disappointment or resentment like you'd thought, you see tenderness, shimmering in the depths of his olive eyes. He looks at you with such affection present in his gaze, enough to make even the coldest of people have a little sympathy.

"It wasn't your fault. You did exactly what you had to. Do you think he wouldn't have done the same had the positions been reversed?"

You shake your head at him slightly, a small ounce of denial echoing in your head. "I didn't even–"

Dick cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours.

Did he just?

Your thoughts are raging and wild, like fire, crazed and climbing the dry tree trunks of a dense forest.

For a time you wish you could've put a seal over and keep it in a forever pose of two lovers, grasping onto each other in an unpredictable world, you kiss. It's filled with passion and comfort, giving you a calming sense of serendipity in the dark corners your mind has come to welcome even darker thoughts.

Dick pulls away first, his green eyes searching your face for any signs of regret, his mouth slightly parted to draw in a breath.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to do that," He whispers, forehead touching your own.

"And you have no idea how long I've waited."

#band of brothers #x reader #female reader #hbo war #y/n #bob #angst #iceman kazansky #iceman-kazansky #bobweek2023 #day 3: hurt/comfort #richard winters #richard winters x reader #dick winters #Dick winters x f!reader #band of brothers x reader

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minervadashwood · 1 year

Text

I'm just uh...gonna leave this here...see what happens.

===

"So what if Daryl thought you were hot? So what if you’d been in every single one of his wet dreams since the time he was seventeen and saw you in that yellow swimsuit. The same swimsuit that inspired his earliest dirty teenage fantasies. It didn’t matter that, to this day, he still ached for your touch every time he thought of you, or that he hung on your every word like it was the air he needed to breathe."

===

Taglist: @livingdeadblondequeen @phoenixblack89 @green-eyedladywrites @in-this-minute @takeabreathdeath @ravendixon @gypsytraveler86-blog @xojdmasf @daisy107 @angelrenee239 @sleepyamaya @no-tresspassing @carol @taintedxkisses @bl4ckt00thgr1n @glitch0o0 @micheleamidalajedi @lonelywolfheart @jad3djay @catholicraisin @harringtonstudios

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ozzgin · 1 month

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More of the yandere monster???? Like their married life, him being such a cutie cutie and the reader is a willing person to his yandere tendencies. Like him physically fighting someone for flirting with her for .01 second and her just being 😍🥰

Alright anon, seeing as this has once again resurfaced, I'll cover a little bit of marital life as per your suggestion. (I'm hoping you're referring to the older sibling monster)

Yandere! Monster Husband x Reader

A little change of plans and the wedding you've been kidnapped for continued without a hitch, except you married the monstrous sibling instead. Made for an awkward celebratory dinner, but no one dared to oppose the Beast.

Content: female reader, monster romance, mildly NSFW, saga of the monster hoe reader continues

[First part]

The next family dinner was quiet. You couldn't help but wonder if your horniness had gone too far, slowly chewing your food and occasionally peeking at the ex-groom with remorseful eyes. Poor guy, you thought. "Well, it's quite convenient, isn't it?" he finally said, breaking the silence. The cutlery sounds paused, and you lifted your gaze again. The man flashed you a radiant smile, which emphasized his handsome features even more. "I mean, we weren't sure we'd ever find a wife for my brother. He has a bit of an attitude, and even monsters are afraid of him. The only marriage attempt-" his speech was interrupted by a grunt, and you turned towards your monstrous boyfriend. The older sibling was frowning, visibly embarrassed. "Oh, I remember!" the mother of the siblings, a halfling herself, suddenly chuckled into her glass, taking a generous sip before continuing: "We'd arranged for a fellow monster to meet him, and the poor soul got so frightened she blended in with the background! Took us two days to find her! She came from a chameleon family, I recall."

Everyone at the table began to laugh and you joined, although with a mild annoyance tinged into your voice. So what, there was no reason for you to be plagued by guilt? You even refused a night escapade with your boyfriend until things "settled", as a way to be respectful towards the cucked party. All for naught. At least now you could be ravaged without further consequences. When the mother in law had pulled you aside hours earlier to make sure you weren't coerced into this arrangement, you had to hold back from crassly confessing you'd slurp her son empty of fluids at any hour of the day. Some things are better left untold.

Unfortunately, one detail couldn't be changed in time: the guest list. As this had been an event meant to strengthen the ties between humans, no one outside of the immediate family graced the venue with their monstrous presence. Many guests were intrigued by the outcome of the affair, terribly curious to see the famed wife-to-be of the gruesome, feared Head of the royal army. Even more so once they discovered it was a regular human by all means. "Fascinating!", the old ladies would occasionally cry out, clutching the plump, expensive pearls adorning their necks. You had to frequently excuse yourself in order to dodge the rather indecent questions regarding your relationship. Except when you did manage to sneak away, one of the younger men of names and titles you never registered would approach you for a dance. "Truly a pitiful matter", they'd whisper much too close to your ear. "You would've made a lovely bride for a fellow human."

"You're unexpectedly calm about this", the prince mentioned to his older brother at some point during the wedding night. "Are you not bothered by all the acquaintances flocking to your bride?" The monster shook his head with a sigh. He hadn't known you for that long yet, but one thing he was certain of: it's not humans he needed to fear.

Indeed, having a wife with a monster kink is particularly challenging when most of the husband's work involves similar creatures. The first months after the marriage were stalked by the insidious doubt that his luck was just that: mere coincidence. Would you have displayed the same interest had he not been the only beast at the table? Would you still pick him in a room full of monsters? Such questions followed him each day, feeding into an ever-growing jealousy.

"What are you doing here!", he exclaimed in despair once he noticed your arrival at his training camp. "You forgot your lunch", you explained, eyebrows raised in confusion. Oh, for fuck's sake. He quickly pulled you away, glaring at the subordinates startled by the commotion. They must've been eyeing (Y/N) like rabid dogs, he thought. Next thing you know, you'll be scooped away by some horned scoundrel. He can't have that.

Initially, the rage-filled, obsession-driven fuck you'd receive almost daily was welcomed with shameless begging. The way your monster husband would pin you down under his claws and thrust into you so hard, you could see its movement in waves across your stomach. The way he'd forcefully spread your legs, hungrily sinking his nails into the soft flesh of your thighs and gnawing your shoulders in delirious need. The tears that sheepishly formed in the corners of your hooded eyes would only incite him more. "Bite onto my hand if you can't take it anymore", he'd coo without stopping. As much as you liked to be left a limp, drooling mess, the soreness grew unbearable. Enough was enough when you found yourself carrying a cushion to sit down on any surface.

"Listen, we need to have a talk." You greeted him solemnly once he returned from his military duties. Oh, no. Absolutely not. The monstrous husband bit his lips in panic, immediately going through a mental list of all his subordinates. Or was it someone in the family that slithered their way into your heart? Is that what it was about, that you'd found a different creature? No matter, you weren't going anywhere. "I don't want to hear about it", he declared dramatically. "I have a bruised cervix!" you shouted in disbelief. "Huh?" He stared at you. "It hurts even when I lay down, man. You have to tone it down. At least for a little while."

Ah. Awkward. You noticed his flinch, and patted the empty seat next to you. "What did you think I was going to say?" The bench groaned under the weight of his gargantuan body. Hands folded in his lap like a punished schoolboy, your husband began to narrate the tale of his seething envy and frenzied passion for you. You must understand, he's never cared for anyone as much. To hell with duty and honor, he would kill his own father if his touch on you lingered one second longer than permitted. "Alright, but you must control yourself a little", you reminded him gently. "Never, my urge to obliterate any threat in my path is insatiable", he concluded with vehemence. "Yes, yes, that I understand. The sex, I mean", you gesticulated. "Of course. My apologies, I got sidetracked."

Somehow, he didn't expect to leave this conversation with a cathartic approval of his possessiveness. "Surely you must be upset by my fanatical behavior", he suggested meekly. "Oh no, it's part of your charm", you reassured him with a smile. "It's just not that sustainable in bed without the occasional break." You pat your stomach to express your misfortune.

Sadly, your monster fucking dreams must adhere to the laws of biology.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #monster x reader #monster x human #terato #teratophillia #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #monster imagine #monster romance #monster husband #monster smut #monster fucker #female reader

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 3 months

Text

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

From the request here

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: When a movie night has you questioning your bodies worth, Simon catches you in the shower to show you that your body is perfect just the way that it is.

Word Count: 4.3 k

Warnings:

“Look at the jugs on her,” one of the guys says at the busty blonde that has just been introduced for the first time in the film. A few others follow suit, whooping at the gorgeous, petite female main character popping up on screen as the movie really gets going. “That’s a woman you could lose yourself in. Fuck, I wish I could find a girl like her; I’d be a happy man for life. To have that waiting at home for me, I’d never even be tempted to stray.”

This is usually how movie night on base goes: people piling into the rec center ready to watch the latest movie from the personal collection from one of the members, but mostly it just devolves into a testosterone fest of horny boys itching to have something to focus their sexual frustrations on by ogling at the new pretty little thing on screen. Usually it doesn’t bother you, you’re used to being around all that chaos, but tonight just feels different.

Simon isn’t one for this type of gathering, but he comes to keep an on the crowd and be nearer to you and as he watches out of the corner of his eye from his place standing towards the back, he notices how your body language changes as the guys continue to raucously talk about the leading lady and how beautiful she is. It’s almost imperceptible the way you shift in your seat while you pick at the skin of your lower lip with your teeth, your shoulders slumping down as you cross your arms, but he catches it outright. He knows you and he knows this isn’t normal.

Something is bothering you.

The longer you sit there the worse it gets. Their lustful words just cut different tonight; maybe it’s exhaustion from being overworked or perhaps you’re just having an off day, but the longer they hoot and holler over the girl plastered before your eyes, the more you want to crawl out of your skin.

It’s about halfway through the movie when you slowly get up from your seat, trying not to draw attention to yourself by leaving too quickly and exit the rec without looking back. Simon is instantly concerned and wants to rush after you, but one of the newer recruits that seems to be the ringleader in all this turns to him as if to drag him into the depraved fun.

“Whatcha think; gotta admit she’s a fine thing, ain’t she Lieutenant?” he asks, nodding back at the screen. “Come on, even you gotta admit she’s perfect. Couldn’t hope to find anyone better.”

The look that Simon gives the young man through his mask, that stone cold glare that could make even the bravest man shiver, instantly shuts him up and has him facing forward again to join his brothers in arms in their jokes. His brow furrows angrily behind the fabric as he looks over the crowd of boys once more before heading out, leaving quietly like a specter on his way to find where you had gotten to.

Simon checks all the usual places, but you are nowhere to be found: the little area outside the rec where you usually join him for a smoke break, the mess hall, even your barracks are empty. Then he hears movement in the communal bathroom and knows he’s finally found you.

It looks like you’ve been rushing to get done before anyone can catch you. Your hair is damp from the shower and it drips down to leave dark stains onto your t-shirt as you stand staring at yourself in the mirror behind the sink. Simon watches quietly from his obscured place by the door as you look yourself over, scrutinizing each detail from head to toe before you give up with a sigh and a diversion of your eyes, focusing on your toothbrush instead as you pick it up and turn on the faucet. So absorbed in what you are doing, you don’t hear the lock click closed or the pair of heavy boots that cross the length of the room until there is a presence upon you.

“God, you’re so beautiful baby,” you hear that deep, gravelly voice sound from behind you while a bulky arm wraps itself around your waist from behind as Simon presses up against your back. You look back up into the mirror in front of you and are instantly met with a pair of brilliant brown eyes as he slowly removes his balaclava. “Just standin’ there fresh outta the shower and ya look like a fantasy.”

Setting the mask on the sink he joins his other arm around you and leans his face in, the tip of his nose nuzzles into the side of your neck before he presses his lips against your jugular. His lips catch the feeling of your pulse quickening through the vein at his touch. Rough hands begin to splay across your clothed stomach, running across and down to your hips with gentle caresses that make you pause. Your eyes stare into the mirror to take in your combined form as he drapes himself over you, hot lips peppering your skin with no sign of letting up.

You chuckle dismissively, trying to play off his words as a joke. Your head still isn’t in the right place and even though you enjoy the feeling of his touch, disastrous thoughts still circle throughout to cloud your mind so that you second guess even his affections.

“Oh, come off it,” you return as you grab the toothpaste off the countertop. “I do not.”

There is no hesitation in his reply. “I’m serious,” he breathes that husky whisper against your skin as his lips continue down to your shoulder as his fingers pull the t-shirt away from your collar bone to reveal more skin for him to adorn with his mouth.

You roll your eyes in the mirror so that as he looks up briefly he catches the movement. “Yeah, sure,” you again dismiss him. “Whatever you say.”

Before you can even unscrew the cap to the toothpaste, Simon reaches past you to turn off the tap and take your things out of your hands before he rotates you around so that you face him. Your backside presses into the edge of the sink as you rest up against it, mouth scrunched to one side as he gazes back at you with intent. There is a subtle frown on his lips and an anxious look in his copper eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concerned. “Somethin’ happen? Cause I did see ya leave in a hurry back there.”

You divert your eyes, ashamed of your lack of confidence that has come forward tonight. “I don’t know, it’s nothing,” you shrug, but he isn’t buying any of it.

His large hand rests itself up under your chin, pulling your head back up to look into his face. “I think ya do know,” he says. “Will ya tell me?”

Clearing your throat, you give yourself a moment to figure out how best to proceed. “It’s just,” you say hesitantly, “I guess sometimes I just wish I looked like that, you know? I know I’m usually not this self-conscious, but tonight I guess I just hit a rough patch with my insecurities and something about the shit they were saying just got to me I guess. You see the way the guys talk about girls like in that movie, like she’s the most gorgeous thing in the world. She’s so perfect and… I…”

You gesture with your head down the length of your body to emphasize your point that you are nothing like the actress: your breasts are on the smaller side, your thighs are incredibly thick, and your stomach is not completely flat. Simon follows your hand, looking you up and down before his eyes meet yours again.

“I’m not. I know it’s fucking stupid and I shouldn’t care about all that, it doesn’t really matter, but sometimes it’s just hard to ignore. I’m not the standard when it comes to beauty, but sometimes I just want to feel like I’m the most irresistible person in the room.”

It seems like he wants to say something, you can see his mouth shifting, but instead his gaze drifts down to your lips and he pulls your chin forward to close the distance between your mouths. Instantly he overtakes your mouth with his own, tenderly capturing your lips over and over with a gentle desperation that makes him shudder against you as he moves in closer.

“Who the fuck said ya ain’t perfect?” he asks, his voice breathy against your lips. “Gimme that bastard’s name. You tell me right now so I can go ring their fuckin’ neck. Cause that is a goddamn lie.”

“No one said anything like that, it’s just the way I feel,” you answer honestly. “And you’re only saying that because you like me.”

Immediately Simon pulls you into another long kiss as if he is trying to take those insecure words right out of your mouth before you can say anything else. Breaking the kiss, Simon licks his flushed lips and shakes his head. “Really? Ya don’t think your body can drive someone wild? Then what’s this, hmm?” he asks, grabbing your wrist to pull your hand forward so that he can place the palm over top of the soft bulge growing in his boxers. “See whatcha do to me, sweetheart? Ya think that’s lyin’?”

Your hand rubs over the swell and his hips unconsciously buck slightly against your hand as he hums in approval of your touch. It is instantaneous the way you have him begging for even a simple touch from you; no other has ever held that kind of power over him, not anyone that he would give it to so freely like he does you. The warm pressure from your hand causes the pulsing to intensify as he grows harder and you find your heart beat starting to match its throbbing.

“Ya don’t think I catch the men lookin’ at ya from time to time?” he asks as he leans his head forward until it rests against your own, hands moving up under the hem of your shirt to play with the toasty skin of your abdomen as he talks. “Ya don’t think I see that their eyes glaze over as they linger on your body a bit too long for my fuckin’ likin’? Just cause they won’t say it out loud doesn’t make it any less true that you have something about ya that would drive any man wild.”

His words are like a balm to your mind and the longer he speaks the more you find yourself falling under their spell. Rough fingers are pushing up higher into your shirt, pulling it up over your waist as he runs his palms across the area while his hips press into yours. He’s not forceful or harsh, his advances are only full of adoration in that type of intense devotion that only Simon Riley is capable of when it comes to savoring the best damn thing he has ever had.

“Don’t let what ya heard back there hurt ya,” he says softly. “Yeah, ya don’t look like that bird on the screen, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t an absolute beauty. You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen and I ain’t just sayin’ it, baby. But ya don’t just have ta take my word for it. Let me show ya that no one can hold a candle to what ya got.”

Simon pulls you over to one of the empty showers and gets it going, fiddling with the taps to make sure the water is going nice and warm before he turns his undivided attention back to you. Instantly his mouth is back on yours as one by one each piece of your clothing is removed and set aside in tandem with his own until you both stand before the other bare.

“I’ve already showered,” you mutter out between pauses as merely just a statement of fact rather than a reason to deny him.

Simon murmurs his disagreement into your mouth. “Don’t care,” he replies through a break in his kiss, continuing to take off your clothes as he dizzyingly tries to get at your body. “Can’t be havin’ those fuckin’ negative thoughts in that head of yours. Wanna take care of ya, make ya feel like the true beauty ya are.”

More kissing, so much that your lips are burning and raw from the friction. His mouth must be aflame too, but he doesn’t let up; he can’t, he’s captured in the wake of your allure and there is no getting out.

“What if someone comes in?” The last of your questions spills out quick.

He chuckles at your needless worry. “Already locked the door sweetheart.”

Stretching his hand out, he checks the temperature to be sure it’s right before dragging you inside the steamy oasis. The curtain is barely pulled closed before he has you pinned at the back wall, his stocky torso rubbing against your voluptuous naked body as he steals the breath from your lungs, kissing you so thoroughly that there is no distinction between faces anymore.

The change in temperature has your nipples hardening, the blossoms spiking forward at attention, and Simon can feel them poking against his chest the longer he has your mouth locked in that dance of back and forth. The moment he is aware of their presence his mouth is salivating to get at them.

You might think they are not perfect enough, but to him they are exactly what he wants.

Breaking the kiss abruptly, removing his mouth so quickly that a trial of spit still connects your lips a moment, he tilts his head downward. Being on the smaller side, he can fit your breast almost entirely in his mouth and he does, filling the cavity with as much of your tit as he can without choking.

You can hardly remember anymore why the stupid comments had you so upset in the first place when you have a man like Simon who will dote on you like you are royalty. His is the only opinion you have come to care about and it is clear that there is nothing he will ever want more than you.

He moans deep and guttural into your breast as he sucks while letting the end of his tongue flick around the nipple, circling the sensitive tissue until you are writhing against him as he holds you steady to the wall so that he can work. There is another breast after all that requires his attention and he intends to show it the same amount of affection as the other. Switching sides, he gets to work, keeping the first breast warm by cupping it in his hand.

It’s minutes of you quivering and whimpering before he emerges panting with his lips swollen and red, satisfied with his work so far. Giving his lips a break, Simon gently strokes your cheek with his fingers as he gazes into your eyes, swaying your bodies from side to side in easy movements. “Stay with me luv,” he says softly as he watches you take heavy breaths, “I ain’t done just yet.”

Those lips are on the move again to decorate your body, over your sternum and waist, until he has to kneel before you to get any further. He’s on his knees, all 6’4” of him bent to you as he places kisses across your belly while the heated water runs over his dirty blonde hair and down his back, rippling across the muscles in his shoulders as he holds your hips squeezed securely between his broad hands.

“You’re perfect just the way ya are, baby,” he groans against your moist skin, letting his lips linger wherever he puts them. “Just like this: real, curves for fuckin’ days, so much skin I get drunk tryin’ to get at it all. And the best goddamn part is that it’s all mine.”

More kisses he places along all the areas you think unworthy of adoration, but that he finds absolutely exquisite. “Mine, all mine.”

His words devolve into incoherent babble as he nestles his face into your abdomen to leave burning trails of his desire with his lips that even the warm water cannot wash away from your skin. Your body writhes in his double-handed grasp as your head falls back to rest against the wall as every inch of tender flesh prickles with the overstimulating sensation of being doted upon.

Lips keep trailing further downward from your stomach to the mound of your sex, through the trimmed patch of hair at the top of your pussy, before they sink into the bulk of your thick, stocky thighs.

“Ya think I get on my knees for any girl?” he asks from his place at the bottom of the shower as he stares up into your face with half-lidded eyes that darken the more he plays with you. “You’re the only one who can bring me to fuckin’ kneel, baby. You and your gorgeous body. I’m at it’s goddamn mercy.”

Placing his hand on your calf, he nods and you know exactly what he wants: that juicy cunt smothering his features, your bulky thighs crush against his ears. Carefully he helps you to adjust your footing so that he can lift your leg. Propping it up on his own thigh, he sits back on his calves so that his face sits at the same level as your pussy and he leans in, smothering his face right between those dangerously thick pieces of flesh as you widen your stance with his guidance to make it easier. Hardened fingertips dig themselves into your body, forcing you even more firmly against his face until his nose is pressed into your clit and he moves his head back and forth to stimulate it with the tip.

There is little oxygen to be had between the heat from the water and the heat between your legs, but it doesn’t matter. The sound of your soft, breathy gasps and moans as he penetrates your entrance with his tongue is enough to sustain him until he can come up to breathe. Lapping and thrusting, wriggling and applying pressure, if there is even a whisper of a negative thought left in your brain it is overshadowed completely now by the overwhelming euphoria of being devoured to the brink of insanity.

You buck wild and untamed, panting heavily as the warmth in your belly begins gathering quicker than you could have thought, the coil pulling tightly as minute by aching minute Simon draws your body to the edge of its release. He is relentless in his endeavor, putting your needs above anything else- even breathing. That tongue has moved up to your clit now and with weighty presses over the tiny bean you soon are spilling over the edge and he has to hold onto you tight so that you don’t slip and fall.

Simon stays locked to your pussy until the very last second, keeping his movements going even as you try to pry him off from the sensitivity that is almost too much to handle. It isn’t until you finally stop writhing that he emerges from between your legs with a smile that has your stomach doing somersaults as he wipes his mouth clean of your cum.

“Second course,” he growls before you even have a chance to fully come down from your high.

Oh you have got him down bad tonight.

He carefully flips you round to face the wall and uses his feet to make you spread your legs as wide as you can get them. A hefty hand runs itself over the curve of your ass, following the line down all the way to the underside before he grabs it in his hand and gives the meat a firm squeeze.

“Those little boys just don’t know how to handle this much woman; all these fuckin’ curves are too much pleasure for a bastard that don’t know the treasure he’s got. But I know what a fuckin’ feast ya are,” he groans as he aligns your hips and enters you from behind with a forceful grunt that reverberates off the enclosed space of the shower.

You push palms flat against the wall to steady yourself. “They don’t know how ta treat ya right, how ta love a body that just keeps givin’ and givin’. But I don’t have that problem, sweetheart.”

Simon’s devout words are like liquid fire and as his cock stretches you wide, the euphoria of his talk runs through you to make you burn. Your body is his religion and goddamn does he always worship it right. All those cares, all that self-loathing and doubt entirely evaporate from your mind as he pushes your shoulders forward to make you arch your back so that he can pound into your pussy hard and deep from behind, making your plump ass bounce off his pelvis with a recoil that draws his gaze.

“Fuck,” he breathes, so obsessed with the way you look around him that he is trying to ingrain the image in his mind.

His aching exclamation thrills you, making your heart skip a beat as his thrusts continue to rock through you. To be craved in such a way, to be thought of like the woman in the movie, that is what he is giving you now and it is euphoric. His intensity is orgasmic and your body responds in kind as he grabs you to move you closer.

“Don’t concern yourself with the bullshit ideas of some puny little boys when ya got a man who will always make sure you feel like a fuckin’ princess when you’re in his arms,” he says in a whisper at your ear as he pulls you back to leans against his chest. “Cause ya are, sweetheart. Your my fuckin’ goddess of a woman.”

The way he says it makes you ache all over and you can feel it twinge in your clit. “Say it again,” you beg, needing to hear him make those sweet combinations of sounds once more until your body vibrates with pleasure.

His hand comes up to cup around your breast so that he can massage the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, causing you to mewl at the sensation. “You are so fuckin’ beautiful baby, so goddamn perfect just like this, and I love every last fuckin’ inch of ya. My princess.”

Your cheeks feel like they are glowing and on fire as thrusts after thrust he pounds into you, stretching you and filling you full on all of his passion for your body. You will never be able to make everyone see you for the gorgeous being that you truly are, but that doesn’t matter anymore. Simon is more than enough to keep you feeling like the most beautiful girl in the whole world; you are safe with him.

Your head falls back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as his arms that are filled with your waist clamp down tighter to secure you to him so that he can shove his cock even harder into your now dripping core. “Yes, yes,” you whimper out.

“Come for me again,” he practically demands as he watches you falling apart once more. “Come on, pretty girl, one more for me. One more together.”

Your limbs are tingling with each snap of his hips against your ass. It’s close, right there, you can almost feel it again as the coil wounds itself tight once more in the pit of your stomach. You clench down on him, making him falter before recovering and continuing on. A few more pumps of him deep in your core and it is right there at the precipice.

“Let go for me,” he whispers into your ear as you clench once more around him and something about the way he says it sets you off. You come for the second time, the orgasm rocketing through you until you can feel it like fire shooting through your veins as you shake with the intensity of it all.

