#cw: dub con
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after dark
summary: he wants you. and he knows you need him.
pairing: geneticist!miguel o'hara x intern!reader
rating: explicit [18+] - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT
cw: dark!miguel, dub/non-con elements, somnophilia, dacryphilia, drugging, afab!reader, stalking, obsession, smut, slight size kink, piv sex, creampie, breeding kink, gaslighting (?), a bit of dumbification, miguel's nano-suit in action!
wc: ~1.7k
a/n: this is my submission for @romana-after-dark's dead dove december event!
masterlist
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Despite the obnoxious number of pillows, blankets, and stuffed animals on your bed, your body is completely uncovered. A sweet scene reserved for his eyes only.
You're curled up with your shirt shoved up to your chest, displaying your barely there panties that cling to your curves. Your body shivers unconsciously as a shadowed form cascades over your sprawled figure. He steps closer, his broad body blocking the moonlight that streams in through the window.
So unsuspecting. So…pure.
You nuzzle your face into your pillow with a sleepy sigh, body soft and relaxed, completely unaware of his presence. His claws dig into his palm as he holds himself back from touching you.
You've always been a tease, showing up to work with those naive eyes and sweet smiles. More than once, your fingers have brushed against his as you shyly handed him a cup of coffee, mumbling an adorable, "For you, Dr. O'Hara", before scurrying away.
Red eyes glow as you move to lay on your back, legs falling apart to show him how the fabric of your underwear presses perfectly against the softness of your cunt. Your arms lazily stretch above your body, resting against the mess of your hair on the pillow. He seethes at the sight of your tits, barely shielded by your t-shirt.
You want this.
He's sure of it.
You're practically begging for it with how sweet you smell.
A hand lightly brushes against your abdomen, moving methodically so the sudden touch doesn't accidentally wake you. A finger hooks the underside of your shirt and tugs it over the curve of your tits, revealing your pebbling buds to the cool air. Sensitive.
He swallows down a groan as he captures a tit in his hand and softly squeezes the soft mound. You arch your back against his thumb as it barely flicks over your nipple and a soft whimper slips from your pouty lips against your pillow.
His other hand palms over his covered cock as it throbs desperately at the sight. Damn, you're a heavy sleeper.
Miguel lets his touch drift lower, teasing at the waistband of your underwear. He traces that cute little bow in the front, a symbol of innocence above a needy cunt. You’re so cute, acting all pure when all you really need is a big cock to fill you up.
Two fingers press gently against your covered folds, prodding where you need him the most. You’re already wet for him, drenching the light fabric with your slick. He lightly tugs the underwear out of the way, needing to feel your sloppy cunt suck around his thick fingers.
Pulsing fangs dig into his bottom lip as he reveals your pussy, glistening so ethereally under the moonlight. He spreads your slick over your folds, mesmerized by the mess as you drip nectar onto the mattress below. God, you’re soaked. Even unconscious, you’re a desperate slut who’d take anything to be filled and bred.
He attempts to push a finger inside of you, tenderly nudging at your entrance until he can ease the tip of his index finger inside your hot core. About halfway in, your body stiffens and your legs instinctively spread apart.
You’re trying to let him in. You’re inviting him.
With more space, it’s easier to push in, to bury his finger until you’re wrapped around him. You feel so good, so wet and hot, perfectly tight around his finger. He can’t wait to feel the vice of your cunt around his cock.
Slowly, he pulls out, staring at the glistening tops of his knuckles, your mark on him. You let out a pretty sigh, so light and pleasurable and real that he’s afraid you woke up, but still you don’t open your eyes.
Miguel pushes back in, just as slow, but this time at an angle. The tip of his finger drags against the top wall of your cunt and your pussy flutters around him. This time you let out a rough moan, involuntary, but so delicious. You’re so responsive to him.
His mouth waters as the heady scent of your lust calls him to coax more pretty sounds and messy slick from your body. He nearly turns you over to shove his cock into you, needing to feel your cunt swallow him until you’re staining your pillowcase with drool and tears.
He needs more. But he also needs you to cooperate.
He leans over the side of the bed and hovers over your figure. His fangs throb under his top lip as he gets closer to you. He brushes your hair to the side, exposing your neck, eyeing the spot where your throat meets your shoulder.
He presses a gentle kiss against your shoulder before laving his tongue against his target area, your sweet taste egging him on. Your body shivers with sensitivity as his hot mouth works over your skin, but you stay asleep. Your lack of awareness gives him the confidence to take the bite.
An involuntary moan rumbles up from his chest as his fangs sink into your soft skin. Miguel has to hold onto your arms before he gets carried away from the feeling. Your head involuntarily tilts to the side to give him more access to your neck as your body throbs, and you groan as a wave of pain, pleasure, and shock fills your senses.
Your eyes flutter open when the bed dips next to you announcing his presence, but all you can see is scarlet eyes staring down with curiosity. Your mind is foggy as you try to sit up, but your body stays flat on the mattress, feeling heavy and helpless.
"Hmn…?"
Miguel coos lightly against your shoulder, “Shh…don’t worry, cariño. I’ll take care of you.”
You recognize that drawl, but you've never heard him so low and rough, “O’H-Hara?” You try to cover yourself with your blanket, slowly moving against whatever is holding you back, but he holds onto your wrist to stop your movements. “Wha–” You choke on your words as a sudden bout of heat spreads throughout your body.
The tingling hot sensation is overwhelming as it settles onto the surface of your skin. It makes your head fuzzy and susceptible.
"Let me help you..." Miguel settles over you and grinds his hips against yours, pinning you against your bed. He's hard against you, thick cock perfectly outlined by the thin fabric of his suit that's barely acting as a barrier between you. Your ruined underwear is still shoved to the side as he ruts himself against your cunt.
"Doctor..." Your body is immediately on fire, reacting mindlessly to his touch. You mewl wordlessly, arching your back and pressing harder against him. You don't know what's happening to your body. All you know is that you need more. "Please." It's a broken plea that leaves your tired lips.
There's an unbearable heat between your legs, but his body prevents you from pressing your legs together and reducing the intense feeling. He squeezes your wrists as you squirm under him, huffing in lustful frustration.
He whispers something above your ear that your scrabbled mind can't decipher, "Suit, Code Zero, Confirm."
But it doesn't really matter what he said when his bare body is finally pressing against you. He doesn't even have to line himself up before his aching cock is rubbing against your dripping folds, tip bumping so softly, yet earth-shatteringly, against your clit. “You don’t have to beg anymore, baby, I’ve got you…”
You cry out when he notches his cock against your entrance. He presses in slowly, letting you feel how completely he stretches you out. Miguel bites back a smile when he feels your legs shake against his hips. "This is what you wanted, isn't it, mi vida?" His voice is nearly a growl with how it drips with darkness.
You nod, eyes blearily searching his, wondering when he'll finally bottom out. Miguel watches your eyebrows scrunch together as you struggle with the intense pressure of him pushing in.
Adorable.
He groans when his hips finally meet yours, filling you to the brim. He doesn't waste time before beginning to move against you, fucking his cock into you over and over until you're eyes are rolling to the back of your head.
He doesn't stay gentle for long, easily losing himself to the feeling of your perfect little pussy wrapped around him. You can hear the distinct sound of his hips smacking against your thighs complimented by his rhythmic sopping jabs as he fucks you baselessly into your mattress.
It's all so much that you don’t even notice the tears that run down the sides of your heated cheeks onto the pillow under your head.
But he does.
"Feels that good, hm?" He teases, "Such a weepy baby. Can't even take a good fucking without cryin'." A raspy groan vibrates against you when your cunt accidentally flutters around him, unable to hold back against the pleasure he's forcing into your body. "Tell me you need me, cariño."
"I--" You try to hold yourself back from the edge, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of playing your body so perfectly, but then he rolls against you so fluidly, hitting that explosive spot inside of you.
"Go on, baby." Miguel encourages, "Say. It." He punctuates each word with a stabbing thrust right where you need him.
"Mngg..." Your cunt tightens impossibly hard around him as white fills your vision. A grated moan is squeezed out of your throat as you reach nirvana, every ounce of energy pushed out in one final bout.
You don't mean to cum, you don't even want to, but you have no control over your body.
You go boneless as he continues to fuck you, harsh strokes against your weak body. "Mm, I’m gonna fill you up so good, cariño." Your body stiffens, quickly pulled out of your temporary state of euphoria from his words, "...Gonna fuck a baby into this pussy so you'll never leave me."
You try to shove yourself out of his hold, but his hold is too strong.
"W-wait, Dr. O--"
"It's Miguel." He growls out.
"Don't -- not inside --" Miguel ignores your pleas, letting go of one wrist to place his hand over your mouth. You can't do anything against his large body as he frantically ruts into you, taking everything he wants and more.
"You want this," He huffs. "You need me, baby. Need to be filled up and taken care of." He gives a few more hard, sloppy thrusts before shoving himself deep inside and painting your cunt with his cum.
#deaddovedecember2023#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o’hara#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara smut#cw: somno#cw: somnophilia#cw: dub con#em's 123 celebration
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My Fanfic 💖 Under the Moonlight (Harry Potter)
Remus Lupin/Severus Snape, Rated E, 472 words
@hpkinktober || Day #3 Werewolves
Werewolf Sex, Trope Subversion, Potions, Dubious Consent
There was a delight in their perversions — how they chose to meet in the forest during the full moon.
Link: AO3 or Dreamwidth
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It got deleted again 😂
Thoughts on dark childhood best friend!Johnny!
Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, thigh fucking, somnophilia, tell me if I missed any.
He’s always been a bit touchy since you were kids, holding your hand, hugging you, kissing your cheek or even pressing himself against you whenever he could. It had always been innocent as kids, some kind of puppy-love that you were willing to give back, looking for him whenever you were out, eyes cued to look for the familiar blues that you came to love so much. You were neighbours, living right across from him in a quaint house, unbothered by many siblings that his mother kept popping out.
Your mother was sweet, letting him come by whenever he wanted to escape the hectic mess of his house, and you were the sweetest thing he’d ever known. You were so willing to act as his distraction, pulling him away from the chaos and into your safe haven : your room. It quickly became his room as much as it was yours, he spent so many nights sleeping in your room, sharing your bed with him, his arms wrapped around your hip and face nuzzled in your hair.
Once puberty rolled in, his voice deepening and facial hair growing, he started packing more weight and strength, his ego swelling with all the dopey eyes he received from girls his age and older, but they never strayed from you. He only had eyes for you, his best friend. They roved over your aging body, your breast swelling and hips becoming a dangerous temptation to him. He knew you looked at him as nothing but your best friend, the guy you grew up playing with and sharing happy moments, but he couldn’t stop the growing tent in his briefs when he jumped in bed with you at night.
He didn’t feel guilty about getting hard at the sight of you in shorts and an oversized t-shirt, it was natural, a reaction towards the opposite sex being so clearly comfortable with him. He became much more intimate with the placements of his hands, they would slip under your shirt, over the softness of your stomach and under your growing boobs. Despite your protest and sleepy grumble, he’d steal a touch of your pebbled nipples, round and hard before dipping down your waist and placing them a bit too high on your thighs to be considered platonic.
You complained but rarely retaliated because he reasoned with you that a lot of best friends were this touchy, grinding your ass when you were sleeping on your stomach, groping your softness while he panted and groaned, his cock leaking a wet patch on his pants. This was normal, he had rights to you that none other had because Johnny was your childhood best friend.
“One more, Bonnie,” he gasped, gazing at your lips, open and glistening with drool while you slept, unaware that he was rutting against your thigh, “A need one more, please.”
#x reader#cod mw2#cod mw2 x reader#mw2 smut#john soap mactavish#soap mw2#soap x reader smut#soap x reader#dark cod#tw: dark content#dark content#tw dubcon#tw: dub con#tw: dubcon#dub con#dubious consent#cw: somno#tw somnophilia#tw: somnophilia#cw: non con#tw noncon#tw: non con#tw: noncon#non con#dead dove do not eat#soap smut#Cbf!johnny#john soap mctavish smut
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leopard print.
4.5k, joel x f!reader; special guest in tags
SUMMARY: Depraved one shot based on this. Joel mistakes you for a sex worker, offers you a ride, Fs you, shares you and is mildly possessive about it.
WARNINGS: I8+ strangers, drugs, talk of sex work, unsafe public P in V, dubcon (drugs/alc, not noticeably intoxicated), cockwarming, degradation, pantygagging, creampies, car stuff, orgasm delay m, vaginal plugging, voyeurism, sharing. Unedited.
A/N: Night walks vibes, but different too. You'll see. New fantasy for myself 😫
"And if I was workin'?" You ask. He gives a low whistle. "Wouldn't know where to start," he murmurs. "But I can tell ya how it'd end." He looks at your skirt. . . "She'd be wrecked n' beggin' for more, baby." Your fingers absentmindedly graze your chest. . . He sticks the joint in his mouth and shamelessly adjusts himself with both hands, tucking it into his waistband.
You pull into the gas station on the back of your friend's motorcycle. "When I fuel up, I'm outta here," he warns you. Oh well. If you have to walk back to your friend's condo, it's only two blocks. He's grumpy – You and your girlfriends have been a hot mess at the pool all day playing floating beer pong and licking alcoholic whipped cream off each other. He didn't wanna take you with him in the first place. No helmet, no reasonable shoes, not even a shirt.
You swing your leg off the motorcycle and as you step down onto the ground with your red wedges, you adjust your cheap, stretchy leopard print miniskirt. It matches, or clashes, with your leopard print bikini. You leave your sunglasses on as you enter the gas station with a chime. You fish a damp $20 out of your bikini top and survey the snacks.
You feel someone lurking nearby, but ignore it until you hear a deep, smooth voice. "Nice rosettes."
"s’cuse me?"
You turn only slightly toward the man. Maybe homeless. Good looking like a washed up rockstar. He gestures toward your bikini top. "That's a nice set'a rosettes." You look down at your tits spilling out of your push-up bikini top, then you look back at his face. Handsome man, really. Salt and pepper beard. Full head of dark hair with a little gray. Sunkissed skin. His eyes are kind and glassy. His nose twitches. "Oh, that's what leopards call their spots. Rosettes."
You laugh uncomfortably.
“Yeah, the ones on your top, those are pretty good.” His eyes drift down your body. “Skirt doesn’t really have’em right. Still nice though.”
"Thanks." You politely nod and return to looking at the snacks, ignoring him in the corner of your eye.
He doesn’t leave. He only gets closer. He looks you up and down and steps into your personal space. He lowers his voice. "You, uh, workin'?"
No, you don't work there. Do you look like you work at the gas station? Your stomach turns as you realize what he means, and your face goes cold. You stare at him, and your eyes drift to a hole in his shirt right below the collar. "Am I WHAT?" You ask incredulously, but trying to be quiet. Your whole body feels hot at the implication. You're humiliated, but for some reason it makes you warm between the thighs, too.
His eyes go wide, and he puts his hands up in surrender. "Sorry," he mumbles, then adds, "A man can dream,” as he backs away.
Your heart races and flutters and you scold yourself for being flattered. You end up in line behind the guy. And the line takes forever, giving you plenty of time to fume and also wonder about him. It's nothing against sex work – Work is work. But you'd like to think you wouldn't be picking up a rough looking guy in a gas station. Your friend's motorcycle revs outside. You look out the window and he's there by the curb waiting for you. You could drop the snacks on the closest rack and get the heck out. But for some reason, you stay in line, and not because you’re that hungry.
Someone needs to scoot behind you and you're forced to step into the sleazy man's personal space. He smells far better than you would have imagined. Woodsy and fresh. Somehow that makes all the difference, like he's not a filthy vagrant after all. He just had the aesthetic. Which is kinda hot. Your friend on the motorcycle shakes his head, revs his engine again, then drives away.
"Asshole," you mutter.
The man in front of you (your aspiring john) glances back and again mutters, "sorry." He scratches the back of his neck and exposes a chain under his ratty t-shirt. He really does have a nice head of hair, and now you see there’s a joint behind his ear, too. Maybe he’s just a hippy.
"Not you," you mumble. Well, not only him. Both of them.
He turns to face you. "I know. Saw ya roll in." Great, so he thought that was your pimp. "Want a ride?"
"Nah, I’m close," you mutter without looking right at him, then mumble, “thanks.”
He wets his lips and stares at your chest for a moment before adding, "ya sure?" And now that you know this man smells good, wears a chain, and has a ride, you're throbbing. You cross your arms and bite your lip looking at his handsome nose while his kind eyes search yours in anticipation.
"Okay," you whisper.
"Hell yeah," he whispers back with half a smile, getting a little closer, like the two of you are plotting something.
"But I'm not workin'," you remind him.
"Heard ya the first time, gorgeous." He winks at you.
He tries to buy your food for you. When you don't let him, he nods with a smirk. He crosses his big arms, plastic bag that reads “thank you” hanging from one of them, and waits for you. Then he holds the door open on your way out.
He checks you out as you pass through the door frame. You take your sunglasses off and put them in the bag with your snacks.
"Name's Joel." When you don't tell him yours, there’s a new smirk in his voice when he says, "don't gotta tell me your real name, if ya got a street name or somethin'. . ."
"Jerk." You punch his arm and mostly suppress a laugh.
He smiles and brings a massive hand to his bicep to pretend like it hurts, and for the first time it hits you how muscular he is.
"Truck's around back." He nods toward the back of the store. He walks slightly behind you. You feel his eyes boring a hole in your ass. Then you feel the warmth of his massive palm on the small of your back and he gets closer to you as he curves his hand around your side. "Too damn hot, baby. Had me thinkin' with my dick is all." Your face heats up and you glance at him. “I’ll carry that for ya.” He takes your bag.
He's parked around a corner out of view. Between some bushes and a closed library for some reason. His truck is nice, and it's big. Tinted windows. The back window of the cab says Miller Brothers. It's sunset, so you're grateful for the ride, lest any other low lifes make the same mistake on your walk back. When y'all get to his truck, he lets his hand slide down your hip. He opens the driver’s seat and puts the bags inside. Then he leans against his truck and adjusts himself. He's wearing pinstripe lounge pants. "Can't really blame me, can ya?" He raises his eyebrows. He scans you top to bottom again. "God damn, baby."
You laugh and look down shyly, unsure whether to thank him. His eyes don't leave your body at all. "To be fair, I thought you were homeless," you admit.
He exhales a laugh and shrugs. "Where ya headed?"
"Back to my friend’s pool."
"Hungry?"
"Nah."
"Smoke?" So that’s why you’re still outside the truck. You shouldn't, but you hesitate curiously.
You lean against the bed of his truck with your elbow resting on its edge, facing him.
"Fuck you're sexy," he mutters to himself. "Helluva rack but I'm an ass man, c'mere."
He turns toward you so he's leaning with his left side on the driver's side of the truck. He puts his right hand on your hip, rotating you so you're facing the truck. "Mmmmm." He puts his hand on the small of your back again, then slides it down–slowly, experimentally, cautiously enough for you to stop him. You don't. You're throbbing. He grabs your ass–his palm is huge. You glance at him and watch his eyes study the curve of your body. Deep down in your body, you know you're gonna fuck him. You both know it. With his left hand he retrieves the joint from behind his ear and puts it in his mouth unlit.