Quickly he pulls out just in time as he too pops off and comes between your thighs as you clamp them together around his cock. The ejaculate runs down your legs as he milks every last bit out of the tip until his body hangs limp and his head falls down to rest the forehead against your shoulder. Still he holds you close, murmuring soft praises against your neck about how fucking amazing that was and how there is no one else that will ever look more beautiful all flushed and exhausted.

Holding onto you, Simon takes a few steps back forcing you to come along until you are both submerged under the showerhead to let that soothing water run over your bodies until you can both come back down from your high. There are no words yet, none that need to be said out loud, all he needs to do is keep you wrapped in his arms a little longer.

It’s quiet, just the sound of the water rushing filling the silent space for a while, until a noise breaks you both out of the moment. There is a banging on the door from the outside, repeated knocking loudly and clearly; you’ve been in here for too long, but Simon doesn’t seem to be bothered. There is no attempt to leave the steamy oasis yet and soon the sound subsides and you are both left in the silence once again.

“They’ll just have to fuckin’ wait,” he says against the side of your head in a hushed whisper, lips tempting your earlobe. “They can consider it a punishment for making ya upset. Besides, I’m still busy and you’re not goin’ anywhere.”

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joelsgreys · 5 months

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someone to be thankful for

DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: It’s Thanksgiving—when dinner with your nightmare of a family goes south, you find comfort in the person you least expect it from: your father’s best friend, Joel Miller.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (AU, NO OUTBREAK) non canon, DBF! Joel, AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s, i do not specify her age, but she’s a recent college grad so do with that what you will, not everyone graduates at the same specific age ya know? Joel is in his mid-ish 50’s). Reader’s a teacher, she is visiting her suburban childhood home from a big city. Reader’s parents are religious and practice traditional-ish gender norms (i.e father is head of the household kinda thing) reader’s family celebrates Thanksgiving (sorry) several mentions of food and alcohol, reader’s parents suck, she has two brothers who come with names, a lot of her relatives come with names, watch out for Aunt Ines she’s a bitch. (TW) body/weight shaming (twice) PLEASE BE MINDFUL if this could be triggering. mentions of and implications of childhood abuse (not graphic) reader’s dad gets in her face, implied infidelity (reader’s dad), implied toxic marriage (reader’s parents). soft, caring, protective Joel. Joel’s recently divorced, mention of Sarah, mentions of the ex-wife. SMUT. oral sex (female receiving) p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader states she’s on baby blockers (birth control), creampie, DADDY KINK (bc reader clearly has a few daddy issues), LOTS of pet names (darlin’, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, honey), size kink (ish?), cockwarming. think i got it all?

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, that is fine but just keep on scrolling.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 11.5k

a/n: yeah…idk. this was very delayed because it turned into a whole thing. if anyone actually reads all 11k of this, i will bake you muffins.

You take a deep breath and look in the mirror.

Skirt pressed, not a wrinkle in sight.

Hair brushed, not a single strand out of place.

Makeup done, not a blemish to be seen.

And somehow, someone will still find something.

Something to point out.

Something to comment on.

Something to criticize.

If not your appearance, it’ll be something else.

Because someone always had something to say.

“Should you be eating all of that?”

“Another year gone and still no boyfriend?”

“Don’t you want to get married?”

“When I was in my twenties, I had two children.”

Boundaries didn’t exist on Thanksgiving.

Actually, for your family, boundaries didn’t exist at all—somehow, they are still scratching their heads and wondering why you’d decided to up and leave the minute your high school principal handed over that diploma, your ticket to freedom.

“Sweetie!” Your mother’s shrill voice calls from the kitchen downstairs. “I need a hand! Our guests are going to start arriving soon and there is still plenty left for us to do before they get here!”

You groan outwardly.

There’s still plenty left to do?

How’s that even fucking possible?

You’ve been cooking and baking since sunrise.

“Don’t you think it’s too early?” you’d grumbled at five o’ clock in the morning when your mother had pulled you out of bed, declaring it was time for the big dinner preparations to begin—even though it’d be several hours before your family came over and gathered around the table to break bread. She had pulled the turkey out of the freezer a few days ago, a massive, thirty-pound whole bird that looked big enough to feed a small village. In addition, she had picked up a ham and a brisket. “Mom, why’s there so much food?” Rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the sleeve of your robe, you’d started making your way over to the Nespresso only to realize that the coffee machine was hidden behind paper bags full of groceries. “Are we cooking for all of Texas or something?”

“Very funny,” she had glared at you. “Of course we aren’t.” She started unwrapping the turkey. “We’re simply making sure we have enough food and that we have different options for everyone to enjoy, so knock it off with the wisecracks and get to peeling those carrots for me for the stuffing. There is not a single minute to waste today, you hear me, missy? We’re hosting a dozen people, so everything must be absolutely perfect. I won’t accept anything less than perfection today, do you understand me?”

Thirteen hours later, she’s still driving you insane.

You’re only home visiting until the end of the week and then it’s back to the Midwest. You can survive her for three more days, right?

You hear her calling your name and exhale a small, frustrated sigh. “I’m coming, mom!” you call back. It’s difficult to mask the annoyance in your tone of voice, but somehow you manage it. “One minute!”

Smoothing down your pleated plaid skirt, you take one last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in order—there is a loose thread on the sleeve of your brown, knitted sweater and you carefully snip it off with a pair of scissors before sliding your feet into the comfiest pair of ankle boots you’d packed and head downstairs, nose leading the way as you follow the warm, delicious scent of the made from scratch biscuits and rolls baking in the oven.

You find your mother standing at the center island counter garnishing a charcuterie board with sweet gherkins and sprigs of fresh herbs. She is donning festive apron embroidered with fall leaves over her designer dress; her hair’s still up in rollers. “Finally, there you are,” she huffs out loudly the second she hears you walk into the kitchen. Down the hallway, your father and two younger brothers are shouting at some football game on the flat screen television in the living room—men don’t lift a single finger on this day, at least not in this household. “I need you to start setting the table for me. I have place cards in that bag over there. Make sure your dad’s at the head of the table. Oh and don’t forget to bring out the children’s table for all your little cousins—” She glances up, letting out a small gasp when she sees you. “What in the world are you wearing?”

Frowning, you look down at yourself. “Clothes?”

Her ruby red lips purse together in a tight thin line.

“Honey, that skirt is too short. It’s inappropriate.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “It’s like an inch above the knee, how is that inappropriate? It’s not like it’s a miniskirt, mom.” As she eyes your skirt with disapproval, you decide you’re not in the mood to argue and say, “Okay, fine. I’ll go upstairs and change into something else then—”

“No, no, forget it,” she shakes her head. “We don’t have the time for that.” Your mother whirls around, picking up the bag of place holders—she’d special ordered little turkeys carved out of wood. She also takes a marker and a notepad, shoving everything into your hands. “Here. I wrote down all the names of everyone who’s coming for dinner. The children get place holders too but make sure the little ones are sitting beside someone older to help them. Oh! Did I already mention putting your dad at the head of the—”

Tuning her out, your eyes scan down the guest list and if there’s one thing to be thankful for today it’s the fact that your mother’s given you the power to seat everybody wherever you want. Halfway down the list, you see the names of several relatives that you don’t want anywhere near you at the table. An Aunt Miriam who smells like the inside of a casino; a cousin Jennifer who refuses to acknowledge her forty-eight month old is actually four years old; an uncle Richard who always has one too many beers and winds up spewing antigovernment conspiracy theories, ranting until he’s passed out somewhere, such as on the floor of the guest bathroom.

You get to the bottom of the list and can’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Joel Miller?”

She nods, returning to her board.

“You remember Mr. Miller, don’t you, sweetie? He and your father went to college together—he’s one of his oldest and dearest friends. Don’t tell me you forgot about him? You’ve met him plenty of ti—”

“Yeah, I remember who Joel is, mom,” you mutter, cutting her off. “Didn’t he and the family move out to Arizona like, four years ago? To Phoenix, right?” You’d been away for college then. Taking a second glance at the list, you notice she had forgotten the names of Joel’s wife and daughter. Surely, it’d just been a mistake on her part, though. “I had no idea they were in town visiting. Dad didn’t mention it to me at all.”

“They’re not.” She lowers her voice, as if someone else is standing in the room listening. “Joel moved back to Austin, he’s been back for a few days now. He and Connie, they um—” Pausing for a moment, she reaches up and clasps the cross hanging from her neck before whispering, “They got divorced.”

Taken aback, your mouth parts slightly. “What?”

“I know. Joel and Connie were the last people that I ever thought would get divorced. Such a shame,” your mother remarks, shaking her head. “I ran into Mrs. Adler at the super market and she was telling me all about it. Thinks they could have saved their marriage if only those two—”

“Would get right with Jesus,” you finish, biting the tiny smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “She says that about everything, mom.”

“Well, she isn’t wrong! The sacrament of marriage is a lifelong bond that shouldn’t be broken. It’s not right.” Dropping her hand away from her necklace, she crosses her arms over chest. “Anyway, Connie stayed in Phoenix. Sarah’s spending Thanksgiving with her. Your father didn’t want Joel spending the holiday alone and invited him over for dinner. That means I need you to be on your very best behavior tonight. I don’t want you embarrassing your father in front of his closest friend. Is that understood?”

You can’t help but scoff a little. “I’m not a child.”

She narrows her eyes at you and scoffs right back, planting her hands on her hips.

“No, you’re a smart aleck. Need I remind you what happened last Thanksgiving with Aunt Ines?”

Of course she didn’t have to remind you about last year’s fiasco with her insufferable bitch of a sister.

“That’s an awfully big piece of pumpkin pie,” she’d remarked loudly, eliciting snickers from everybody sitting at the table. “Don’t forget, dear—a moment on the lips, forever on the hips. And you have quite a few forevers on your hips already, darling.”

You had smiled sweetly at her, your fingers itching to fling your mother’s fine china at her. “I wouldn’t really worry about my pie, Aunt Ines,” you had said as soon as you realized that nobody, not even your parents, would be coming to your defense. “Much less when your husband’s stepping out and eating someone else’s pie when he’s away on all those so called business trips. Worry about that instead.”

That comment hadn’t gone over all too well. Three months later, Aunt Ines and Uncle Louis started to see a marriage counselor. Whoops.

“Well?”

“She deserved that,” you say, shrugging lightly.

“She’s family.”

“She’s a jerk.”

“You crossed a line.”

“She crossed it first.”

Before your mother can respond, the sound of the doorbell ringing echoes throughout the house.

“Jesus, we don’t have time for this!” Your mother’s eyes widen when she tries running a hand through her hair and realizes she still has her rollers in. “Oh no, people are arriving and I’m still not ready!” She makes a beeline for the hallway. “Get the door and greet our guests, I’ll be down in five minutes!”

She disappears upstairs into her bedroom and you hear the doorbell ring again. Your father shouts for someone to go answer it, someone other than him or your brothers because it is the end of the fourth quarter and they just can’t possibly miss that.

You make your way through the foyer and open up the front door expecting it to be one of your family members, but it’s not.

Your throat instantly goes dry at the sight of him.

He’s broader than you remeber, so much broader.

The fabric of his sage green dress shirt is nice and snug on his frame—stretched taut over the planes of his chest and his wide shoulders. He’s holding a box of store bought something or other but you’re much too preoccupied with the way the sleeves of his shirt are hugging his biceps to notice what it is although you assume it’s some kind of dessert. He looks far more delicious than whatever sweet treat could be in that white box he’s got in his hands.

After a minute, you realize you’ve been gawking at him and the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Hello Mr. Miller,” you greet him politely. “It’s very nice to see you again. Please, come on in.”

He smiles, his brown eyes warm and sweet behind his square, black-rimmed glasses. “You remember me,” he states and the syrupy richness of his voice sends a pleasant tingle up your spine. Stepping off to the side, you allow him inside—as he steps past you over the threshold, the tantalizing scent of his cologne almost brings you to your knees. Notes of a citrus accord like tart grapefruit, fresh bergamot mixed with the woodiness of vetiver and musk; it’s intoxicating, something you could easily get drunk off of if you’re not careful. “I’m surprised. S’been a real long time since you last saw me.”

“It hasn’t been all that long,” you reply, closing the door behind you. You speak to him in the steadiest voice you can muster, with nonchalance—as if you aren’t one missed heartbeat away from feeling like a silly little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Has it?”

He thinks about it. “‘Bout four and a half years.”

“That’s really not that long.”

“S’not,” Joel admits with a chuckle. “But with how much I’ve aged in that short amount of time, I just wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me, y’know? I look a lot different than I used to.” He pauses and laughs, shaking his head. “I must look like an old geezer to you now, don’t I?”

Grays lightly pepper his thick dark brown curls, his beard and his mustache. He’s got crows feet when he smiles, he has worry lines and creases between his eyebrows—he does look a lot older, but he’s so goddamn handsome, wrinkles, fine lines, and all.

You toss him a playful eye roll, prompting a grin. “I don’t think you look like an old geezer, Mr. Miller.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell makin’ me feel like an old geezer by callin’ me that, darlin’ girl.” He gives you a little wink and you’re not quite sure if it’s that, or if it was the way he’d used a pet name that knocks all the wind out of your lungs. “Please, just call me Joel.”

You nod and shyly agree to it. “Okay, then. Joel.”

“S’much better.” His grin widens and a prominent, deep dimple appears on the left side of his cheek.

There’s a silence that follows, but it’s not awkward or weird. It’s comfortable—being in his presence is comfortable. His sweet disposition makes you feel so calm, so at ease.

Joel’s always been a nice man of course, although your interactions with him had been limited—kind, quick hello’s in passing on Sundays whenever he’d come over to watch football with your dad, maybe a polite how are you here and there if you bumped into him at gatherings like a backyard barbecue or birthday party. But you’re older now, no longer the child who greeted her father’s best friend because it was bad manners if she didn’t. You don’t want to throw him that kind, quick hello or that polite how are you and then scurry off the way you used to as a little kid. You actually want to talk to Joel Miller.

But you suddenly remember he’s not here for you.

He’s here for your father.

Joel!” Your mother screeches, five-inch high heels clacking loudly as she descends the staircase. She had ditched the apron and hair rollers—and put on one too many layers of her heaviest perfume. With a delighted squeal, she rushes up to Joel and pulls him into a bone crushing hug, almost causing him to drop the box he’s still holding. “Oh, it is so good to see you! It’s been far too long!”

You force back a small, amused snort.

As if she hadn’t been judging the man for a failed marriage just minutes ago in the kitchen.

It’s performative, too over the top to be sincere.

“S’good to see you too.” He steps back and laughs as he adjusts his glasses with one of his hands. He holds out the box to her with the other. “Picked up a pecan pie on the way over here. I would’a tried to make it myself, but the kitchen’s still all packed up in boxes.” He pauses, laughing again. “Then again, I ain’t really much of a baker. Store bought was for the best I reckon,” he admits, sheepishly. When he shrugs his shoulders, his shirt strains a bit over his frame and even your mother can’t help but stare a little.

Lightly clearing her throat, she takes the box from him and reminds him, “Didn’t I tell you that all you had to bring tonight was a nice, healthy appetite?”

Joel lightly pats his stomach. “Brought that too. In fact, I didn’t eat a thing all day long. I’m absolutely starvin’ right now. Could eat a whole horse.”

“Good! Dinner’s going to be served soon. William’s in the living room with the boys, watching football game after football game. Come with me, I’m sure you’re eager to see him.” Your mother spins on her heel and hands you the dessert. “Sweetie, will you be a gem and go put this in the kitchen for me?” It isn’t a request, it’s an order masked as a request—it’s the kindest she’s been to you all day. She takes Joel’s arm and leads him down the hallway, calling out over her shoulder, “And please set the table!”

You do set the table, and when you do, you decide to sit yourself right next to Joel Miller.

Your mother lightly clinks her knife against the rim of her wine glass and clears her throat. “Everyone! It’s time to join hands and say grace before we dig into our meal,” she announces, her voice breaking through the loud, buzzing chatter at the table. She waits until there’s complete silence and then takes her seat, the chair adjacent to your father’s. You’re on his opposite side and Joel’s right beside you. “I think you should do the honor, William. You are the man of the house, after all.”

Nodding, your father begins the prayer.

“Heavenly Father, bless this food we are about—”

You’re not listening. You’re distracted by the jolt of electricity that zips through your entire body when you put your hand in Joel’s. His hand dwarfs yours and it’s rough and calloused, but somehow it’s the most gentle, soothing touch. Heat prickles at your face and neck when you feel him sweep his thumb across the back of your hand—you open your eyes and glance over at him, wondering if that had just been an accident. You’re convinced it was, until he does it again, running his finger over each knuckle one at a time. Slowly, like he’s savoring the touch.

Biting your lip, you give his hand a gentle squeeze.

His head is bowed and his eyes are still closed, but a faint smile tugs lightly at the corner of his mouth and he firmly squeezes your hand back. There’s an unmistakable desire that’s already burning deep in your lower belly, a flame you can’t extinguish even when the angel on your shoulder reminds you that not only is Joel Miller twice your fucking age, he is also your father’s best friend. His best friend.

“…through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” your relatives chime together in unison.

You force out the declaration. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Joel murmurs, opening his eyes. He turns to you and his gaze flits to your hand in his and for a moment, it almost seems like he doesn’t want to let it go. It feels like Joel doesn’t want to let it go—and he doesn’t. He doesn’t let it go until the sound of your father’s loud, booming voice announcing it is time for him to carve the bird startles the two of you apart. Clearing his throat lightly, Joel turns his attention forward and reaches for his cabernet. He gulps down half his glass in one easy swallow.

Dinner’s fairly uneventful.

You eat in complete silence, as does Joel.

Part of you wonders if it’s because you’re sitting in between him and your father, the only person that he’s most comfortable conversing with. Assuming this is the case, you’re just about to ask him if he’d like to trade places when he turns to you and says, “Your dad told me you went to school in Chicago.”

He’s just being friendly, you remind yourself when your heart starts to flutter wildly at the notion that he wants to talk to you. He’s friendly. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Yeah. I did.” You pick up your glass of wine, taking a sip hoping it’ll ease the nerves. “I graduated over the summer and took a teaching job out there.”

“You became a teacher?”

“Yeah. I teach kindergarten.” You smile proudly.

“Can you believe that, Joel?” Your father lets out a scoff and shakes his head. “I spent thousands and thousands of dollars to send her to school. All that money and for what? For her to learn how to teach little ankle biters how to color inside the lines?” He rolls his eyes and gestures to your two brothers on the opposite side of the table. “Now my boys, they are smart. Chose good careers to pursue. Brandon starts applying to medical school in the spring. Oh and Matthew? He got early acceptance to Yale. He plans on studying law.” He shifts his attention over to you once more and shrugs. “Not too sure where I went wrong with this one.”

You stare at him in complete and utter disbelief.

“Dad.”

Chortling, he waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, come on, honey. I’m just kidding around. You know that I don’t mean it.” He then reaches out, pinching your cheek roughly. “Don’t be so sensitive,” he tells you before turning his attention back to his plate.

But he does mean it.

His comments hurt, and you hate that they hurt.

Joel nudges your arm with his. “Y’know somethin’, it takes someone real special to become a teacher, ‘specially to kids that age,” he states in a matter of fact tone. “Someone who’s real sweet and patient, someone real smart too. Someone just like you.”

Warmth radiates through your entire body. It’s not just his words, but it’s the sincerity behind them.

You shoot him a small, grateful smile.

The two of you wind up talking to one another.

Joel’s moving his contracting business, bringing it back to Austin from Phoenix to run it with Tommy, his younger brother who you vaguely remembered meeting a time or two in the past. He mentions his daughter here and there, but doesn’t bring Connie up once—perhaps it’s too painful for him? It’s hard to tell. He seems to be in good spirits and truth be told, it doesn’t appear he’s mourning his marriage; but it’s difficult to believe he’s not missing her, the woman he’d spent three decades of his life with. It shouldn’t even matter to you whether he’s missing his ex-wife or not, if there are residual feelings still lingering around. But it does matter and you don’t know why. Or maybe you do know why, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Do you like Chicago?” Joel questions, curiously.

Shrugging, you respond, “Yeah. It’s a cool city.”

“You plan on stayin’ out there permanently?”

“I’m not too sure,” you admit. “It’s too expensive. I don’t want to live with a roommate forever. Unless teachers start getting paid more, I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to afford to live alone in Chicago.”

Joel seems hesitant about his next query. “Do you ever think ‘bout comin’ back to Austin at all?”

Suddenly, you’re not too sure about that either.

You’ve been itching to go back and get as far from Austin, Texas as possible, but now, it means being far from Joel Miller. There’s a deep, sinking feeling inside of your chest at the thought.

Realizing he’s still waiting for a response, you have no choice but to tell him the truth. “I don’t think I’ll ever come back here, to be honest. Not to stay.”

“Oh. I see.” He sounds disappointed. “Are you—do you plan on visitin’ home again for Christmas?”

“I do. I’ll be here for Christmas and New Year’s.”

He’s being friendly. He’s being friendly. He’s—

“It’d be real nice to see you again then.” Flushing a deep shade of red, subtle regret flashes across his features, as if he’d said it without thinking. Picking up his glass, he drains the rest of his wine and you can swear he’s nervous. About what he’d just said, and about whether or not your parents, who are in such close proximity, had overheard him. Because what business did he have in telling their daughter it would be nice to see her again?

They’re both much too preoccupied. Your father is attempting to be slick checking his text messages underneath the table and you can tell by the smirk on his face that it’s one of his secretaries. He’s got a penchant for perky blondes in tight pencil skirts. Your mother is well aware of this. She is also aware he’s on his phone, but she turns a blind eye just as she always does and distracts herself by being the perfect hostess.

Feeling foolishly courageous, you turn back to him and nod, heart pounding against your sternum. “It would. It’d be very nice, actually.”

Relieved, he nods and murmurs quietly, “We’ll talk ‘bout it later, then. That okay, darlin’?”

Not wanting to seem too eager, you nod again and turn away from him, teeth sinking into your lip in a futile attempt to hide the giddiness in your smile—but the soft chuckle Joel elicits under his breath is a clear indication that it’s useless.

He knows how he’s making you feel. He likes it.

Your mother returns from the kitchen carrying two baskets of fresh crescent rolls, one for each end of the table. She sets one of them down right in front of you and you reach out to take one when a voice, one that sounds as awful as nails scraping down a chalkboard, remarks loudly, “Should you be eating so much bread, dear?” Ines, who’s sitting a couple chairs down, next to your grandmother, looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. There’s a smug little smile on her face, almost as if she were daring you to run your mouth like you’d done last year.

For as much as it pains you, you make your choice and decide not to take the bait. You pull your hand out of the basket of rolls and pick up your glass of wine instead, chugging it down like it’s water.

Frowning, Joel picks up the basket and takes a roll that you assume is for himself, but it’s not. Putting it on your plate, he shoots her a frigid glare. “Don’t you listen to her.” He says it loud enough for her to hear him. “You just enjoy yourself, alright?”

Your aunt bats her eyes, innocently. “Well, I’m just saying. If my skirt was that tight on me, I would be thinking twice about what goes into my mouth.”

Hushed laughter sweeps across the entire table.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” You slam your empty glass down so hard onto the table that the entire dining room goes completely silent. The little ones at the children’s table stare with big and wide eyes, mouths full of food hung open because a grown up had just used a naughty word.

Your mother says your name warningly. “Don’t you start,” she hisses, shaking her head. “Be quiet.”

Angrily, you round on her. “Seriously? You’re going to let her say that to me? You don’t care that she’s making comments about my weight?” You almost laugh. Of course doesn’t care, she has never cared and she never will. “I’m your daughter! Would it kill you to defend me for once in your fucking life?”

“Shut your mouth!” Your father stands up, shoving a threatening finger into your face, so close the tip of it almost touches the tip of your nose. He hasn’t put his hands on you since you were nine, but he’s as drunk as he is angry, and you find yourself back in the shoes of the little girl who would curl up into a ball in the corner of her room as she begged and pleaded for him not to hurt her. “You hear me?”

Joel stands and walks around your chair. Placing a hand on your father’s chest, he mutters, “Hey now let’s take a step back from her, alright?” He guides him back down into his chair. “Ain’t gotta be in her face like that, Will.”

“I’m sick and tired of her ruining everything—can’t get through one dinner without her screwing it up! Always has to run that fucking mouth of hers! She still acts like a goddamn fucking child—”

You can’t bear to sit there and hear another insult.

Fighting back the hot tears that are threatening to spill over, you quickly stand up and rush out of the dining room. You make a beeline for the front door and step outside onto the porch. It’s about sixty or so degrees in Austin and the cold nips at your bare legs, but that’s the least of your worries. Without a place to go, you descend the porch steps and find yourself walking towards the swing that’s hanging from the old bur oak tree in the front yard. You had asked your father for a swing when you were three years old—it wasn’t until your brothers asked for a swing a couple years later that he’d hung one up.

You sit down, hands curling around the rope that’s so old and weathered it’s beginning to fray slightly but not so much so that you’re concerned about it snapping. You’re so busy trying to keep it together that you don’t notice the sound of crisp, autumnal leaves crunching under a pair of boots behind you. A hand gingerly touches your shoulder. You let out a startled gasp and glance over to see it’s Joel.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he says, gently.

You stare at him in surprise.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Needed to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you grit the lie through your teeth.