He sucks in a breath around the joint and lifts the flesh of your closest ass cheek. When he lets it drop, a growl escapes his chest.
He fishes a lighter out of his soft pants pocket and lights up. and as he inhales, once again he can't keep his eyes off your body. He takes the joint out of his mouth and turns your face toward his. You rotate toward him and he gets close, your bodies almost touching. He looks to your eyes for permission and begins to slowly exhale downward, so it's yours if you want it. You bring your mouth closer to his and he angles the smoke more toward your mouth as you suck it up. The moment seems to last forever and your lower belly is on fire.
The sunset washes everything in a pink hue. When his lungs are empty, he murmurs "good girl" and rests his hand on your hip, lightly running his palm over your stretchy little miniskirt, feeling the bump toward the top hem where your bikini tie is. He peels the top of your stretchy skirt down to expose the knot and pulls at the string. You let him untie it. The parking lot is empty and wet from an earlier rain.
"Fuck you're hot," he mutters with the strings of your bikini hanging over the miniskirt on that side. He takes another puff and passes you the joint. You take only a small inhale. "C'mere," he murmurs and his hand on your waist nudges your side off the truck and pulls you closer to him. He unties that side of your bottoms the same way.
"And if I was workin'?" You ask.
He gives a low whistle. "Wouldn't know where to start," he murmurs. "But I can tell ya how it'd end." He looks at your skirt.
You ask, "How's that?"
He doesn't take his eyes off your skirt. "She'd be wrecked n' beggin' for more, baby." Your fingers absentmindedly graze your chest, feeling where your tits spill over the cups. "Careful sugar," he chuckles. "Start me up, I won't ever stop." He sticks the joint in his mouth and shamelessly adjusts himself with both hands so his cock is upright and held in his waistband. He offers the joint again and you decline. He pinches it out and puts it back behind his ear. "Damn," he mutters, still checking you out. He rubs his hand over his cock through his soft pants. "But ya *ain’t* workin'. . . so ya got nothin' to worry 'bout," he adds with a twinkle in his eye. "''Less ya want it . . ." God, you do. You want it.
"Wrecked, huh?" You challenge him.
He sighs and his big hand on your hot skin rotates you back toward the truck. You hang your elbows over the side of the truck bed. He slinks behind you, then lets the heft of his cock against your ass crack. You gasp at how nice and hard it is. It moves against you and he sucks in a breath through his teeth then lets out a, "Mmm" as he exhales. He rolls his hips against you and uses both hands on your hips to pull your ass back into him so you're off the truck.
He holds you with one arm around your waist and his other hand slides between your legs from the front, up your skirt. "Bad girl, ain't ya?" His hand skims up your inner thigh to the crotch of your swimsuit, hanging loosely now that it's untied on both sides. "Yeah, ya are,” he answers for you. He slides two thick fingers through your folds and you sigh, tilting your head back. "Spread your legs for a stranger?." His voice is deep and gruff and makes you throb. “S’okay, not just any stranger.” His other hand grabs a tit while he runs his fingers through your dripping folds, then begins to circle your clit with his drenched digits. "Oh she's beggin' for it, baby," he murmurs.
He lets your weight against the truck again so his forearm is between you and the metal with his hand still between your legs. His cock presses against your ass at a slow rhythm, making your insides swell with need for him as he fingers your clit. You squirm and your hips rock into his hand. You whimper and he brings his mouth to your ear. "Five hundred," he whispers.
You gasp and he adds, "Not you. . .I'm workin' now, baby" as he speeds up on your clit. "I'm a penthouse boy, but that's your back alley discount."
"Fuck you," you laugh.
"First one's free if i cum inside," he murmurs into your neck. Then he grabs the crotch of your swimsuit and yanks it down, pulling it off entirely. He pins you to the truck with his cock against your ass. He shoves the swimsuit in your mouth and ties the strings behind your head. You taste the chlorine and your own arousal. You turn your head to look behind you and he reassures you no one can see.
His hand returns between your legs and he slips one, then two thick, wet fingers into you. Your cunt squelches obscenely around his digits. "Hell yeah, hear her beggin' for me?". He frees his cock from his pants and keeps fingering you. Then he slides his fingers out and your walls twitch at the loss. He wedges his cock under your skirt and it’s so big you have to spread your legs more. He runs the head through your folds and you’re gushing. As the head massages your clit, you moan into the swimsuit in your mouth. "Want the first one free, don't ya?" He taunts into your neck, dragging his lips along the delicate skin. "Want me to fill up this filthy hole?" You nod, desperate to feel him inside you. "First with this cock, then all the cum ya can hold," he murmurs and you nod. You tilt your hips and spread your legs. "Good," he breathes. "Good girl." He notches himself with the curve of his tip just inside. "Ready to swallow me whole, hot damn."
You push back on him and he says, "shit," and pushes into you. He slides right into you, spreading your cunt wide open with a groan into your neck. It's a delicious stretch and he fills you to the brim, bottoming out on the first go. "God damn, sugar." He retreats and slides his thick cock into you again, sheathing it entirely with your dripping cunt. You weren't even sure you could take this cock but it's perfect. "Fuck, you feel good," he pants and twitches inside you. If he comes early you're going to laugh but you pray he won't. He begins to roll his hips at a steady rhythm, and you moan into the swimsuit. He breathes heavily against your neck and bites and sucks you. You adjust your hips and push back on him to his rhythm.
"Take it like a pro," he pants, "an' you're tight, too. Damn." His right hand works your clit. His left hand comes to your throat, thumb on the left side of it, fingers on the right. Choke me, you think. Do it. But he doesn't. He licks and kisses at the left side of your throat, by his thumb. Then his fingers on the right of your neck tense for leverage and he plants his teeth on the left side of your neck. He sucks hard and moans into you as he sucks more, like he's thirsty for blood. Your neck aches under the grip of his mouth. He breathes through his nose, and when he finally breaks with a gasp, he fucks you harder, grunting and sighing.
You moan and he pulls your top down under your tits. A breeze and the rustling of branches nearby reminds you of the danger and you shiver. Your nipples harden under his forearm and palm and your cunt spasms. He groans behind your ear and you whimper and arch your back.
"Gonna come on this cock?"
You can only whimper again in response.
"Go 'head, baby," he breathes and reaches for your clit again, groping a breast with his other hand.
You bite down on the swimsuit and your body jerks into his as you come undone. "Oh yeah," he sighs. "Fuck yeah, ohhh baby." He thrusts into you harder and you moan as your cunt chokes his cock, and with another powerful thrust he bottoms out and begins to erupt with a long sigh, pulsing warmly inside you. Then he reaches for your face and pulls down the swimsuit gag. As you gasp for air, he turns your head toward him. He kisses you deeply with his cock still rutting deep and slow inside you, pulsing the last of his seed into your depths. He moans into your mouth. And when your lips disconnect, he looks at you softly. Your eyes lock for a few seconds, more intimately than you’d expect. Then you feel awkward, and look at the back of his truck–Miller Brothers. You say the first thing that comes to mind. "Joel Miller, huh?" You cringe at yourself.
He raises his eyebrows. "What, like the sound'a Miller?"
Your face goes hot and you make a joke to change the subject. "Your brother’a penthouse boy too?"
Joel's cock slides out of you and you feel empty. He starts to fix your swimsuit top and says, "Somethin' like that. . .I'll introduce ya," as he finishes straightening it. What are you, dating now?
You start to protest, "Oh, I dunno," then pivot to something more agreeable but noncommittal. “Sure, maybe sometime.”
—---
Joel walks you to the passenger side. What a gentleman. He opens the door for you. The seat isn't empty. There's a handsome man with longer, curly hair, a sexy smile, and his hands in his lap.
"Name’s Tommy," Joel says behind you. "My lil bro."
When Tommy lifts a hand to give you a little salute, you see his cock is out of his pj pants. "Howdy, sweetheart." He's not even shy about it. He raises his eyebrows and holds it at attention for you, thick and hard. Butterflies swarm in your stomach and you can't take your eyes off it. "Kept the seat warm for ya," Tommy beams.
"Go on, sugar," Joel nods to Tommy's lap. "’fore my cum leaks out everywhere."
Your heart races and your clit throbs. It feels like you're in a dream. This is so lewd and vile. But you just got pounded in a parking lot, and who's gonna know, and who cares. You wanna sit on that cock.
You look at Joel and he shrugs. "Don't gotta, but it's there." He leans in and gives you a kis, then murmurs "An’ she won't be leakin’ all over." He chuckles, then kisses you again. Damn, he’s a good kisser. When his head pulls back, you give him a devious, inquisitive look. and he says, "that's my girl." He helps you up and you scrunch up your skirt more. "She's hot as fuck, man," he tells his brother.
You're facing the windshield, and it's like Tommy’s just part of the seat. It's a large truck so there's enough clearance over your head. Tommy's large hands come to your thighs.
"I got her," Joel says and Tommy moves his right hand to hold his cock for you. You tilt your hips and Tommy notches himself at your hole, which is still pulsing with an occasional aftershock. Before too much of Joel's cum can trickle down Tommy's cock, they both pull you down on him and you're stuffed full once again.
"Good girl," Tommy whispers. Joel looks at you lustily and reaches his hand between your legs. He gives your clit a little rub, and you spasm on Tommy’s cock with an aftershock from Joel.
"Goddamn," Tommy mutters.
"Yeah," Joel whispers, then gives you another kiss. He shoots Tommy a serious look. "Don't fuckin' come inside her."
"I know, I know." Tommy hugs you back into his broad chest. "I’ain’t nothin' but a seat, honey. A seat and a plug." The crudeness makes you twitch.
Joel shuts the passenger door and goes back around to the driver's side. Tommy murmurs softly behind your ear. "Ya feel nice, though."
Joel buckles his seatbelt and starts the engine. Tommy rests his hands casually on your hips and his thick cock twitches inside you. He clears his throat.
"Tellin' ya, man," Joel warns.
"Nothin' to worry 'bout, brother," Tommy reassures him, playing it cool. "You used her up good."
Joel backs up the truck and asks, "Where to?"
You tell him the building. It's already in view in the distance as you approach the street to pull out from the parking lot. "There," you point to it. Joel opens his Takis and puts a few in his mouth. Your walls are hugging Tommy's cock as Joel eats his snack and drives. You bounce on Tommy's thick cock as Joel pulls onto the main street, immediately getting stuck at a red light. You moan, and Tommy stifles a grunt then whispers "shhhh," into your hair. It's not a long way. But you're stuck in traffic.
"What do you listen to?" Joel asks and turns on the radio. It's on the local classic rock station.
"That works," you mumble, laid back against Tommy's barrel chest with your eyes half closed. While Joel is focused on the road, Tommy wedges his hand under one of the push-up cups of your bikini.
Tommy sighs, then whispers into your right ear where Joel can’t see. "Sexy little thing ain't ya." His cock twitches. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying not to moan. He lightly pinches your nipple then fixes your suit again. God his cock feels good. You're almost to your friends condo, but you don't want it to be over.
"Can you, uh–can you take me to my place instead?" You ask
Joel looks at you and cocks an eyebrow. "Not back to the pool?" You shake your head sleepily. "Tuckered out, huh?” he chuckles. “That's okay baby. Where ya live?"
You tell him the apartment complex. It's a couple miles further. "Good girl," Tommy whispers, pleased to have you on his cock a little longer. As Joel drives, you feel Tommy subtly lifting his hips. The bumps in the road have you bouncing on him too. And with the slow traffic, wearing nothing but a bikini top and a miniskirt, you catch a few stares, even through the dark tinted windows. It turns you on more. It turns Joel on, too. He's hard again and rubbing himself over his pj's which are wrecked with drying drops of his cum, your juices, and a darker new spot of precum. Tommy’s cock is so thick, and it throbs, and occasionally twitches, and you can so freshly conjure the feeling of Joel pounding you too, whispering filth into your ear.
Your body’s building toward another climax, but you’re trying not to let it. Your cunt spasms, and Tommy's chest expands under your back with a deep inhale. "Shhh, it's okay," he murmurs. You’re almost there.
"Joel, i–" you reach over for him. He looks at your face and does a double take. "Shit," he peels into the closest corner. "It's okay, hold on for me sugar."
Tommy moans, trying so hard not to cum. "You better fuckin not,” Joel growls at Tommy. Joel takes off his seat belt as he parks and urgently takes his cock out. "C'mere baby," Joel reaches for you. Tommy groans and you feel a little pulse as he hoists you off his cock. Your cunt twitches, trying to hang onto Tommy, not wanting to let him go. Tommy erupts as his cock slides out of you and his cum paints your folds. He moans through it, cock in his hand, cum gurgling onto his fist, head tilted back, eyes closed.
Meanwhile Joel pulls you toward him and your cunt is beginning to flutter ever so slightly around nothing, but you’re staving off a full climax. You kneel on the empty seat between them and Joel urgently pulls you into straddling him. His cheeks are flushed and his face is serious. "yeah, I got ya baby." He wets his lips, then his mouth hangs open as his tip finds your hole and he pulls you down on his dick, even thicker than you remember. "Hell yeah," he whispers and you're packed full of cock again. "Uungghh yeah," Joel lifts his hips into you and you cum on his cock right away.
"Oh fuck," you gasp, "Joel–ugghgh," you moan unrestrained and tilt your head back. He catches it in his hand and brings your face to his. You clench around his cock and he fucks up into you slowly. Your lips break with moans from each of you as you cum on his cock and he moves you. He hugs you into him and latches onto the unmarked side of your neck. Then your clit is grinding into him as he keeps moving you on him while your climax wanes.
"So damn hot, baby. Really take it like a pro." His words make you spasm again, and Joel groans. He rocks you on his cock, biting his lip. You can tell from how quiet he is, he’s trying not to cum so fast. But he can’t help it and after a minute, he asks, "Ready for another load?" You nod, desperate to feel him pulse inside you. "Think ya can handle it?"
You nod and roll your hips into him. You could come again, too.
"Hell yeah, that's my bad girl–oh, fuck, fuck–ohhh.” He grunts from the back of his throat as his cock pulses enormously inside you, adding to his first load. As his moan wanes, his lips latch onto yours again. Your lips move together, and you begin to clench around his cock again, whimpering into his mouth with the pleasure. It seems to last forever. When your lips break, he reads your eye and mutters, "fuck, you're hot.”
He breathes heavily while his pulses continue but echo smaller and smaller, as with your aftershocks on him. He sits back against the seat for a moment catching his breath. "You're somethin' else," he whispers, then looks around outside. "What unit are you?"
You tell him your apartment number and point out the building. You stay impaled on his cock as he drives to that building. He nuzzles his nose and mouth into your neck. He parks the car, then spends another moment with you. He nibbles your neck, presses sweet kisses into your jaw, fixes your hair, then whispers, "Nice to meet ya, sugar."
Tommy gets out of the truck and walks around to the driver’s side, and opens Joel’s door. Joel kisses you goodbye, deeply, with tongue, and helps hoist you off his cock. Tommy helps you down out of the truck while Joel tucks his cock away. Tommy gives you a hug and kisses you on the cheek. Then they drive away and leave you wrecked and wanting more.
---------
thank you so much for reading and engaging! I really love and appreciate y'all.
For more Joel and Tommy, check out stuffing.
if you liked this joel... you'd like the night walks AU, If you like the sharing with a hint of dominance/possessiveness, I think walkintotheriveranddisappear has a gang bang where only Joel can cum inside. I have Tommy's hard day (established free use relationship with Joel)
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EDIT - alright I've gotten several messages this week saying notifs aren't working. I think they might be delayed for some people but idk what to do. I guess I'm temporarily bringing this back but idk if it's even the most recent list 🤡 please subscribe to notifs on toxicfics if you haven't already. If you haven't been getting notifs, you can see the most recent fics you missed on toxicfics.
All Joel: @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz
@within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading @daddy-dins-girl
#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller fanfiction#toxicanonymity ☠️#tommy miller x reader#tommy miller smut#cw dubcon#tw dubcon#cw dub con#tw dub con#night walks!joel
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stepbro!könig and stepbro!krueger thots ... ☆‧₊˚.
tw: stepcest, non-con/dub-con (peer pressure, blackmail), degrading.
— stepbrother!könig is teasing and degrading. he loves to make you feel like you're worth nothing, especially if it's because you haven't pleased him with a nice, sloppy, and sticky blowjob. :3
stepbrother!krueger on the other hand, is addicted to seeing you cry. he's so mean, brutal with his pace when he demands you to bend over and present that pretty, and tight cunt to him! both him and könig love to gang up against you, so they can blackmail you with skimpy, scandalous photos of you -- threatening to leak it if you didn't please them like they asked.
instead of arguing or retorting back at them, you meekly turned around, getting smacked in the rear causing you to jolt and squeak, listening to the sounds of könig tutting with impatience clear in his voice.
“haven't got all day, mäuschen...” you slide your panties off, spitting a fat glob of saliva on your hand and rubbing your clit in circles so you're wet and dripping! sloppy, and sopping wet. just like a good stepsister should be...
“now be a smart girl and arch that back for us.”
krueger's accent is prominent in the air, pushing up against you, both hands on your hips. he sloppy humps you, wet and sticky, cum sticking to your thighs and covering your folds. he's only inside for a few minutes before he's cumming all over your slit, coating you in thick strings of cum.
they both take turns of you. könig's hard dick easing into your asshole without preparation, causing you to grip anything around you tightly, panting and whimpering through the ache. his thrusts are harsh and rough, making sure to fuck some sense into his dumb stepsister who always falls for their threats...
— at dinner, they're both pieces of shit. not only to eachother, but you especially. you're just a little ragdoll to take their anger out on. whether that's by eating you out underneath the table while you speak to your mother and stepfather, holding back moans and gasps when krueger drags his tongue over your sensitive clit. just like the cheeky bastard he is...
stepbrother!könig is always riled up. even when you're a few metres away from your mother who was preparing dinner in the kitchen, he'll hide behind a wall close to the kitchen, pinning you against the same wall, rutting into you while covering your mouth with a large, calloused hand. your muffled whines and mewls fall onto death's ears as he fits himself whole inside you, his balls smacking against your ass repetitively.
and your mother always asks why you both stink of sweat, and all you can do is shrug your shoulders shyly.
könig won't hesitate to grab your hand, bring it over to his lap and take out his cock, having you jerk him off underneath the blanket while you're all watching a movie. all it does is leave krueger pissed off, jealous, and horny... you owe him a handjob too, now. :3
translation: mäuschen - little mouse
banner credit: saradika
#orla speaks#tw stepcest#stepcest cw#tw: stepcest#stepcest#dub con#tw: dubcon#tw: non con#tw noncon#non con#tw: noncon#könig#könig call of duty#könig x reader#könig mw2#sebastian krueger#krueger x reader#cod krueger#krueger#sebastian krueger x reader#krueger cod#konig x reader smut#konig x reader#konig call of duty#konig mw2#cod mw2
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legally binding - neuvillette x reader (8.4k)
monsieur neuvillette will ensure that he finds your brother not guilty at trial. for a price.
cw: not sfw, minors dni. DARK CONTENT. extremely dubious consent/non-consent. clothed neuvillette, naked reader. cunnilingus, threats of caning, blackmail, fingering, piv sex, coming inside. neuvillette refers to reader as "little one". reader is afab and is described using language such as 'breasts' and 'cunt'.
“If the terms of our arrangement are not agreeable to you,” the honorary Iudex says to you, his gloved hands steepled before him as he sits calmly behind his desk, “you do, of course, have the right to say ‘no’ at any time. I shan’t hold it against you. It merely means that the particulars of our little entente need not be fulfilled on my end, either.”
You press your lips together as frustration and anger war within you. You would like to explode at him; you would like to pull the books lining his office walls down and use them as projectiles to hit him straight in his infuriatingly calm and peaceful face.
That he has the nerve to keep talking to you like this - his voice perfectly even, almost calm, his tone soothing and bordering on paternal (like you’re a little child who he’s telling the ways of the world to), when his proffered ‘agreement’ is so heinous . . .
“You’re utterly abhorrent,” you seethe to him, but the Iudex does not react to being called such a thing - merely tilts his head to one side.
“So you’ve said,” he agrees mildly. “But it does not change your position, does it?”
He is right in that. You stand there awkwardly for one moment more, debating if this is really the hill you are willing to die on; if you are indeed ready to trade away your dignity for the price of your brother’s freedom.
He seems to take pity on your floundering.
“You agreed to this,” he reminds you, his tone unerringly gentle and patient. “But it does not mean you have to go through with it. I will keep the terms of our pact, my dear, as long as you uphold your own - but I will not hold it against you if you decide you are not . . . brave enough to follow through.”
You wince despite yourself at the deliberate emphasis of the word. You know that this is not bravery; you know, too, that what Monsieur Neuvillette is asking you to do is nothing short of corruption of the highest order.
And too you know that the only person ranked higher than him you could conceivably go to is Lady Furina herself.
“I’m sure that a guilty verdict for your brother would not be so bad,” Monsieur Neuvillette continues, and despite the mild tone he uses he must know that he is hitting you exactly where it hurts. “Incarceration is not the be-all and end-all, nowadays - why, many enjoy the Fortress so much they choose not to leave even once their sentence has been finished--”
“Don’t,” you squeak out, and Neuvillette stops speaking. You take a slow breath to steady yourself, and when your voice comes out this time it sounds far more certain than before. You’re proud of yourself, even, for the way that it quavers for only an instant at the end of your next sentence. “I’ll follow through on our agreement.”
“Lovely,” Neuvillette lowers his chin so that it rests atop of the steeple of his gloved fingertips. “I’m glad that you understand the position we’re both in. Well, then, shall we begin?”
You give him a jerky little nod, and he smiles at you like an Archon receiving a prayer of benediction. You stand there awkwardly for a moment more, before Neuvillette lets out a soft chuckle.
“Oh, you poor thing,” he murmurs, more to himself than you. “You really haven’t done any of this before, have you? Let me make it easier for you. Why don’t you disrobe and show me what you have on under your clothing, hmm?”
You take a slow, calming breath. This is not so bad; you had known you would have to take off your clothes for this bargain. You suppose, if you had been a different kind of person, you might even have felt a thrill at the thought that it would be Monsieur Neuvillette who would be the first man to see you bared - but instead, there is just a cold thumping terror as you work at the buttons and catches of your outfit.
You are dressed smartly but not prettily. You have never had much time for the fripperies that many Fontaine citizens prefer to indulge in - and especially for your meetings as a desperate petitioner with the Iudex, you had thought sombre was the way to go. This has carried through even to your undergarments - the chemise you wear is plain, without even a trimming of lace. Your brassiere is equally simple, as are the plain cotton bloomers that hide your most intimate place from his inquisitive eyes.
You swallow as your thumb and forefingers fasten about the hem of your chemise - and then, thinking it better to rip off the bandage from the wound rather than pussyfoot about it, you pull it off and drop it in an unruly pile with the rest of your outer clothes by the Iudex’s desk.
He sits there in silence for a moment that seems to stretch out for an hour.
“Not much for decoration, hmm?” He asks, after what seems like forever. You shift there awkwardly from foot to foot. You have never been looked at before like this by a man - and though you do not want him to find you attractive, the idea that he’s disappointed in what’s before him is equally horrible. He chuckles softly beneath your breath at the expression that must flit across your face. “Ah, please don’t mistake me as unappreciative. There is very little as lovely as simplicity, I find.” Your cheeks heat. “On that note - I think we ought to lose this layer too. Let me see you as nature intended, my dear.”
You had thought that once the first layer of your clothing had been stripped, it would get easier, but you find now that it is much the opposite. Your hands tremble as you reach behind you for the clasp of your brassiere. It is cool in his office, but a bead of sweat rolls down the nape of your neck and sets your palm sticky and wet, and it takes you three attempts to unclip.
You have never been shy before - you had certainly not been shy when you had barrelled up to the Iudex in public and demanded an audience with him, much to the distaste of all around him - but this is enough to make you feel awkward.
The fabric falls away from the swell of your chest, and Monsieur Neuvillette makes a pleased little noise almost like a purr in the back of his throat.
“Ah,” he says. “Very nice. The underwear too, if you please.”
Your nipples stiffen in the cool air of his office, the buds puckering and hardening under the twin problems of the temperature and Neuvillette’s stare. It is even harder to convince yourself to hook your thumbs into your underwear, but eventually your body agrees to your demands and you find yourself rolling the plain cotton down past your thighs and your knees and down to your ankles--
You fuss for a moment, putting them with the rest of your clothes, if only to delay the inevitable for a moment longer - that time when you will have to stand and display yourself in your full nakedness for the Iudex. But there is only so long you can conceivably push his patience, and sooner than you like you straighten your spine and try and jut your chin out and pretend that there isn’t a wash of humiliation drowning you as you wait for his next pronouncement.
You’re surprised when he stands, leaving his cane leaning against his desk, and strides towards you with purpose writ clear in his eyes. Surprised enough that a soft, startled noise falls from your mouth as he reaches for you, and suddenly his gloved hands are palming the weight of your breasts. He lets out a slow, measured breath as his fingertips dig into the soft flesh there. You squeak again as his thumbs brush over the hard nubs of your nipples, and this time he laughs.
“Don’t be so surprised,” he murmurs. “Our agreement involved touching, did it not?”
“I-it involved more than touching,” you whisper, as poisonously as you can manage - but his thumbs are still slowly swirling about your nipples and the sensation of it is making you feel dizzy, little electric shocks of surprise zapping through your synapses.
“Mm,” Neuvillette agrees. “But I am not so much of a villain that I would simply have my way with you without ensuring you were properly prepared, my dear.”
You don’t know if this is worse, actually. If he had chosen the latter option, perhaps it would have been easier to close your eyes and grit your teeth and pretend to be somewhere else. But the way he is looking at you, the way he is touching you . . . those things make it far more difficult to separate what is going on from yourself.
“I’m going to kiss you,” Neuvillette says to you - and you almost protest, until you remember the terms of the agreement once more.
(“You will give yourself to me intimately,” Neuvillette had said. “I will have my fill of your body, and in return I will find your brother not guilty in court. Is this agreeable to you, little one?”
You had wanted to scream and shout and spit. It was certainly not agreeable to you; Neuvillette was a corrupt pervert, taking advantage of his position. How many other desperate petitioners had done this for him?
“Oh,” Neuvillette had said, when you’d been unable to stop yourself biting out the last thing. “None at all. I’ve never been quite so intrigued by any of them or wanted to have any of them bent over my desk quite so much. I suppose that makes you special - and isn’t that nice?”)
You feel at his mercy like this, bare in his office, when he hasn’t so much as taken off his gloves - and indeed, the cool silk of those gloves against your heated cheek as he pulls you up into a kiss reminds you of who exactly has the power. He sighs softly into your mouth, teeth nipping at your lower lip. They’re sharp, and you gasp in surprise and win a low growl from Neuvillette himself. His kiss is wet and messy, and he seems almost disappointed when he pulls back from you with his eyes half-lidded.
“Mm,” he says, “How many others have kissed you like that, little one?”
You press your lips together in a show of defiance, and he chuckles.
“As I thought,” he murmurs, lowering his head again - this time, the kiss he gives you is pressed to the top of your cheekbone. Slowly, carefully, peppered down your jawline. “Ah, don’t worry - you did perfectly well.”
You let out a noise of wordless disbelief and embarrassment that he could tell, which is quickly cut off when he tugs at your earlobe with his teeth instead. It is his canines that are sharp; you give a hot intake of breath at the scratch of them on your sensitive lobe that in turn makes him shudder.
You hate the shivery feeling of pleasure that the bite sends zipping down your spine; a heat that settles firmly between your thighs, that mixes with the pounding of your heart.
“Give in,” Neuvillette says softly. “You have no choice if you want me to uphold my word; you may as well enjoy it. I have no wish to be cruel to you, little one. If you like it too, so much the better.”
“I--I won’t--”
Your voice is reedy; it wobbles and shakes in the air. Both you and Neuvillette know that it is a stubborn and hopeless task, when his kisses and his tugging at your nipples and his soft nipping bites against your most vulnerable parts have already made a slick drip between your thighs you do not want to admit to.
“A pity.” Neuvillette pulls back, and your body misses him - you find yourself making a soft noise of displeasure as his weight moves from in front of you and beside you, before he goes to stand beside his desk and takes his cane back into his hands, leaning on it almost casually. “Come here, little one. Bend over my desk.”
You flounder there, unsure now if you really are willing to go through with things the way that you had agreed to. Your throat feels dry. Disrobing had all been very well, letting him touch your chest had all been very well, but . . .
He taps his cane gently on the ground and makes a soft chiding noise with his tongue.
“Come now, little one,” he murmurs, his voice perfectly agreeable. “It’s not so large a thing, is it? For the price of your brother’s reputation?”
You shake your head and take a slow, nervous step towards his desk - a large, terrifying presence in the room. How many people has he held the fates of in his hand as he sat here in the Palais Mermonia and read their files?
The reminder that you are indeed in the Palais Mermonia - that only down a hallway is a whole group of gestionnaires utterly unknowing of what their honourable Iudex is doing with the young citizen he has an appointment with - makes your heart beat faster, nervousness rise up in your throat like a tidal wave. One foot in front of the other.
You wish the walk to his desk was shorter at the same time as you wish that you would never make it to the end.
It is not to be. Your bare hip bumps against the desk’s edge and you let out a slow, steadying breath.
“That’s it,” Neuvillette says agreeably, and his cane taps on the ground as he comes to stand behind you. “Brace yourself on the table now; palms down. I’m not going to hurt you. Bend over and show me what I shall have the pleasure of conquering, hmm?”
You burn with humiliation as you do exactly what he asks; place your hot palms down directly upon the table and bend at the waist. Neuvillette sighs as if he’s terribly pleased with what he’s seeing. You start as you feel a gentle nudge against your bare ankle, and you realise that he’s touching you with his cane.
“Spread these apart a bit further,” he murmurs, and you comply despite the way you feel utterly debased by the treatment. “Ah. Very nice. Lovely, in fact.”
If you have one thing to be grateful for, it is that he does not mention what you both know; you are wet. The way he had touched and palmed at your chest, the kisses . . . you can feel the beads of slick on your inner thighs, the dampness of the folds of your cunt. The position he has put you in means, too, that you can feel the cool air on your exposed clit - the little button swollen and standing to attention.
Neuvillette’s gloved hand gently comes to rest upon the back of your thigh. Slowly, slowly, he maps a path over your bared skin; the round curve of your ass where it’s presented to him, down and--
A hiccup of surprise escapes you and you almost rock back into him, but manage to stop yourself at the last moment, as those silken gloved fingers brush feather-light over the soft mound of your cunt. He does not press down yet; merely lets himself get accustomed to the shape of you. Your hips cant forward against your will as his fingertip brushes against the sensitive bud of your clit, a whimpering gasp falling from your lips.
You have never been touched by anyone before - and the fact it is Monsieur Neuvillette doing it, under these circumstances--
You squeeze your eyes closed, willing yourself not to cry. You are grateful at least that he cannot see you; in fact, he seems rather preoccupied now, those long silken fingers spreading the plump lips of your labia further apart so that he can see your entrance.
“My,” he says, a smile apparent in his voice. “We’re going to have to do rather a lot of preparation, aren’t we? Sweet little thing, you look tight as a vice.”
“I don’t . . .” You don’t understand quite what he means by preparation, but the soft rustle of his clothing still sets your teeth on edge. You’d known that he would disrobe too, of course you had, but it somehow all seems to be happening so quickly--
A strangled gasp escapes you.
The rustling was not him disrobing. Instead, he has knelt down - and his mouth is hot when he presses it to the sensitive places on the backs of your knees, his tongue wet as he trails it up the back of your thighs.
“Th-this isn’t what we agreed!” You say, panicked, as his mouth inches ever closer to the place between your thighs. Despite the heat of his tongue, the puffs of breath that escape him with his dry little laugh are cool.
“Isn’t it, little one?” He murmurs, in between the wet kisses; you keen softly as he digs teeth into sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, fangs sending confused shockwaves of both pain and pleasure directly to your sex. “Let me see . . . Did I not use the terms ‘have my fill’? Why, little one - whyever did you think that would begin and end with my cock?”
It’s too intimate. You have to be too present for it all, and the tears that have been threatening to spill out do so at the same time as his tongue oh-so-gently prods against your folds in interest. If Neuvillette notices that you’re crying, he doesn’t say anything - and you are grateful for that, as he presses his mouth fully against your cunt with a horrifically wanton wet noise and you realise that you are crying in no small part because his mouth against your heated core feels good.
He merely mouths against you for a moment, his tongue delicate as it travels across your folds and drinks in your wetness. You shudder as he finds your clit, and his tongue flicks against it playfully. Despite what he had said about not having done this to any other desperate citizens, the way he works his mouth against you belies that he has at least some experience--
You know absolutely nothing about the Iudex’s private life, much like the rest of Fontaine.
He pulls back from you to murmur against your thigh.
“You’re so wet, little one. It’s very charming. I think I shall use my mouth on you until you are glad to have the desk to keep you standing. It would be a hard-hearted creature indeed who would not want to feel you come on his face, under his tongue--”
You whimper out some kind of horribly embarrassing noise, as he returns hungrily to his former task; he licks at you and suckles at you like a man starved, and your body reacts with hot little shivers and shudders and jolts of pleasure. You make an attempt to curtail the pleasure - try to tell your body that it ought not to be enjoying this - but pure animal instinct wins out, and you are bent double over the desk whimpering helplessly, tilting your ass up to give him more room, and grinding your cunt into Neuvillette’s face despite all of it.
Neuvillette does not seem to mind at all. He groans into you instead, using the flat of his tongue to stroke as much of your cunt as possible, to work through your folds and suckle on your clit until your entire body feels aflame with strange new feelings. Every so often, he teases his tongue over your entrance, the tip circling the ring of muscle - but he does not push into it yet.
His grip on your thighs is iron-tight. You don’t know when he let go of his cane, but both hands dig into the soft pudge of your inner thighs now, keeping you spread for him despite how the twists of pleasure make you want to squeeze your thighs together.
You don’t know how you’re still breathing, as Neuvillette’s tongue continues to lay claim to you. You can feel your inner muscles clenching around nothing; slick accumulating around your entrance, just begging for something to be inside of you (though, in truth, you’ve never had anything more than your own finger and even then had felt hot and unsure of it). He growls, tongue flicking out against your clit in a rhythmic drumming that makes you whine.
“O-oh,” you manage, through the lump in your throat. “Archons--”
He gives your inner thigh a warning pinch, just enough to make you stutter, as he pulls his soaking wet mouth away from you and murmurs;
“No, little one. No archons here. Remember who it is, who's here with you.”
You are almost tempted to throw his own words back into his face; to tell him that you’d made no such bargain that you had to acknowledge that he was there. That, according to the legalities of the agreement you’d both made, you only had to let him use your body - not your voice, not your head, not your heart. But the lack of his mouth on you now feels like a peculiar kind of torture. You want him to stop. You want him to carry on. The whimper falls out of your mouth to a groaning purr of satisfaction from Neuvillette himself;
“M-monsieur--”
“That’s better.”
His mouth is back on you, hungrily working his tongue between your folds. Hungrily suckling and stroking and working you over until you feel hot and boneless, trembling on the edge of something - your entire body is a taut string, pulled to the point of snapping. Your cunt is wet and messy with drool and fluid and slick, sliding down your thighs - you cannot see Monsieur Neuvillette, but you’d wager that his cheeks are wet and shiny with the same, if only due to the utter eagerness he was still displaying.
It’s too much.
With a whine and pitiful jerk of your hips, you feel yourself slide down into some dark abyss; the thread that’s been threatening to snap finally does exactly as it was always going to do, and a wash of shameful pleasure crashes over you like a stormy sea. Neuvillette lets out a pleased groan as you feel yourself let another gush of arousal out, hungrily drinking you in with lewd, wet noises that have your face as hot as any Natlan springs.
He carries on using his tongue on you; licking, sucking, lapping like a man parched for water - just to the point where your over-sensitive body begins to complain that you are still too raw for such hunger, and then he pulls his mouth off of you. You stay there, bent double over his table, wheezing softly as you hear him dust off his clothes and the click of his reclaimed cane as he comes around to the other side of the desk so that he can look you in the eye.
He really hasn’t disrobed at all.
It’s a callback to the power imbalance between you both; a reminder that, no matter what, you are entirely at Neuvillette’s mercy. You are glad, at least, that he has a reputation for being honourable in his agreements - you have only the very vaguest flutter of a fear that giving him your body will be for naught and he will go back on his word. Everybody knows that the Chief Justice values that same standard he is entitled to embody.
“You were crying,” he says, leaning forward and cupping his hand about your cheek, a thumb sliding over the apple of your cheek. “It suits you. I’ve never quite understood this human urge not to cry - you look terribly pretty with those diamonds on your cheeks.”
He leans in closer and closer, closing his eyes - and you go stock-still as he kisses the tears from your cheeks and pulls back, licking his lips as if he is savouring the taste of something special.
“I-is that all?” You ask, a hopeful tone to your voice - but Neuvillette simply smiles at you kindly, as if you’re silly for even asking.
“Of course not, little one,” he murmurs. “That was merely a precursor to the main event, to ensure you’re . . . sufficiently ready. As I have already said; I am no villain, and I have no desire to hurt you physically. I want to ensure your body is primed to accept me, for the sake of both of our pleasure. And it was pleasurable, wasn’t it?”
You press your lips together, hot shame rising up your neck.
“No need to get shy,” he says to you, that soft, kind smile not leaving his face. “By the way you were grinding against my face, and how prettily you came for me . . . Mm, I’d wager you enjoyed it very much. But it’s alright if you are not ready to admit it; your body doesn’t lie, sweet one, and I know it will accept my fingers and my cock far more readily than you’d like it to.”