Joel’s expression softens. “You ain’t gotta pretend with me, sweetheart.”

His concern is genuine. It’s real.

You don’t quite know how to handle it. Accept it.

“It got real ugly in there, ‘specially with your dad.”

Tears prickle at your eyes all over again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Joel. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Baffled, Joel walks around the swing and a minor labored grunt escapes him as he squats in front of you. “There’s a few people who need to be apologizin’ for what happened, but darlin’ you sure as fuckin’ hell ain’t one of them.”

It’s odd. Feels foreign, even.

You’re not used to someone being on your side—it prompts more tears to spring forward and despite your best efforts to fight them off, it’s useless. You manage to whisper his name. It’s a feeble warning, one that’s telling him to go back inside before he’s caught in the torrential downpour of emotions you are mere seconds away from unleashing on him.

But he doesn’t budge. He waits. Joel knows you’re about to break and he’s ready to catch the pieces.

Finally, a tear slips and rolls down your cheek, only to be followed by another and then another. You’re holding onto the swing for dear life now, emotions that you’ve been holding in for your whole life now coming to the surface. The rope digs painfully into the palms of your hands. He reaches out and curls his fingers lightly around your wrists.

“S’okay to let go,” Joel encourages you and you’re certain he’s not just referring to the swing. “Listen to me, darlin’ girl. I ain’t gonna let you fall, alright? I’m right here to catch you. You can let go. I’ve got you, okay?”

You allow Joel to take your hands off the rope and he guides them around his shoulders as you begin to crumble. Leaning forward slightly off the swing, you wrap you arms around him and bury your face into his neck. “Joel,” you choke out his name as he wraps his own arms around your waist, pulling you closer into him.

He feels like stability.

He feels like security.

He feels like safety.

Your entire body shudders as you cry, cry, cry.

“S’alright, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He repeats his reassurance over and over again.

He wants you to believe it.

And you do believe it.

Joel’s as patient as can be. It’s growing colder and his knees are begging for a change of positon, but couldn’t care less about the discomfort. He rubs a soothing circle into your back and waits until there is nothing left except little hiccups and sniffles.

“Shit,” you mumble when you pull back and notice you’d left behind a wet spot on his shirt along with light traces of mascara. You wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. “I ruined your shirt.”

“S’okay. Nothin’ the dry cleaners can’t take care of for me.” Joel chuckles and lets go of you. “You feel a little better now, darlin’?”

“I do.” You glance over your shoulder at the house, then exhale a sigh and turn back to him, admitting quietly, “I don’t want to go back in there, though.”

He rises to his feet and pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his black jeans. “Well, y’dont have to go back in there,” he states. “Is there somewhere I can take you? Friend’s house, maybe?”

“My best friend Megan went to Puerto Vallarta for Thanksgiving. Most of my other friends left Austin like I did,” you explain, sighing again. “Anyone who didn’t leave is spending their time with their family tonight and I don’t want to bother them.”

Joel hums, mulling it over in his mind. “Well, don’t know how comfortable you’ll be with the idea, but my place ain’t all too far from here. Ten minutes or so. Less if there’s no one out on the roads.”

“Joel, that’s so nice of you to offer, but I’ve already ruined your dinner tonight. The last thing I want to do is put you out even more,” you say, sheepishly.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin a fuckin’ thing for me tonight. And you wouldn’t be puttin’ me out at all,” he promises. “S’gettin’ late and truth be told, I just wanna get you somewhere warm.” Holding out his free hand, he adds, “And comfortable.”

“But Joel—”

“I can be real stubborn too, y’know,” he teases you with a playful grin. “We’ll be out here all night long freezin’ our fuckin’ asses off.”

He isn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Okay,” you relent, accepting the offer.

You place your hand in his and he helps you off the swing. He doesn’t let it go as he leads the way to a sleek, black Dodge Ram that’s parked behind your grandfather’s silver Mercedes. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it. “Sorry, sweet girl. It’s a bit of a trip up into the seat,” he remarks, chuckling as he opens the passenger side door for you. He gives you a boost into the truck; the scent of new leather is mixed with that of his cologne. It is all man and couldn’t be sexier. “Good up there?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Joel closes the door and hurriedly walks around to the driver’s side of the pickup, climbing up into his seat with ease. “Seatbelt,” he tells you as he sticks the key into the ignition. The first thing he does as soon as the engine roars to life is turn on your seat warmer. He switches on the heater as well, waiting a minute before asking, “You warm enough?”

“I am. Thank you, Joel.”

“‘Course.” He nods and pulls away from the curb.

As Joel’s driving you further and further from your parents’ house, all you feel is sweet relief.

“M’sorry the place is such a mess.”

Joel leads you into his living room and touches his hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed.

Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him and say, “I’d hardly call cardboard boxes stacked neatly over on one side of the room a mess, Joel.” You take a look around his townhouse—most of his furniture’s still wrapped up in plastic, except for the black leather couch and the rustic, acacia wood coffee table. He has a flat screen mounted over the brick fireplace; he’s been sleeping on the couch, or at least, that’s what the pillow and Texas Longhorns fleece throw tells you. You turn to him. “If you want to see a real mess, you should see my apartment in Chicago.”

You watch him as he takes off his glasses and puts them down on the coffee table.

“S’it pretty bad?”

“My roommate’s a kindergarten teacher too. You’d be surprised at how many popsicle sticks two girls in their twenties can end up bringing home. Not to mention all the glitter.”

“If you’re tryin’ to make me feel better, it’s workin’ like a charm.” Joel picks up his blanket and drapes it over the armchair adjacent to the couch. “Go on and make yourself comfortable, darlin’. You thirsty at all? I’ve got water or I can make coffee. Also got a pack of beer in the fridge,” he adds, jokingly.

“What kind of beer?” you ask curiously as you sink down onto the couch.

He seems pleasantly surprised by your interest.

“Lone Star.”

“I’ll have one. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“‘Course it’s not too much trouble. Not at all.”

It’s hard not to stare as he walks away towards the kitchen. Your thighs clench together—his back, his shoulders, those unkempt salt and pepper curls of his that tuft at the nape of his neck right above his collar—this man is the epitome of utter perfection. Your mind wanders and you can’t help imagine the way your legs would look thrown over those broad shoulders. How his large hands would feel on your plush skin as they wrap around your thighs to hold them in place against his chest while he fucks y—

“Here you go, darlin’.”

Joel’s deep voice shatters your train of thought.

He’s standing beside you, holding out the bottle of beer, which he’d uncapped along with his own.

Blood rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you,” you say as you accept the beer from him, trying not to lose the sliver of composure that you’re holding onto—it wavers when your fingers accidentally brush his.

“S’it too cold in here for you?” he asks. “I normally keep the thermostat pretty low.”

“It’s a little cold,” you admit. “But it’s not a prob—”

It’s too late. Joel walks over to the fireplace and he manages to strike a match and light it with just his free hand. After tossing in a couple logs, he makes his way back over to the couch and he takes a seat beside you. “That a bit better, sweetheart?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs. “You said it was cold.”

He takes a long, generous swig of the golden lager before setting the bottle down on one of the green ceramic coasters on the coffee table. He sits back; an arm stretches out over the back of the couch in a casual manner and his legs spread open causing your thighs to clench together once more.

“You feelin’ alright?”

“Huh?” You then realize he is referring to what had happened at dinner. “Oh. Um. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Joel peers at you, his concern evident, clear in the depths of his dark brown eyes. “You sure?”

“No. Not really,” you confess, tracing the mouth of your bottle with your index finger. “But I’ll get over it. I don’t have a choice but to get over it.” Another lump starts forming in the back of your throat and you swallow it, quickly chasing it down with a gulp of beer.

“M’guessin’ your family’s got somethin’ to do with why you decided to leave Austin?”

“Bingo,” you deadpan. “I was so sick and tired of it all. How I was talked to, how I was treated. Like I’m such a fucking disappointment.”

He frowns. “You’re not a disappointment, though.”

“My parents think I’m a disappointment. My dad’s never told me he’s proud of me, Joel. Nothing I do, nothing I have ever done is good enough for either of them, but especially not for him.” There is a dull ache that settles in your heart and all you can do is silently will yourself not to breakdown again, not in front of him, at least. You sigh. “Do you know what it’s like, not feeling good enough for someone that is supposed to love you no matter what? Someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally?”

Joel knows it’s a rhetorical question, he knows it’s not something you’re expecting him to answer.

But he does answer, because he does know.

“I do, actually. I know all too well what it feels like.”

He looks down at his left hand, which is resting on his thigh and you do too. Your eyes flicker over the fading tanline on his finger—where he once wore a wedding band. You don’t even think twice about it and reach over, sweeping your own finger over the patch of pale skin. Without missing a beat, you tell him, “You’re good enough, Joel.”

He can’t help but laugh a little. “She’d disagree.”

“She’s wrong.”

“You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know what happened.”

“That ain’t how it works, sweetheart.”

Stubbornly, you lift your chin. “I don’t care.”

Joel laughs. “Y’think you know me, darlin’? Y’think you know what kinda man I am? Hm?”

“I do know.” You place your hand on top of his and his jaw clenches. “You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I know that you’re a good man.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong ‘bout that.” There’s a brief pause and he hesitates before confessing, “A good man wouldn’t be sittin’ here just fuckin’ dyin’ to kiss his best friend’s daughter.”

You freeze and grip your bottle so tight, you would not be the slightest bit surprised if it shatters right in your hand. “You—you want to kiss me?”

“Since the moment you opened up that front door and said hello to me.” Joel shakes his head. “S’not right.” He’s riddled with guilt, with shame. He pulls his hand out from under yours. “I ain’t a good man at all. You’re half my fuckin’ age and I shouldn’t—”

You cut him off, softly uttering his name. “Joel?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounds hoarse. Strained.

“Can you—will you kiss me? Please?”

You need more than just his kiss, so much more.

You need him to unravel you in every way possible, but beggars can’t be choosers and if one kiss was all you’ll get tonight, then you’ll fucking take it.

Joel swallows dryly. “That really what you want?”

His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to meet your sweet, innocent gaze.

“Yes,” you breathe in reply. “Please. Kiss me.”

He leans in, and there’s brief hesitation on his part and he stops mere centimeters from your face, his nose lightly brushing against yours. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this.” His warm breath fans over your lips; they’re parted, eager to meet his own. “I shouldn’t let this happen. I—I should take you back home to your family before I do somethin’ real stupid.”

Your heart sinks. “That really what you want?” you parrot his own question back to him and hold your breath, knowing there’s a chance his answer could be the answer that you don’t want to hear, the one that could end up crushing you.

Joel lifts his hand, cupping the side of your face in his palm. “‘Course it’s not what I want.” His thumb strokes your cheek, his dark eyes taking in each of your features. He’s studying, memorizing them, as if he’ll never get another chance to be this close to you again. With the line he’s about to cross, you’re both about to cross, that just might be the case.

The tension seeps through your skin and into your bones.

You exhale shakily. “Then just kiss me already.”

He moves his hand and gently curls it around your chin, holding you steady as he leans further in and closes the gap of space in between you. He moves slowly and he’s gentle—too gentle. You want to tell him you’re not made of porcelain, but you’re much too preoccupied with how Joel’s mouth feels, how perfectly it molds against yours. He delicately nips your bottom lip with his teeth. It’s a silent request.

He wants more, more, more. Your lips part for him, granting him the access he’s seeking. Joel doesn’t waste a single moment and he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, eliciting a whimper from you. Without breaking contact, he takes your beer and somehow he manages to lean over to set it down on the coffee table without dropping it. He then pushes you back into the couch and the next thing you know, you’re lying on your back and he’s settled in between your legs, using one of his arms to keep himself propped up, while the other wraps itself in your hair. Your own hands clutch at fistfuls of his shirt, fingers gripping the fabric so tight, the skin over your knuckles stretches painfully thin.

You whimper out again, the noise prompting a low growl to rumble through his chest—suddenly, he’s not being so gentle. He isn’t being rough. But he is hungry, he’s possessive, and he’s letting it show in the way he’s swelling your lips with his kisses, how his fingers are gripping the hair at the base of your neck as he firmly tilts your head backwards to give himself better access to your mouth.

Your mind is racing, and yet, you can’t think at all.

It’s not until his hips buck into you and you feel his bulge through his jeans against you that you break away from him. “Joel,” you gasp his out name. You grip his shirt even harder, chest heaving as you try to catch a much needed breath of air. You can feel the arousal pooling between your legs. The flames burning in the fireplace are nothing in comparison to the ones that are burning deep in your belly.

“Fuck,” he curses, pulling back. “M’sorry—”

The last thing you want is for him to be sorry.

“No! Please don’t be sorry,” you rasp, gazing up at him. Your eyes are glazed over with a lust you have never felt for another man before. “I want this, you know I want this—don’t you?”

Joel sighs, brushing a soft kiss to your temple. You wish he could take a peek into your mind, see how badly you want to be wrapped up in his arms—you want to get lost in his embrace, feel him all around you, inside you. You want him to write his name on your bare skin with his tongue, whisper his secrets into the spot where you’re aching for him most.

He sighs again and lightly shakes his head.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

“I want this,” you repeat yourself. “I want you.”

Relaxing the death grip you have on his shirt, your hands release the fabric and move to the buttons. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo each one of them; after an embarrassing fumble or two, you manage to get them all and push Joel’s shirt off of his shoulders. He sucks in a quick, sharp breath as your greedy hands begin roaming, exploring every inch of smooth, tan skin on his upper body.

Your touch erases all the uncertainty he’s feeling.

“Wanna feel you too, baby.” Joel takes the hem of your sweater and gestures for you to sit up slightly so he can pull it over your head. Carelessly tossing it somewhere behind him, he glances down, blood rushing to his cock as he takes in the sight of your supple curves clad in sweet, delicate white lace. “Christ, you look so fuckin’ soft.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s saying it out loud, not until he catches the flirtatious little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You sit up slightly once again and reach behind you to unhook the lingerie and take it off, adding it to the ever growing pile of clothes on the hardwood floor. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze for just a moment before dipping his head down, wrapping them around one of your hardened nipples. “Joel,” you mewl his name as he flicks the pebbled flesh with his tongue.

Joel releases it with a lewd, wet pop and he tosses you a smirk before he moves to the other to give it the same attention. He’s a biter, you find out as he takes it between his teeth, nipping over and over.

Your throbbing center clenches around nothing.

“Joel, please. I need you—I fucking need you.”

He tears away from your nipple. “Where, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer him, but your own gasp cuts you off as he starts trailing his lips down the length of your body until he comes to a stop at the waistband of your skirt. One of his hands finds the zipper on the side and he looks up at you, as if asking for permission. Desperate, you nod. Pulling the zipper down, he slides the skirt, along with the pair of lace white panties you’re wearing off of you and discards them, leaving you completely naked.

Your insecurities begin to trickle in, but Joel’s able to halt them right in their tracks.

“You’re too fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he says, his reassurance calming your nerves instantly. “So beautiful. So beautiful and so fuckin’ perfect.”

You watch as he makes himself comfortable—well as comfortable as he can—in between your legs. He shoots you a sheepish look.

“Knew I should’a put the damn bed together. But I been puttin’ it off and puttin’ it off all week long.”

You giggle breathlessly. “Who needs a bed?”

Chuckling, Joel feathers a kiss on your inner thigh.

Your smile is all but slapped right off of your face.

“Joel.”

Any traces of humor vanish. You’re both reminded of the next wall that’s about to be broken, the next line that’s about to be crossed.

He looks down and groans. “Such a pretty, perfect little pussy,” he remarks, his voice low, husky. “Bet she’s nice and wet for me, ain’t she baby?” He lifts his hand and drags the tip of his finger up your slit slowly, your slick coating his digit. He smirks up at you. “Oh, she’s fuckin’ soakin’, sweet girl. S’this all for me?”

Foreplay wasn’t in the vocabulary of guys your age and while part of you wishes Joel would hurry, you also find yourself enjoying the fact that he’s taking his time, teasing you—making you really want it to the point where you’re willing to fucking plead him for it. Joel Miller’s the only man you’d ever beg for.

He skims your other thigh with his nose and kisses it just like he’d done with the other. “Tell me darlin’ s’this where you need me? Right here?”

Frantically, you nod your head.

“Words, honey. Gotta use your words for me.”

“Yes!” you choke out. “That’s where I need you. So bad. Need you so fucking bad. Please Daddy—”

You freeze and momentarily, he does too. Truth be told, you wouldn’t really blame him if he just stood up, gathered your clothes and tossed them at you, demanding you put them back on and leave.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Daddy, huh?”

Your face is on fire. “I—it slipped,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to call you—I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m not even sure where that came from. I’ve never—”

You’re on the verge of panicking, then notice there is a certain glimmer in his eyes and realize he liked it when you’d called him that. You’re taken aback.

He fucking likes being called Daddy.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout. I promise. You can call me that. But on a condition.”

You stare at him, no idea what the condition could possibly be.

“Ain’t allowed to call anyone else that. Ever.” There is a possessiveness in his tone and it nearly makes you come on the spot. “That understood?”

You nod obediently. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” he prompts.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. That’s a real good girl, honey.”

For a split second, you can’t breathe.

This man will surely be the death of you.

Joel plants one final kiss, this one on your mound.

“Please,” you whimper, the heat in your lower belly growing and fizzling out to the rest of your body at the feeling of his breath over your aching core.

“Please what?” he murmurs into the sensitive skin as his arms curl around your legs. “Tell Daddy—tell Daddy what you need baby, so he can take care of you.”

“Your mouth,” you beg him, desperation mounting with each passing second. Your hips buck upward; his biceps flex as he tightens his arms around your thighs, pinning you down in place. “Your mouth—I need your mouth. Please.”

Joel moves his head to the junction of your thighs, his mouth hovering right over where you needed it the most. He looks up at you with hunger, like he’s a ravenous, starved man who hasn’t had a thing to eat in days. “What a good girl,” he praises, dipping his head even lower. His mouth waters at the sight of your glistening folds. “Bet you taste as delicious as you fuckin’ look, don’t you, pretty girl?”

He flattens his tongue and glides it up your slit, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he gets his first taste. You gasp out when it grazes your swollen, aroused clit and your head falls back onto the couch. “Oh fuck,” you whine, reaching for his hair. You weave your hands through his graying locks and pull his face closer. Another swipe of his tongue causes your back to arch up off the leather and the edges of your vision to blur.

He pulls an arm from around your legs and drags a finger down your drenched entrance, lips securing themselves around your clit. His gaze stays locked on you as he pushes his long, thick digit into you—you feel him smirk as he curls it upwards, pressing the pad of his finger firmly against the soft spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Joel slips in a second finger and curls it along with the other to double the pleasure. He begins thrusting his digits in and out of your warm cunt, eliciting what had to be the sweetest sounds that he’d ever heard in his entire life from you. He combines it with with slow, firm, and precise stokes of his tongue on your clit.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” you encourage him, your loud, breathy moans bouncing off the bare, freshly painted walls of his house. “Yes Daddy, fuck—feels so fucking good, please don’t fucking stop—”

It’s not like you have to tell him what to do.

Joel knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows it too. He listens to every single one of your moans and feels every single buck of your hips. He is sure to pay extra attention to when your hands pull and tug at his curls; he remembers what combinations of licking, sucking, and fucking make you squeeze your plush thighs tighter around his head; reminds himself of which technique brings your body off of the couch, what makes your toes curl. Joel’s quick to learn your body’s cues, each and every last one. He already knows when to give you more, when to give you less—when he needs speed up, when it is time to slow it all down.

You sing his name over and over again, pressure of an orgasm already building between your hips. His tongue swirls around your sensitive little bundle of nerves as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt and you glance down. You almost choke when you catch a tiny glimpse of the muscles in his forearm, the way they flex underneath his skin with each of his movements as he’s fucking you. Your gaze flits to his face. His own eyes are fixed intently on you.

You’re milliseconds away from release.

“Joel, I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna come—”

His arm squeezes your thigh in encouragement.

One last, broad stroke of Joel’s tongue on your clit sends an overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing over you. Strangled cries tear themselves from the back of your throat as your velvet walls flutter and convulse, squeezing his fingers. Joel, who’s face is still half buried in your pussy, takes it upon himself to help you ride through the high. He peppers soft, delicate kisses onto your swollen clit as his fingers continue to slide in and out of you slowly. He waits patiently until your loud cries dissolve into nothing but breathless little whimpers before he crawls up, positioning himself on top of you, a hand on either side of your head. His beard and mustache glisten with a mixture of saliva and slick—and somehow it it ignites another fire and you’re ready for more, so much more.

“Sweet girl,” Joel murmurs. Leaning down, his lips meet yours and you taste yourself on his tongue

You place a hand on his chest, right over his heart, which beats strong and steady against your palm.

You start dragging your hand down his chest, your fingernails raking over his skin. It travels lower and lower, gliding over the softness of his stomach. He tenses when you brush the waistband of his jeans.

Tearing away from you, he grits out, “Baby. No.”

You immediately snatch your hand away from him.

“You changed your mind?” you question, stomach sinking at the thought of it being over already.

You’re just so fucking greedy for this man.

He offers reassurance—and an explanation.

“No, that ain’t it at all. S’just—” Joel pauses briefly and flushes a shade of red. “S’just that, well, I ain’t got condoms on me, darlin’.”

Relieved, you assure him, “It’s okay. I’m clean.”

“Me too. But that ain’t what I’m worried about,” he admits, his face going from red to maroon.

You smile, finding his embarrassment endearing.

“I’m on birth control.”

Joel clenches his hands into fists. His cock strains against his zipper at the thought of it—taking your cunt bare. “Y’sure you want this?” He rasps out. “I need you to be a hundred percent sure ‘bout it.”

“I’m a thousand percent sure, Joel. I fucking need it. More than anything I’ve ever needed in my life.”

That’s all he needed to hear.

Joel stands up, his gaze never leaving your own as he kicks off his black leather boots. You sit up, and it takes every ounce of strength you have in you to remain composed as he unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans and pushes them down his legs. You bite down on your bottom lip and try not to stare at his bulge like it’s your first time ever seeing a dick, but if he’s as big as he looks in his boxer briefs, maybe this would end up being a lot more than what your body could handle.

He hooks his thumbs underneath the elastic of his boxer briefs and slides them off, allowing his thick, hard cock to spring free from its confinement.

You swallow harshly. He’s fucking massive.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Joel chuckles at the expression on your face as he kicks aside all of his clothes. His length rests on his lower abdomen and precome smears the skin there. Wrapping one of his hands around it, he gives it a couple strokes, just a hint of relief until you come into play. “Hm?”

Licking your lips, you nod and stand up. You take a couple of wobbling step towards him—Joel’s cock hasn’t been anywhere near you and you’re already fucking walking side to side. “Come here,” you say to him, taking both his hands in your own. You pull him back to the couch and gently guide him down into a sitting position. Swinging your leg over both of his, you straddle his lap. You gingerly place your hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh softly when you feel him brush against your pussy; the contact makes you both moan in unsion. “This okay?” you ask him, breathily. You can’t be sure as to why you’re suddenly feeling a bit shy, like you’re not planning to ride his fucking soul out of him.

“More than okay.” Joel brushes your hair over your shoulder and then drags his hand down the length of your body, committing to his memory every one of your curves. “Gonna be a real good girl and ride my cock, baby?”

You gift him with a cheeky grin. “Yes, Daddy.”

The shyness begins to dissipate and you dive your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock, causing his breath to catch in his throat. You lift yourself slightly off his lap, teasingly gliding the head of his cock down your drenched slit, then up, letting it graze over your clit, which is still senstive to the touch thanks to his lips and tongue.

Joel’s hands find their way around you, running up the curve of your spine. “Wasn’t aware that my girl was such a little fuckin’ tease,” he remarks in a low tone. He slides his hands back down and his large, warm palms cup your ass, fingers kneading flesh.

“Your girl?” you repeat, your heart skipping a beat, stomach fluttering at the idea of being his. “Is that what I am to you, Joel? Your girl?”

“S’that what you want, honey?” Joel whispers, his eyes finding your own, two hopeful gazes meeting in the deepest, most intimate moment that you’ve shared all evening. “Y’wanna be my girl?”

Leaning forward, your reply is preceded by kiss, so soft and so sweet his heart swells inside his chest.

“I do,” you mumble against his lips. “I really do.”

Still gripping your ass, Joel eases you up and lines himself up at your entrance. He bucks his hips and slides the head of his cock past your folds and into your heat. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers, his hands moving to your hips, thumbs grazing your skin. He slowly guides you further down his shaft, grunting as you sink down, taking him inch by inch. “Christ, you’re so goddamn fuckin’ tight—”

The initial stretch is almost too much for you. Your nails sink deeper into his shoulders as he pulls you down further down onto him. “Joel,” you whimper, biting back a loud cry. You’re fully seated, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his head pressing against your cervix. You’re so full of him.

One of his hands abandons your hip and slips over your lower belly.

“This where you’re feelin’ me, pretty girl?” he coos gently. “This where you feel Daddy’s cock? In your belly?”

“Yes,” you sigh out contentedly. “Feels so good.”

You lift yourself off of him, then slide back down in a slow, languid motion.

Joel’s head falls back onto the couch. “Christ.” He mutters the word, his chest heaving. Staring up at the ceiling, he takes a moment to catch his breath and silently wills himself not to explode. Once he’s managed to somewhat compose himself, he looks at you again, pupils blown so wide you can’t find a single trace of brown. “Go on, then,” he rasps. “Go on, sweetheart.”