. . . You had enjoyed it. You had felt that pleasure that he was so willing to give to you, and the thought that you were actually deriving some enjoyment from this thing that was supposed to merely be about procuring assistance for your brother . . . You don’t quite know how to feel, as Neuvillette presses a paternal kiss to your forehead and you hear the slow click of his footsteps as he returns to the other side of the desk, where your nakedness and your readiness for him are far more pronounced.
“You really are quite lovely, you know,” he murmurs, letting his gloved fingers slide down the arch of your back, from the nape of your neck and down your spine. “Ordinarily, I’m not too fond of ostentation - but ah, you . . . You could benefit from a little more ornamentation.”
A palm, cupping your ass - giving it a slow, considering squeeze, almost too hard to be painful but not quite.
“This, for example,” he murmurs, “would be lovely with some discipline. Imagine; how pretty you would be with welts from my cane.”
“Monsieur Neuvillette--!” It comes out in a panicked little gasp, but Neuvillette merely chuckles.
“Now, now, little one - settle down. As sweet as it would be - I am still aware of the legal terms of our arrangement. I won’t force you to give me any extra - and whilst caning you would be terribly satisfying for me . . . it doesn’t count as satiating my desire in that legal sense that is so important to us both.”
You let out a breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding. Somewhere inside of you, your heart pounds at the thought of letting him do as he wishes with you - but you squash it down, holding to the comforting lie that you are getting absolutely nothing out of the arrangement you had made with Neuvillette.
His hand curves over your ass and slips between your thighs.
“A-aren’t you even going to take your gloves off?” You seethe at him, through clenched teeth, as a fingertip slides between the plump lips of your sex once more, to find the wet mess that he had left there earlier.
“I fear it would be most unprofessional of me to undress in my office,” he says, and you hear the smile in his voice. “Forgive me, little one. I think I will stay as entirely clothed as I am able.”
His tone does not broker any argument, and you bite your tongue as he - slowly, maddeningly slowly - slides his finger through the valley of your cunt, approaching your clit with a near-torturous pace. Your breath stutters in your chest as his silk-gloved finger finally brushes over the delicate nub, and he increases his pressure from feather-light to something firmer as he begins to make slow, small circles on the pleasure point.
Your hips don’t know whether to shy away from the certainty of his manipulations or to lean into them, so you do the only thing you can think of and let loose a soft whine into the charged air of his office.
After he has played with your swollen clit for a few more agonising moments, his fingers drag back through the soaking wet valley to toy with your entrance. You feel yourself flex as he comes near, as if your cunt is begging him to finally put something inside of you - and though he gives a soft chuckle, he does not tease you any further.
“I’m going to put a finger inside of you now,” he murmurs - again, you are not sure if it would be worse if he had not told you. With this knowledge, you have just enough time to catch your breath before he slides his finger into you with one quick movement.
It punches the air out of you. If you had not been bent over the desk already, you’re sure you would have lost your footing - but as it is, Neuvillette goes about opening you up with a kind of determined certainty. The finger inside of you gives a few lone pumps, working your tight insides open - you are wet and pliable enough that it does not hurt near as much as you had thought it would.
“Good,” Neuvillette murmurs, “Are you ready for me to add another?”
Again, you want to whimper and scream and bite - but as he continues to pump his finger in and out of you, you realise with that same shame that the feeling of him inside of you is good and could only be improved if he filled you more thoroughly.
“Yes, please,” you whisper, your throat dry - and you are rewarded with another low murmur of praise, and the feel of a finger joining the first at your entrance. You take another steady breath, but you do not need to; two fingers fit inside of you with only the barest modicum of resistance, your body silky wet and tight and welcoming. The silk of his gloves rubs against your inner walls curiously, making you feel utterly dizzy with sensation.
There is a purpose to this that there hadn’t seemed to be when he was using his mouth on you. When he was using his mouth, though he had said it was in order to make the final result easier on you both, you had gotten the distinct impression he had rather enjoyed the process - the sucking, the wet noises, the lewd sound of his tongue against your soaking cunt. But here, Neuvillette crooks his fingers inside of you and pumps them in and out and scissors them slightly in a way that leaves no doubt that he is ensuring you will be able to take something even bigger and wider than his fingers when we have done.
He still does it all with a trademark thoroughness; he rests his other hand on the small of your back to keep you still as those digits plunge in and out of you. You dread to think how soaked through with your slick his gloves will be when he is done--
But he does not use his fingers upon you to completion.
You feel it building up inside of you with the way he curls them just so, rubbing against a spongy spot inside of you that makes your thighs tremble - but he doesn’t follow through on the promise that begins to build, dizzying, between your legs.
He pulls out his fingers with a slick pop and a wet clicking noise, giving your cunt a gentle pat on his way out.
“There, my dear,” he says. “It will still be a tight fit, of course . . . but I should cause you no undue pain. And, if I may be so bold, little one - I’m absolutely certain you’ll feel exquisite.”
This time, there is no question that the rustling noise you hear behind you is him partly undressing; that the soft pop is the sound of buttons being freed from the confines of his placket. He lets out a pleased sigh - you assume at the feel of his hand on his own cock.
“I’ve been longing to touch you,” he murmurs, as he slots himself between your hips. “I had to prepare you, naturally - oh, but little one, I’ve been hard since the moment you walked all trembling and righteous into my office.”
“D-do you say that to all of the poor hopeful people who come into your office hoping you’ll grant them justice, Monsieur?” You manage, and he chuckles. His hips fit neatly in between your own spread thighs, and you feel the heavy, silky, hot weight of something as it slaps against the meat of your inner thigh and leaves a sticky wet trail upon the skin there. His cock. His pre-come, on you--
“As I’ve said before, little one,” he murmurs, and he readjusts himself and you hiss yourself as his cock presses softly against the pudge of your outer lips. He doesn’t move it yet; merely lets it rest there, letting you get used to the size of him and the knowledge that he is going to put it inside you. “I have never been so intrigued by any of them to want to. But you . . . ah, this human quality of resilience! You’re utterly darling. There’s even still fire in you now, when I have you naked and at my mercy. Tell me, little one . . . what would you do if I went back on our agreement now and still fucked you?”
You half rear up, and the way your body moves has his cock nudging at your clit, against you - you find yourself half-enveloping the thick shaft of his cock with your labia. It makes you breathless that it doesn’t even come close to disappearing inside you; indeed, the stretch of it reminds you of just how big he is.
“You wouldn’t!” You say, a tone of petulant fury edging your words - Neuvillette makes a hum of agreement even as his gloved hands travel up, over the curve of your hips and then your waist, until he is cupping the weight of your breasts in them and your nipples are once more trapped between the silken pinch of of his thumbs.
“You’re right,” he says, calmly. “I value justice too much for that - but oh, you’re quite something when you’re full of moral fury, aren’t you? Justice . . . a funny thing, isn’t it? One might say that having you right here, in my office, naked and hot and wet and exactly where I want you is a just reward for my years of service, wouldn’t they?”
You don’t respond, and he chuckles; nips a bite into the sensitive part of your throat where the curve of shoulder and neck meet that sends another electric zip down your spine.
“I’m going to put it inside of you now,” he says, still as calm as a placid lake. “And then I’m going to fuck you, little one. Are you quite ready?”
He tilts his hips forward as an urge for you to do the same; to lower yourself back down over the desk. You hiss as his cock slips and slides between the folds of your cunt, but it is nothing compared to how it feels when he pulls back and the wet head of his cock nudges almost impatiently against your entrance. He does not let go of where he is still pinching and rolling at the buds of your nipples, sending light-headed little thrills right down to between your legs - your sex clenching at the emptiness, missing his fingers.
“As ready as I think I’ll be, Monsieur,” you manage, hoping the title comes out as barbed as you want it to - but then he is pressing inside of you, his cock opening you up, and you bump against the table and go utterly blank of thought at the sensation of being claimed.
It feels like all of the air inside of you deflates as Neuvillette pushes himself into you. He had been correct on one count - he had prepared you well enough that there is only a light sting, the feeling that is to be expected when something large fits itself into a tight hole. You wheeze over his desk, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, as he seems to keep pushing and pushing and pushing--
You don’t think you’ll possibly take all of him, and then he stops and you feel his pelvis pressing against your ass, and you realise he is fully inside of you now.
“There,” even Neuvillette sounds a touch breathless. “Didn’t you do well, little one? Are you ready for me to begin moving?”
His only answer from you is a huff, as he pinches your nipples again and you feel yourself clench around the cock buried inside of you. He laughs softly, and with a wet drag you feel him pull out of you - and then drive back inside again with a wet pap, the sound indecently loud in the quiet office. Neuvillette had already established when he had made it clear he expected you to fulfil this arrangement in his work chambers that the walls were thick enough no gestionnaires would come running no matter what, but you still have a vision of it happening.
Some poor underpaid Palais Mermonia worker, coming in to ask the Honourable Chief Justice some question or another, only to find him bent over a shivering whining citizen, naked on his desk. The thought of someone seeing you, at such a powerful man’s mercy--
You clench around Neuvillette again, whining softly into the polished wood of the desk, your body wanting to welcome his cock inside and keep it for yourself. It feels so good - you can barely stand knowing how right and full and warm you feel, how you know that if Neuvillette stopped fucking you that you would have no choice but to beg him to carry on and let you come.
“Good,” he murmurs, as he finds himself a rhythm that makes you quake. Every drag of his hips sets your body aflame, every twitch of his cock makes you huff and whimper. You’re moaning, you realise, as if you are somewhere very far away. “There now, little one - doesn’t that feel good?”
You don’t reply, but you do not need to. The sound of him fucking in and out of you - the wet sticky slap of his cock as his hips bounce against your spread thighs, the obscene feeling of your own arousal drooling out of you, and the noises that keep escaping your mouth unbidden all do that for you. Your body does not even try to push him out; merely pull him in tighter.
He stops pinching your nipple with one hand, dragging it back down the curve of your body to curl around your thigh, sneaking between you and the wooden drawers of his desk - and you keen a high-pitched little noise as instead of your nipple, he roughly pinches at your clit instead.
The sensation of that silken fabric, sodden already with your slick, and the mean little pinch pushes you over a precipice that you didn’t realise you’d been hovering on. You cry out this time, a moan that you feel certain that everyone in the whole building must hear - but that doesn’t matter, as you spasm helplessly on Neuvillette’s cock and you give him your second orgasm of the night.
He fucks you through it, even as you feel your cunt flex and flutter around him. You feel dizzy, panting, whining - but Neuvillette’s thrusts have more purpose now, and a low groan that sounds almost inhuman comes out of him as you weakly try and push your body back at him to hurry it along.
“I’ll come when I’m ready,” he practically growls, and you whine as his teeth fasten into the meat of your shoulder so that he is utterly bent over you - the rasp of his silken clothes against you, fine fabrics and adornments. The satiny brush of his hair over your heated skin. “And you will take every drop, little one - as you agreed to do--”
You nod helplessly, and he groans - and then his cock is twitching inside of you wildly, and he’s biting at you again and huffing and groaning and the plunge of his hips seems to hit deeper inside of you with every thrust.
You had never imagined the Chief Justice like this in all of your life, but there is something animal to him now; some latent kind of primal instinct you had never realised that the kind, fatherly Monsieur Neuvillette possessed. You know now he is not as kind as you had once supposed, but it is still something else entirely to see him and feel him fuck you like a man possessed.
He snaps, his hips wildly gyrating into you, slapping against your ass so hard you fear you will bruise - and then you feel his cock jump and he comes inside of you, thick ropes of his release shooting directly into your insides and coating you, viscous and full of him.
He gives another almost animalistic growl against your skin, letting his cock judder and shoot out a few final spurts of his own seed - and then, there is a brief moment of quiet. You can hear yourself and your own shuddering breaths, your heart pounding in your ears - and then, the slick, wet noise of him pulling out of you. He catches hold of his own breath, and when he speaks again his voice is smooth and kind as ever as if nothing more has transpired here than a meeting of minds.
“Marvellous, little one. You did so terribly well. Of course,” Neuvillette murmurs against your ear, his breath a cool brush against your heated skin. There’s the faintest scent of saltwater in it; you shiver despite yourself. “You do realise that the final decision does not lie with me, do you not?”
“Wh-what do you mean?” You’re too breathless to speak, still - laid out across Monsieur Neuvillette’s desk, on display like the most wanton of creatures. You can still feel his come rolling down your thighs, spilling out of you with every pant of your breath - you were so utterly filled and claimed by him that you fancy you can feel his come inside of you even now, in thick ropes and dripping pearls.
“Well,” Neuvillette moves away, and you turn your head, cheek cold on the desk, to watch as he re-fastens the placket of his trousers, the tails of his coat swishing about him. You remain utterly debased; your clothes still in a haphazard pile to the side of his desk. You do not yet think your trembling legs could even hold you up, and you have no choice but to let Neuvillette continue to drink in the sight of you akimbo over his office furniture. “Surely you understand it is the Oratrice who will make the final decision, my dear?”
Your heart beats double time in your chest. Your breath comes out in a panicked little gasp, and you rear up before you’re quite ready for it, staggering towards him to clutch at his lapels.
“But it always sides with you,” you say to him, hating that your voice rises in pitch pathetically. “You’re always in agreement--”
“Yes,” Neuvillette agrees with a low hum, and you hate him as one of his thumbs gently comes up to caress your cheek like a lover. “It will be greatly novel for Lady Furina to witness the disagreement, I’m sure. Still - the Oratrice does have the final word, as it always has.”
“But you promised!” You don’t care about dignity now, as you feel the hot splash of tears across your cheeks. Neuvillette takes in a shuddering breath, far too reminiscent of the noise he’d made when he’d pressed himself inside of you. His thumb slides under a tear now, to catch it upon the pad; you watch in mute agonies as he lifts it to his mouth and his tongue flicks out to taste you.
“Really, my dear,” Neuvillette says, with a sigh of satisfaction. “I thought you were better educated than this; you were so very charmingly certain when you first came to see me after accosting me in public. All of those carefully laid out little plans and charts as to why your criminal brother couldn’t possibly have committed the felony that everybody knows he did--”
“But you agreed!” You’re desperate now. He hums again, and one of his arms settles around your waist, keeping you pinned against him. “You said you would find him not guilty! You said he’d be freed!”
“I said one of those things,” he corrects you - and then he sees that you’re very much hovering on the edge of hysteria, and he sighs. “You poor little creature. When I asked you if you were certain and that you’d thought everything through properly . . . you hadn’t really, had you?”
“I . . . I thought . . .” You sniffle desperately, trying to grasp onto the threads of your righteous anger as the cool sting of foresight settles over you once more. Monsieur Neuvillette is correct; he promised that he would find your brother not guilty, and you had taken it for granted that the ruling of the mighty Iudex would be enough to see your brother free.
Not a word about the Oratrice had passed his lips.
You’re shaking. It is only Monsieur Neuvillette’s arm around your waist that stops you from falling to the ground. You fear if that grounding limb left, you would drop to your knees and hug at his legs and rub your sobbing face against his knee and beg. The fact that you had . . . that you’d given yourself to him, and he must have known that he could not truly give what you were asking for . . .
“And what then?” You whisper, your throat dry. Neuvillette makes a considering noise in the back of his throat; a throaty hum. A hand gently scoops your chin up to force you to look him in the eyes.
Neuvillette’s eyes are blue-grey-violet, boring down into you. There is something ancient and terrifying that lies behind them, but as they look into your own they seem to almost flash possessive.
“I happen to know the administrator of the Fortress of Meropide,” he says, after a long moment. “Of course, I’m sure you understand that it is not the most . . . welcoming of places. Your brother’s confinement will lack creature comforts. But . . . it doesn’t have to be quite so dreary.”
Against your will, hope rises like a soft flame in your chest.
“You would do that?” You ask the Iudex. “Make sure that he’s . . . that it’s not so bad?”
“You misunderstand,” Neuvillette tells you, with a small smile. “I have fulfilled my end of our agreement now. I will find your brother not guilty. Legally, there’s nothing else that you need of me.”
“I could tell someone--” You start to say, but Neuvillette only lets out a soft little huff of laughter.
“Poor thing,” he says, “do you truly believe that anybody would take your word - the sibling of some no-good criminal, desperate to save him - over mine? You must understand that I have, as Iudex, a long history of doing only the best for Fontaine.” He lets go of your waist, and you are thankful that you manage to keep your balance even as he turns and sweeps away towards his desk. “I am also aware that I’m the subject of some . . . romantic fantasy, in the hearts of the ever-theatrical people of our homeland.” He seats himself in the great chair behind his desk, and looks back up at you with that damnable smile playing around his lips - small enough you could not call it mocking, soft enough you could argue it was an attempt at sympathy. “Why would I give that up, just to tumble some know-nothing worth-nothing young upstart in my office?”
Your mouth opens and closes a few times in speechless anger, before that cool foresight settles over you once more.
Because he’s right.
Why would he? Why would anyone believe you?
“. . . How can I ask for your aid again?” You manage to grit out, through clenched teeth.
“You could fill out a form from the Palais Mermonia,” he says, rifling through the paperwork on his desk as if you have already left the room. “Talk to one of the gestionnaires about aid for those incarcerated, once your brother has officially been sentenced. The working time for a response is currently . . .” He tilts his head to the side again, as if thinking. “Ah, yes. Only a year and six months. I’m sure nothing untoward could befall your poor brother in that time--”
“Monsieur,” you step towards him imploringly. “Please--”
You remember your nakedness only when Neuvillette looks up from his desk and lets his eyes critically sweep you again. Your nipples, stiff and sore from his pinching fingers. Your thighs, wet with his release and your own slick. The bite marks from his fangs that litter your bared skin.
His eyes narrow; the face of a man taking in something that already belongs to him. A dragon considering his latest addition to the hoard.
You realise exactly what he is going to ask you for, in return for his continued aid, before he opens his mouth.
“Well,” he says, with a small smile upon his generous mouth. It is a mouth many would describe as kind; at this moment in time, you cannot think of it as anything other than dangerous. “You did such a good job of convincing me to aid you today . . . why, we could make these little meetings more regular, don’t you think?”
You swallow thickly.
The Fortress of Meropide. Under the sea, with no sunlight, for who knows how long. Who knows where he would sleep, or what he would eat, or what other comforts would be denied to him in his imprisonment?
“Yes, Monsieur,” you whisper, your throat bone dry.
“Excellent,” he smiles at you in clear dismissal. You feel . . . used. Cheated. Hollow. Utterly owned and laid claim to and conquered, your spirit deadened inside as you look at the corrupt official you had once held in such high regard. “Next week, then. Wear something prettier, please. I’m partial to blue. Now - you don’t mind, do you? I have cases to review.”
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Zombie Apocalypse Au where Ghost kidnaps a Zombie and takes care of her 🧡🧡🧡
Ghost who lost his whole team some odd years ago and has been entirely on his own since. Slowly becoming more and more desperate for human contact, losing his mind to the voices in his head, almost convinced that he’s the last man on earth. He can’t remember the last time he saw another person. In a world like that, all alone, what’s the point of living?
Well, you, of course! He found you one day on his way to the river, caught up in some fishing nets, hissing and biting at the rope you couldn’t get free of. You were soaking wet, your clothes torn and bloody. You hadn’t started to rot yet, he could almost confuse you for a living person if it wasn’t for your sickly pallor and the hazy film over your eyes that signified otherwise.
He looked at you and couldn’t help but feel….sad. To him you looked scared, like a little defenseless kitten caught in a storm drain, big wet eyes that begged to be saved. He wanted to help you. Protect you. Keep you warm and safe beside him.
Getting you back to his bunker is a hassle, cleaning you up even more so. He’s got a gag in your mouth and you’re chained to the wall by two shackles on your wrists that don’t give you much room to move. He dries you up and takes off your wet clothes, dresses you in one of his largest shirts so you don’t get cold (if you even can get cold). Strokes at your cheeks as you snarl and growl, jerking in his arms when he tries to hug you. He’s practically pudding against you, not even minding your fighting as he loses himself in the first bit of physical affection he’s had in who knows how long.
Eventually you seem to settle into some kind of acceptance with him. You still hiss and growl at him but you don’t lunge at him anymore after he starts feeding you game meat. He still has to gag you when he clips your nails, cleans you, or if he wants to hold you, but otherwise you’re pretty docile for him. Give minimal fuss when he’s gagging you or when he’s putting you in a harness for one of your rare days out, and even seem to like it when he pays special attention to your pretty cunt. Pressing slow and sloppy kisses to your clit that leave your sickly form shaking, your moans raspy and low, your hands yanking at the shackles holding you.
In fact, he realizes that taking care of you is so much easier after you’ve been given a little attention. You’re quieter and calmer, almost seeming dazed after he’s made you cum on his fingers or tongue. Getting the chance to fuck you is harder, you’re still so squirmy everytime he tries and he thinks that’s your way of telling him that you think he’s too big. None of his coos help soothe you and you screech when he manages to get the tip in. It hurts his feelings, Love :( he just wants to feel good in return and he can’t trust your mouth or hands not to hurt him.
#Cw: dub-con#cod#call of duty#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#zombie apocolypse au#Cobweb writes
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to take care of you
dark!joel miller x f!reader
joel takes you in after you arrive all alone in jackson. he gains your trust and promises to take care of you, but that ends up being more than you bargained for. (4.6k words)
tags: ddne, dark, non con, dub con, explicit content, no minors allowed, age gap, power dynamics, perverted joel, vulnerable reader, breeding kink, virginity loss, non consensual somnophila
You were all alone when you got to Jackson. Shivering, starving, and scared. You didn’t make many friends fast, staying locked up inside of your house most of the time. It was Ellie who got through to you first. You latched onto her, and she quickly became the person you trusted the most.
So, when she suggested that you move into the empty room in the house that she lived in with Joel, you were quick to accept. Joel was annoyed at first, the thought of a stranger moving in.
“Does she know that you’re barely around these days.”
Ellie had just rolled her eyes, not in the mood to dig into the complexities of their relationship at the moment. “She’s too scared to live on her own. I think she’d feel safe with you around.”
“Hasn’t she heard the rumors of my past?”
“I told her she can trust you.”
You didn’t have much of a presence around the house at first. Usually, Joel forgot you were even there, until he’d hear the creaking of steps upstairs or a stray cough. You started to spend more time in the common areas after a while, though, and Joel found himself happy to get to know you.
And the more he got to know, the more beautiful he thought you to be.
The first time you touched him was a few months after moving in. It was innocent, but it changed everything for him. He had explained to you that, on his recent trip to see the town’s seamstress, he ended up bartering for a new dress for you. It was relatively plain, but when he saw it he remembered the stray comment you had made about the heat of early summer, having only a few winter garments at your disposal.
Just seeing you in the dress would’ve been enough motivation, but the smile on your face when you saw it and realized it was yours was even better. You tried it on immediately, stepping out of your room to show Joel how it looked with a shy smile.
“You woulda been a model, if you’d been an adult back in the day.”
The comment made you smile even more, gaze still on the floor as you approached Joel and slowly pulled him into a hug. It wasn’t long, but it took Joel completely by surprise. The smell of you, the feeling of your body pressed up against his, the small noise you made against his ear. It was the first time he realized just how much he needed to fuck you.
He didn’t want to do anything too fast; he didn’t want to scare you away. But he needed you. He needed a release. So, he started when you weren’t home. He went into your bedroom and looked through your meager possessions, trying to come up with a way to get to you.
Instead, he ended up in your bed, pants pulled down to his ankles, rutting his hips against the firm mattress—precome surely leaking on the linen—while he sniffed your scent that lingered. Joel knew it was wrong to act like this, so desperate and out of control, like a feral animal who had just caught a whiff of a particularly strong pheromone.
But the thought of your body having been wrapped in these sheets only hours earlier turned him on. The thought of your body in general turned him on. He imagined you, soft and aching, underneath him. He wondered if your body would twitch as he pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you, thumb never leaving your increasingly overstimulated clit.
He would make you come so many times you’d forget your own name.
As he grasped at the sheets—hand finally beginning to stroke his cock in time with his hip movements—he found something in the sheets, near the end of the bed. He almost came right there at the sight of them: a plain light pink pair of panties.
He could tell they were dirty, still a little damp in the center and smelling of you. He knew he was really gone when, without even a second thought, he immediately brought the panties to his nose, sniffing in as much of your scent as he could get. Just like the kind of pervert he used to hear people joke about: the nasty old man panty-sniffer. That’s what he’d become.
But he was fine with pushing down his shame in favor for his insatiable arousal.
Now he could imagine what you’d look like when he’d yank down your jeans, your pretty little pussy only covered by a thin piece of pink material. He squeezed his balls roughly as he wondered if you had a matching bra, made by one of the seamstresses in town.
His thoughts only got dirtier, and soon enough he had flipped himself to be on his back again. He took a moment to spit in his palm again before returning it to his cock, enjoying the feeling of the slight wetness.
He wanted more than anything for it to be your saliva on his cock, and lots more of it. He wanted to see you on your knees for him, looking up at him with labored breaths, his cock inching further and further towards the back of your throat. He knew you’d be such a good girl, eager to take as much of him as you could.
But he wasn’t only interested in you if you were his good girl, though. He wanted to turn you bad, wanted to see you lose all your concerns about what was proper and just suck his cock like an absolute whore. He wanted to turn you into as sick and needy of an animal as he was.
It was that thought—the thought of what you would sound like when he finally lost control and let his cock hit the back of your throat with force, making you gag on his considerable length—that finally got him off. His shirt was pushed up a bit, and he came on the firm pudge of his stomach.
_________________________________________
Ellie helped you meet more people in the community, and you even ended up with some friends. Joel couldn’t help but feel jealous when she’d whisk you away with the promise of hanging out with people your own age. Deep down, he knew it was good for you.
He really saw the value of it one night, though, when he found you passed out on the sofa, clearly too inebriated to get yourself up the stairs and in your own bed. You were in a heavy sleep, arms sprawled above your head and your legs open, one foot planted on the ground and the other on the body of the sofa. He admired the sight of you in the dress, the way your breasts were squeezed by the tightness of the chest, the way your legs looked as the knee length hemline rode up, exposing the plush meat of your thighs.
As he palmed the bulge in his jeans, he decided he wasn’t going to fuck you tonight. He knelt down in front of your body, grabbing the hem of your dress to flip it open. You were wearing a pair of thin cotton panties, damp in the middle where they stretched over your cunt. He brought his face to your body, his big nose nestling between your covered folds and inhaling deeply. The scent of your arousal mixed with your sweat was intoxicating, and he had to fight himself to not go any further.
He pulled his cock out of his pants and began to stroke himself to the smell of you, just as he had in your bedroom. This time it was so much better, though. It was the real thing. Instead of just a discarded pair of panties on their own, he could see the curve of your mound, your lips covered in cotton, the way it clung to the curls of your pubic hair.
He couldn’t help himself. It was all too much. He gently pulled your panties to the side, exposing your cunt. He let out a strained groan at the sight of you before coming all over his own hand. He leaned forward and gave a small kiss to your labia before putting you back as he had found you, taking a moment to taste you on his lips.
He knew he should feel guilty, but he was too overwhelmed to manage it.
_________________________________________
It was several weeks later when he woke up to the sound of you screaming. He ran to your room, knowing just how to push on the handle to get the door open even when it was locked. You had stopped yelling by then. Instead, you cried into your hands.
“I’m sorry,” you began to repeat. “I just had a bad dream.”
Joel’s reasoning skills weren’t fully functioning. He felt awful seeing you in pain like that, and his own body was filled with adrenaline. That’s why he didn’t think to stop himself before offering you a spot in his bed.
“Or I could sleep in here on the floor… I know you don’t like to be alone, is all.”
You had stared at him in silence for nearly a minute, and Joel began to fear that he had severely miscalculated your level of trust in him.
Then, he saw a small smile.
“You’d do that for me?”
“Course.”
As you curled up under Joel’s blanket, you explained to him that you had always shared a bed with someone growing up. It felt wrong to sleep in one without someone else. Joel knew the kind of pain you were in after losing your family, your group.
“I’ll try and find a way to get over it,” you whispered. “I’m sorry for making you take care of me all the time.”
Joel’s heart broke at the sound of sadness in your voice, but his body surged with arousal at your acknowledgement of him taking care of you. He told you that he was happy to take care of you, that he’d help support you through this for as long as you needed.
“Seems like you’re carrying the grief in your body,” he told you, noticing the stiffness in your shoulders even as you lied in bed.
“What do you mean?”
He gestured for you to get up in a seated position and turn around on your side, facing the opposite direction from him. He only took a moment to admire your ass in your nightgown before placing his hands on your shoulders. You flinched at first, but he cooed at you as he held you in place.
“You can trust me, remember?”
You let out a nervous breath, and Joel began to rub your shoulders. The next sound you made was a small moan. You quickly apologized, and Joel grinned to himself.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. ‘S supposed to feel good.”
He kneaded your muscles while you sighed sweetly, your body moving gently against the bed. He wondered if the pleasure was spreading. He moved his hands down your back slightly, grasping your sides under your armpits and using his thumb to rub circles into your back muscles. He could tell you loved it.
Slowly, he moved his hands further and further to your front before eventually groping your breasts, thick fingers running past your pert nipples. You let out a strained moan before jerking your body away.
“J-Joel,” you whispered, breathless. “I don’t think I carry grief… there.”
Joel chuckled, hoping to help diffuse the tension. “I know, but it’s a good spot for relieving tension.”
You turned to look at him, and he could’ve gotten off just on the shy but aroused look on your face. Your skin felt warmer and warmer, and your mouth hung open slightly, tongue gently licking your plush lips.
The word “ripe” was stuck on Joel’s mind.
“You know I’d do anything to take care of you, right? Whatever you need.”
You stared at him with wide eyes before beginning to shake your head. “T-thank you for all the help, Joel, but I think I’ll just sleep in my own bed.”
As you began to push yourself off the mattress, Joel’s hand darted out and hooked your body in, his large hand stretching over your tummy and holding you gently in place.
“Listen… I know what everyone in town says about you, and I’m sure that can’t make it easy to feel at home here, but”
“What?” You turned to face him again, your demeanor shifting. “What do people say about me?”
Joel let out a sigh, shaking his head gently. “People just haven’t learned to trust you yet… think you’re a bit of a freeloader, is all.”
“I help out where I can…”
“I know, sweetheart, I know,” Joel cooed, using his hand to rub your side. “People said things about me when I first got here, too. Now they respect me, they listen to me. If I keep tellin’ ‘em that you’re good… they’ll believe it.”
Joel suppressed a smile as he watched tears begin to form in your eyes.
“You tell them that?”
“Of course.”
The night ended with you apologizing for trying to go back to your room. It was so sweet of you to offer me a spot here for the night, I shouldn’t have tried to say no. He waited until you were asleep to pull the straps of your nightgown down far enough to expose your breasts. He fisted his cock while he imagined coming all over your chest.
All over your face.
All over your cunt.
All over you.
_________________________________________
Nothing happened for a few days. Ellie came to visit, which helped take Joel’s mind off the situation completely until she brought you up while they were eating breakfast. She had made some confusing joke about the “real great” night you were sure to be having that day.
“What’s that ‘sposed to mean?”
Ellie just snickered, a trait she never gave up from childhood. “She’s going on a date with James.”
Joel felt his body tense up at the news, although he couldn’t feel surprised. You were a beautiful young woman, of course you’d be going on dates. It still filled him with a terrible sense of jealousy, an unearned sense of possessiveness.
“What’re the plans?” Joel asked, trying to sound as disinterested as possible.
“They’re going to ‘stargaze by the lake,’ if ya know what I mean,” Ellie replied as she shoveled down another mouthful of oatmeal.
Joel just gave her a funny face. “I do not know what ya mean. You and Dina used to love going down there to stargaze.”
Ellie’s smile immediately disappeared, a wince taking its place. “Well, uh… I’m not saying this is what Dina and I were doing down there… because, you know, we had a real passion for… the stars. But…” Ellie let out a groan and just spit it out already. “That’s where everyone goes to hook up.”
Joel made a disgusted face in light of this news, letting out a slight groan while he dropped his slice of bread.
“So that book on constellations I found for ya was just a part of some nasty little rouse?”
Instead of being too embarrassed, Ellie just laughed. “We did use that book! A lot.”
Joel let his disgruntled face begin to soften, but Ellie was quick to get the punchline in, already laughing at her own joke.
“We needed something to talk about afterwards.”
“You little shit,” Joel muttered, stifling his own laughter. “I think maybe you oughta just keep lying to me like you did when you were a kid, okay?”
His smile didn’t remain long, however, disappearing when he remembered that you would be down by the lake later that night, getting fucked by some guy who probably wasn’t even gonna get you off once.
“Ain’t she a little old for such juvenile tricks?”
Ellie shrugged. “She’s stuck living with an old man. Would you really prefer her bringing home some guy? And James’s family certainly wouldn’t appreciate him bringing her home for the night.”
Joel gave a noncommittal nod, pretending to no longer care even a little bit about you as he switched to a new topic of conversation. Ellie seemed none the wiser, happy for the change in pace.
_________________________________________
Joel told himself he was just going to keep an eye on you from a safe distance, make sure that the boy didn’t try any funny business. He was just going to hide behind some trees and ignore the sound of your moans.
That proved more to be more difficult than he had imagined, however. He stood there, peering around a big tree trunk to watch you lie on the ground as James ran his hands up and down your body, firmly placing one of your hands on his cock that was sticking out of his jeans.
He didn’t bother to touch your clit or your other less obvious erogenous zones; he just began to spread your legs, prodding his cock at your entrance. He doubted you’d even be wet for him… he wondered if James had even been considerate enough to slip on a condom.
But the sight of your exposed breasts in the moonlight and the little noises you made for him was enough to make him at least believe you were enjoying yourself.
You looked beautiful, now fully nude in the summer heat. James was busy clumsily pawing at your breasts while you rubbed your own clit. A part of Joel’s brain was ignited in anger as he watched the younger man line his bare cock up with your pussy. It was that part of his brain that he had to temper when he was in Jackson, only bringing it out when necessary while on patrol shifts or on supplies runs.
It was Joel’s duty to protect you, as an older member of the community, as the father of your close friend. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself as he finally emerged from behind the tree and began to approach you and James.
“’scuse me,” Joel muttered, with a pointed tone that was meant to convey authority and disappointment. You were too busy to mind the tone, however, as you were both scared shitless, scurrying to cover yourselves up and act like you weren’t just getting ready to have sex.
“Don’t you know how dangerous it is to be out here this time of year? In the dark? Busiest time for bears.”
James—although clearly scared based on how fast he shoved his dick back in his pants—seemed perturbed by Joel’s interference with his plans.
“Then why are you out here?”
Joel just shrugged. “Tommy wanted me to keep an eye out for horny idiots and stop ‘em from becoming a bear’s dinner.”
James didn’t laugh, just jumping to his feet and reaching out for your hand.
“Don’t worry ‘bout that,” Joel muttered. “I’ll escort her home. Think you’ve done enough for tonight, champ.”
Joel looked back to James with a dark gaze, trying to impart the message that he wanted him to fuck off already.
James just rolled his eyes, clearly not up to trying to fight with a man like Joel, especially now that you had a vested interest in going home with him instead. He said goodnight to you without much grace or sweetness and limped off, probably still dealing with a bit of an erection.
“Keep an eye out for bears, buddy!”
When Joel looked back down to you, he found you smiling at his comment.
“I-I’m really sorry,” you muttered, looking down at your lap nervously while you shifted around from underneath your blanket, probably trying to get your panties back on. “This is so embarrassing.”
“Only thing that’s embarrassin’ is your choice of company.”
You ignored the comment, but he could tell you were still uncomfortable by the entire situation. He figured you were probably too bashful about sex to have a frank discussion about it, and Joel knew how dangerous it was for a young person—especially a young woman—to try and figure out sexual intimacy with only vague ideas and generalities.
You needed his help, Joel realized. And he was already here to protect you—it wouldn’t make sense to just stop now, when you arguably needed him the most.
He kneeled down, staring at you closely while you continued to shift around under the blanket. You looked up at him in shame, shaking your head.
“Now, I told you I’d take care of you, but I don’t know if I’d be able to take care of you and some baby you let yourself get knocked up with because you weren’t bein’ careful enough.”
“I’m so sorry, Joel… I just…”
“There’s other ways to get men to like you. You don’t need to degrade yourself for the first little boy who shows you attention.”
“Joel, I…”
“This is certainly not the way to get people in town to trust you.”
“I’m sorry!”
Joel stopped, staring at your face which seemed shocked by your own outburst. Tears began to form in your eyes once again, and he wished it didn’t turn him on as much as it did.
“I was just… Joel, I was just so desperate.”
“For what?”
Your eyes left his, and you looked around with a wince. “For that… relief you were talking about. James was just the first guy who asked.”
Joel thought about taking you right there. He’d hold your arms down and clamp your mouth shut if he had to, as long as he could give you that relief that you were so desperate for. He cock was aching in his jeans just at the thought of it, of how your pussy would feel clamping down on him, how he’d stretch you open.
His grip got tighter around your arm, and he had to stop himself from hurting you.
“Get up. We’re goin’ home.”
_________________________________________
“I know you’re disappointed in me,” you whispered when you two finally got back to the privacy of the house, after a long silent walk.
“I’m not disappointed in you,” he replied sternly. “I’m hurt.”
You stared at him with a sad little look.
“Have I not given you everything? Have I not taken care of you without judgement?”
“You have… of course you have!”
“Then why would you go to some random, careless boy in your time of need.”
You let out a tiny huff, looking around the room in discomfort. “I just… I thought maybe you weren’t into that stuff anymore. You’re just so much older than me.”
It turned Joel on to hear you say it, but his blood burned at what you were insinuating.
“Think I’m just some old man with a limp dick?”
You seemed shocked at his language, beginning to slowly back away from him.
“After all I’ve done for you?”
“Joel, I’m sorry,” you whispered, taking a few more steps back. “Can we talk about this in the morning? I think you’re too upset now.”
He took a few long strides forward and grabbed your wrists before you could move, twisting your arms so you were unable to get away. He pulled your body flush against his, staring into your eyes intensely.