The living room fills with the sounds of low moans and panting breaths as you move, alternating your maneuvers between rocking and bouncing on him in a frenzied, fast paced rhythm. The friction of his pelvis each time you grind into it winds up the coil between your hips and suddenly you’re desperate, so pathetically desperate for another release.

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” Joel encourages, feeling the beginning of his own climax building quick—much too quick for his liking. “Jus’ like that, honey. What a good girl you are for me, so fuckin’ good for me. Just like I fuckin’ knew you would be.”

“Fuck,” you whine. “You feel so good, Daddy. Feel so fucking good inside me—”

Leaning back, you firmly plant both your hands on his thighs and arch your body, head falling back as you pick up the pace. The burning fire casts a soft, orange glow around you and his jaw falls slack. His eyes drink in every single fucking thing about you, watch you with an adoration that, for the first time in your whole life, makes you feel wanted. Actually wanted.

“Joel,” you whisper his name over and over. You’re both beginning to lose track of where you end and he begins. You can hardly hear the praises that are spilling from his plush lips over the squelching wet sounds of your cunt sliding up and down his cock. There’s no chance to warn him—your mouth parts in a silent scream as you come undone on him.

“M’so fuckin’ close,” Joel grunts. He feels his cock twitch as your pussy grips him like a vice. “Where? Where do you want it, pretty girl?”

“Inside me. Please, I need you to come inside me,” you plead him, the innocent tone of your voice the last thing to push him over the edge he’s teetering on. “Fill me up, Daddy—please, want every drop of you inside me—”

Joel reaches for your arms and yanks you forward, into him. Throwing them around his neck, his own arms wrap around you and roughly slam you down onto him, holding you firmly in place. He bucks his hips upwards, balls tightening, his cock pulsing as he comes. Strings of hissed curse words and deep gutteral groans muffle when he drops his face into your collarbone. Still holding you in place, he spills his load into you, his seed filling you to the brim.

He sags back against the couch and pulls you with him. Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he lets himself stay buried inside of you, the primal in him relishing the heavenly feeling of his come dripping messily out of your pussy and all over his thighs.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks after a minute.

“M’perfect,” you mumble against his chest. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re coming down from a high or if it’s because he’s tracing patterns on your shoulder blade with his finger, but you shiver in his arms.

“Let me get the blanket—”

Joel starts to move to get up, but you stop him.

“No, please don’t,” you say, pushing him back. You put all of your weight onto him, as if he can’t move you off to the side if he really wanted to. “I—I want you inside me for a little while longer. Please.”

“But baby, you’re cold—”

You don’t bother explaining to him that you’re not.

“Just hold me. Please.”

And that’s exactly what he does.

Snuggling into him, you close your eyes and Joel’s hand strokes at your hair. Between that, the thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek and the sound of the fireplace crackling behind you, you’re nearly soothed into sleep.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I hate Thanksgiving,” you admit, smiling tiredly to yourself when you feel a laugh rumble in his chest.

“Do you, now?”

You nod. “I do. But I’m really thankful for you.”

Giving you a gentle squeeze, Joel kisses the top of your head and murmurs, “Well, m’thankful for you too, sweet girl.” He pauses momentarily. “I ain’t all too sure how I’m s’pposed to just let you go home. I know I have to but—”

Lifting your head off of his chest, you take the side of his face and cradle it in your palm. You meet his gaze, heart sinking when you see the sadness that has replaced the lust from earlier.

He doesn’t mean home to your parents’ house. He means Chicago.

You graze his beard with your thumb. “I’m coming back in a few weeks,” you remind him, gently. “I’ve only planned to spend a week out here just for the holidays, but I can visit sooner. As soon as the kids go on winter break, I can come back to Austin.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would, Joel. I’m not sure how it would work what with my parents and all, though. I don’t want them catching onto us.”

“C’mere.” Joel brushes your lips with his before he makes his promise. “I’ll figure it out, baby. Leave it all to me and I’ll figure it out.”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

#asdfghjkl BYE #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x y/n #joel miller au #dbf joel miller #dbf joel x reader #fic: someone to be thankful for

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freelancearsonist · 22 days

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make a move on me

➔ pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x reader - 5.5k

➔ You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodeling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.

➔ Rated MA for baby’s first anal fic protected p in a and anal fingering (r receiving), age gap (reader is early 20’s, joel is 36), m masturbation/pillowhumping, daddy kink, size kink, praise kink, gentle-turned-rough sex, pet names (baby, darling, honey, good girl, baby girl, little lady), slight degradation and condescension but only in a sexy way, one use of “slut”, pussy pronouns, one (1) pussy slap, gratuitous dickscription, heavy dom/sub dynamics i mean seriously these power dynamics are out of control, tommy is a little bit of a shit (affectionate) [pls let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

➔ This reader insert character: has female anatomy and uses feminine pronouns, no name/no use of y/n, is generally able-bodied, fits in joel’s shirt and is implied to be shorter/smaller than him, is on summer break from college but no major/year is mentioned.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. Keep his hands to himself and his mind on the job. Don’t fret over the pretty little thing who’s been draping herself all over the house ever since he started demo, practically begging to be fucked.

If he had any sense, he would pack his shit and drop the job–or, at the very least, tell your parents to put you on a leash. But there’s a little part of him that might be a glutton for punishment–that savors the teasing.

The most infuriating part of the whole thing is that he can’t blame you for this whole mess. He shouldn’t be so quick to temptation. You should be able to walk around your own home in whatever you want and not have to worry about the creepy contractor getting flustered every time he looks in your general direction.

But god, you make it hard–double entendre intended. You walk around like you haven’t a care in the world because you don’t; you’re home for summer break after a grueling year at college, and you intend to savor every languid second of it. Your preferred method of savoring just happens to be wearing tight little bikinis that barely hold anything in place as you lounge out by the pool in the Texas heat, or tight leggings that hug your ass so perfectly it almost makes him jealous of the material as you curl up with a book on your couch.

Joel’s a grown man. He can keep it in his pants, no matter how badly he wants you. But you’re not exactly making it easy on him.

Really, it’s Tommy’s fault when the levee breaks. If he could keep his big mouth shut, Joel might’ve been able to maintain the thin control he had over himself. But Tommy goes and makes an off-handed comment about you one night, and that’s the beginning of the downward spiral.

The brothers are both lounging on Joel’s couch after a particularly taxing day of demolition work, beers cradled in hands and the TV droning uselessly with some movie that they’re more staring at than actually watching. It’s late, yet weary muscles are melted so comfortably into the couch that neither of them try to move even after Sarah’s gone off to bed.

Tommy’s eyes flicker over to Joel, then back to the TV. “That girl’s gon’ be trouble for us, brother.”

There’s a question mark in the grunt Joel emits, leaning forward with interest because he knows Tommy’s talking about you without any specification.

Tommy hums in confirmation and takes a sip of his Corona. “She’s always wearin’ those skimpy little outfits a’hers, and she ain’t coy. Must catch that pretty little thing starin’ at your ass even more than I catch you starin’ at hers.”

Joel plays it off as best as he can until Tommy goes home for the night with a half-assed promise to actually be on time in the morning for once. Then he goes up to his room, locks the door, and wraps himself around the spare pillow that lays against his headboard.

He tries so desperately hard not to think about the plump round curve of your ass, or the enticing way you lick your lips, or those damned little bikinis you favor. He grinds his aching cock into the soft pillowcase and tries to think about anything that isn’t you.

But he comes with a muffled growl of your name anyway, face pushed deep into the pillow and hips jerking arrhythmically.

There’s not much he can do now besides clean himself up and try not to think about how thoroughly fucked he is.

The next day is torture because he can feel your gaze lingering. He catches you checking him out on more than one occasion, and you’re brazen about it now. You can tell something has shifted, so you shift with it. Where you once would’ve flushed with heat and hurried away to your room, you now meet his heated eye contact and hold it.

Joel’s jaw hurts that night from the way it’s been hard-set and clenched all day long. He rubs over his sore temporomandibular joints with his long, thick fingers and wills himself to siphon you out from beneath his skin.

It doesn’t work.

The work helps. Laying tile is something he normally considers tedious, but it’s a welcome reprieve in your home because he can get down on his hands and knees and focus on something that isn’t you.

You see the labor he’s going through, and you appreciate it. And really, what kind of host would you be if you didn’t reward his efforts?

It starts with a pitcher of iced tea. It’s made just the way Joel likes it, with light ice and a few slices of lemon. He doesn’t know how you could possibly guess that, but it makes him want you that much more.

And then it’s cookies. Pain-stakingly handmade oatmeal raisin cookies, to be exact. You’re like something out of his most shameful domestic dreams in your cute floral-patterned apron and oven mitts as you pull the tray of cookies out of the oven, and an image of you in nothing but those mitts and that apron flickers through his mind before he can stop it.

All the while you traipse around the house like a mirage–humming along to the yacht rock that drifts from Joel’s stereo, swaying your hips in the kitchen as you put together the most delicious bologna sandwich Joel’s ever eaten, toweling off your soaking wet body after an afternoon in the pool. You’re the worst temptation Joel’s ever had to face.

It becomes his mantra. Be respectful, be respectful, be respectful.

But there’s no respect in your eyes. There’s nothing honorable about the way you bite your lip and smirk when he catches your gaze lingering on him.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. But why should he have to play nice if you don’t?

And really, the whole thing is Tommy’s fault. He started it with that first comment about you, and then he goes and calls out sick (read: horribly hungover) this morning. He leaves Joel all alone with you–gives you the perfect opening to pounce.

Or, more accurately, entice Joel into pouncing on you.

He’s just setting his tool bag down, about to decide where he wants to start today, when your beautiful face pops in through the door.

“Good morning, Joel,” you say with that gorgeous smile of yours that makes his knees go a little weak. “No Tommy today?”

He nearly chokes on his own tongue when you step further into the room wearing a plaid button-up he left here earlier in the week and booty shorts so small he has to do a doubletake to make sure you’re actually wearing anything on your lower half. You look fucking good in his shirt, and suddenly all he can think about is pulling you in and bending you over the half-finished vanity–

“N-no. He’s sick,” Joel manages to choke out. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, then, “that’s my shirt, isn’t it?”

You look down and rub the time-worn fabric between your fingers like you have to think about it, like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.

“Oh, it must’ve gotten mixed in with our laundry!” The little giggle you let out is so innocent that he almost believes you. Almost. “Here–”

You start to lift the fabric up your torso in the most tantalizingly slow fashion, and he just sits there and watches it happen. He sees the first peek of skin above the waistband of your shorts, and then your beautiful stomach, then the delicious curve of a breast–

He quickly jolts out a hand to stop you in the midst of mentally willing every single molecule in his dick to control itself. “S’alright, darlin’. You keep it. Looks better on you, anyway.”

“Okay,” you acquiesce and let the fabric drop back down into its rightful place. “Can I get you anything? Water maybe?”

He certainly could use it. His neck and face are flushed red, and there’s sweat starting to form at his temples despite the relatively cool temperature within the house.

He realizes, with startling clarity, that he’s at a precipice right now. This might be the only chance he gets to really do something about this burgeoning tension that’s spread thicker than butter between you and him. He’s got a choice to make, and it’s not going to be an easy choice.

“Sure.” It comes out a bit too high-pitched, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Sure, sweetheart. That’d be great.”

“Alright,” you say with that damned giggle again. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as you leave the room, Joel feels like he can breathe again. It’s so much easier to think straight when you’re not standing there, smiling up at him and looking so damn gorgeous.

He’s got two options, when it boils down to it: fuck you or leave you alone. And he really, really wants to take you. Make you scream his name while he pounds himself into you, fill you so full that you never completely wash him out. And you want it too, he knows you do, you’re practically begging for it.

But he promised himself he would be respectful. That he would keep his hands away from the girl that’s definitely too young and too pure for someone like him–because he knows that if has you, he’ll never be able to get enough.

There’s a very clear and obvious loophole that comes to mind now; a way he could have you without ruining you, a way you could both come out of this satisfied yet mostly intact. Joel’s never been opposed to doing the hard jobs, after all.

He’s got a condom in his wallet and KY jelly in his bag–mostly used for plumbing fittings, but it’ll do the job for this kind of pipework, too.

You come back with a glass of ice water, and his resolve slips. How the hell is he supposed to initiate this? What if you say no and think he’s disgusting? What if you tell your parents? He can’t do this, this was such a horrible idea, he–

Your touch on his back is like a gentle breeze, just a flutter of your fingers to alert him to your return. He flinches a bit at the sudden contact, but when he turns you’re still so achingly close. He can smell the agonizingly sweet aroma of your conditioner and the lotion you slather on your body after showering, and all he wants is more. He wants to wrap you around him, to inhale that scent straight from the source. His resolve is back, just like that.

He doesn’t give himself another opportunity to hesitate. He places one big, meaty palm on your cheek and wraps the other around your hand that holds the glass of ice water to steady you; and then he kisses you with such bruising force it almost knocks the wind out of you.

You moan. You actually moan the second his lips meet yours, and he knows just like that–with a startling moment of clarity–that this isn’t going to be enough. He’s going to take, and take, and take–gorge himself on you until you have nothing left to give. And the strangest thing of the whole matter is that he thinks you’ll actually enjoy his greed.

“Joel–”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmurs as his lips break away from yours–so low and soft in your ear it can’t be anything but a growl. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop right now.”

“I want it,” you affirm.

He searches your eyes, but he finds only earnest honesty and lust. That darkness, that pure and unadulterated want is enough to make his pants tighten. “Fuck.”

He’s so big underneath your roaming hands as he crowds you back against the long bathroom vanity. He lifts you like you’re nothing and sets you on the counter top; he slots himself between your legs and there’s an actual stretch in your muscles to accommodate the width of his hips. One of his wide palms slips behind your head and his fingers tangle into your hair, tugging a little bit to angle your head just the way he wants it. It’s messy and frenzied and desperate–your hands gliding over tee shirt-covered muscle, his tugging your (his) shirt up over your stomach.

“Was starting to think you weren’t interested.” Your voice is heavy and breathy as he breaks away to tug the shirt over your head, casting it aside to lie forgotten on the floor.

“I’ve been tryna convince myself m’not,” he kisses into your neck. “Didn’t work.”

With a sudden roll of his hips, he has you gasping into his neck. He can’t be more than half-hard, but that bulge is formidable. Thick and straining and… suddenly you can’t focus on anything except getting him out of those tight jeans to see what you’re working with.

Your hand just barely fits around him. He’s thick and flushed, getting harder with each passing second as he scatters feather-light kisses over your neck and shoulders. He muffles a groan into your neck as you slowly pump his length–you think he’s seven, maybe eight inches at best guess. The tip of him is flushed red once you get his uncut skin out of the way, and it makes your mouth water. There’s a slight upward curve to him and a long, prominent vein that runs down the left side. It’s porn star material–you didn’t know real people had dicks like this.

“Joel… Jesus, that’s gonna be a tight fit.”

“Oh, don’t worry darlin’,” he hums, thumb ghosting over your clit in a way that makes your entire body jolt. “It ain’t goin’ in there.”

There’s nothing but pure excitement in your voice, despite the anxious gulp that tracks down your throat. “Where…”

“Flip over f’me.”

You follow his instruction with a sort of morbid curiosity, hopping down from the counter before folding yourself over it.

You can feel his eyes on you, as he takes in your willingness. It’s like you’re on display for him, for his appraisal. You’ve still got shorts and a bra on, yet you’ve never felt more exposed.

It’s almost like he can sense your mind swirling–maybe it’s because his is prone to do the same. He sets a gentle hand on your back and smooths it down your spine as he crowds up against you–you can feel the press of his exposed cock against the curve of your ass, and it makes you shiver.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs as he folds over you, caging you in with the delicious weight of his body. His lips trace along the curve of your jaw and down your neck as he speaks. “But I made myself this little promise that I wouldn’t fuck you. You got me actin’ so unprofessional, honey.”

You whine at the sincerity in his voice–all you’ve wanted since the day he started was for him to have you folded over and at his mercy like this.

“You can fuck me,” you whine earnestly. “It’s okay, I promise. Won’t tell.”

“Mmm, I know. You’re too good a girl to go gettin’ me in trouble over somethin’ like this,” he hums–you can hear the condescension in his voice even as he praises you, and it makes your cunt clench around nothing. “But with all the teasin’ you been doin’... don’t rightly know that you deserve to be fucked.”

“Please–”

“However,” he continues, landing a light smack to your ass in retaliation for your interruption, “might be willin’ to take you anyway, with some conditions. Out of the goodness of my heart.”

He pauses to let you ask, “What conditions?”

And then he pauses again, asking his own question this time. Is he really going to go through with this? But he’s spent the better part of two weeks staring at your ass, and you’ve spent the better part of two weeks putting it on display for him. It’s like you’ve been silently asking him all this time to take it.

His hand slides down from where it rests on your spine, over your tailbone to where he’s been thinking about all this time. He feels the way your muscles tense up even through your shorts, and it sends a thrill he can’t describe coursing through his veins.

“You ever taken someone here before?”

“N-no.” He feels it again as his other hand comes to soothingly rub your hip–that excited-yet-nervous flutter of muscle. You haven’t run away screaming yet, and that’s the biggest motivator he could have to keep going.

“I think you ought to let me. As a thank you, for puttin’ up with all your play,” he growls into your ear.

It’s fucking dirty, the idea of letting a man you hardly know take you in such a taboo way. It’s even dirtier how fucking excited the idea has you.

“You say no right now and I’ll drop it,” he murmurs so sweetly. “Don’t ever have to talk about this again.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished talking–a sly smirk spreading over your lips as you grind back against him hard enough to make him choke on a moan.

“It’s only right,” you affirm. “Gotta make it up to you for how naughty I’ve been.’

His eyes flash dangerously as he grinds his cock against you again, smearing precome against the flimsy fabric of your shorts. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

He has your bottoms and panties down around your ankles in a flash, and he actually groans at the sight of your sticky cunt all puffy and wet and on display for him.

He can’t resist the urge to swipe a finger through your folds, delighting in the string of shiny arousal that connects his finger to your core when he pulls away. “She wants it so bad, hmm? Such a shame she ain’t gettin’ any.”

It tugs a moan from your throat, especially when he drags as much slick as he can up to circle your tightest hole. He feels the way you flutter with apprehension, and he leans back down to kiss the corner of your jaw.

“Gonna get you nice and ready, I promise. M’not gonna hurt you, baby girl.”

“Thank you, da–” You almost lost yourself there for a second–almost laid your whole hand of cards out on the table for him to see. You try not to get flustered over the slip–you simply clear your throat and try again. “Thank you, Joel.” But you aren’t nearly as smooth as you hope to be.

In a flash Joel’s free hand is lifting your head, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. They’re so much darker than normal, and it only serves to make you wetter.

“What’d you call me?”

“J-Joel.”

His hand slips down to your throat and gives it a warning squeeze–his jaw is set, you know he isn’t playing. “Try again, and tell the truth this time.”

“D… daddy.”

You try to hide your face, to cower in shame, but he won’t let you. He smashes his lips to yours at the exact second his first finger probes that tight, waiting entrance.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as he slowly breaches you, using your own slick to guide the way. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You can’t do anything but gasp, hands clutching for dear life to the edge of the counter. This feels different, and not in the way you were expecting it to. It’s tight, sure, and it feels foreign, but it also feels so much better than you ever could’ve expected it to. The subtle stretch around his thick finger is addicting.

Joel’s jaw drops at the expression on your face; you already look so thoroughly fucked-out, and he’s barely even started. “Fuck.You like this, hmm? Like feelin’ daddy’s fingers gettin’ you ready for his big cock?”

The only response he gets is a wrecked little whimper, and he props your chin up again to meet his heated gaze. “Talk to me. Gotta talk to me, tell me how you’re feelin’, or I’m gonna stop.”

“Fuck!” It’s shriller than you want it to be and you would feel pathetic if you weren’t so thoroughly overwhelmed with this new sensation. “Don’t stop daddy!”

“Feels good, yeah? How long has daddy’s little slut wanted to try this?”

But there’s no way you can be expected to answer, not when he’s adding another finger to the onslaught. Not when your legs are already shaking and you’re thinking about just how many fingers he’s going to have to use to get you ready for the massive cock you can feel throbbing against your thigh.

He retracts just as suddenly as he started, and a needy little whine escapes from your throat involuntarily.

He can’t help chuckling as he reaches for the bottle of KY jelly he’d dug out of his bag while you were getting him water. It feels like it’s been years since you left the room on that little errand for him–definitely not the barely ten minutes it’s actually been.

“Relax, baby girl. I’m comin’ right back.”

You feel the cool drizzle of the water-based substance over your hole and it forces another whine from your throat. It’s met with his thick fingers again, spreading the jelly over your hole before plunging two in knuckle-deep.

“Atta girl.” His voice is thick and sweet as honey as he slowly works his fingers, thrusting and scissoring at an achingly slow pace. “Doin’ so good f’me.”

“Daddy–”

“I know,” he coos. “I know, it’s so much, isn’it?”

All you can manage to do is nod your head, arms shaking under the strain of holding yourself upright. He sees the way your limbs tremble and he adds a third finger just to be extra cruel–although he steadies you by grabbing your hip firmly with his free hand, keeping you in place as he fucks you open with his fingers.

Everything is so hot. There’s a sticky sheen of sweat covering your forehead and your chest; you can feel your own slick dripping down your thighs.

And then his free hand drops down to thumb at your clit, and everything twists in your gut so fast it nearly gives you whiplash.

Within seconds you’re coming–no pretense, no warning. It explodes white-hot from your belly and sweeps through you to the tips of your fingers and toes with flash flood speed. One second there’s nothing more than pleasant anticipation–the next, you’re shaking and convulsing and sobbing Joel’s name as you fight with every cell in your body to remain upright.

He does his part to work you through it, thumb swiping even circles on your sensitive clit, pulling his fingers from you to pin you in place on the counter so he can continue working you through it.

“I know, I know,” he coos so sweetly in your ear over the sound of your moans and cries. “You’re doin’ so good baby, let yourself have it.”

It’s minutes before you’re breathing normally again–your legs are cramping from trying so desperately to support your shaky weight. Joel’s hands are soothing you the whole time once he lets up the onslaught on your clit; it’s like he’s mapping you, tracing over every dip and curve so tenderly you could almost forget what this encounter really is.

“Doin’ okay?” He husks into your ear–and then he’s folding himself over you again, and you can feel the insistent press of his hard cock against the curve of your ass.

For some reason, that’s what really makes it sink in. That’s the moment you realize that this is actually going to happen–that you want it to happen. Joel’s about to take something from you that no one has ever taken before, and you want him to. You’re offering it willingly, even.

You hum in response and buck your hips back, giving him a delicious taste of friction that pulls a ground from his throat. “Mhm. I’m ready, daddy.”

“Fuck, that’s my girl.” He gives your hip a light pat before pulling away for a moment, and you somehow have the presence of mind to jump up on the deep countertop because you know your legs won’t be able to support you through what’s about to happen.

There’s a smile on his handsome face when he turns back towards you, lube and condom in hand. “That how you want it, baby?”

Despite everything that’s already happened, you feel so much more exposed like this. You’re completely naked, and he’s fully clothed with his pants shoved down just enough to free his dick. Even as you spread your legs to admit him between your thighs, you feel shy. And he senses it, the slight apprehension in your gaze, because his smile softens even further; he sets the lube and condom down on the counter next to you so he can grasp the collar of his worn t-shirt and tug it up over his head.

He’s beautiful for a nearly forty-year-old man, you think. He’s firm and toned, but there’s a softness about him that you can’t help admiring, especially around his belly. Your eyes eagerly lap up the soft curve of his tummy, following the tantalizing promise of his treasure trail to his cock, hard and aching for you. The ruddy, flushed tip is weeping for you; you don’t know that you’ve ever seen someone so turned on before, and it’s a heady rush of power.

He chuckles as he sees your hungry eyes taking him in–he raises one big hand to cup your chin and pull your gaze up to meet his. “You’re so pretty, baby, look so good spread out f’me like this. You sure you’re ready f’this?”

“Fuck yes,” you say with an alluring little wiggle of your hips, and that’s more than enough for him.

He pulls his bottom lip between even rows of shiny white teeth as he rolls the condom down over his length, and it’s actually intimidating like this. He’s so big and imposing and it makes your legs want to close, but–

“M’gonna go slow, okay?” He vows, voice gentle as his big, brown eyes look into yours. His fingers wrap tightly around the half-used tube of KY jelly, and he leans down to kiss you when he sees the nervous gulp that bobs your throat. “Gonna be real gentle, I promise. You tap out at any time and we’re done, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you affirm, and you feel a lot better. As out of the blue as this is, as little as you really know Joel, you can tell he’s being sincere. You trust him; you know he won’t hurt you.

The first press of his aching tip against your hole is enough to make you choke on a gasp. He’s big, and even with all of his attentive prep work to get you ready for him it’s a tight fit. You can tell it’s affecting him, too. His eyes flutter shut and he bites down hard on his bottom lip, and you can tell that he’s fighting with all his strength not to just shove himself deep inside you. You appreciate his restraint more than words can convey, so you don’t even try; you hook your arms around his neck and pull him in for a deep, messy, desperate kiss instead. His tongue licks eagerly into your mouth as he eases his hips further and further towards yours, and it’s a nice distraction from the nearly overwhelming stretch of your muscle trying to accommodate his girth.