“Think I can’t fuck, huh? Trust me, baby: I’ve never met a pussy I couldn’t get off. Used to fuck little sluts like you… I’d pick ‘em up in bars or at parties. Fucked almost babysitter I ever hired, fucked a few of my buddy’s daughters.”
“Joel,” you whimpered, voice dripping with fear. “I’m sorry… I believe you.”
“Haven’t even gotten to tell you about all the pussy I’ve gotten since the outbreak. Fuck, there’s something about the end of the world that made girls like you hornier than ever. Can’t tell you how many girls I had coming on my cock, callin’ me daddy while they milked me dry.”
“Let me go,” you muttered, twisting your arms just to bring yourself more pain.
“The ones who were trying to fight how they felt were my favorites, though. There was just something about grabbing a bitch by her wrists and bending her over and just destroying her. And lemme tell you, sweetheart. They always came.”
Joel tried to be gentle when he tied your hands together. He didn’t need you being all bruised up and covered in evidence. He stuffed your panties in your mouth to stop you from screaming. Finally, he threw you on his bed, face first. He quickly got on top of you, his meaty thighs spread over each side of your ass while he repositioned your face against the mattress and muttered directions.
“Quit your squirmin’, baby.”
He indulged himself in a few slaps of your ass, watching your flesh jiggle before spreading your legs and letting out a low whistle.
“Look at all that wetness coverin’ your cute little pussy.”
He shoved a thick finger inside, groaning as he explored your tight, wet hole. “You really were fuckin’ desperate for it, huh?”
He took a moment to taste you off his finger, groaning in approval before working another finger in, roughly stretching you open.
“Don’t know why you’re resistin’ so much. Gonna give you better cock than that fucker James coulda.”
You made lots of noise, but it was all muffled by the gag. Drool dripped out of your mouth and down your chin, the sight of which turned Joel on even more.
“I told you, baby. I take care of you.”
With that, he lined his cock up at your entrance and pushed his reddened, leaking cock inside. He moaned as he forced himself deeper and deeper into you, grateful for how wet you were.
“Gonna make you take all of it, baby. Even if it hurts. You gotta learn your place here.”
You continued to make noise, squirming around underneath him in a way that only made his cock feel better.
“Aww, you want more? That what you’re trying to tell me?”
He began to pull his cock out, rubbing the tip against your swollen labia for a moment before slamming it back in, eliciting a sharp yell from behind the gag.
Joel continued to fuck you, hands gripping at your shoulders. He leaned in closer, beginning to mutter in your ear.
“There’s a cost to the comfort of Jackson, sweetheart.”
He grabbed the back of your head and twisted your neck around so that he could see more of your face. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with the drool on your chin.
“Keep cryin’, baby. I can feel how much you love this.”
He reached down to grope at your breasts, sharply pinching your nipples.
“Gonna learn to take what I give ya.”
Your cunt squeezed him tightly, and he thought you were close.
“Imagine what everyone in town will say when you end up pregnant, redeemed by kind old Mr. Miller helping to raise some crude man’s baby.”
He imagined you swollen with a baby, at your most vulnerable and needy. He imagined how much it’d turn him on to milk your breasts while he remembered how he knocked you up.
That was the thought that finally got him off. He groaned as he came inside of you, twisting your hair up in his hands and pulling your head back. It’d been too long since he’d come inside of a pretty little thing like you, and he couldn’t help but savor the moment when he pulled his softening cock out and watched a bit of his come cover your lips/
“Sorry you didn’t get off yet, sweetie,” Joel muttered as he watched your hole desperately contract around nothing. “But we’ve got plenty of time for that.”
#dark!joel miller#joel miller x reader#dark!joel x reader#dark!joel#tw dub con#tw noncon#cw noncon#cw dubcon#ddne#dead dove do not eat
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Pairing: Kamisato Ayato x F!Reader
Notes: Inspired by @cinnamonest's Kamisato Ayato/Teacher modern AU. Please read her lovely piece beforehand for further context!
This is a commissioned SEQUEL to will you, won't you.
CW: Age gap [ Ayato is 18, reader is 20+ ], not sfw, student/teacher with the student initiating, dubious consent, implied blackmail, PIV, manipulation, crying, overstimulation.
WC: 6.3k
Tag List: @magicalbats
It’s not without effort that you finally give up and lie down, your nerves shot and your body sore. You were worn from the night itself and the last few hours you’d spent trying to escape the room Ayato had locked you in, desperate to do something.
[ You’d stood before the door that Ayato had locked for several long minutes, vainly hoping that this whole night had just been some sort of twisted joke. He never came back, though. Not even when you banged your fists against the door and cried out for help, nor when you made a racket trying to break the door down. Tears had rolled down your face as you collapsed against the floor, unable to believe that this was really happening. Your life as you knew it was over. Even if you could escape, Ayato had made sure that you wouldn’t truly be free - not when he had the threat of a video that would ruin your career and reputation in his hands. ]
You squeeze your eyes shut and try to ignore the images of Ayato running through your mind, your mind refusing to focus on anything else. At this point, you had nothing left to give. All your tears had been shed, and your throat ached from how long you’d cried for help. Instead of fighting it any longer, you simply get up from bed and enter the en suite bathroom, numbly prepared to do your bedtime routine. Finding something normal about the situation was the only thing that brought you a small modicum of comfort, and going through your nightly routine was better than just lying down in turmoil.
Ayato had left everything you could possibly need. You noted, with shaking hands, that he’d even supplied you with the products you kept in your home - all brand new, of course. Some of your things had been replaced with luxury products, complete with a note from Ayato that read: ‘These are better for your health. Try them out, I know you’ll like them. - Ayato’
You crumple up the note in annoyance, picking up the luxury products and dumping them into the trash. Wasting such expensive items hurt, but since they were from Ayato, you refused to use them. To do so would be letting go of your remaining dignity - you’d just have to go without them.
You numbly wash your face and brush your teeth, though going through the motions of your normal routine doesn’t settle your mind as much as you’d hoped it would. You exit the bathroom and lay back down on the bed, resigning yourself to sleep. Perhaps you’d be able to think straighter with a night of rest in your system. You’d take anything that could help you get out of Ayato’s grasp.
Your sheer exhaustion beats out the racing of your mind, and eventually, you fall asleep.
/
Across the manor, Ayato is wide awake, unable to stop thinking about you. If only you’d settle in quicker - he longs for being able to treat you like his wife, and you to treat him as a husband. Other people would think he was moving too fast, but you’d already belonged to him in his mind for months. He wants to go to sleep with you curled around him. And more than anything, he wants your face to be the first thing he sees when he wakes up in the morning. Soon enough, that would be a reality. First, though, he’d have to make sure you understood your new position as his girlfriend, and as his eventual wife. It was something Ayato was looking forward to. You were already perfect in so many ways, but he would make sure he molded you into his definition of perfection. The challenge of taming someone as intelligent as you only added to Ayato’s excitement.
All of Ayato’s careful planning would come to fruition, and there was nothing you could do to change things. That thought - that you were finally under Ayato’s thumb where you belonged, safe from the outside world - eventually lulls him to sleep.
/
You awake with a start, the unfamiliar bed and room alarming to your senses. It takes you a moment to remember where you are, your heart leaping into your throat at the realization.
It wasn’t all some bad dream you’d had after drinking too much at the graduation party. What had happened between you and Ayato was real, and so was the fact that you were still in his home. It was inappropriate - even unimaginable for a teacher like yourself to spend the night at a student’s place. You feel sick at the thought, and you clench your fists into the silk sheets.
It didn’t matter, anyway. Ayato wasn’t going to let you return to teaching. Even if you had found a way out of the house, Ayato had made sure that every route you might attempt to take was blocked. You curse internally - at yourself, for being so stupid, and Ayato for doing this to you.
Why…? You couldn’t be that special, yet Ayato looked at you like you hung the moon and stars themselves. His reverence wasn’t free from condensation, though, something you noted with particular annoyance. He treated you as if you were fragile - like you didn’t know the world's ways. It was infuriating. Ayato was only eighteen himself, but he acted as if he had an ancient soul.
Your thoughts trail off until a beam of sunlight peeks through the curtains. You didn’t want to dwell on your current situation any longer than you already had. You decide to leave bed and poke around the room with a fresh mind, your thoughts no longer clouded by a haze of alcohol and confusion.
Nothing much catches your eye except for the bookshelf, and you peruse the selection that was no doubt curated by Ayato. A few classics, a couple of trashy romance novels, a few books you’d assigned in class (filled with neatly placed post-its - some with your handwriting), and a few dated books on lady’s etiquette. You scoff, but you aren’t surprised. Putting those books there had no doubt made him chuckle, but they were also a genuine suggestion. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of finding one in your hands.
Instead, you pick out one of the classics and retreat to your bed to read. You weren’t sure when Ayato would come knocking, so you’d enjoy all the solitude you could get before then.
/
From the moment he wakes up, Ayato is thinking about you. The night before had been more than he ever could have asked for. You’d walked so easily into the trap he’d set for you - a gilded cage that he’d planned every minute detail of.
What’s more pressing at the moment, though, is his cock already stiff beneath the soft fabric of his pajamas. Where he had to resort to his fantasies of you in the past, he could now find reprieve just down the hall from you.
Ayato doesn’t hurry to you, though. He wouldn’t have been able to pull off any of this plan if he didn’t have the impeccable self-control that he did. Instead, he begins his normal morning routine, willing his morning wood to go down until he can properly see you.
He’s purposeful with his routine, not rushing any step. It didn’t hurt to make you wait - the anticipation of when he would arrive would be good for you, he thought.
When the time finally comes for him to see you again, he spares no time heading to your room. He’d been patient long enough.
Ayato knocks once before he enters your room, darting in so fast that you wouldn’t have a chance to even think about trying to push past him. He’s mildly surprised to see you’re simply sitting on the bed and reading - he’d expected a little more fight from you, but perhaps… Perhaps you’d come around to his ideas during the time he’d left you alone.
“Good morning,” he calls, approaching the bed. He could faintly smell your usual body wash lingering in the air - one of the few things he hadn’t swapped out for a luxury product, finding himself quite fond of the scent. He’d have to ask you if you liked the new products later. He watches you for a moment, but you don’t put your book down. Oh, it looks like you hadn’t lost your stubborn streak after all. Ayato sits on the bed and watches as you grimace, your eyes peeking over the top of the book to shoot him a small glare.
Cute, but not becoming of someone who would be his future wife.
Ayato tsks, leaning forward and plucking the book from your hands, ignoring your protests. In a brief moment of kindness, he folds the ear of the page you were on so you can find your place later. You cringe at the gesture, though, years of telling students not to destroy your books flooding your mind. If he notices, he ignores it.
“How was your night?” Ayato smiles and glosses over the situation like it was any other day. If he acted like things were normal, he thought, you’d eventually be forced to also.
Silence fills the air. You purse your lips, petulant, and keep your gaze trained on the window. (Locked, of course.) Ayato sighs and scoots closer to you on the bed so that he’s pressed against you. He wraps an arm around your shoulders before you can squirm away, his heart suddenly beating fast. Even a simple touch sent his heart racing when it came to you - he did well to keep his composure, lest you exploit it. Ayato needed to be in control, after all. “Aren’t you going to answer me?”
“How do you think it was?” Your reply is curt. The sooner you replied, the sooner he’d leave. You should have known that giving Ayato an in by acknowledging him was a mistake.
“I see you enjoyed your new beauty products, and that you enjoyed your choice of literature.” Ayato pats the book that he’d taken from you. Of course you liked it… You were perfect for him.
“I threw all that new stuff away.” At the very least, you could take pleasure in denying his gifts.
“That’s a shame,” Ayato replies, betraying no emotion. “When you’re better behaved, I can take you with me to pick some new things out.” He gets a thrill out of the annoyed expression on your face. Clearly, you’d expected him to be upset, but the products were mere pocket change to him. Eventually, you’d accept his gifts and come to understand how much he understood you. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the book, at least.”
The book… Of course. You had been enjoying it, until Ayato’s remark. The way he knew every facet of your personality made your skin crawl. “It’s fine.”
Ayato laughs at your cold response. If you wanted to get under his skin, you’d have to try much harder - he’d memorized your reactions and tells ages ago. It was easy for him to read you. As much as he was enjoying the one-sided banter, there were other pressing matters at hand.
Namely, how hard his cock was just from sitting next to you for a few minutes. It’d be shameful if he didn’t consider it a testament to how much he loved you. Your familiar scent and the warm skin that was pressed against his had sent his body into overdrive, almost as if it was making up for lost time. So much of his time had been taken up by school and responsibilities, but finally getting to touch you last night had awoken something new in him. Of course, he’d been taking care of himself to the thought of you for months, but getting to experience your body was a completely different game. It was addicting.
If he was a lesser man with no self-control, he would have fucked you well into the night. He hadn’t planned on pushing you to fuck him again just yet, but perhaps he could indulge in some other things. There was so much he wanted to try, after all.
Ayato slides the hand that was wrapped around your shoulder to gently press against your neck, letting his long fingers ghost against your pulse point. He hears you inhale suddenly, and the noise goes straight to his cock. (He wanted to devour you. He wanted to lock you up and fuck you senseless. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted… But it’s not what you needed, nor what you deserved. Ayato loved you. Such primal needs could be sated later when you eagerly responded to him - he had imagined so many times that you’d come to crave him as he craved you.)
“Ayato,” you warn, your voice low. “What are you doing?” You push Ayato’s hand away, and he lets you. You’d learn in time not to reject him, but Ayato had to walk a delicate line until then. He sighs, nonchalant, and lets his hand skirt down your arm instead. You grumble but don’t bother pushing him away.
“Do you really have to ask?” Ayato’s hand continues its path down your arm until he reaches the place where your hands are firmly pressed against your thighs. He sighs out your name. “You don’t have to be so worried about things like this. You are my girlfriend, after all.”
“Girlfriend?” You blurt, whipping your head to the side to stare at him. Ayato’s lips lift into that infuriating, smug smile that all his fellow students had giggled and blushed over. All it did to you was make your stomach curl. “That’s—” You’re startled into silence when Ayato slips his hand under the hem of your shirt, his fingers splaying across the bare skin.
The tips of his fingers are cold, and the sensation sends a chill up your spine. Your mouth hangs open dumbly as he explores the soft skin of your stomach. A strangled yelp leaves your throat when he runs his fingers over a ticklish spot.
“D-don’t,” you huff, the drift of his fingers over the ticklish spot again making you stumble on your words. “I don’t think we should do this.” He laughs, amused by your reaction. Anything he could get from you right now was fine - all he wanted was your complete attention, positive or negative.
“If you don’t like me touching you here, why do you react like this?” Ayato had mistaken the noise he’d drawn from you for arousal, his voice dripping with condescension as if the problem here is that you just don’t understand your own body and not that you’re being held against your will.
Before you can stop him, Ayato’s hand drags upward to your chest and he cups your breast in his hand. He plays with the weight of your breast, jiggling it. It reminds you of fooling around when you were younger, the unintentional awkwardness and non-pleasure of it making you grimace. Ayato doesn’t seem to notice, though. He sighs as he fondles you, entranced by the soft flesh of your tit that he’d been kneading.
You could almost drift away for a moment, pretend you were still asleep—
And then Ayato tweaks your nipple, hard, and your mouth falls open, a pained whimper rising to the surface. He took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, his gaze remaining on your shocked expression as he licked deeper into your mouth. It was all-consuming and violating – not like a kiss at all.
Whatever trance you had fallen under was quickly broken. Ayato is sloppy as he kisses you, his hand sliding down your stomach to fumble with the hem of your pants. It’d be endearing if it was anyone else - and yet some part of you doesn’t have the will to try and stop him. He’d already proven he’d do whatever it took to get what he wanted.
You don’t jerk away when his hand finally slips into your underwear, long middle finger immediately searching out your clit. It’s clear he’s struggling with kissing you and trying to finger you at the same time. You break apart from the kiss and he whines, chasing after your lips.
“Ayato…” You struggle to find your words, not daring to lift your gaze to his. You should stop him, you really should. You don’t, though. You were still so tired from last night. If you only gave in this one time, you’d have more time to think. You breathe out hard through your nose and finally speak. “One thing at a time.”
“Sorry,” he says, sounding sheepish. “I’ll do better.” It’s an admission you hadn’t expected from him, but it was apparent that he was vulnerable in this state when it came down to things. If you were a worse person - if you were like him - you would have taken advantage of it. Turned the situation around on itself. But you weren’t like him, so instead, you remain silent when he dips his middle finger through your folds, letting the wetness that had accumulated gather on his digit.
Ayato hums when he feels proof of your arousal on his finger. He knew that all you ever needed was a reminder of how good things would be for you if you let him do as he saw fit. He would be a proper husband for you in all ways, and his duty of pleasuring you was one he wanted to emphasize despite his inexperience.
Ayato is aware that he shouldn’t rush things, but his eagerness to consume you whole pushes him to dip his finger inside of your cunt. His finger slips in easily, aided by the lubrication your body had produced despite your will.
“See?” Ayato arches the finger inside of you, stroking against your warm walls. “Your body doesn’t lie.” You shudder, half-pleasure half-discomfort as he adds another finger. He arches his fingers up again, searching. You wouldn’t give him the pleasure of helping guide him toward the spot inside of you that always sent your body reeling. You ignore his words, the arrogance coupled with his inexperience guiding your lips into a petulant pout. You just had to endure this a little bit longer.
It only takes a second for Ayato to notice your new expression.
Ayato didn’t want to spoil you, as much as he loved that fiery side of you. Sometimes you needed your flames dampened, and who better than him who did it out of love? He pulls his fingers from inside you and instead starts to focus on your clit, pulling a surprised moan from your throat. His technique is sloppy, but it’s not so bad that you couldn’t come from it.
His silence as he touches you makes you wary - so far, he hadn’t been able to keep his mouth shut. It’s barely a thought, though, not when your arousal is about to reach a fever pitch.
And then, without warning, Ayato pulls his fingers away from your clit— You whimper in frustration as your arousal fades back to a low burn. You twist your head up to look at him for an explanation and only find a serene look on his face. It immediately sends hackles up your spine, and you reflexively pull away from him. Ayato lets you this time.
“It doesn’t have to be like this.” Ayato says, accusatory. Your eyebrows knit in annoyance. He tilts his head, looking at you like he expected something. “Your attitude,” he starts. “You can’t enjoy what I’m giving you and act like a brat.”
“A brat?” You sputter, insulted more by his choice of words than the sentiment itself. You had adjusted rapidly to Ayato’s malaligned attitude about his feelings for you, but this talk like you were just misbehaving was too much. You were a grown adult, for gods’ sake. “I didn’t ask you for any of this.”
“Didn’t you, though?” Ayato leans in, taking up your space. “All those times when you let me talk to you at lunch. You were so kind. And all those times you spoke to me after the school day even though I wasn’t in your class.” Before you can give him a rebuttal, he continues, almost manic. “I knew you were perfect the second I met you. Last night was just a precautionary measure. We were always going to be together.”
You’re unable to reply at his unashamed admission. While you reel from his words, Ayato stands from the bed. He brings the fingers that were inside of you to his mouth and sighs before he presses them to his mouth, sucking your juices from them. You watch in muted disgust.
“I’m going to let you rest for a bit. I’ll bring you brunch shortly. I think you need some more time to think about what I’m doing for you.” Ayato smiles as he produces the key to your room from his pajama shirt’s pocket. “You’re smart enough to know this, but you’ll be staying in this room until your behavior improves.”
When you don’t respond, Ayato shrugs. “It’s your choice. I’ll see you soon.”
/
Ayato, true to his word, returns with brunch around an hour later. He leaves you to your devices after, dutifully returning every meal time to bring you food but not lingering. It remains like this for two days, with you stubbornly refusing to acknowledge him and Ayato seemingly unbothered.
You’d used your time to think of something, anything, to put a hold on Ayato’s plans. On the third day, you finally speak to him again.
“Ayato? Can we talk?”
He turns immediately, his facade of nonchalance betrayed by how eager he looked. “Of course.” He hurries to sit across from you on a matching lounge chair to the chaise you’d been sitting on. “I’ve missed talking to you.”
You ignore him, and press on. “I have a proposal. I know you want to take care of me, but I think I should keep teaching, so I came up with a compromise.” You expect him to protest, but he just stares at you with a placid smile on your face. Unnerved, you press on. “What if I taught private lessons online?” You didn’t like saying the next part, but you had to try to placate him. “I would stay at home, of course. And you could vet any potential students. I’ve been working for years, Ayato. It’d feel wrong to just quit.”
“I see.” Ayato says, terse. You can already tell he doesn’t like the idea.
A pregnant pause hangs in the air.
“No.” Ayato stands, and you scramble up after him. You grab his arm, surprised by your own actions but unable to control your panic. “My plans- our plans, are final.”
“Please, there has to be something. We can’t do this, any of this…” You’re almost breathless as you speak.
“Let’s sit down.” Ayato leads you to the bed, but you hardly realize it. You let him maneuver you onto the bed. Your mind races for another excuse to try and bring up, but there’s nothing. Ayato strokes your hand. “Is that it?”
His tacit tone, as if you had just been throwing a tantrum, ignites whatever fuel you have left to argue with him.
“D-damn it,” You start, fumbling with your words. Ayato gives you a patronizing look that makes you want to rip his head off. You take a deep breath and try again. “You haven’t thought of all the repercussions. What will your family say? What will Ayaka say?” If anything could garner a shred of sympathy from Ayato, it had to be Ayaka. Perhaps with enough mention of his younger sibling, his plans would start to crack.
“What will Ayaka think?” Ayato echoes, raising his eyebrow. “She’ll think it’s wonderful that her older brother has found someone so responsible and mature.” He catches your eyes, and his gaze turns serious. “Ayaka is very innocent, you know. You wouldn’t want to hurt her by telling her the truth, would you? Even if you gained her sympathy… Ayaka is loyal to her family first.” Ayato’s tone is one of finality - any argument you had would be useless against him. It was like he lived inside your head, plucking out every seed of hope one by one and crushing them.
You can’t give up, though. “Your family, then. They won’t accept this. They have to realize how wrong this is. They… they have to!” Your voice breaks. Even if they did find it wrong, Ayato wouldn’t take the blame - you would. Ayato watches as the gears in your head turn, the faux sympathetic look back on his face.
“You already know my answer to that, dear. Did you think I was unprepared for our relationship? I’ve been planning every detail of how things would go for months. You know the Kamisato family’s reputation. I’m no exception to it.” Ayato takes your hand and soothes his thumb across the top.
You’re too numb to stop him.
You knew the family’s reputation well. The Kamisato family was meticulous. They were perfectionists to a T. Their legacy was long-standing, in both the private academy and the city you lived in. And most of all, they were known to be ruthless to anyone who crossed their family. Their ruthlessness was hidden under business deals gone bad, companies suddenly failing, another family’s secrets exposed - it was covert and deadly. To be in their line of fire was to have your life effectively over. You couldn’t do it. You were one person.
In a last-ditch effort, you pitch another idea. “Then… Then…” You stumble over your words. Ayato tips his head to the side - condescending smile and lidded eyes, a look that you’d quickly become used to - urging you to go on. Your throat suddenly feels very dry, but you know that if you ask for water, Ayato will steer the subject in a completely different direction. You warily raise your gaze to meet his. “If you’re so sure your family will accept this, then… What if we wait a little longer to move things forward?”
Ayato hums, thoughtful. He’s not really considering your offer, but he might as well pretend to be so he can see where you’re at. “And how long would that be?”
“I was thinking a year or so,” you begin. “You would be established at college by then, and I—”
Ayato’s finger comes to rest on your lips, interrupting you. He shakes his head before he pulls away, chuckling to himself at the expression on your face. “I’ll save you the explanation. I’m sure it’s a nice plan, but it won’t work.”
“You didn’t even let me finish!” You protest. Ayato ignores your outburst and wraps his arms around your waist, suddenly pulling you into his lap. Try as you might, you can’t squirm free from his tight grip. Your stomach tightens, anxiety pulling at it. He’s too close, and it’s too much - you feel trapped.
“Are you done now?” Ayato’s question sends anger running through your veins. How could someone turn from a respectful student to a condescending young man in such a short amount of time? He had never treated you with anything less than respect when you were his teacher, but now, it was like that part of your relationship had never existed. Ayato must sense your displeasure, as he loosens his grip and sighs. “You know that I appreciate your intelligence. Picking you as my wife wasn’t something I did without my due diligence.”
The thought that he’d been planning this for even longer than you’d imagined makes bile rise in your throat. You’re so distracted by the thought that you forgo trying to escape his grip and instead curl limply into him. Ayato is nearly giddy that you’re leaning into him, completely ignoring the stricken look on your face.
Another argument pops into your mind as you ruminate on the time it had taken for Ayato to plan things out. Time divided the two of you - Ayato young, and you a well-established adult. If you perhaps talked up Ayato’s youth and the rich life he had ahead of him, it might put a seed of doubt in his mind that would grow over time. You’d have to talk down about yourself like you were used goods, but if it worked, it would be worth it. It wasn’t an immediate solution, but it was something.
“I’m not done, actually.” Ayato tsks but doesn’t stop you. You swallow and peer up at him from his lap, preparing to disparage yourself simply to argue against him. “Wouldn’t you rather have someone your own age? Someone who will… Who will look good alongside you? Who can grow with you at the same pace?”
Ayato’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, genuine surprise painted on his face. He regains his composure a moment later, his eyes narrowing. “Do you really think I’m that type of man?” He turns your own words back against you - like your self-depreciation had been an affront to him. He doesn’t wait for a response before he continues. “Your beauty is timeless. I would never tire of you.” Ayato sounds soft, for a moment, but then he twists his lips into a cruel smile. “But if I did grow tired, I wouldn’t have trouble finding fun elsewhere. Many husbands do, you know.”
His cruelty was thrown so easily in between his kindness. You merely stare at him, mouth open. Ayato laughs and leans down to press his forehead against yours. The sweet gesture sickens you, but you know pulling away will only make him do something more invasive.
“Don’t worry. Like I said, I’m not that kind of man.”
Ayato had cornered you on the bed during the conversation, and you’re hit with the realization that you’re in no position to get out from under him. He’d broken down every wall you had.
“I’ll give you everything you could ever need or want. I’d be happy to give you another reminder.” Ayato leans down and captures your lips in a messy kiss, pressing forward until your reluctance gave way to kissing him back. He finally pulls up for air when you’re nearly out of breath, his lips slick with saliva. “Your body hasn’t lied to me yet.”
He wasn’t wrong, and you hated it. Deep down, in a place you didn’t want to admit existed, his attention felt good. It disgusted you, but your ability to deny it was betrayed by your body again and again. You could say it was a natural reaction as much as you wanted, but Ayato could see right through you.
You don’t stop him when he begins to undress you, hastily pulling your pants down and simply shoving your shirt up and your bra down until your tits were pushing over the top. He tweaks your nipples until they’re standing taut, playing with them with far more intent than he had earlier. His hands eventually slide down your stomach, and then they stop.
You glance at him. He smiles, the twinkle in his eye making you feel uneasy. “Didn’t I tell you I couldn’t have you getting spoiled? Go on, tell me what you want. I can’t just give it to you.”
You couldn’t. Doing so would be admitting that you were truly out of options. You turn your head, and Ayato tuts. His fingers ghost over your skin until he reaches your clit, so close that you can feel the heat of his skin against it. He doesn’t touch you, though.
“I can wait.” Ayato smiles, and remains still. His touch is so close yet so far, and the sensation of needing to be touched is starting to flood your veins.
How had you fallen so far in just a few days that you were seriously considering begging your captor to touch you? Had you really ever been opposed to his idea? No, of course you had - but your mind was already getting muddled, the brief isolation and emotional turmoil proving all too much.
Touching was simple. It felt good.
You give in. “Fine,” you mumble. “Touch me…”
Ayato tilts his head. You grit your teeth. “Please.”
“Good girl.”
Ayato’s words send a shock of arousal you weren’t expecting at the same moment his fingers begin their minstrations against your clit, and you keen forward, hissing. Everything from the littlest touch had been heightened by your increased emotional state, and this area of your body fared no differently.
Ayato’s fingers work diligently until your clit is swollen and needy, yet he seemingly slowed down every time you came close to orgasm. You let out a frustrated whine at every near peak that fades back into building arousal, the previous momentum completely lost. How many times had it been now…? You weren’t sure.
“You know what to ask.” Ayato’s fingers continue rubbing circles into your puffy clit, the bud aching with need. It’s not enough to get you off, though, and he knows it. The disappointment of the denied orgasm earlier that week pushes itself to the forefront of your mind, though, your body eager to get the pleasure it was denied. It was all too much and not enough at once. Ayato slows down his ministrations and forces your head up with his free hand. His fingers squish your cheeks together. “Well?”
You whine through your squished cheeks, and Ayato’s touch relents enough so that you can talk. “P-please,” you mumble. “I wanna come.” It felt wrong - but you didn’t think you could take the denial of pleasure again, your body nearly begging for it. If you had told him to stop, he undoubtedly would have prevented you from finishing yourself off. Ayato hums at your response, and his fingers begin to rub tight circles around your clit with purpose. You refused to vocalize it, but you could tell he was already getting better at touching you.
It only takes a few more strokes until you’re coming, your lower half jerking off the bed in time with the waves of your orgasm. Ayato doesn’t let up his fingers and soon it becomes near unbearable. You squirm, and drag your hips away. His fingers finally draw away from your puffy clit and he groans out your name, enthralled by the sight of you.
“Can’t wait to get inside of you,” he huffs, hurriedly undoing the belt on his clothes. His cock is out before you even realize it, pretty pink head leaking precome from the tip. Ayato moves over you and presses the head of his cock into your clit, watching eagerly as the little bud twitches from overstimulation.
“Nooo,” you whine, “it’s too much still—”
Ayato’s cock jumps in place, your words going straight to his member. Seeing you so vulnerable made him feel like he could come any moment. Before he can embarrass himself again by coming too soon, he pulls back, letting himself cool off for a moment.
“I think you can take a little more.” Ayato’s words are followed by his fingers on your clit once more, fingertips ghosting over the sensitive flesh. You wiggle at the sensation, his touch slowly becoming more pleasant as it breaks through the dull ache of being touched again so soon.
You shouldn’t have given in to him so easily. Not again - but you can scarcely think of that when Ayato is bringing you to your peak and then back again a second time, and then a third.
You’re teary by now, the pleasure-pain reaching a level you hadn’t experienced in a long while. You expect him to attempt a fourth orgasm, but instead feel him climb over you to line himself up with your entrance.
“I can’t, not again-” You warble, and Ayato leans down to capture your protests with a kiss. He uses the moment to press himself inside of you, finding no resistance as he pushes himself to the hilt. It felt just as heavenly as it did the first time.
Ayato’s pace stutters at first, struggling to coordinate the thrust of his hips and the rhythm of his fingers on your clit. He groans into your mouth while he fucks you, only pulling away to bury his head into your neck. The momentary stop and start of his fingers on your too-sensitive clit make you jerk under him, mind too far gone to do anything else.
Though you try to fight it, a fourth orgasm rips itself from your center. You clench down on Ayato and nearly shriek as it ripples through your body - Ayato follows you a few shaky pumps later, your name falling from his lips over and over as he comes inside of you.
It’s suddenly much too bright and much too hot and you thrash underneath Ayato, desperate to get out from underneath him. For once, he acquiesces to you and lets you roll to your own side of the bed.
You stare at the ceiling, suddenly all too aware of the sweat sticking to your skin. Your personal space is invaded when he drags your head onto his chest and wraps his arms around your shoulders.
You supposed it was his form of a compromise.
/
A month later, you’re sat at Ayato’s office desk with a thick piece of cardstock in front of you with the Kamisato family crest embossed on the top. The new clothes you were in still feel too expensive and stiff against the leather chair you were sitting in, and the luxury perfume Ayato had insisted you wear was suffocating. The sizeable ring on your finger feels dreadfully heavy as you stare at Ayato before looking down.
All these things to distract you from the impending message.
‘The Kamisato family is proud to announce the engagement of eldest son, Kamisato Ayato &…’
You don’t have to read further to guess that your name follows his.
“What do you think, dear? Do you like this color?”
A month wasn’t a long time, but it was long enough for you to know what Ayato wanted you to say and what you needed to say for your sanity.
“I love it.”
#my writing#not sfw#kamisato ayato x reader#yandere kamisato ayato#yandere kamisato ayato x reader#yandere genshin impact#genshin impact.txt#age gap cw#dub con cw#dark content#yandere cw#gi kamisato ayato#gi ayato
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Please share some Sleaze!Mammon brainrot you've had with us if you can
Yes!! I love Mams being my sleazy boy!!
Some of these are pretty sleazy I never know if I’m doing too much or not whoops
I feel like he’d take you to sketchy clubs with drugs and sex all around you especially if you are super innocent to see your cute little face get all flustered
And if we want to go with him being even more of a sleaze ball he’d get you high so he can fuck you in front of everyone while you are too blissed out of your mind to care
When he’s at casinos and brings you along, he has you dressed in the skimpiest little outfits dripping with gold and jewels and a hand always on your ass. He also puts you on your knees in front of him sucking him off while he plays, for good luck of course
Again if we want to turn up the sleaze by a lot, if he’s feeling really lucky he gambles you, if he loses you get passed around to all the demons that have been hungrily eyeing you this whole time
Another pretty sketchy one, he loves taking videos of you getting fucked by him and pictures of you with his cum dripping out of you but he loves even more to sell those pictures. It’s a win win he turns a profit and gets to treasure those memories forever
I feel like he’d definitely be a cherry chaser too, what’s better than corrupting a cute little virgin and really being their first
#most of these real mams wouldn’t do bc he’s to jealous and greedy he wouldn’t want to share you or people seeing you the way only he can#but sleazy mammon on the other hand?#obey me shall we date#obey me#obey me smut#obey me mammon#obey me mammon smut#tw drug abuse#cw drug abuse#tw dub con#cw dubcon#sleazy! mammon
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cocktails
gif from @pirateherokillian
pairing: jake lockley x shy!reader
summary: you finally gain enough courage to make a move on your best friend
cw: explicit (18+), dub-con (reader is tipsy), afab!reader, dry humping to piv pipeline, fingering, multiple orgasms, longing/pining losers, love (?), push-over!jake, needy!reader, 'just the tip' is never just the tip, alcohol consumption, pet names, daddy kink, creampie, fluff :3 -- not beta-read
wc: 5.1k
a/n: pls, it was never supposed to be this long. i'm sorry for taking FOREVER to write this. anyways, this is based off my blabbering in discord -- i dedicate this to my whores (affectionate) <3
mk masterlist | main masterlist
----
You don’t drink.
At least not in front of Jake.
Alcohol makes you…indulgent, to say the least, and that’s a side you’ve been holding back from your best friend.
Yes, you’ve had a drink or two at some group hangouts in the past, but this, you, Jake, and a few bottles of gifted wine, surprisingly has never happened in the past. You’ve made sure of it.
What almost makes it worse is that Jake’s always been a sweetheart about your choices to avoid drinking around him. After your first few bouts of excuses and timid declines, he doesn’t pressure you to keep up with him when he’s knocking back shots or drinking pitchers of beer.
Whenever your other friends press another drink into your hand, he subtly takes it for you, drinking it in large gulps before returning the glass from your hand. And when he pulls away, his fingers always find a way to graze against yours. Thankfully the bars are usually dimly lit so he can’t see the blush heating at your cheeks.
He doesn’t realize it’s because of him. He’s the reason bartenders give you weird looks when you ask for watered-down vodka cranberries or why you’re always the last one standing in your friend group whenever you go out. This restraint around alcohol has gone on for years all because you harbor an intense attraction for your best friend.
It didn’t start that way. He crashed into your quiet life and obliterated the dynamics of your friend group. When you first met him, you thought his cocky and blasé attitude was overcompensating for something.
He’s always been a natural sweet talker, not afraid to approach people and get what he wants, but it seemed too good to be true. He’s too charismatic, too interested in the dull life you live, how did he dig out a hole and place himself so easily in your life?
Easily, too easily, you fell for his sweet words, words that would inevitably draw you into his orbit and leave you hanging off of every syllable.
You learned that no matter what he says, or does, he’s just being friendly. He’s just like that with everyone. It means nothing when he gives you a cheeky grin from across the bar or when he consistently insists on walking you home at night. Sure, he might stick closer to your side than anyone else's, but it’s just because you’re best friends. Right?
Of course, girls have tried and failed to lock down your best friend, misinterpreting his outgoing personality as him propositioning them. And they always come to you – whining over his lack of interest, the sudden and unexpected rejection of their advances, and grappling for any advice from his girl best friend.
“He’s single, isn’t he?” The words are said over the thin rim of a martini glass. She glances over at you with hopeful eyes framed by beautifully dark lashes.
You barely knew the girl’s name, but she offered to buy you a drink (a shirley temple) so you stayed for the conversation, however, you weren’t expecting the topic to circle back to Jake. But after watching her down a couple of martinis, gushing more and more about the man you’ve been pining after for an eon, you felt too bad to leave her.
“Um…as far as I know.” It’s a little uncomfortable, talking about Jake like you’re his keeper.
“Then – then why won’t he go out – or even hook up with me?” Her voice has gotten louder with the exasperation of her inquiries. You look around at the bar, hoping she can keep it together before you’re kicked out for causing a ruckus.
“Look, I don’t know if I’m the best –”
“But you’re his best friend, right?”
“Yes, but –”
“What’s his type?”
His type?
God, you wish you knew. It would make things a lot easier for yourself (and the world). But you genuinely don’t know. You’ve never seen him with a girl. Sure, he could be hooking up on the side, but why would he tell you?
You look down at your glass. All that’s left is ice, melting into an amalgam of pink-tinted liquid around the one maraschino cherry you refuse to eat.
“I don’t know.” You mumble.
—
You’re already through a bottle and a half, lounging comfortably on the overstuffed couch in your living room. Something is playing on the TV but it’s all a blur behind the feeling of his thigh pressing against yours.