He shudders when his hips finally meet yours, cock stuffed to the hilt into your ass. “God damn baby, you’re so fuckin’ tight. You doin’ okay?”

You whine at the first roll of his hips, nodding your head rapidly because words won’t come. It’s such a foreign sensation, being stretched and breached like this. Not unpleasant necessarily, but so brain-scramblingly different that all you can do is dig your nails into his strong, broad shoulders and hold on for dear life as he actually starts to fuck into you.

It’s nasty, and you’ve never been so wet in your life. You hear the sticky squelch of lube as he thrusts his hips, shoving his cock deeper than you imagined possible. Your own wetness seeps from your neglected cunt and drenches him, dripping down around his cock and wetting the dense curls at the apex of his sex.

“Shit baby, you’re takin’ daddy’s cock so well,” he whines breathlessly; one arm hooks under your knee so he can spread you open a bit wider for him, and then the other hand returns to your puffy, arousal swollen clit.

You make what has to be the most high-pitched sound you’ve ever made as his index and middle fingers start a torturously slow pace on the little bud. “Fuck daddy!”

“I know,” he coos–you think that soft, breathy, Southern twang is going to actually put you in your grave. “I know, you wanna come, dontcha? It’s okay baby, daddy’s gonna make you come all over his cock just the way you need.”

His hips pick up the pace in time with his fingers, and all you can do is lay there limply like a ragdoll. The pleasure is so much different than what you’re used to, but it’s good. It’s amazing, the feeling of him balls deep in your guts in tandem with his ministrations on your clit, in a way you never imagined it could be.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl f’me,” he growls, hitching your leg a bit higher over his hip so he can thrust even deeper. “Fuck, m’not gonna last long like this. You’re gonna make daddy come so hard in this tight little ass.”

His words are accentuated with a little smack to the side of your ass, and it makes you moan louder still. Your head rolls back as he picks up the pace of his fingers, swirling hard and messy circles with reckless abandon. He’s not trying to prolong it anymore–he’s going for the kill.

“Fuck daddy!” Your hands scrabble for purchase on his smooth, freckled skin as he pounds harder into you. “W-want it, please, want you to come in my ass–”

“Gonna give it to you, impatient girl,” he growls deep in his chest. “You gimme one first.”

Your entire body jolts when he brings his hand down on your sensitive cunt before groaning at the way your arousal sticks to his hand and makes his fingers shine.

“She wants t’be stuffed so full, doesn’t she?” He purrs, fingers dancing so fucking teasingly around your fluttering cunt that it makes your eyes water. “Bet she’d love to be chock full’a cock right now.”

“Joel–”

“Now, now, baby, no whinin’. It’s unbecomin’ for such a sweet little lady,” he grunts, and the condescension dripping from his tone is almost enough to make you come on its own. “You’re gonna take what I give you and be grateful for it, aintcha?”

“Yesyesyesplease–”

His fingers have barely returned to your clit before you’re coming again. This one is even more powerful than before–a hurricane instead of a flash flood. Your entire body trembles with the ebbing flow of pleasurable waves–the words you’re panting aren’t even discernible English anymore.

The way you clench and flutter around him in your own pleasure pulls him over the edge faster than anything ever has before. He comes hard, chest clenching hard around his breath, cock twitching more violently than anything you’ve ever felt before as he spills his load into the condom.

It’s a long, breathless moment before he pulls himself from the vice-like grip you have around his dick. He pulls out with a deep, long groan–it makes you giggle, because it’s the most over-dramatic sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

There’s a beat, and then he starts laughing, too. At the sweet sound of your laugh, at the way he feels like he just ran a marathon, at the absolute absurdity of this whole thing. His laughter is so sweet and gut-deep and infectious, and it only serves to make you laugh harder. For a good few moments it’s just you and Joel, half naked, panting and sweaty, doubled over in laughter.

And then the bathroom door swings open and Tommy barges in.

“I’m feelin’ a helluva lot better after sleepin’ in, what’s so funny–” He stops dead in his tracks; he sees you naked and spread out on the counter and Joel disheveled and sweating. Neither of you are laughing very much anymore as you both scramble to cover yourselves up.

Tommy quirks a brow, a smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes dart back and forth between you and Joel. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”

You don’t know how to answer when you’re so mortified, so you do the only thing you can think of–you dart out of the room and down the hall to the safety of your bedroom as fast as your shaky legs can carry you.

➔ beta: @fhatbhabie dividers: @saradika-graphics

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #cece writes

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esquen · 6 months

Note

Since seeing the movie I can't stop thinking about Mike x Abbys babysitter reader 🫢

oh u guys are gonna KILL ME!!!

reader has female anatomy.

you’d been abby’s go to babysitter since you moved in next door. she was very young, probably five or four. her brother had seen you painting your fence and made his way over to you to try and make small talk.

“yeah, we’ve lived here since she was born,” he explained as you stood up, leaving your brush in the paint bucket. “been lookin’ for a babysitter since i started my new job.” he shrugged. you celebrated mentally, as you’d been waiting for a job to pop up around you. this is exactly what you needed.

fast forward a good four years, you’d been spending your days at the schmidt house. your pay slowly decreased as mike continued to find it hard to pay his bills, but you didn’t mind. you had your own job that would keep you afloat with your bills, and the extra money you received from mike would cover your clothes and food.

this day wasn’t any different from the previous three weeks. laid up on the couch with your own blanket you brung from home, awaiting mike’s arrival. the tv was buzzing quietly as your eyes became droopy.

the sound of the door opening startled you, pushing yourself onto your knees to greet mike. “hey.” you said softly as he kicked his shoes off and waddled towards the small couch, jumping onto it. “hi.” he greeted, closing his eyes for a second.

“abby ate a few bites of her dinner, breakfast is in the microwave. she’s been in bed since you left and i made sure she brushed her teeth and finished her homework,” you ran down, kicking the blanket off and standing up. “i should go.” you sigh.

mike stands up quickly, grabbing your shirt. “hold on,” he grunts, standing in front of you now. “i’m sorry i haven’t been able to pay you—“ he mutters.

“mike, we have this conversation every week. it’s okay, i swear.” you laugh, moving to hold his wrist. “i know you put a lot of effort into taking care of abby.” he mutters, moving closer to you.

“yeah..” you let out a breathy sigh, hands shaking as he moves his hand from you. “you deserve.. something.” he shrugs, hands coming up to hold your hips.

you gasped at the sudden movement, moving your hands down to grasp his wrists, your eyes scan his face. “is this okay?” he asks, moving his left hand to hold your back and press you closer to him.

you nod, hands moving up his arms and holding him tightly. he tilts his head and presses a kiss to your lips, making you melt. you whimper into his mouth, causing his grip on your hips to tighten.

he moves you towards his bedroom, lips never leaving your skin as he watches out behind you to make sure you don’t bump into anything.

he slams the door shut with his foot, and it almost alarms you at the fact that he could’ve easily woken up abby. he moves his hand from your hip to lock the door, continuing to gently push you towards the bed. “how long has it been since you started babysitting abby?” he asked as his lips made contact with your neck.

“i— i don’t know.. a few years, three or four?” you choke out, moving to hold the back of his head. “been wantin’ you for so long,” he mutters, sucking a bit harder on the base of your neck. “about time i get to have you.” he sighs.

his fingers move to the band of your sweatpants, grabbing them and pulling it down feverishly. his warm hands make contact with your thighs, pulling them apart and feeling at your cunt.

“mm, you like this more than i do.” he teases, pressing a kiss to your tummy and leaning further down into you. he wraps his arms around the base of your thighs and pulls your underwear to the side, licking his lips before pulling you into his mouth.

the initial feeling of his mouth made you gasp, hand moving down to hold his hair. the grip he had on your thighs made it impossible to scoot away from his tongue as he basically made out with your pussy.

to stabilize yourself, you grabbed at the sheets of his bed as his tongue made constant contact with your clit. you winced, moving to hold your shirt up and watch him eat you like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

the closer you got to your orgasm, the harsher you got on his hair. you began to push his head away, squirm your hips, and bite into your hand. and everytime, he shook your hand away, held your tighter, and flicked his tongue faster.

he had no problem finishing you up. you shook gently as your orgasm passed through you, and mike happily pressed another kiss to your swollen clit.

he reached into his back pocket and took out a $20 bill, holding it out to you. “i thought you said.. you couldn’t?” you asked, grabbing the bill gently.

“i know. had to find a way to get you on my tongue.” he smiled and pat the side of your thigh, moving your sweatpants back into place just as abby’s room door opened up.

#mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf movie #fnaf #five nights at freddy's

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uyuuma · 1 month

Text

“ THE MOVIE'S NOT THAT SCARY ”

bigbro!choso x fem!reader ღ MDNI.

❥ summary. you and yuji itadori have been best friends since middle school. you often came over for movie nights with him and his big brother. little does yuji know about the things you and his big bro have been up to.

❥ warnings. nsfw, female anatomy, slight age gap, doing stuff under the covers next to yuji, etc.

❥ a/n. i've been thinking of this scenario for a while. was super fun to write about, ive become a choso girlie in recent times :)

❥ wc. 2.3k

"Yo, you still on for movie night?" A voice calls out from behind you.

You turn around and see that it's Yuji, your best friend. You adjust the bag strap on your shoulder and smile at the familiar face.

"Yes, of course!" You replied enthusiastically.

Yuji has been your friend all the way back from middle school. You transferred as a new student and he was the first person to introduce himself. You guys quickly became close friends because of his kind and extroverted demeanor.

Yuji had an ongoing tradition with you where you guys would have movie nights on Fridays. It was mostly held at his house since he had the bigger TV. Throughout middle and high school you guys would excitedly choose a movie and watch it after a long week of school, wrapping up the week in a fun celebration.

Sometime in your senior year of high school, some things changed in Yuji's household. His older half-brother, Choso, moved into the house with Yuji. You could remember the day like it was yesterday, the first time you laid eyes on the pale man.

He was around 7 years older than you from what Yuji told you. Already long graduated college before you even started. You felt something inside you spark when you first saw him, you weren't really sure what it was though. It could've been his stoic face or perhaps how he towered over you in height. But something made you feel giddy whenever you were around him.

Choso began to join in on movie nights, around the time you were 19. Calmly resting on one side of you, with Yuji engulfed in the movie on the other side of the couch. Yuji was always too immersed into the movie to notice how you and Choso would share glances at each other every now and then. It even flew right over his head when you started to wear skimpier outfits when coming over as well. How your oversized t-shirts and sweats turned into tight lacy-tank tops and booty shorts that accentuated your ass just right. I mean, it wasn't his fault because Yuji never saw you in that way.

Oh, but Choso did. He noticed how exchanging glances turned into you nudging your hand against his, or how you playfully rubbed your foot against his leg. How your clothes became increasingly revealing every week or how you would cling to him at the scary part of a movie.

Choso was experienced, he could tell how hard you were trying to get his attention. He found it extremely adorable at your attempts to flirt with him. He would often let out a quiet chuckle or make clever remarks that would make you get butterflies in your tummy.

It wasn't long before you and Choso started to mess around. How Yuji never noticed how you two would disappear halfway into the movie for an hour, was beyond you. It was a common occurrence for you to tease Choso under the blanket too much, making him excuse himself that he had to lay down in his room from a 'headache'. He would then shoot you a glare and squeeze hard onto your thigh, signaling to you that you better follow. You would then excuse yourself a couple of minutes later so that you could use the bathroom.

Really you were headed to Choso's room, where he would bury his cock into you until you begged him for mercy. Your body spasming from his ruthless pounding, covered in sweat. After he felt like you received the correct punishment for whatever you did that pissed him off, he would quickly clean up to join back with Yuji. You would follow him, the stench of sex still all over you. But, Yuji never seemed to notice.

That still applied to your current situation. You were sitting in between the boys, blanket on your lap as it extended to Choso's. Yuji didn't use a blanket, he just had his favorite pillow on his lap. Tonight Choso recommended that you guys watch a horror film. Yuji put on the original 'Scream' excitedly, since he enjoyed cheesy horror flicks.

A little into the movie Yuji had already become absorbed into the plot, not paying any mind to the two of you. That was when you felt Choso's arm move behind you. You believed it to be him just putting his arm around your shoulder so you leaned into him. That was when you stifled a gasp from exiting your mouth as you felt his warm fingers pull at your shorts.

You look up at him, holding back a whimper as he snaked his hand through the back of your shorts. His fingers found their way to your panties, skillfully parting it out of the way. He used his middle finger to gently rub against your clit, hoping to get you wet. It worked as you easily became soaked from his touch.

He smirked and kept his eyes on the TV, moving one of his digits along your slit. You squeezed your legs together from the warm sensation and leaned into Choso's shoulder. You fought back a moan by gripping onto his sleeve.

Choso then plunges his slender and long middle finger into your soft cunt. He gave out a muffled groan disguised as him clearing his throat as he felt himself become hard from the sensation alone. Something about how your pussy sucked in his finger made him want to fuck you right then and there. Unfortunately, it wasn't possible at this very moment.

Feeling how your pussy squeezed his finger and legs quivered from his touch made him add another finger. It made you gasp, feeling him slowly insert his ring finger inside of you, gasp audibly enough for Yuji to pick up on it.

"Hah, looks like you still find horror movies scary." Yuji said teasingly, looking over briefly. He turned to face the TV, still being clueless as to what was going on.

You gave out a nervous giggle in response and moved to look back at the TV, trying not to break the act.

However, Choso would not let up as he started to move his fingers inside of you. You squeezed your thighs together as he finger-fucked your little hole. His fingers began to grind against your walls as he curled them to hit your sweet spot. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he hit that spot relentlessly, trying to get you to make more noise.

Choso loved to humiliate you, so he worked his damned hardest to get you to let out your sweet moans. He knew Yuji was too stupid to catch on, he just simply wanted you to feel embarrassed.

That was when he quickened the pace, your wetness starting to cover his fingers in slick. A familiar wet slapping sound began to seep from beneath the blanket, as he moved his fingers aggressively into your needy cunt. You quickly glanced at Yuji, knowing for certain he could hear that.

"Damn, the sound effects in this movie are pretty realistic." Yuji said as he shoveled popcorn into his mouth.

You become hot in the face knowing your lewd little cunt was making sounds loud enough that Yuji could hear it.

"Yeah, I guess they know what it sounds like to rearrange someone's guts." Choso said with a smirk. His voice was nonchalant, but you knew it was his sadistic way of poking fun at you.

You suck in air through your teeth annoyedly, closing your eyes, trying to relax as best as you could.

Unfortunately for you, Choso would give you no moment of reprieve as he timed his fingers curling and stroking your sweet spot along with the biggest jumpscare of the movie.

You let out a shocked moan, gripping onto Choso's bicep harder. You hid your face in Choso's chest in embarrassment, trying to slink away from Yuji as much as possible.

"Woah, calm down. The movie's not that scary." Yuji was surprised by your sudden reaction. He looked at how you clutched onto his big brother for safety and just smiled. He was glad you at least could find relief in Choso. Unbeknownst to him, you were fighting for your life not to spasm uncontrollably and cum all over Choso's fingers. Yuji returned his attention to the movie.

Choso was now painfully hard under the blanket, his erection going untouched for quite some time now. He hissed, feeling himself become constrained in his boxers. The pace at which he was moving his fingers started to slow down as he readjusted himself next to you. He moved his legs so that they were spread out beneath the blanket.

You could tell that meant he was hard and you looked up at him to see what he wanted next. Your eyes were met with his normal, expressionless gaze. The light from the TV perfectly illuminated his face to where he looked almost intimidating. He then bent down enough to where he could whisper into your ear.

"I want to fuck your throat." His breath was hot against your ear.

You looked at him, trying to see if he was being serious. He was. He guided you with his left hand to feel how stiff his cock was. You gulped and looked down at his lap, gently rubbing against his erection. He let out a low groan and leaned back against the couch, still keeping his fingers inside you.

You look at Yuji real quick and wait for something scary to happen again in the movie. As soon as you heard a woman shriek on the TV, you quickly hid under the blanket, resting your head on Choso's lap.

You could hear Yuji's muffled laughing from beneath the cover, him buying into your act that you were hiding from the movie.

You then watched as Choso took his left hand to free himself from his sweatpants and underwear, his dick was flushed at the tip and throbbing. You took a deep breath and inched closer toward it, licking lightly on his tip. You could taste the salty precum start to cover your tongue as well as how his abs flexed from your touch. You slowly took him into your mouth, letting your saliva coat his cock. You could tell he was getting annoyed from how slow you were moving because he bucked his pelvis into your face, catching you off guard. You choked a little but quickly caught up to the pace he wanted.

Feeling your slutty throat engulf his cock from under the blanket made him go feral. He went back to fucking your cunt with his fingers. He almost let out a guttural moan from the sensation of your two holes tightening around him. Instead, he just held his mouth and chin with his hand to muffle his sounds. He feigned a bored look on his face, almost as if he was falling asleep, but really he was occupied with how amazing your mouth felt.

His thrusts into your pussy matched the pace that you swallowed him, he was entranced trying to help the both of you cum together.

You too, became absorbed in the moment. Forgetting that outside of the blanket was innocent Yuji, who knew nothing of what was going on. You were caught up in sliding your tongue skillfully along Choso's length and feeling how your throat molded to the shape of his cock.

Choso could feel your saliva start to drip down into his boxers and the feeling was so lewd that his body tensed up. He began to struggle holding in his sounds and jittery movements, he knew he needed to finish or he'd lose it.

His fingers curled against your sensitive spot again, this time he mixed it with quick thrusts, making you moan around his cock. The sound was luckily unheard because the movie was playing loud music. The moan caused vibrations in your throat, which made Choso's eyes dart to the back of his skull. He was so fucking close to busting down your throat, he could feel it coming.

He added a third finger into your sopping wet cunt and continued to massage the spot that he knew so well. This was the final straw for you as you felt your orgasm crash down in waves. Your pussy clenched around his fingers as you came, your legs spasming uncontrollably and your toes curled.

He also reached ecstasy after feeling you squeeze him. He thrusted into your mouth and came as far down your throat as he possibly could. You could feel his hot, thick load spurt into your throat as you struggled to swallow.

After both of you regaining composure and calming your breathing Choso slowly withdrew his fingers from your tired cunt as well as you cleaning him off gently with your mouth. He tucked himself back into his sweats and you took that as a sign to come out of the blanket for some fresh air.

You came out, lights from the TV blinding you temporarily. As your vision adjusted you can see Yuji looking down at you.

"Aw, you missed the ending of the movie." He said slightly disappointed. He took note of your disheveled appearance, hair all tangled and mascara slighting ruined. "You must've been really scared, huh?" He asked worried about you.

"Ah, yeah I should've warned you that I don't handle horror movies that well." You said nervously, trying to comb your hair with your fingers.

"It's alright, I just hope you won't have any nightmares tonight!" Yuji said as he stood up, starting to clear the dishes off the coffee table.

"Don't worry lil bro, I don't think she's getting that much sleep tonight anyways." Choso said with a wide smirk. He winked at you and slid his slick covered fingers into his mouth to taste it.

You watched as he savored your flavor on his tongue, his eyes not moving off of yours.

You guessed you were probably sleeping over tonight.

#female reader #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #choso smut #choso kamo #choso x reader #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso

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anundyingfidelity · 4 months

Text

INTERROGATION GONE WRONG – Cleon XIII/Brother Day

Summary: Cleon XIII interrogates his statisticians about Hari Seldon's predictions. His in-turn maid remains there hearing the conversation, unbeknownst to him, knowing the answer - at least part of.

Pairing: Cleon XIII/Brother Day x female maid reader.

Word count: 2.9k.

Warnings: extremely dub-con, smut, abuse of power, forced orgasm, choking, fingering, degradation, p in v, creampie, not the soft aftercare you're waiting for. The author is also non native English speaker.

Notes: this is based on that scene of 1x04. This is the most non-con thing I've written ever. I gave my warnings. Also please watch Foundation lol, this show reminded me of how much I loved Lee Pace since like 2014. Once I'm in, I will never get out and I needed to write something for Cleon I love him he is an idiot.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

The man fell with a thud on the floor. You should be scared, surprised, trembling with fear, but this was not new behavior for you or anyone in the palace. Since Seldon's exile and the disaster shaking the Empire gradually, the response of the new Cleon was clearly expected after being a witness of a poor reunion and inconvenience with the staticians. More than a conversation, it felt like a judgment, a death one.

"Dining, now," he ordered passing by your figure on his way to leave the throne room. With a bow, you followed in an instant and ready to serve him.

Cleary, you could tell he was not in the good mood that day, already skipping the meal for breakfast with his brothers earlier; something that was out of the itineraries. Once a change of the routine happened, it meant something was off, so you thought. Demerzel was also not around, attending other meetings, so this left you alone with Empire, opening the door of the sole dining room the Brothers used privately, with the tall figure of Cleon XIII waiting impatiently for his midday meal and looking every move you made around the place to please him as fast as your feet allowed.

The cooks served the meal arranged from the menu after your order and they left as rapid as they came in, Brother Day dispatching them with a hand gesture once they were done. You took a couple of steps back, standing close to the table but ready in case he dispatched your presence as well.

"Not you, you stay," he commanded after sipping his wine for the first time, eyes focused on the plate he would eat.

"Yes, Empire."

You had to obligue, and that is what happened. You watched him from the corner of your eye, from time to time in silence, pretending to be unconcerned and collected, though that was far from being true. The whole meal time was eternal, specially that day. With no Brother Dawn nor Brother Dusk around for Brother Day to have a bland talk with, only the sound of fine cutlery clinking against porcelain as Empire ate. Boring, your head began to spin around, thinking in non-senses and theories of what you heard and read from Seldon's predictions of the fall. Empire was cruel, but it had you working, serving food to your plate, and probably that was enough. But it didn't stop your curiosity of learning further the philosophy of Hari Seldon.

When in front of Empire, your gaze seemed lost but your mind was working. You never said a single comment about studying Seldon's theory, of course. You were just a maid. Science and university never were a good pair for a woman who served the Empire. However, you still found the math behind his calculations as something intriguing and fascinating for some reason...

"Maid," the loud voice of the Emperor interrupted your daydream. "I said, wine."

The intense look on his eyes forced you to attend his order fast, serving more of the fermented liquid on the cup standing besides his plate.

His large hand took the cup when you filled it with wine and he sipped again, his eyes scanning you slow and deep. You knew he sensed something was wrong with you. Swallowing, you noticed he already had finished with his meal, so you finally you dared to speak.

"Can I retire your plate, Empire?"

"Is there something you want to share, maid?" he responded, blatantly ignoring your question and dragging your title like it was nothing but a shameful word to spill.

"At all, Empire," your voice came as a whisper.

Brother Day stood on his feet with such grace and started a slow walk towards your figure. You wanted to step away, but you feet were glued to the ground, so his tall and intimidating form washed over you soon.

"Speak," he instructed coldly. You started to tremble, unable to take off your scared eyes from him, bitting your bottim lip as he leaned. "Or do you want to be punished?"

His hand forced around your neck all of a sudden. As an act of reflection, you tried to pull back from his grip, but he was much stronger, having you in place and cutting your breath. "I know you hide enthusiasm around Doctor Seldon's theories," he whispered darkly on your ear. "I am not giving you a choice, speak!"

As he yelled down his last words, he pushed you harshly, body falling to the grown. Air filled your lungs once again and you coughed, sitting down and watching that he was coming closer with big steps. You dragged yourself on the floor using your hands and feet trying to not tangle yourself with the fabric of your dress. Fighting the tears on your eyes, your back touched the wall and sobbed. There was nowhere to go now. So you finally confessed.

"Your staticians would not give you a number because it's true!" you cried out. Brother Day stopped on his tracks just a couple of inches before you. "It's all true, Doctor Seldon is right. And it all began with the Star Bridge, I know you were a child when it happened because I was a child too when the crisis started. There is a probability, but is not zero," you said, recalling his words.

You saw his face changed. He was exhasperated already, but rage appeared in his eyes in a very visible way; a rage that you had yet to see from Empire. Fear took over you, afraid of what would happen next. Should you keep talking? Should you continue crying? Scream for nobody to come around for your sake? As you questioned yourself, he lowered himself to be at your level on the ground. Brother Day never sat down, but he was making sure to get under your skin. His powerful gaze had a quick effect to do that.

"Go on."

Too scared to speak, you opened your lips but no sound came out. Empire waited your words for a moment, scrutinizing your face. And still, nothing came. He grabbed your arm with a rough grip, forcing you to stand up, colliding with his body until your back hit the empty part of the table he had been eating in.

"You have ten seconds to continue or I will force everything that is in your head out of you, maid," Cleon threatened. "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three-"

"I said it was probability," you shuddered. "Life is a probability by all means and Seldon knows that," you breathed, aware that Brother Day was feeling your shaking body under his piercing eyes. "I studied Doctor Seldon's psychohistory and theory for the last four years, learning math and other sciences on my free time on the library. So even if I don't posses a title, I know his hypothesis was only that at the time; a hypothesis can be null, but also be provable, and thus now is not untrue."

He slowly leaned away.

"So you say there is no error on Seldon's ecuation," he concluded, jaw clenching.

"None that I could find."

Brother Day paced in front of you, back and forth, hrad processing what he just heard. You could tell he was getting what he wanted, but nothing was what he really longed for. And what you found was nothing but the truth. Maths don't miss, it was useless to lie.

"How do you simply fall into a conclusion like that? Prophecies of the Empire declining into a dark age after centuries of rising. Of our legacy!" he stopped again and went back to your figure, trapping your body between himself and the dining table. You felt his breath when he leaned close, the smell of wine and fruits mixing with his cologne was intoxicating your nostrils as the last tears flowed down your cheeks. Sooner or later, you thought he was going to end up with your life. You had nothing left to lose by now.

"It's simple history and logic. Everything that goes up has to go down, even empires."

All you felt was his big palm slapping your face, your back hitting the edge of the table. A hurted moan filled the room, and he forced you to look at him grabbing your chin with the same strenght he had used on you all this time, like you were nothing more than a doll to play with as he pleased.

"In other circumstances, I would find you amusing," he breathed gainst your lips. The touch of his thumb on your cheek, wiping away your last tears, contrasted the roughness of his words, his body between your legs and his weight pressing you to lie down on the surface.

"Psychohistory words, not mine," you whispered, your hands running to wrap around his wrist, but his aura repelled instantly your touch. It was useless to keep trying. So here you were, ready for Brother Day to end with your life in just the blink of an eye. "Maybe Brother Dusk made a mistake," you continued, giving up on leaving the room alive. "Make Hari Seldon stay instead..."

Brother Day pressed further against you, almost crushing you with his significant huge frame.

"Such a talented brain and mouth, why don't I put you to good use? I think I deserve it."

He forcefuly turned you around until you were bending over the table, a loud gasp falling from your mouth. One of his hands making its way between your legs caused your thighs to press together, trying to stop him, but it was impossible, so you had nothing to do but beg.

"Please, Empire," you felt like crying again at his touch, his fingers cupping your clothed pussy in a slow motion. "Stop, please-"

"Shut up, whore," he grunted, rubbing his crotch against your ass and slammed your face with his free hand so you had your cheek lying against the cold surface. "I had enough from you."

Heartbeat rising, you tried with no results to escape from his body cage. The sway of your hips caused Empire to grow eager. His slender fingers pushed your panties aside, coating them with your own wetness, and that was certainly something you did not expect to be down there. He hummed in response, rubbing your folds, and you exhaled once he entered one finger.

Your body responded to his ministrations, his growing erection pressing against the curve of your ass while he played with your cunt as he wanted, easing a second digit inside your walls. Probably you should just give in by now as you felt your muscles tighten, already reaching your high. Almost. The first moan of pleassure escaped your throat and you regreted the answer of lust coming from your body the following instant, your palms holding yourself on the table.

His long digits fucked you faster and your legs trembled, his thumb played with your clit so deliciously you thought you were passing out soon. He leaned down until you could feel his breath on your neck.

"Fucking take it," he groaned, feeling your warm walls pulsing around his fingers.

Almost not having control over your body, your legs further opened, like his voice just ordered you to do it.

"Please, please..."

Again, you cried and begged, not sure of the reason. For pleassure, shame, mercy... Anything was possible at that moment as whimpers and moans fell from your mouth.

The sensation grew stronger down your belly, feeling him exploring your insides too deep, touching a place no man nor your fingers reached before. It happened repeatedly, it felt so sweet and sinful. Like something you never knew but you were sure would leave you aching for more. His fingers making you so drunk and pleading for a release, and the seconds that passed by were endless until you finally blissed out with a loud moan, convulsing by the work of his hand.

Brother Day gave himself a wicked smile, watching you squirm and gasp. Such a strong orgasm he ripped out of you. He pulled his fingers away from your pulsing cunt and admired your wetness coating them before he raised the skirt of your dress and took off your panties until they were hanging between your ankles.

You grimaced at the feel of his big palms rubbing your ass cheeks, parting them to get a view of your throbbing heat, still clenching around nothing. You could listen to him undoing his pants. He hissed, taking his hard lenght to rub the sensitive skin of your ass and his thick tip teased your slit, sliding slowly inside. You gasped at the sudden intrusion as he stopped from filling you up completely, feeling your tight cunt embracing him.

"Empire, please not this-"

"This is how I prefer you," Cleon whispered on your neck, you stopped your plea. "Submissive and quiet. You are not so bold now, are you?"

And he slowly entered your pussy further. You whined, nails scratching the fine material of the table. You were so tight and warm. He had to control himself of not pounding into you right away. Being filled up by the Emperor shouldn't arouse your body like this, but your heat welcomed his cock like it was the perfect missing piece of a puzzle.

"Are you a virgin, maid?" he asked, hips giving a couple of shallow, slow thrusts. Your hips moved in sink with his own, your nipples were now hard and erect against the surface, scratching the fabric of your bra and dress, giving up into heavenly bliss. Sweet mewls left your lips as he stretched your cunt. And it was oh, so long since you felt this full.

"No, Empire."

Your response was the green light. He started to rut into you. Rough. Even if your answer was to be different, you knew Empire would not care. He used to get away with what he wanted, and right now he wanted you. His own grunts made eco along with the sound of his skin hitting your ass, your moans escaping without any shame now. The small amount of discomfort he caused was transformed into pleassure and arousal, keeping his hands firmly on your hips.

"Then you can take it, you've done this before," he mocked, increasing his rough pace.

His grip was strong on your sides, you knew his fingers would leave marks on your skin once you finished. But nothing mattered, you decided, the only on your mind was reaching sweet climax and release. You could not escape from him, not ever. So your body and mind could go through it.

Cleon's eyes found the perfect spot of view to see his cock entering and sliding out your perfect pussy, his shaft glistening with your wetness and his own precum. He stopped and pulled out for a moment, teasing with entering and pulling out, watching himself sliding inside your body.

"Oh gods," he listened to your broken moan, breath hitching.

He again cupped your neck with his palm, fingers roaming around your throat, forcing your back to meet his chest. Your moans were cut by his firm hand, air being a privilige as seconds passed by. He sucked and bit the skin of your neck, burying his cock until his balls met your ass repeteadly, finding that sweet spot of yours.

"Cum," he ordered. "Cum or you will not breath again."

You knew you were close, but you needed it faster. You needed to breath, as good as his cock felt, fucking you and splitting you open, you still needed to make it until the end. Your fingers found your clit and played with your bud as Empire bucked his hips fast and rough. Finally, your muscles tensed and forced a hard orgasm out of you, walls pulsing around his dick. He grunted, not slowing his thrusts, softening the hand around your neck allowing you oxygen again.

"Merciful am I?" he groaned and you felt his seed painting your insides, cock throbing as he also came from his high.

"You are, Empire," you breathed out.

Your back arched and you held yourself on his hands and chest. You heard the sound of one of the chairs being taken out, being dragged by him until you felt he sat down, you on his lap with his cock still burried deep inside you. His slick cum ran down your inner thighs as he parted your legs, touching your abused cunt and clit, feeling how you were still connected. He rubbed your pussy in slow, gentle moves, collecting his cum mixed with your juices. He offered his fingers to your lips, so you licked them as he wished, sucking them clean. Your walls pulsed again.

"So obedient now," Cleon purred.

His hands undid your dress to free your chest, groping your tits as he pleased. He played with your nipples, just like he had played with all of you in a few minutes.

"What will happen to me?" you asked in a murmur.

"Such a pretty cunt you are," Brother Day began, tracing kisses on your shoulder. His voice made you shiver. "You would please me a lot as a cuncubine of the Gossamer Court."

You swallowed hard, not capable of speaking or fighting back. He felt your body tensing so he continued his speech in your ear. "No worries, I can play with you some more before it happens. And you will tell me everything you know about Seldon."

#cleon xiii x reader #cleon xiii x female reader #brother day x reader #brother day x female reader #foundation apple tv #cleon xiii smut #brother day smut #foundation fanfiction #brother day #cleon xiii #foundation season 1 #lee pace #lee pace fanfiction #cleon 13th #foundation imagines #lee pace x reader #idkkkk just leaving this here #I HAD TO DO IT OKAY?#foundation 2021

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iceman-kazansky · 10 months

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Band of Brothers Appreciation Week, Day 4— Found Family

Requested by: nobody, Appreciation Week

Pairings: Platonic Easy Company x f!reader

Warnings: swearing

A/n: This is a drabble more than a fic, short and sweet ig, I had fun writing it but found it was really short.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

The war was hell. But in that hell you'd made friends.

Friends forged from the grueling and strenuous years of training you'd endured during your time in Toccoa, Georgia.

Perhaps it was the two years you'd spent together, going on countless night marches and dreaded Currahee runs, where through sweat and tears you'd grown closer than any other company's members.

Or maybe it was the ability you had to count on the person sitting next to you in a cramped foxhole to have your back when shit went sideways.

Whatever reasoning, however, you were beyond glad you could have ever been involved and gotten to know the members of Easy Company and grow into such a close knit group throughout the war.

It was there, amidst the death and horror of war that you'd found a family away from home. A very unlikely place.

People who loved and cared for one another in times of hardship.

Honestly, you were more than fine to consider Easy company a family. For that is what they had become.

#bobweek2023 #band of brothers #x reader #female reader #hbo war #bob #iceman-kazansky #day 4: found family #drabble #really short

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zyafics · 2 months

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stay the night | rafe cameron (18+)

pairing: rafe cameron x female reader

summary: when rafe cameron sees you as just a fuck buddy, you embody the role and remind him what that means.

warnings: MDNI, 18+, smut, jealousy, dominance play, oral receiving (f + m), fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, praise kink, a little bit of fluff at the end

word count: 5.5k

zya's notes: i originally had this planned for my “brother’s rival” series but it didn’t fit so here u go

dedication: thank u @xorafe for beta-reading and ur feedbacks, u truly are a real one <3

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃 ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚

Rafe Cameron doesn't get jealous.

You two aren't a couple. You are nothing more than casual fuck buddies that are conveniently located within proximity of one another when one of you need to blow off some steam or get off. The feeling is completely mutual.

However, you've been exclusive.

It's unspoken, of course. No one is willing to admit that they don't want the other to be sleeping with other people and you settled on that ambiguity.

You thought it could mean something more.

You thought wrong.

The other day, after fooling around, you laid in his bed, wearing nothing, and asked if you could stay the night. As part of your undefined relationship, you don't do sleepovers. Rafe doesn't do sleepovers. However, he was the one who was calling you after midnight. He was the one who wanted you to sneak out of your house, where your parents placed a curfew. If you go home now, you would be caught dead in the act and get into trouble. It would be easier to save yourself and stay over.

"No." Rafe declared, not letting the suggestion linger for more than a second. You lifted yourself from the bed by propping your elbows against his mattress, staring at the man who's searching for his throwaway clothes on the floor and redressed himself. "We don't do sleepovers. I don't want to be caught with a Pogue."

"Rafe." You said with a hint of annoyance. He saw you naked, but he was afraid of being seen with you in public? "It's fucking four in the morning. My parents are going to see me."

He scoffed. "Not my problem."

"So what? You don't care if I get in trouble?"

He shrugged, pulling his shirt over his chest. "You're just a fuck."

You said nothing. You just stared at him. He quickly gets dressed and finds your clothes around his floor, throwing them on the bed for you to take. With a huff, you pull yourself from the comforts and put them on.

"I'll call you." He said as you walked out of his bedroom, but you didn't answer him. All you did was flip him off and make your way out.

The next morning, you got in trouble with your parents regarding your absence. But, you said nothing, taking the lecture they gave you and headed to your room.

And you thought, if he sees me as a quick fuck, fine. I'll be just that.

The next Kook party, you were there. You always attended Kook parties, despite being a Pogue, simply because the alcohol is all free and it tasted better. No more cheap beer on The Boneyard, but you had to admit—the music was better.

Kooks can't play for shit.

This party happened to be on Tanneyhill, the mansion where Rafe lived. You haven't seen him since the last time you hooked up, and it's been the longest you've gone without seeing each other. Sure, he called you but you let it go to voicemails and all his texts were left on read. You know, without a doubt, Rafe would be looking for you and attempting to pull you to the nearest bathroom to fuck your brains out.

But you didn't care.

(Maybe just a little).

After dancing for a while, grinding against random strangers and making conversations with some friends of yours, you settled into a seat next to a Kook. He introduced himself as Ethan, and you chat with him as you drink from your cup, making small talk about what you're doing this summer.

He seemed interested enough. His eyes shamelessly glance down at your top, which practically shows off your tits, and floats back to your lips a couple of times. You knew if you wanted to, he would've follow you to a bedroom and fuck you.

But you didn't.

You laughed at his jokes. You told some of your own.

All while having an nagging feeling of a pair of eyes on the back of your head.

You didn't need to turn around to know who it was. You know exactly who.

And Rafe Cameron is fuming.

He noticed you when you first walked in, in a top that shows off too much and a skirt that covers practically nothing. You walked into Tanneyhill as if you owned the place, despite being a Pogue, and that's one of the things that irritates him about you.

But it also made him attracted to you.

Your confidence. Your demeanor. You never backed down when Rafe tries to put you in your place and you never let him gain control without a fight. He likes that you make him work for it; there's a thrill in the chase. Because he knows, at the end of the day, it's his bed that you ended up in. It's his cock that you're sucking.

But, at this moment, he isn't so sure. Instead of being in his arms, talking to him, you were talking to some random fucking guy who attended Kook Academy and is making you laugh.

You didn't even bother to tell him you were coming.

Rafe thought he could hold it in until he got you alone.

But that was before the guy put his hand on your upper thigh and you let him.

It takes mere seconds for Rafe to cross the yard, and when he comes behind you, it surprises you at how silent he was. "Get your hands off my fucking girl," he snapped at Ethan and before Ethan got the chance to back off, Rafe grabs your arm and pulls you off the chair, taking you inside of Tanneyhill.

You let him drag you for a few moments. The booze in your system is making your reaction sluggish, but when the realization dawns on you, you finally pull away when you reach in front of his bedroom, hidden in a dark hallway.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

He scoffs at your words. "What am I doing?" He repeats. You nod. He jabs an accusing finger in your direction. "What the fuck are you doing?"

You lift the cup to your lips. "I'm drinking."

His eyes are livid. "With that guy?" He gestures outside where Ethan is, jealousy pouring from his words and he sounds like he's using every inch of restraint he has to hold everything together. You shouldn't be enjoying it so much, but you are. When you don't answer him, feigning a bored expression, Rafe gets more frustrated. He doesn't like that you aren't reacting. He doesn't like it at all. "What's your fucking problem?"

You lift your shoulders in a casual shrug, pressing the red solo cup against your lips and says, "thought I was just another fuck."

He knows you were throwing his words back at him. He knows that this is some fucking test that you're doing to drive him bad. He also knows it's working, so much so that he knocks the cup out of your hands, causing the content to spill all over his marble floor. "Fuck you."

You scoff, unfazed by his aggression. "You already did." You say, and while Rafe is silently raging underneath, you decide to take it a step further. Closing in the distance until you're right in front of his face, you smirk, "and you fucking loved it."

Rafe is breathing hard, his blue eyes searching your face, his chest raising and falling in rapid beats as frustration rolls off of him, all while you tip your head to the side, raising your brow, challenging him to respond.

He does.

By slamming his lips against yours.

One of his hands catches the back of your neck as he presses a bruising and punishing kiss against your lips, eliciting a moan from the back of your throat. Instinctively, you throw your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

"You're mine." He breathes against your lips when you break apart, trailing kisses down the column of your neck as you tip your head back to give him more access, feeling his mouth working against your skin. "And no fucking asshole from the Academy is going to take you away from me."

Wanting to tease him further, you say. "What if I leave?"

He answers you by sucking on a sensitive spot on your neck, causing you to arch into him and let out an involuntary moan as his free hand descends down to your short skirt and roughly palms your ass. Rafe chuckles against your skin, satisfied by your body's reaction to him. "Then no one is going to make you feel like I do."

His hands move to pull down your top, causing your tits to spill out of the fabric. The cold air pricks at your exposed skin and Rafe takes a beat of a second to admire you before lifting his gaze to meet you in an easy, cocky grin.

"So ready for me," he teases, moving his hand up to play with your hardened nipples between his fingers. You let out a small sigh. "God, you're fucking gorgeous."

"Shut up," you say, not liking how his words are making your cheeks flush with heat and a flutter of butterflies to swarm your stomach. This is just a fuck, you remind yourself. He lifts his blue eyes to meet you for a brief second before descending his mouth down to cover one of your nipples.

You always like playing with yourself there. As his tongue swirls around the sensitive tip, his teeth lightly graze against the bud, causing your moan to echo across the hallway and his hand immediately slaps over your mouth, silencing them.

Rafe's eyes lock with yours. "You don't want anyone to hear what a needy girl you are, do you?"

You clench your jaw underneath his hand, at his dominance, but when you don't answer fast enough, he asks again. "Do you?"

You shake your head and he pulls himself off of you, the cold invades the absence of his heat. But, Rafe doesn't leave you for long. He grabs your hand and pulls you into his bedroom. The moment the door slams close, his lips return on yours and his hands explore over your exposed body.

Your core clenches as Rafe slams you against the back of the door, kissing you hungrily as he lowers his hand to the cutoff of your skirt and pushes the flimsy material up to your hips before cupping your pussy.

"God, you're dripping," he says with a small laugh, looking up to you. "Are you this wet for me, baby?"

You are. Rafe Cameron has a way to make your entire body responsive to him, his touch, his kisses, his everything. But, you don't want to let him know that. You don't know how much you want it, how much you need it.

Instead of answering him, you say with a roughness to your voice, "if you don't fuck me, Cameron, I'll find someone else who will."

Humor leaves his face and his expression hardens. He cups your cunt hard, causing you to involuntary jolt forward into his hand and a small whimper to escape you. "This is mine. No other fucking man is going to touch this but me."

"Big words for someone who hasn't made me come."

His eyes darken and, with your taunting and teasing getting to him, he finally pushes your panties to the side and inserts a rough finger inside of your pussy, causing you to wince at the abrupt motion. "Can you handle it?"

You nod with closed eyes, feeling as he adds a second finger, thrusting in a steady but rough pace, his other hand fondling with your tits.

You lean back against the door with heavy breaths, moaning and clenching as your orgasm builds from his rhythm. Rafe knows your body, he knows you're about to come, and as your moans get more erratic and you grind harder into his hand, he quickens his thrusts. Leaning into you, he says to your ear, "let it out, baby."

You do.

Your walls clench around his fingers tightly as you ride on your high, so much so that you hear his muttered fuck under his breath. When you're slowly coming down from your climax, Rafe removes his hand. The loss of his touch causes you to frown but before you get the chance to open your eyes and complain, he pushes the wet digits against the entrance of your lips. "Suck."

You want to argue back, about him telling you what to do, but you can't seem to help but listen. Your eyes open and find his face, watching you as you suck his fingers clean of your arousal. "Good girl."

When he withdraws his fingers, clarity dawns on you. He's wearing too much while you're practically exposed. You didn't like how uneven the playing field is, and with a gesture to his shirt and pants, you demand. "Take it off."

His smirk is smug. "Eager, aren't we?"

"If I have to be naked, so do you."

"You aren't naked." He gestures back to you and you look down at yourself. While your tits are showing and your panties are soak, he's right, you technically aren't naked. Not afraid of backing down from a challenge, you easily pull your tiny top over your shoulders and push your skirt and panties down to your ankles.

Stepping out of them, you look back to see Rafe admiring your naked body. You can see the outline of his erection straining against his pants, and for a moment, a self-consciousness creeps up on you and you blush. With a hard swallow, you point to him. "Your turn."

The corner of his lips quirks up at how demanding you are and he pulls his shirt over his body, revealing the defined and taunt muscles of his chest underneath. Your mouth waters. You watch as he goes for his belt—knowing you’re watching—that he teases it out slowly. He messes with the buckle, taking his sweet time, that you grow impatient.

"Goddammit," you mutter under your breath, approaching him and pushing his hands out of the way, sinking to your knees as you unbuckle the belt with ease—practices from all the other times. When you pull it out of his pants, you stop, looking up to Rafe.

"Go on, princess." He gestures, a cocky grin at the sight of you on your knees for him. "Finish what you started."

You hate how much power he has over you this time, how he is telling you what to do, but because of how needy you are, how much you want him between your legs and his cock to be in you, you listen. You unzip and pull down his pants, revealing an impressed bulge underneath his briefs. With one easy tug, you freed his cock and it stood in front of you, hard and leaking with pre-cum.

On your knees, you look up to see Rafe watching you, waiting to see what you do. His eyes are hungry and his arousal is obvious. Tentatively, you wrap your hand around the thick cock, your fingers barely connecting together because of his girth.

And slowly, you rub up and down his shaft.

A hiss leaves the back of Rafe's throat and satisfaction pools in your core at the realization that you are making him feel this way, that you have this much control. "Faster." He commands, his voice thick with desire.

Instead of listening to his orders, you open your mouth and take his cock in your mouth, swallowing the salty taste as you swirl your tongue at his head. Added with the motion of your hand playing with his balls, and rubbing him up and down, Rafe can’t help but rock his hips against your face.

“Fuck,” he swears, his hand finds your hair and pulls your closer to him, as your grip around him gets firmer and you hollow your cheeks, creating a stronger suction. Rafe groans under your touch, tugging the root of your strands, wanting you to do anything and everything to build him closer to his climax. “Fuck, baby, I’m close.”

With that pride of information, you slow down, your fingers loosen their pace and you pop the cock out of your mouth. Rafe feels the instant loss of touch and he looks down at you, his expression hard and angry.

"What the fuck?"

"Say please."

He says your name in a command, but you don't budge.

Rafe's blue eyes are hard. He knows you do this. He knows you like to mess with him, take back control whenever you find yourself in a small position of power and remind him of his place. Irritation builds in his chest, this time worse than the others, but so does his delayed climax. He needs it more.

With a reluctant sigh, he says, "please."

You return your motion, moving in slow, torturous strokes as your hand moves up and down his slick length, creating enough pleasure for him to feel but not enough friction to ease into his climax. Your mouth has yet to return on his cock and without the added assistance, his jaw tense and his frustration and horniness builds.

In a desperate plea, Rafe begs, "baby, please."

His voice didn't sound like his own and his words are so rough, so willing, that you can't help but alleviate him from his misery. You reconnect your lips on his tip and begin to rub his faster, firmer, sucking him harder. With the edge of delay, Rafe comes fast with a guttural groan, spilling in your mouth as you lap over the taste, swallowing all of it.

Rafe lowers himself and guides you back to your feet, pulling you towards the bed and pushing you flat against the mattress, laying on your back.

He lowers himself off the edge of the bed, sinking to his knees as he steps in front of your exposed pussy, and looks up to see the self-satisfied smirk on your face at the little stunt you pulled back there. In a low voice, he says, "you're going to regret that."

A finger drags up your slit, in a slow motion, gathering your wetness on the digit but producing enough pressure that it makes you whine. You try to grind yourself against his hand but he lays his palm on the flat of your stomach, holding you in place.

When his eyes connect with your needy gaze, he says, “my turn.”

Dipping his head between your legs, he kisses your inner thighs in slow, agonizing touches. It produces an aching feel to your core as he gives careful attention to both of your thighs, slowly creeping up to your throbbing cunt, but not quite giving you a release.

Rafe lingers on a particular sensitive spot near your pussy, sucking and kissing the placement until you're writhing in pleasure and frustration, desperate to feel his tongue in you.

"Rafe," you say with a throaty beg and he grins against your skin.

"I said you're going to regret it."

"Yeah, and if you take any longer, I'm going to go downstairs to find Ethan."

Rafe hates it when you mention other men, or even think of other men, especially when he’s fucking you, but it does the trick as he moves between you and his fingers spread your folds. “You are this wet for me, baby, not Ethan,” he reminds you, before lowering himself to your pussy, flattening his tongue against your center before moving up and down in slow strokes.

“Fuck,” you moan as he finds your sensitive clit and sucks on the nub, the sound of wetness fills the bedroom as the low volume of the music thumps from downstairs. He lets one finger enter your cunt, beginning at a slow pace. “Rafe, ohmygod.”

He moves faster, rougher, lapping out your taste as if he was dying of thirst. With his finger quickening and his tongue working a miracle on you, another orgasm builds.

“I’m close,” you whisper and he nods. He moves with precision and god, Rafe Cameron is good at eating pussy. When his tongue enters into you and the pad of his thumb rubs circular motions around your clit, you can’t help but arch into his pleasure and come on his face.

You fall against the mattress with a heavy breath, but Rafe doesn’t stop. He continues to suck and lap and rub, causing you to wrap your thighs tightly around his head. You’re already so exhausted, so sensitive, coming down from your high, but that does nothing to satiate the man between your legs—fingers and tongue buried inside of you, still hungry.

Your thighs violently shake and your fingers rack through his hair, pulling, “ohmygod, ohmygod,” you moan as he works another orgasm from you, your stomach tightening and the pressure being so unbearable you feel as if you’re going to cave and explode.

“Come for me, baby, I want another one.” He mumbles against your cunt, the low hum of his voice vibrates through your body in a pleasurable sensation. With a rougher pace and a harder suction around your clit, you come for a second time in a row.

You’re an absolute wreck when he pulls away and, assessing the damage he caused, Rafe chuckles at the sight before him. You splay out on the mattress, breathing heavily with low lids and the prettiest pussy. He lowers himself, placing both hands on either side of your head to carry his weight, he plants a soft kiss on your lips.

His eyes set on you, a gentle gaze, and whispers. “Can you take another, baby?”

Though you are weak from all the orgasms you endured, you still nod, looping your arms around his neck as he descends closer to you, planting kisses against your lips, the corner of your mouth, to the edge of your jawline. You can feel his erection grazing at your entrance, waiting to enter, and the thought itself ignites another round of passion and need within you.

Rafe pulls back just enough to line his cock against your wet folds. Before he enters, he looks up to you, waiting for a confirmation sign. When you nod, he slowly pushes the length into your aching core and you jerk forward.

He goes in slow at first, allowing your walls to adjust to his size because, no matter how many times he’s been inside of you, it still takes a moment for your pussy to register that this is him. That this is his pussy. A hiss escapes the back of his throat. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

You, with what little strength you have left, push yourself up as he rocks against your hips, beginning his thrusts. You get closer to him, grabbing his shoulders, while he takes the opportunity to play with your tits.

This new position allows him to enter deeper inside of you, hitting a new angle, causing you to let out a cry from the explosion of pleasure. In addition to the remnants of the orgasms you had a few moments prior, as Rafe pounds into your very sensitive core, you begin to feel as if you’re seeing stars.

Rafe leans down, closer to your ear as he asks, "who's fucking you?"

You feel your stomach knot and tighten, knowing he’s getting you close. But, you also can feel his cock twitching inside your walls, alerting you that he’s also getting close. With this dynamic power, you turn your head to face Rafe, connecting your heavy-lid eyes with his.

“Ethan.”

Rafe stills. His eyes darken at your words, watching the way your lips curl with an innocent look and he decided he hates it. He hates this little power play you're doing to him, he hates how it's working. He knows that you two are nothing more than fuck buddies, but without the reassurance that you are his—fully, devotedly his—he doesn't know if you haven't fucked another guy before. If you haven't had Ethan's name on your lips.

His hand lowers between the two of you, lightly grazing against your sensitive clit. You jolt into his touch. "Did you fuck him?"

His voice is low, dangerously low, as you watch how serious he turned with the tease of another man's name. You tilt your head to the side, challenging him. "And if I did?"

He pinches your clit and your hips arch forward, but he uses his other hand to grab it still. Your core throbbing while he remains inside of you and does nothing. You realize, in this moment, that you might've gone too far. You feel full and have everything in your possession to make you reach your highest peak but you chose to delay it with a joke that wasn't even that funny.

Especially not now.

Rafe slowly rubs your clit with his fingers, painfully light, teasing and punishing you all in one. You gasp into his touch, but he doesn't let you move. His grip remains firm on your hips, holding you in place as you ache around his cock, as he can feel your walls clench around him, begging to be fucked.

But he needs to hear you say it.

"Rafe," you choke, and his eyes connect with yours. Your eyes are teary, your breathing is erratic, and you are trying desperately to produce some friction between your legs and give you some semblance of pleasure. "Rafe, move."

"No, princess," he says with a deadly calm, shaking his head. "You want to play mind games with me all night, fine. But tonight, I'm going to fucking hear you say my name." He repeats himself with aggression, his fingers skims across your sensitive nub. "Who. Is. Fucking. You?"

You grip his shoulders, your eyes meeting his, and your core aches painfully. You try to grind yourself against him, trying to produce some friction of your own, but he uses both hands to grab your hips, stilling you in place with a deadly grip you are sure is going to leave a mark.

He shakes his head, firm on getting the answer out of you.

With teary eyes, you beg. "Please, Rafe. Please."

He grins with that self-satisfying charm. He loves it when you finally break your dominance. He loves it more when he can break you.

His thrust begins at a slow rate, still on the edge of punishment, but at least you can feel some friction producing between your legs. You look down at his cock entering and leaving your cunt, the image gratifying, but Rafe roughly grabs your chin and forces you to look back up.

"Look at me." He commands, his voice shallow as the slow thrust is killing him, but he needed to teach you a lesson. "I want you to remember this when you're looking at anyone else. Talking to any other fucking guy. Remember how I make you feel."

You nod frantically. Desperate at this point to say anything to get Rafe to move faster, harder, providing you with your climax. He sees it in your eyes, how he finally got you, that it makes him smile.

"God, look at you," he chuckles. "You want me to fuck you so bad."

"Yes," you beg, "yes, please. I'll do anything."

"Anything?" He asks again, the proposition is too nice to tease out.

You nod, blinking through the tears. "Anything."

He grins at this exchange of power, when he holds all of it, that he finally relents and quickens his pace. You grip harder on his shoulders as Rafe thrusts into you, rocking his hips against yours.

You claw and moan against his skin, using it as an anchor for all the pain and pleasure ripping through you, and he takes it as a mark of honor. When he lowers one hand between the two of you, using the pad of his thumb to rub small circles around your clit, you see stars float in your vision.

"I'm coming," you pant against his skin. "God, please, I'm coming."

Rafe's hand finds the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him, and nods. "Come for me, baby."

When you feel your orgasm hit its all-time high, you slump in exhaustion against his shoulders, while he continues to move in and out of you. It takes a few seconds later before Rafe comes, feeling his hot cum leaking out of you.

He doesn’t remove his cock from your pussy and honestly, you don’t want him to. You want to stay like this for a moment, to catch your breath and come to the dawning realization that this is the best sex of your life. You didn’t want it to end.

Rafe lays his chin on your small shoulder, pushing your wet hair to the side as he recovers.

“Be my girl.” He whispers, so quiet, that you thought you imagined it. You weakly pull back, connecting your widened eyes with his.

"What?"

"Be my girl," he repeats once more, his blue eyes vulnerable and tracing your features to see if there's any hint of rejection on the bay. "I can't fucking stand you with other guys. I don't even want you to say their names. I want you. All of you."

You hesitate. "Rafe..."

"You said you'll do anything." He reminds you.

"You said you don't want to be seen with a Pogue."

He growls. "Fuck what I said," he snaps with a shake of his head, raising his hand to wipe the leftover tears from your face. "I want you. I don’t care about anything else. Just say yes."

You look at him and soften your gaze. You have wanted this, you admit, you wanted him to confess to you that he wants you as much as you want him. But, for a moment, in this brief second, you’re afraid that if you agree you would submit to everything you’ve fought against. The control you tried so hard to retain.

He sees it. He knows you’re having an internal battle. Using his hand, he cups the side of your face, the heat and comfort of his palm makes you instinctively lean into him. “Please.” He begs softly, giving you one last shred of power.

With a small chuckle of your own, you finally nod. "Okay."

He grins, and without hesitation, presses another kiss against your lips. This time, it lacks the power and control you two have been fighting for all night but rather is sweet, sensitive and patient. He pushes you back against the mattress, using his arms to hold up his weight.

When he pulls apart, both of you are out of breath and breathing heavily. He offers you a genuine smile, at how proud he is that you’re his, and uses the pad of his thumb to rub across your flushed cheeks. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

You blush, waiting to pull away from his touch but Rafe knows you. He grabs a hold of your face, holding you in place so you can’t tear your gaze from him. “I’m serious. Since you’re my girlfriend now, you have to get used to that or else people are going to assume I don’t compliment you enough.”

You scoff. “You don’t. The only times you say nice things to me is when you’re in me.”

“Yeah?” He challenges, cocking one of his brows. You nod. “That’s going to change. Prepare for me to shower you with compliments every time I see you,” he says, as he lowers himself and plants a soft kiss on your shoulder blade. “Especially when I’m in you.”

You roll your eyes, pushing him off as your eyes find the clock in the back of the wall. You didn’t realize how late it was.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. Rafe turns to you, his brows knit together in confusion.

"What?"

"It's almost one am. I promised my parents I was going to go home at eleven."

He glances at the clock, before returning his gaze back to you. "Stay the night."

"What?"

"You said it would save you trouble, right?" You hesitantly nod. "Just stay the night."

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You can’t believe how much he’s willing to give in now that you’re finally his. Maybe you should’ve made him jealous a long time ago. Your first instinct is to tease him about it, but you decide that you had enough power play. The both of you deserve some rest and plus, sleeping with Rafe would be a comforting feel after the sex you just had.

When he comes to approach you, settling between your legs as he waits for an answer, you run your hands through his messy blond locks. “Okay.”

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ozzgin · 4 months

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Yandere! Monster x Reader Headcanons

You find yourself kidnapped into a half-breed family of monsters and humans, for the purpose of an arranged marriage. Luckily for you, the groom is their only pure human, terribly handsome and charming. You'd perhaps appreciate him more if your eyes weren't glued to his monstrous older sibling...

Content: female reader, monster smut, reader is a shameless monster hoe

[Part 2]

You always imagined such kidnappings to be of theatrical intensity, being scooped up against your will as you scream and flail your arms, longing for a savior. The affair itself felt more like a formal summoning. Mysterious men appeared before you and merely announced that your presence is required, unfortunately without the choice of refusal. Might as well. You packed necessities under their polite supervision and now you're sitting at the table, facing multiple strangers who are casually enjoying their lunch. One of them, the head of the family apparently, explains that half-breeds are in a rather sensitive place when one considers human and monster politics. Thus, every now and then, they will do whatever it takes to strengthen their bonds and show good intent towards both species. This time it's an arranged marriage with a fellow human.

Why you, in particular? No need to concern yourself with intricate details. What matters now is that you are to be married soon and your groom is right here, enthusiastically waving in a welcoming greeting. You scan his features and can't help but agree with the family: he is, by all definitions, a conventionally handsome man. His face is carefully chiseled in most elegant, yet masculine features. His voice is confident but warm, and you can tell by the flock of servants hovering around that he's rather popular. After the luxurious meal he guides you around the imposing home, showing you to your room and briefing you on future responsibilities. Caring, attentive, and several other checks that you can easily mark in his favor.

Yet one vital aspect has been omitted. The prince's mesmerizing beauty was rather swiftly discarded once you realized the presence of his older sibling, a pure monster blood towering above everyone else and idly eating his food, uninterested. You managed to hide your blush in time, but you couldn't help throwing curious glances. Might've been easier for everyone involved if they handed out 'monster lover' badges. Alas, you weren't prepared to ever be faced with the choice.

The next day you're awoken by the murmur of diligent work, as both servants and family pace back and forth about their plans. You sneak your way out - since nothing is yet expected of you - and wander until you find your intended target: the beastly sibling is polishing a bizarre weapon you don't recognize in what seems to be a storage room littered with battle memorabilia. He notices your presence and acknowledges you with a bored nod. You ask whether you may observe his current activity and he looks up at you, raising an eyebrow suspiciously before agreeing. Why would you care? Certainly there's more entertaining things for you to do as a soon-to-be bride.

As you listen to his little stories from the battleground (hardy monsters like him are better off fighting, not socializing), you have to pat your cheeks in desperate attempts to cool down your burning blush. "H-how comes you don't have a partner?" You mutter, almost feverish. "Not interested. Plus, who would dare to marry me?" he jokes, focused on the sharp item in his clawed hands. There it is. Hesitation and diplomacy out the window, you rearrange yourself, smoothening your clothing, and whisper: "Well, if I had to choose, I would've preferred you as my husband..."

Once again he stares at you bewildered. Have you come here to mock him or something? A frail, pretty human like you, about to tie the knot with his stunning younger brother, showing up here and behind everyone's backs to openly flirt with him. Ridiculous beyond comprehension. His skin is thick enough to not mind such twisted humor, so if anything he's impressed by your audacity. Alright, if you've come for jokes, he'll comply. He places his weapon down and fully turns to you. A little scare might teach you to be more respectful with your in-laws next time.

With a speedy movement that's barely registered by your eyes, he pushes you on the floor and pins you by the wrists, lowering himself uncomfortably close to your face. "If you tease me like this, I might not be able to hold back." He says as he forces himself to smile extra hard, revealing the multiple rows of fangs. "In fact, I can't guarantee you'd make it out of here alive." Hopefully he isn't going too far with his tactics. He senses your frantic breathing and is about to apologize for continuing your prank, but you blurt out in a daze: "Yes, please! I've been thinking about it ever since I saw you." You're panting for dear life as your face is turning a deep shade of red.

Uh oh. Now this is awkward. You weren't...you weren't kidding. For a moment, he freezes in place, trying to recollect himself to no avail. Fucking your brother's future wife in a storage room in the middle of the day feels like poorly written erotic romance. Then again, he can't deny the sudden urge overwhelming him at the mere thought of it. You're squirming underneath him, gliding your legs across his now obvious bulge. His common sense is hanging by a comically thin thread and he can almost hear the instant when it snaps. Thankfully some leftovers of sanity must have remained in the back of his mind and his lustful grunts while pounding you are kept low enough that no one is notified of your horny deeds. Shutting you up was the bigger challenge.

"Is this too tight, miss?" You spin in front of the mirror and the servant readjusts the lace corset adorning your wedding dress. You have to hold back your yawn. Downright shameless and perverted of you to daydream about your monster boyfriend while trying on bridal gowns, but it's not like you agreed to it to begin with. You were kind of hoping to discuss future dating prospects post-intercourse, but someone had been looking for you shortly afterwards and you struggled to regain your composure. Your scary-looking suitor shooed you away with the promise of a reunion.

Before the servant can reach for the next dress, you both jump, startled by angry shouts coming from the hall. You rush outside to witness the older sibling standing before the head of the family. The wrathful threats were coming from the much smaller half-human. "Y-you can't just decide like that!" He screams. "Of course I can. You're welcome to fight me for it." The monster sibling flashes a smug grin. "Can anyone here defeat me?" His question is met with silence. He spots you and gestures you to come towards him. "I'll say it one more time. Find another human for my brother if you have to. This one is mine." He ends his sentence in a low growl and you shiver underneath his heavy arm. Boy, what a time to be alive.

#this feels more like a parody but I randomly thought of it last night sorry #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #monster x reader #monster smut #monster fucker #terato #teratophillia #yandere headcanons #monster boyfriend #monster x human #female reader #monster imagine #monster headcanons

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elia-the-bibliophile · 4 days

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Barking Up the Right Tree (Charles Leclerc x Female Reader)

Genre: Fluff Word count: 3,6k

When Charles loses his beloved pup, Leo Leclerc, a chance encounter with Y/N sets off unexpected connections, with Leo as their furry matchmaker.

Chaos ensued within the walls of Charles Leclerc's apartment. The normally serene atmosphere was shattered by the frantic shouts of a disheveled Charles, whose in a state of sheer panic.

“Leo! Leo Leclerc, where are you, you little rascal?” Charles bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls in a comically dramatic fashion.

His apartment was like a crime scene. Furniture was overturned, cushions were scattered haphazardly, and drawers were flung open with reckless abandon. Charles, with his hair disheveled and clothes askew, resembled a character straight out of a slapstick comedy.

In his frenzied search for his beloved puppy, Charles would left no stone unturned, quite literally. He rummaged through cabinets, peeked under the sofa, and even checked inside the refrigerator, all to no avail.

“Leo, this is no time for hide-and-seek!” Charles exclaimed, frustration evident in his voice as he stumbled over a stray slipper.

He then moved his search outside. As Charles raced through the corridors of his apartment building, his anxiety reached fever pitch. With each passing minute, his desperation intensified, evident in the way he nervously gnawed on his nails, his mind swirling with worst-case scenarios.

“Merde! I've lost my son! Comment cela pourrait-il arriver.”

Undeterred by the curious stares from his neighbors and fueled by a single-minded determination to find Leo, Charles pressed on, his heart racing with every beat. The thought of his beloved puppy lost and alone filled him with a sense of dread he couldn't shake.

With a frantic flutter of fingers, Charles dialed his younger brother Arthur's number, his heart pounding against his ribcage like a drummer in a speed metal band. As the phone rang, he paced back and forth in the hallway.

“Arthur! Arthur, it's Charles,” he blurted out as soon as his brother picked up, words tumbling out of his mouth.

But poor Arthur, who was likely expecting a casual chat about the latest racing gossip, was utterly unprepared for the torrent of words that assaulted his ears.

“Woah, Hey. Slow down, Charles, I can barely understand a word you're saying!” Arthur protested, his voice barely audible over the static of the phone line.

Charles, however, was in no mood to slow down. With a mind as revved up as a Red Bull engine on race day, he continued to babble on at breakneck speed, his words blurring together into an incomprehensible stream of syllables.

“Leo's missing, Arthur! I've searched everywhere, but he's nowhere to be found!” Charles exclaimed, his voice reaching a pitch that could shatter glass.

But try as he might, poor Arthur simply couldn't keep up with his older brother's frantic pace. In the end, all he could do was offer a bewildered “What? Please speak like a normal person.”

Charles took a quick, short breath to anchor himself. With newfound focus, he prepared to explain the emergency concisely to Arthur, knowing that every second counted in finding Leo.

“Arthur, listen carefully," Charles began, his voice measured this time. “Leo, my puppy, he's gone missing. I need your help to find him.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line as Arthur processed the information, his mind racing to catch up with the sudden change in tempo.

“Leo's missing?” Arthur repeated, his voice tinged with concern. “Don't worry, we'll find him together. I'll be there in a flash.”

With Arthur's reassurance ringing in his ears, Charles responded. “Thank you,” nodding along, “I’ll be waiting for you.”

And so, Charles hung up the phone. Little did he know, however, that the help he sought was already on its way in the most unexpected of forms.

__________________________________________

Y/N had just finished working, the gentle breeze caressed her skin, carrying with it the promise of warmer days ahead. Monaco, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, seemed to shimmer with an ethereal beauty, casting long shadows that danced playfully along the cobblestone streets.

Today, the weather was exceptionally pleasant, with hints of spring lingering in the air. The scent of blooming flowers mingled with the salty tang of the sea, creating a symphony of fragrances like no other.

Y/N was startled by a faint sound emanating from a nearby bush. At first, she froze in place, “What the—.”

With cautious steps, Y/N approached the bush, her senses on high alert as she strained to identify the source of the mysterious sound. Her palms grew clammy with nervous anticipation, her breaths shallow and quick as adrenaline surged through her veins.

And then amidst the rustle of leaves, she heard it—a soft whimper, barely audible yet unmistakably plaintive. In an instant, fear gave way to compassion as Y/N's instincts kicked into overdrive, overriding her hesitation.

She pushed aside the foliage as she peered into the shadows within. And there, nestled among the leaves, was a small, trembling form—a lost and frightened puppy, its eyes wide with fear and confusion.

With gentle hands, Y/N scooped up the puppy, cradling it against her chest in a gesture of reassurance. She whispered soothing words, her voice soft like a lullaby, as she stroked the puppy's fur in rhythmic motions.

Feeling the warmth of Y/N's embrace and the steady beat of her heart, the puppy began to relax, its panicked whimpers gradually subsiding into quiet sighs. It nestled closer to Y/N, seeking consolation in her comforting presence, as if sensing that she meant no harm.

And then, in a moment that seemed to stretch on for, the puppy lifted its head and looked up at Y/N with eyes that sparkled with trust. With a tentative wag of its tail, it leaned forward and pressed a gentle lick against Y/N's cheek, a silent gesture of gratitude, making her chuckle with just a simple act.

“Hi, little one. I don’t know who you are, but I promise I’ll help get you back home, okay?” The puppy let out a soft woof, as if in agreement.

__________________________________________

When Arthur arrived at Charles' apartment, he was greeted by a scene straight out of a sitcom gone awry. His older brother, usually so composed, looked like a fish out of water amidst the lavish surroundings.

“Charles, what in the world are you doing?” Arthur exclaimed, his eyes widening in disbelief as he took in the sight before him.

But Charles, lost in the throes of his own melodrama, barely registered his brother's presence. “I've lost Leo, Arthur! My precious Leo!” Charles wailed, his voice echoing off the walls like a mournful opera singer.

Arthur blinked in confusion, trying to make sense of this erratic behavior. But Charles was already off on another tangent, pacing back and forth like a caged tiger as he ranted and raved about the injustice of it all.

“I've searched high and low, Arthur, but he's nowhere to be found! What if he's been kidnapped and sold to the meat market? Or worse, what if he's fallen into the clutches of the neighborhood cat gang?”

Arthur could only stare in bemusement as Charles launched into a series of increasingly outlandish scenarios, his arms flailing wildly in the air. “Charles, calm down!” Arthur interjected, trying in vain to inject some semblance of reason into the situation. “We'll find Leo, I promise. But first, you need to pull yourself together!”

And so, with Arthur's attempts at reason falling on deaf ears, the two brothers found themselves locked in a battle of wills—one determined to bring order to the chaos, and the other lost in a world of his own making.

__________________________________________

With a gentle pat on the back, Y/N lowered the puppy to the floor, watching with a smile as it tentatively sniffed and explored its new surroundings. The apartment, though small, was filled with touches of homely comfort—a plush rug nestled beneath a worn armchair, a scattering of potted plants adorning the windowsill, and soft, inviting cushions scattered across the sofa.

“It's okay, little one,” Y/N cooed. “You're safe here now.”

Encouraged by her words, the puppy ventured forth with cautious steps, its tail wagging tentatively as it took in the unfamiliar sights and sounds. With each passing moment, it seemed to grow more at ease.

Its curious nose led it to a corner where Y/N had left a worn cardigan on the floor. With a delighted yip, the puppy bounded over to the garment, nuzzling into its soft folds with unabashed enthusiasm. It snuggled into the fabric, finding comfort in the familiar scent of its new human friend.

Y/N watched with a smile as the puppy nestled into her cardigan, her heart swelling with affection for the adorable creature. “Well, it looks like you've found yourself a favorite spot,” she remarked fondly.

Turning her attention to the puppy, Y/N reached out to stroke its fur. “I'm sorry that I don't know your name,” her eyes meeting the puppy's in a silent exchange of understanding. “For now, I'll just call you chiot.”

Chiot let out a happy bark in response, as if to signify its approval. It wagged its tail enthusiastically.

With a smile, Y/N reached into a nearby cupboard, retrieving a handful of leftover treats from her weekend dog-sitting gigs. “Here you go, chiot," she said, offering the treats to the puppy with an encouraging smile. “You deserve a little something special for being such a good boy.”

Chiot eagerly accepted the treats, gobbling them up with gusto as if to say thank you in the only way it knew how.

Y/N rose from her seat to retrieve her phone. Social media, after all, had a remarkable ability to connect people and she was determined to reunite chiot with his rightful owner.

As she approached the window where the soft light filtered in, Y/N smiled widely at the sight of chiot playing with the edge of her cardigan. It was a picture-perfect moment—one she knew could tug at the heartstrings of even the most stoic of social media users.

With deft fingers, Y/N snapped a quick photo, capturing the essence of the moment in all its adorable glory. She added a caption to accompany the image, a plea to the online community to help her find chiot’s missing owner.

“Lost pup found a cozy spot in my cardigan. I met him on Rue Jean Bouin on my way home. Help me find its owner, Twitterverse! #LostPuppy #Monaco”

With a satisfied nod, Y/N hit the "tweet" button, sending the message out with a hopeful anticipation. And as she watched the likes and retweets trickle in, she couldn't help but feel a surge of optimism that, with a little help from the online community, chiot would soon be home.

Y/N then set her phone down on the counter and turned her attention to the stack of dirty dishes awaiting her. The mundane task of washing dishes was a welcome distraction from the excitement of the afternoon, offering a sense of grounding in the familiar rhythm of her usual daily life.

As she rolled up her sleeves and reached for the dish soap, Y/N hum the newest Sabrina Carpenter’s song under her breath, the melody weaving its way through the air. With practiced efficiency, she tackled the dishes one by one, the warm water soothing her hands as she scrubbed away the remnants of meals past.

__________________________________________

As Y/N tackled her chores, little did she know that her tweet had sparked a wildfire of activity on Twitter. Within moments, it began trending, its reach extending far beyond the borders of Monaco. Twitter users from all corners of the globe joined in the effort, sharing the photo of chiot and spreading the word in the hopes of finding its owner.

But as the photo made its rounds on the internet, eagle-eyed users couldn't help but notice something uncanny—the striking resemblance between chiot and Leo. Speculation ran rampant, with Twitter sleuths piecing together the puzzle one clue at a time.

“Could that be Leo?” one user pondered, their tweet quickly garnering hundreds of retweets and likes.

“OMG, I think you're onto something! Let's get this to Charles Leclerc.” another user replied.

And so, they all flooded Charles’ mentions, bombarding him with tweets and notifications.

Meanwhile, Charles’ annoyance grew with each incessant ping of his phone. With a frustrated sigh, he snatched the device and thrust it into Arthur's unsuspecting hands, his brow furrowed in irritation.

“Read it and tell me what on earth is happening for it to be ringing so much,” Charles grumbled.

But as Arthur's eyes scanned the screen, his expression transformed from confusion to excitement in a matter of seconds. His jaw dropped open in disbelief, eyes widening. “Charles, you won't believe this!” Arthur exclaimed excitedly. “The people on Twitter, they've found Leo!”

Charles froze, his dramatic facade crumbling in an instant as the weight of Arthur's words sank in. His mouth hanging open in a silent gasp as he struggled to process the sudden turn of events.

“They've found Leo?” Charles repeated, his voice barely above a whisper as hope blossomed within him. “Are you sure? Don’t give me false hope.”

Arthur nodded enthusiastically as he relayed the details of the Twitter frenzy. “It's true! They've been retweeting and tagging you like crazy. We need to check it out right now!”

As to prove his point, Arthur shoved the phone back into Charles' face, the screen ablaze with the viral picture. And there, in all his adorable glory, was Leo—staring back at Charles. His breath caught in his throat, as he reached out to touch the screen, as if to confirm that this was indeed real. “Leo,” Charles whispered, tears of joy welled up in his eyes. “You're safe.”

He stared upon the image of his beloved puppy, surrounded by a sea of retweets and likes, “Thank you, kind Twitter people,” Charles murmured. “You've truly worked a miracle today.”

And with that, Charles message the account that originally posted the photo. Their reply comes not even a minute later.

__________________________________________

Y/N jumped excitedly. “I've found your owner!” she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with excitement as she clutched her phone tightly in her hands. “Well not exactly, since they found me first.” She said to chiot whose name is apparently Leo.

She quickly composed a message to the anonymous account that had reached out to her, fingers flying across the screen with practiced ease. “Hi there, please come to my apartment to pick Leo up. Here's my address,” she wrote, including the details of her humble abode.

But as she hit send, a nagging thought tugged at the edges of her mind—she still didn't know who she was reaching out to. The message had come from an anonymous account, offering little in the way of clues except for the name “Charles.”

But Y/N, ever the optimist, simply shrugged off her concerns. “Well, I'll find out soon enough,” she reasoned aloud to herself.

And with that, Y/N waited patiently for Leo's owner to arrive, she allowed herself to bask in the warm glow of the moment, savoring the magic of the unexpected connections that life had brought her way.

__________________________________________

Charles and Arthur arrived at the address provided, they found themselves standing before a modest apartment building, its faded facade hinting at the stories contained within its walls.

They climbed up three level of stairs before reaching the designated floor, their hearts pounding from either anticipation or the effort that it took to climb here. Arthur then raised his hand to knock on the door. The sound echoed through the hallway like a drumroll.

With a breathless hush, the door swung open, revealing Y/N with Leo cradled in her arms like an infant. The puppy barked excitedly at the sight of Charles, his tail wagging furiously as he squirmed in Y/N's embrace.

And there, in that moment, time seemed to stand still as Charles beheld the sight before him. His heart swelled with joy at the sight of Leo, but his gaze was also drawn irresistibly to the figure standing before him.

“Leo!” Charles greeted, his voice filled with unbridled joy as he reached out to scoop the puppy into his awaiting arms. Leo responded with an enthusiastic lick to Charles' face.

But as Charles looked up to thank Y/N for her kindness, he found himself momentarily speechless, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of her standing before him. She was even more beautiful up close.

“Thank you so much for finding him,” Charles managed to say as he looked into Y/N's eyes. “I can't begin to express how much this means to me.”

As Y/N stood before Charles, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest, she struggled to find the right words to convey the mix of emotions swirling within her. Her mind raced a mile a minute, leaving her speechless and utterly flustered.

“Um... hi, yeah. You’re welcome.” Y/N stammered as she struggled to regain her composure. But try as she might, the words seemed to elude her. And so, with a helpless shrug and an awkward smile, she simply stood there, her gaze locked with Charles', her mind a blank canvas awaiting inspiration.

Meanwhile, Arthur, ever the astute observer, couldn't help but notice the strange exchange unfolding before him. A suppressed chuckle bubbled up within him, as he watched his brother turn into an awkward mess. The woman opposite him doesn’t look that good either.

Arthur discreetly nudged Charles with his elbow, Charles just shot him back an annoyed look.

Was he witnessing his brother, THE Charles Leclerc, developing a crush on someone he had just met?

His suspicions were only heightened as he noticed Charles' telltale fidgeting—the nervous habit of tugging at the edge of his jacket, a sure sign that his brother was feeling the heat of the moment. With each tug and twist of the fabric, Charles seemed to grow more and more flustered.

But if Charles was nervous, then Y/N was equally oblivious to her own telltale signs of attraction. Unbeknownst to her, she was absentmindedly fixing her hair, smoothing down stray strands with delicate fingers in a gesture as unconscious as it was endearing. Her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity as she met Charles' gaze.

And all the while, Arthur stood there, caught in the crossfire of his brother and this alluring stranger, no longer able to suppress the laughter from deep within him. It was a scene straight out of a romantic comedy. The sheer absurdity of it left Arthur struggling to keep a straight face.

As Arthur's laughter reverberated through the hallway, Charles and Y/N were jolted awake, their gaze meeting in a shared moment of bemusement. With a sheepish smile, Charles extended his hand towards Y/N and she accepted the gesture with a shy smile, her hand fitting nicely in his.

“It's nice to officially meet you, Y/N,” Charles said, his voice sincere. “I can't thank you enough for taking care of Leo.”

Y/N returned his smile with a warm one of her own. “Oh, it was no fuss at all,” she replied. “I loved every moment of taking care of Leo. He is very sweet.”

Leo let out a playful bark, his tail wagging furiously as if to confirm that he had indeed behaved well during his unexpected adventure.

Y/N couldn't help but chuckle at Leo's enthusiastic response, her heart melting at the sight of his playful antics. With a tender smile, she reached out to rub his head affectionately, her fingers sinking into his soft fur as she showered him with praise.

“You're such a good boy, Leo,” Y/N murmured, her voice filled with genuine affection as she gazed into his soulful eyes. “Thank you for spending some time with me.”

Charles realized it is time to take his leave, even though every fiber of his being longed to stay and say more. With a polite nod and another murmured word of thanks, he turned to make his exit, his heart heavy with the weight of missed opportunities.

But just as he took a few steps on the direction of the stairs, Charles felt a sudden weight lift from his arms as Leo wriggled free and bounded back towards Y/N, his tail wagging eagerly as if urging her to come along. Charles froze in his tracks.

Y/N, however, frowned slightly, her brow furrowing in confusion as she watched Leo's antics. “I'm sorry, Leo,” she said. “But I can't come with you. You’re back with your dad now.”

At her words, Leo let out a soft whine, his ears drooping in disappointment. His eyes now glistened with unshed tears.

And as Charles watched the exchange between Y/N and Leo, a pang of sympathy tugged at his heartstrings, his own feelings of awkwardness momentarily forgotten. He longed to reach out and comfort them both.

But alas, the moment passed too quickly and before Charles could find the words, Leo sullenly walk back to him.

Before his mind could process his thoughts, Charles blurted out, “Uh by any chance can I, uh, get your number?”

Y/N's grin widened into a radiant smile at his request. She went inside and came back with pen and scrap of paper, her movements graceful as she jotted down her digits.

But Y/N wasn't done yet. She added one final touch to the paper—a little doodle of Leo, complete with a wagging tail and a cheerful smile. Beneath the sketch, she scribbled a note that read, “And if you ever need a dog sitter for this little troublemaker, you know who to call!”

“Sure thing!” she chirped. “Here you go.”

And as she watched him tuck the paper into his pocket, she knew that not a minute would go by without her waiting for that message from him to arrive.

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cosmictheo · 20 days

Text

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 | feyd-rautha

( gif credits to @wondrousashes )

—summary: on a calm day back at your home, you shattered away the serenity as you decide to confront feyd about his alleged concubines and the little secrets he seemed so cautious to hide, pushing him further and further to the edge. —pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x female!atreides!reader —word count: 4k —warnings: arranged marriage, jealousy, a bit of implied smut (the actual smut is coming up in the next and last chapter !!!), mentions of sex, mentions of cannibalism, feyd being a slut for the reader (as he should), mentions of killing and death, hot and very passionate love confessions, definitely ooc!feyd.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

ᯓ★ part one ── part two ── part three (coming soon)

The week at Giedi Prime went by so fast that you hardly noticed any of it. The first day had been a bit slow and tedious, but the ones that followed turned out to be more than agreeable and enjoyable, Feyd-Rautha had been very concerned about keeping you entertained and as comfortable as possible, showing you every corner of the palace and walking you around the city.

But for now, you were back at your home for the last visit you would have there before becoming a Harkonnen. Feyd was staying close to you through all the reunion, naturally, diplomatically greeting your family.

“You met his cannibal lovers yet?” Paul's voice echoed inside your head between Feyd's conversations with Duke Leto, your gaze drifting to your brother in absolute alarm, horrified at the question and relieved that, so far, the answer was negative.

“There are rumors that tell how his concubines feed on the hearts of his dead opponents.” Your brother propelled you with the oh-so-cute information about your future husband. “The bastard has not one, but three. I guess you'll have to battle it out with them for his love, that was Duncan said.”

“Stop it, don't be an idiot.” You snapped back at him, averting your gaze from him to Feyd-Rautha, who was conversing ever so formally with Lady Jessica now.

You couldn't imagine him eating of human flesh, nor fucking three different women at the same time. Although, rumors always started from something and during the few times you had been able to get inside Feyd's head, you hadn't seen anything that was remotely pretty or light.

Paul's words managed to resonate in your head, lingering between the walls with a sense of suspicion.

Maybe that was why he never showed you the intimacy of his chambers... because on his bed lay three women compliantly awaiting for his attention and lust.

For some reason, the false image of him fucking them, bodies intertwined and interlinked, voices whimpering and moaning, made you feel respulsive, your guts twisting like a serpent.

You didn't want to believe it was jealousy, but again, your mind never wanted you to believe anything at all.

The palace of the Atreides stood majestically between rocky mountains, with the golden sunlight falling beautifully on the grayish stone walls, bringing in a warm afternoon. Rising magnificently behind your back, standing like a rocky guardian.

Your gaze was on Feyd-Rautha as you walked together along the outskirts balconies of the castle, your greenish dress swaying in the sea breeze, as did your hair, which you wore unusually loose that day, the sweet smell of it had him crazy.

“Do you like it?” You asked him after a few moments of silence, with a hint of a smile that Feyd noticed as he turned to look at you, noticing as well how you waited expectantly for his opinion of your home, which he knew you always held close to your heart.

After a second, he nodded his head, looking at you intently. “I do.”

His blue eyes, which looked as clear as ever under the natural glow of the place followed you as you walked beside him, keeping himself close to you, he could feel the natural warmth of your body and the sweet smell of your scent.

It was the first time you saw his eyes showing their true color, for back in his home, they rarely reflected so much brightness and his orbs glowed so beautifully in the sunlight. They possessed the most beautiful shade of blue, reminding you of the ocean, of home.

“It's nothing like my home.” Feyd-Rautha added in a more amused, lighter tone of voice, with a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, lowering his gaze to the ground, noting how the grass softened each of his steps on it.

“Obviously. Caladan is everything that Giedi Prime and Arrakis are not.” You answered him, snorting the words out with a soft chuckle that was carried away by the wind, turning your head to look at him once you stopped at the edge of a greenish cliff after descending one of the many rocky staircases that rose up through the hills.

The sea stretched into the immensity of the horizon and the water was uncommonly calm, waves lapping the shore relentlessly. It was a calm and peaceful scene out there, quite the opposite of what you felt inside, as you felt a tempest of emotions raging in your soul.

“Have you been with someone else like this?”

There was another one of your little questions again.

And he pondered the answer, dragging his eyes as blue as the ocean itself in front of them, back to you.

But Feyd-Rautha was rather certain that you already knew the answer, that you already had it, you could tell by the way he looked at you and the way he addressed you. Because it was enough to be clear that he had never been this way with anyone before, he had never spoken to anyone like this and he had never been so pleased to be in someone's company, basically in his entire life.

“The only people I've ever had this close to me are my family or my enemies, neither of whom I think entertain my presence very much.” Was his reply, honest and respectful. His husky voice, in contrast to the graceful sea breeze was a pleasant and comforting noise to you.

His words were masked with a touch of amusement, as he used to do in the last days when he spoke to you, it seemed as if you brought back that inner child he had, a stranger who felt increasingly closer.

But even using that tone, his eyes told you that he was not lying, that he was giving you the pure truth.

Yet, somehow you were not satisfied with his response. And he knew it.

“Have you been with other women?”

Feyd drew in a breath, half-opening his lips, air hissing between his teeth.

“So I'm assuming you've heard about the rumors about me?”

And there he was, answering you with another question to challenge you back, to play with your head as he had grown to love to do during the short time you had been in each other's company. Your conversations always ended up being a game of back and forth, a game of a tension that would be cut with the least sharp blade.

“My future wife likes to guide what she believes by mere rumors?” He pressed further.

And as always, you exhaled the air held inside you, twisting your head slightly, looking at him with incredulous eyes. “These are not rumors, Feyd —I've seen it.”

His blue eyes narrowed as he walked closer to you, expression both intrigued and yet defiant. “What do you mean you've seen it? Don't play games with me now, woman.”

“Don't threaten me, man,” You squinted your eyes as you pronounced the word like poison, almost coming out like an insult. “I'm not afraid of you.” With your own response to his defiance, this immediately silenced him, stopping him in his tracks right in front of you, as you stepped closer to him, your presence growing menacing now. You were really upset. “Do you think that when I marry you I will allow you to go on screwing around with them?”

“You met them and they threatened you?” Feyd asked in a low tone, maintaining a calm demeanor, though he wanted to know if any of his concubines had dared to even glance at you during your stay at Giedi Prime. His orbs reflected a sensation that ranged to a murderous, bloodthirsty urge, not at you, but at anyone who was stupid enough to threaten you. “Tell me, did they say anything to you?”

You crooked your head very slightly, looking genuinely offended by his questioning.

“Do you think I would allow any of your concubines —anyone at all— to threaten me and go on with their lives?” You replied instantly, looking him up and holding his gaze, as brave as ever. You seemed to be the only one in the whole universe who dared to answer him and put him in his place. And he was loving it, he felt the desire to be broken by you, to let you destroy all his walls and reach his soul. “They'd already be dead if they did.”

An amused grimace twisted his lips, gaze darkening with pride, desire even, approving of your words, feeling suddenly small under the vastness of your aura, dark and menacing now.

“Don't worry about them.” His words sounded humorous this time, just as his fingers laced between yours, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, an attempt to reassure you. “Soon I'll be all yours, sweet girl.”

You frowned your brow slightly, as did your lips, still looking offended. He squinted his eyes, hissing as he realized he had said the wrong thing, yet again.

“I'm not sweet.” Your hand released his, your annoyance rising with the seconds. “I'm not one of your pets you can treat as sweet, Feyd-Rautha.”

He raised his brow, following you with his gaze, puzzled, as you turned around and began to walk back to the palace, turning your back on him and leaving him to talk alone.

“One of my pets?” He questioned, with that amused grimace plastered on his mouth again, as he began to follow your hurried footsteps, his pale face reflected a blend of frustration and irritation. “Do you think I would treat you like one of my pets?”

His voice sounded so husky and frustrated and delicious that you felt like just stopping and jumping on him right there. But your own self-respect and pride were more important, you wanted to believe.

Seeing that you weren't planning to stop, Feyd tried to stop you by grabbing your arm, but his hand remained over your smooth skin, with no major result in trying to calm you down, so he cleared his voice, making the attempt to be as cautious and reassuring with his words.

“I think you must understand that desire and lust is something we all possess, my lady, not just men.”

He was physically relieved when you stopped to be able to look at him, with his hand lingering on your forearm.

But your eyes were still dark with discomfort when they met his once again. “I won't be one of your girls, Feyd-Rautha.”

His lips parted, brow furrowing slightly, his voice kept low. “(Y/N)—”

He stood right there, utterly speechless, with his voice caught in his throat, watching you walk away from him, striding with steps that exuded pure anger up to your rocky palace. His hand dropped from your arm and returned to his side, now far from your warmth and heartbeat.

It took Feyd-Rautha a couple of minutes to pull himself together, sighing heavily, a small smirk curving his lips as he began to walk the path back to the Atreides' palace.

He was absolutely thrilled to discover this side of you that he hadn't previously seen. You were truly frightening and he was loving it.

By the time the moon was bright in the center of the dark sky, shining through the thickness of black, a pair of soft knocks sounded against your chamber door and you didn't have to use any hint of your skills to know who it was.

He looked at you with those now dark blue eyes from across the threshold, arm resting lightly against the grayish stone. He looked strangely troubled, look shadowed.

“Have you always been such a perfect seductress?”Feyd asked you just as you made a questioning gesture with your head. “How many men have you seduced like this?”

You looked him up with doubting eyes, frown slightly furrowed. “What are you talking about—”

He interrupted you in a scratchy voice, fearing somehow, that someone else might hear him, that someone else might witness how desperately vulnerable he was being, for you.

“You've broken me. All I can think about is you.”

Feyd took one step forward and you one step back, so you two moved as if you were in a kind of dance until he eventually entered your chambers, pulling the door shut behind him.

“I can't handle not touching you. It's a rule I'm on the brink of breaking for you.” He whispered and your breath caught in your throat, exhaling air in a stuttering gasp. “And I should— I'm expected to be a gentleman. I'm supposed to behave myself, keep my composure. But you… you are driving me crazy, woman, you play with my head, you've bewitched me.”

You could really see that he was trying to explain himself for you, attempting to articulate everything that was going through his head and you knew that it was very unusual for him to speak out loud about his feelings. And now, you were the one who couldn't say anything at all.

It was true, the most important rule your mother had emphasized to you was that you were not to get involved sexually, or in any way with your betrothed, until the very day of the actual wedding, as that particular night was meant to be consumed.

“Y—you shouldn't be here, my lord.” You managed to utter out after a few hesitant stutters, feeling your back brush against the wall and having him in front of you, trapping you against his body. He seemed to be struggling against his body, against his desire and instinct, hesitant hands twitching at his sides, nearly reaching out instinctively for your body.

“You were so bold back there talking back to me, what happened now? Aw, what happened, pretty?” He asked in a more teasing tone of voice, holding your gaze. “We could put that mouth of yours to good use then, hm?”

“My lord—”

“Call me by name.” He demanded, he begged you, whispering.

“Feyd...” You named him so obediently that it made him smile darkly to himself. “Someone might listen.”

“Are you afraid that someone will find out that two people who are getting married desired each other?” Feyd asked, half-closing his eyes and breathing out through his nose, as if trying to compose himself, trying to convince himself more than you. “There is nothing wrong for a husband to crave for his wife, right?”

You gulped, and his eyes instantly landed on your throat, watching as bone and muscle moved beneath the flesh, his tongue twitched, aching with all his will to be able to just lick the skin of your neck.

“I guess not.” Your voice trembled even when you were trying extra hard to sound confident and certain. “But we are not yet husband and wife.”

“Soon...” Feyd muttered, almost as if he was making a promise, uttering a vow.

His eyes closed as he finally rested his forehead against yours and suddenly, you were breathing from the same air. His trembling breath was warm against your lips and his scent was everything you could have ever craved... and it felt so familiar that your soul seemed to shudder, like something you had smelled all your life, something that had haunted you even in dreams, forever present but yet always so far distant.

“Can I touch you?” Feyd breathed out against your mouth after a few moments.

You didn't answer him verbally, instead you slowly took his hands between yours, fingers placing them in parallel against his, allowing you to feel every inch of the imprint drawn on his fingertips as you dragged yours across his palm, both feeling the size difference.

Then, you rested his big, calloused hands on your waist, allowing him to touch and hold you as much as he wanted and to permit him to do so, a single sight on your eyes was all it took.

He hissed as his hands molded the curve of your waist and instantly afterward drew you into his body, pulling you fully against the wall behind you. Your back arched instinctively and you gasped too, so softly, your chest pressed against his with the motion.

“Touch me.” Feyd-Rautha pleaded, he had never pleaded so... desperately for anything ever in his life.

That was your allowance for your hands reaching for his body, out of control, one making a slow path up through his strong arms while the other rested against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart under your palm, beating echoing your own. Your fingertips gently patted his muscles, recognizing his skin and his body. You got the abrupt urge to claim it as yours. To claim him.

You felt yourself blushing at all the overly imaginative and lustful images of him invading your head.

His nose brushed against yours, nuzzling it affectionately, still without opening his eyes, as if he were in some kind of dream from which he didn't want to wake up. His fingers caressed your belly, tracing a slow caress across your entire abdomen upward, while his other hand gripped your waist, holding you against him.

His touch triggered an immediate reaction across your flesh, skin shivering under his fingers.

Feyd whispered your name like a prayer, like a thirsty man, crawling and screaming for water.

“I'm trying to be good...”

“Don't be.” You whispered back, almost begging, looking up at him, gaze meeting his once he opened his eyes. “Please, Feyd—”

Then finally his lips landed on yours, initiating a kiss that you both craved so much, maybe he more than you for the way he brought you close to him, almost possessively, like a mad man, almost as if he was imprinting his mark on you, marking you for whoever had the courage to look at you.

He let himself sink in the way your lips fit against yours, in the warmth your body offered him, in the all too familiar sensation he could sense in every single fiber of his core from the kiss, your kiss.

Feyd-Rautha felt like a roaring beast just unleashed, ruthless and insatiable, just like when he walked into the arena, eager to kill, rooting against his opponents —and now he was rooting for you, to be near you, to intertwine his soul with yours, to claim you as his own.

And claiming you he was, his scent covered you all over now, making you feel a burning sensation in the pit of your stomach, throbbing crotch, blood seething like an infernal flare. Anyone who came near you would not only smell you, but him too, on every inch of your body. His hands roamed just under your breasts, rubbing across your ribcage and sliding down your back, fingers just barely grazing your ass, pressing you tightly against him in desperation, grasping and squeezing as much of your tender flesh as they could.

Your own palms roamed up his chest, caressing his broad shoulders, all the way up to his neck, tugging him closer to you in desperate motions, impossibly close.

When your bodies begged for oxygen, you broke the passionate kiss, leaving you both breathless. He kissed you once more, allowing you to breathe just for a few seconds before all you breathed was him. He wanted to become your oxygen, something indispensable to you, something you needed to live with, a necessity.

“You're the only one.” Feyd-Rautha mumbled out as his hot and soft lips trailed down a wet path all the way to your neck, tracing the line of your jaw with sloppy kisses, each time his lips pulled back from your skin a wet noise echoed and filled the room, making you gasp.

You could feel the way his lips were modulating each word against your skin, as if using a language so intimate and so tight that it took your breath away. A language known and used just between the two of you.

With desirous eyes he looked at the dark crimson mark he'd left on your throat before raising them across your flushed face, his hands cradling your jaw, thumbs caressing your skin tenderly.

“When my uncle gave me the announcement that I was to marry you, I kicked them all out.” He continued to explain, pecking your lips a couple of times before kissing each cheek, your forehead, your eyelids, your nose, every single feature of your entire face, with the utmost care and adoration.

No one had ever looked at you the way he was looking at you right now.

Feyd rasped out a small chuckle, breath warm tickling against your nose. “And by kicking them out I mean I killed them.”

His comment didn't surprise you at all, in fact, it didn't even provoke a reaction in you. During the week you had been in his company, you had already gotten used to Feyd-Rautha's -almost cruel- honesty and sassy remarks, you were just starting to get used to his very eccentric and unique attitude. Because the na-Baron's personality was something that was most captivating to you, he was so different yet so similar to you.

“Of course.” You replied, trying to hold back that dark grin on your lips, an action that caused him to kiss you once more, his attention was on your mouth the whole time as you spoke to him in that tone of voice. “I would expect nothing less from the Feyd-Rautha and for my future husband.”

Again he rested his forehead against yours and you were the one who kissed his lips this time. It had become a reassuring habit in a span of less than five minutes for both of you.

“I can't do anything to you until we get married, my uncle would find out otherwise. I have —we have— to behave, my love.”

He seemed to read your mind this time, or maybe it was the way you were looking at him, biting your lower lip gently, eyes darkened with desire, silently begging him to just take you right there against the wall when he called like that.

Perhaps Feyd-Rautha was a hopeless romantic just like you or he simply desired you in ways that went beyond mere sex or plain lust.

“Are you afraid of him?” You softly asked him, your fingers stroking the back of his neck, feeling the smoothness of his skin. Your fingertips followed the trail of one of his veins marked on his neck, making him gasp lightly.

“Have you seen him?” Feyd responded with another question, a curved little smile on his lips, his tone of voice directed pure sarcasm. “I don't think I'm in such a position as to challenge the Baron.”

You nodded your head, fingers stroking his cheekbones now, tapping the moles that spread across his face affectionately. “He's terrifying.”

Your heart seemed to melt as you watched him close his eyes and lean against your hand, kissing the palm in action.

“Mhm...” Feyd hummed, watching you attentively, as if he was memorizing every inch of your face. Suddenly, his expression changed to one of amusement.

“Were you seriously jealous of my darlings?”

Your heart seemed to drop to your stomach and burn with your guts as you heard the nickname fall from his mouth.

“Call them that again and I'll cut your throat.” You murmured against his lips, kissing them slowly before pulling away from his body, looking up at him with dark, yet playful eyes, your hand roaming across his chest until it fell to your side as you stepped away. Then you made your way towards your bed with a very slow pace, under the attentive gaze of his azure eyes following every movement of your hips.

His heart —apparently non-existent until then— was pounding like crazy inside his chest as his lips parted, for once again you had left him speechless.

That was living proof that you were simply made for him. And he for you.

And maybe that just meant you were each other's weakness, people would say so.

But he felt just invincible in your presence, as if your company made him behold the whole universe, gave him the power of the all galaxy at hand, making him feel like the only man in existence. Your man.

Feyd-Rautha had never felt so desperate to make you his wife and finally call you his.

#feyd rautha x reader #cosmictheo #feyd rautha one shot #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune x reader #dune 2 #dune imagine #austin butler x reader

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