Jake has never been afraid of showing his affection through physical means, whether it’s greeting ladies with a friendly peck on the cheek or ruffling one of the guy’s hair when he goes by. It’s natural to him. Casual.
But with you, he’s mostly hands-off.
It’s not that you deign to feel his touch, to feel the scratchiness of his whiskers rub against the edge of your hairline, or lower against the sensitive skin of your throat, you just can’t control your reactions when he does it. Even the light touch of his hand against your lower back when he guides you has you standing straighter.
He noticed your strong reactions to him and backed off, assuming you were uncomfortable or unused to friendly touches. And it was fine until you would do anything to feel him against you again, just one more time. It’s desperate, really, but you don’t really care when he looks at you with those cocoa-butter eyes.
And now, he’s closer than ever but still hands-off. He politely sits next to you, one arm slung over the back of the couch and the other in his lap. But not touching you.
He’s been making commentary about the dumb hallmark movie you impulsively rented, pointing out all the unrealistic plot conveniences and bright red flags that the main character blatantly ignores. He seems relaxed.
You aren’t.
Two stained wine glasses sit on the coffee table, dangerously close to the edge, still holding a sip of liquid. You can barely make out the intricate print of his lips on the edge of the cup, highlighted by the brightness of the hallmark snow scene.
You want so badly to steal the glass away and lick up the residual bitter-sweetness of the wine that’s touched his lips. To taste him, even indirectly. Or directly. Lick the sweetness straight from the source, tongue intermingling with him as he takes just as much from you. You feel yourself pulse from that image alone.
“Bunny?” Heat prickles against the back of your neck as you realize how far away your brain is, thinking such filthy and depraved thoughts of the man who is sitting right next to you.
He dotes on you like a person would their favorite pet cat. He calls you pet names, ones that make you bite your tongue and hide your face in your hands. Bunny was the first one and the one he uses the most.
It came out of nowhere, really. You were both at a small house party and Jake convinced you to join his team in a game of beer pong. You were still a bit nervous around him, still surprised when he’d seek you out for a conversation or to get your opinion on something entirely irrelevant.
You told him upfront that your hand-eye coordination leaves much to be desired, but he was determined to teach you. The first few throws were pitiful, so pitiful, in fact, that the other team gave you a freebie to make up for it.
“Here, lemme give you a hand.” You couldn’t even react before he was sidled behind you, his chest nearly flush against your shoulder as his hand wrapped around your wrist. Your body is frozen, soaking in the overwhelming closeness.
You can barely decipher the individual cups of beer with his voice low behind your ear as he directs you, “Keep it right….there” He lets go of your arm and you already miss his touch, “and put a little more power into your throw.”
He steps back, giving you space to take a breath and refocus.
You throw it, more mechanical than you would’ve liked, but it – miraculously – goes in.
Immediately you turn around to get his reaction, the praise that you secretly crave from a man you barely know.
He grins down at you, “You’re a natural, bunny.”
And the nickname stuck.
You look over at him, lazily blinking up to meet his fond gaze, “Hm?” You feel all fuzzy inside, overexcited yet pinned down by the unexplainable need to stay close to him.
He smirks down at you, arm subtly lowering to barely touch the back of your head, “What’cha thinkin’ about, sweetheart?” You try to lean into the feeling of his arm, hoping that if you ease into it, he won’t notice. “You had this… faraway look in your eyes for a moment.”
Oh, he noticed. But there’s no way he knows what you were thinking, right? A flash of embarrassment stings hot in your cheeks. You don’t think when you shyly nuzzle your face into his bicep to avoid his curious eyes, “I think I just zoned out or something.”
He hums, “You tired?” You turn your face to look at him, cheek resting against him. God, he smells so good. You never want to move from this spot. “Want me to tuck you in?” His voice coos teasingly, but you soak in the sweetness of it. He can be so soft sometimes.
Scrambled words echo in your mind: But if you go to bed, you’ll leave. You’ll take your arm out from under me and leave me here to think about you, all alone. Why can’t you just – Your thoughts quickly dissipate when he pulls you closer to him, hand at your waist to press your body against his.
Your hand presses delicately against his chest in surprise and you can barely feel the soft thrum of his heartbeat underneath the firmness of his muscles.
You softly shake your head, “Not tired.”
“Sure, baby.”
Baby.
That’s new.
Your thighs involuntarily press together with how good it sounds coming from his lips. Directed at you. Somehow, even with all the pet names he’s given you throughout the span of your friendship, this one hits home.
He says it with the casualness of a boyfriend and tenderness of a lover. You can almost feel him panting it against the crook of your neck as he pushes inside of you, hand clutching yours as his hips roll perfectly against yours.
You don’t even realize your legs are rubbing together like a cricket at dusk until a warm hand wraps around the top of your thigh. He pulls them apart, spreading your legs like you’ve always dreamed he would. Despite the suggestive position, you still whine at the loss of friction, thoughtlessly fighting against the insisting tug of his hand.
He hushes you gently, a soft tone barely easing your frustration. You latch your fingers onto his wrist, attempting to guide him to the spot that you really need him to touch, but he barely budges. His grip on your thigh tightens when his name drips brokenly from your lips.
“J-Jake…”
“Sweetheart, stop.”
“But –”
“Please.” Jake looks down at you with a pained expression, all past chivalry betrayed by the darkness pooled in his eyes.
You look up at him with misty eyes and flushed skin, innocence in the palm of his hand. “I need you.” You bite your lip at your admission, stained red from the wine, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. You pull at him again and this time he lets you. Both of you look down as his hand cups you over your shorts.
“You’re too drunk right now.” The whispered attempt of resistance falls on deaf ears as you arch your hips into his touch. Neither of you notice that the movie ended, leaving you in a silence where only the exchange of breathless pants can be heard.
“Touch me.” You whine, desperate for anything. Desperate just to be accepted by him.
His gaze briefly flicks up from where he’s touching to regard your eagerness with half-lidded eyes. He shakes his head and looks away like he’s looking for answers on the blank wall next to him. “I…shouldn’t.”
You start to panic when you feel his hand pull away. It can’t end like this. You hold onto his wrist when a particularly needy idea pops into your mind. If he doesn’t want to ‘defile’ you, then fine. You’ll do it yourself.
“I…c-could i just rub myself against you?” You berate yourself for sounding so meek, so unsure, but you’ve never done anything like this before, never had to take control of the situation. “Like, if you don’t want to…um, touch me.” He looks at you wordlessly, gorgeous lips parted at your suggestion.
His tongue brushes over his bottom lip, “I– Okay, sure…”
With his permission, you push up against the couch to get up and straddle over him. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting it with how his hands barely hover over your body like he’s unsure whether he wants to pull you closer or shove you off his lap. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah.” He sounds strained, “But just for a little bit, alright?”
“Ok.” You promise though you’re sure that once you get a taste, you’ll never want to stop. You have to make this good for him so he’ll want you back.
You settle against him, body thrumming with anticipation when your clothed cunt meets the prominent hardness under his jeans. So he does want it. His hands clasp onto your waist when you start to move over him, hips experimentally rolling against his.
Jake watches you move over him with a look of deep hunger and awe. It’s endearing how shy you are, even now grinding on his lap. Your movements are clumsy – unpracticed as you desperately try to chase that spark that’ll satisfy the heat buried deep down inside of you.
“That good, baby?”
You nod, mewling quietly as the seam of his jeans drags perfectly against your clit. Pleasure pools in your stomach, nudging you closer and closer to the edge. You hold onto his shoulders as you work yourself over him, panting from your effort. He starts to cant his hips upwards to meet your thrusts, pressing his erection roughly against your core to show you just how much he wants you.
All you can think of is how good it would feel to have him bare against you, skin to skin. When you meet your peak, body hot and trembling as you rub against him, the end never comes. It’s not enough. You’re just left teetering at the top with no drop in sight.
You huff, “Jake, can I – just…please.” You let your hands drop from his shoulders to start working on his belt.
“What is it bunny, what do you need?” He looks so good under you with his wrinkled shirt unbuttoned just so to give you a peak of his collarbone and the newly open belt hanging from the loops in his tight jeans. You undo the button, fingers briefly fumbling as your knuckle brushes against his bulge.
“Just need to feel you.” You paw at the waist of his pants, trying to subtly indicate that you need his help to take them off. But he sits there and smiles sweetly at your frustrated huffs.
“And what about me?” He says in a teasing drawl. He drags you closer to him and cups your face until your lips nearly meet yours. He’s so close that you can make out the light dusting of freckles that grace his nose and cheeks. Amber eyes bore into yours as he whispers, “You’re using my body and haven’t even given me a kiss yet.”
“Oh.” Your gaze drops to his lips, “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, baby.” He leans in, “just kiss me.” Your eyes flutter close when you meet the softness of his lips. You immediately melt into the gentle caress of his hand on your jaw with a sigh as he desperately keeps you close.
Jake groans, drinking in the sweetness of your lips, a taste of pure heaven melting on the tip of his tongue, before hungrily deepening the kiss. He licks against the seam of your mouth, begging you to open yourself up to him. You surrender yourself to him, letting him slide in and taste you from the inside out.
Your hands move up from his shoulders to his soft curls, tugging eagerly in an attempt to hear the soft groan that rumbles in his chest. He nips at your bottom lip, suckling it until it’s pink and tender, wanting to leave a mark so you’ll always think of him. He can’t help but press against you when you whimper for him, grinding eagerly against your center, wishing he was inside of you instead.
“Just the tip.” You mumble it against his lips. He’s too far gone to clearly hear what you said, lost in a thick fog of awe, lust, and…love. At his silence, you pull away to look at him, scared you’re asking for too much. “Jake.” He nods thoughtlessly, chasing your lips, already missing your taste. He almost whines when you pull away from his touch, but quickly comes back to reality when he sees the way you’re nervously looking at him.
He squeezes your waist comfortingly, “Anything you want, bunny.” You smile at the pet name and gratefully peck his lips. He tries to deepen the kiss, hand already pressing against the back of your head, but you cheekily pull away before he gets too far. You stand up, ignoring his objections and clingy touches as you get off of his lap.
You fluidly slip your shirt over your head before carelessly dropping it to the floor behind you. There’s fire in his eyes as he sits back on the couch and watches you reveal the cute bra that cups you so perfectly. You tease the edge of your waistband as you look down at him, “Off, please.” You gesture at his jeans. He follows your directions, quickly shimmying his pants off, eyes on you the whole time.
You follow him, tugging your shorts off to show him the matching panties. You squeak when warm hands abruptly pull you to the couch, eagerly wandering over your waist and hips as he buries his face against your neck.
“Can’t help it, baby,” His touch drifts up to cup the underside of your tits, trailing carefully over the curve to memorize the shape of you. “You’re just so fucking pretty.” He groans hot and heavy against your neck as he squeezes your softness.
You’re back on top of him, naked thighs draped over his, skin against skin, and now, you can feel all of him. He’s pressed so deliciously against your core, pulsing with pure desire and heat. The only thing separating the two of you is fading self-control and a pair of thin panties.
His mustache tickles against your throat as his lips drift over your pulse point. He presses heady kisses against the edge of your jaw, gauging where your most tender spots are.
“Oh–!” Your thighs clench around him when he touches a particularly delicate area near your ear. He gently nips at the spot, holding you tighter when you moan at the feeling.
Jake lets out a broken groan when you reach between your bodies and take him into your hand. He tries to continue giving your body loving attention with his lips, but his kisses get messy, dragging lazily over your shoulder and collarbone, with how distracted he is by your touch. He has to pull away for a breather and hold himself back from thrusting into your fist when you squeeze him teasingly at the base.
“Bunny…” You both look down and watch as your smaller hand slowly strokes him. His cock is flush with need, leaking so prettily as you try your hardest to make it good for him. You slip your other hand under his shirt, running your fingers against his coarse happy trail to his rippling muscles. The couch groans next to you as he harshly grips the arm, barely holding himself back with white knuckles. “Oh, f-fuck.” His body stiffens under you as you brush your thumb against the sensitive underside of the tip.
You tenderly massage the spot, watching in awe as he continues to spill over your fingers, making a mess that drips onto your inner thighs and the edge of his shirt. He groans at the sight, his cock throbbing desperately in your hold.
As beads of white paint your fingers, your mouth waters just thinking about how he tastes. You feel ravenous to see him cum, to watch how easily you can ruin him. “H-hold on, cariño. Give me a second.” Jake chokes out. His hips stutter under you before he pulls your hand away.
"Whyy." You whine, pouting up at him with starry eyes. You reach for him again with the hand he isn’t holding onto, brushing your fingers against his sensitive cock. He shudders for you with a broken groan.
“I'm close-- just – stop for a moment –” Both hands are pinned to your side as Jake’s chest heaves under his shirt. He rests his head back against the couch, eyes closed as he struggles to hold himself back.
“But…I want you to.”
“I know, baby,” He lifts his head, dark eyes boring into yours, and pulls your hands behind you. You squirm in his lap, back arching at the position, suddenly remembering your own desperation. It feels good to be bound by his hands, to let him do whatever he wants to your body. “But I don’t wanna finish if it isn’t in you.”
Your face heats in embarrassment. “Oh.”
Jake picks up on your sudden shyness immediately.
“You like that, don’t you, bunny?” He smirks, “The thought of me filling you up, then dripping out of you?”
You bite your lip, “A little bit.”
“A little, hm?” He ponders, “Well why don’t we try it out and see.” Your thighs clench around him at the idea.
“Ok.”
“Sit up, let me see how wet you are.” He helps you raise yourself on your knees so you’re hovering over his lap. Letting go of your wrists, he drags his thumb against your clothed cunt; The fabric has a darkened splotch along your opening, teasing him with evidence of your lust. “Aw, sweetheart, you’re soaked…” He nudges your panties to the side, slipping his fingers against your wet opening. “Gonna ruin these pretty little panties, hm?” You nod wordlessly, hips desperately pushing against his touch.
He gently slides against your dripping entrance, making a mess of your cunt with teasing circling motions. Wet, decadent sounds fill the limited space between you as his fingers prod ever so slightly against the spot where you need him most. A helpless sound is pushed out of you when he finally eases two fingers inside of you.
“Is that good, bunny?” He coos as he slowly fucks his fingers into you. It’s only his fingers, but he’s already filling you up so deliciously. His dark eyes are hungrily locked on how he fills you up over and over again, slick dripping down his knuckles and over his palm. “Hm?”
You nod again, brain foggy with pleasure. “Yes, J–” You can barely get a word out when he curls his fingers up, pressing so sweetly and deep against the sensitive walls of your cunt. You have to stop yourself from wrapping your legs around his wrist, it feels so good. “Uh–!” You almost fall over and have to hold onto his shoulders for support as he begins to speed up.
“That’s it, baby…” Your grip on his shoulders tightens as he rapidly presses against your g-spot. You’re already hurdling towards the edge and he can feel it with how you start to clench around his fingers. “Make a mess of my hand..” Within a handful of thrusts, you’re gasping out with pleasure, your thighs shaking over him. He takes his hand away and holds you against him to keep you sitting upright as your body is overtaken with euphoria. You pant against his shoulder, trying to gather your senses.
You can feel him under you, hard and wanting, throbbing as you whimper and arch against him, letting the pleasure work through your body. Even when you’re barely coming down from an orgasm, you’re still longing to be filled with something more. But he ignores his own needs, instead focusing on you, softly pecking the top of your head and rubbing comforting circles against your arms.
You lift your head from his chest to look at him, taking in his flushed cheeks and dark eyes. Jake stares right back, unabashedly, in awe. “You’re so good to me, bunny.” You shiver at the praise. At the comfort. You shyly divert your eyes to stare at the marks you’ve left on his shoulders.
“Only for you, Jake.” You don’t see it, but his lips lift into a small smile at your words.
His hands drift down from your arms to hold you by the waist. “Only for me.” He echos, solidifying the statement.
You gasp when he suddenly presses you down against his cock. Looking back up at him, he meets your wide eyes with a mischievous grin, hips rolling teasingly against yours. “And I’m all yours.” You position yourself over him all while keeping eye contact, wanting to drink in every microexpression on his face.
“Yes.” You both sigh as he barely brushes against your wet opening. He takes a deep breath, clutching your hips as you begin your descent.
Your body slowly manages to swallow the first inch of him. And – oh – it’s so much better than you expected. He stretches you so fully, even barely inside of you, filling you exactly how you need him to.
You let out a strained whimper from the back of your throat as you slowly lower yourself onto his lap. You whine as your body desperately clenches and stretches to accommodate him inside of you. His hold on your hips tightens as your thighs meet his, now fully impaled by his hard cock.
“I thought it was ‘just the tip’.” Jake tries to tease, his deep voice gravelly with lust, but it comes out as more of a groan than a taunt.
You slowly shake your head, body trembling as you get used to the feeling of him inside of you.
“You said you’re all mine, daddy.” The words practically melt from your lips, lethargic with heat. It catches him off guard. You moan, hips slowly moving over him to feel him deeper inside. “M-mine,” You repeat with a pant, so lost in desperation that you don’t even notice the way he’s looking at you, frozen in place.
“I-I did say that, didn’t I?” He doesn’t know what else to say, brain overheating from your ministrations. You’ve never called him a pet name before, let alone used the word ‘daddy’ anywhere near him. You’ve always been a shy little bunny around him, always preciously out of reach, a tease to fantasize about, but now you’re wrapped around him, moaning beautifully destructive words.
What really surprises him is the way he’s eagerly throbbing inside of you from that word. Desperate thoughts float in his mind: She wants me to take care of her, she needs me.
“Fuck me.” He groans to himself, willing his body to hold back from cumming inside of you right then and there.
“P-please.” You beg with a broken voice, thinking he’s talking to you. Jake just nods understandingly and holds you closer with an arm wrapped around your torso, wanting to feel your whole body against his. He starts off slow, pressing up into your kneeling body with measured thrusts as he dots kisses along your neck and shoulders. You sigh something wistful before meeting his movements, eagerly lifting your hips against him.
“God, bunny, you feel so good.” He can't help it, you’re all-encompassing like this, with your pretty little sighs and panted breaths, it’s everything he’s ever wanted, so he starts to speed up, projecting his desperation into his actions. Your back arches at the change of pace as he pumps into you, and it only makes him feel deeper. “So tight around me.” He pushes against your front wall on every thrust and you swear it makes you see stars.
Your clit inevitably rubs against him as your bodies move with each other and it takes your pleasure to another level. You’re sure the sounds you’re making verge on embarrassing, but he seems to eat them up anyway. “Ah, right there--! Jake –”
“No, bunny,” He grits out, “It’s daddy.”
You whimper, “Daddy – ” He feels you flutter deliciously around him as your head begins to lull backward. He groans as your cunt sucks him deep inside, desperately milking his cock as you’re seized by ecstasy.
“Fucking take it, sweetheart.”
“I-I think m’gonna…” Your eyes roll back before you can finish your sentence and white fills your vision. You let out a keening sound as you gush over him, thighs clenched around his as your second high moves through you.
His eyes squeeze shut as he gives in and starts fucking you at a punishing pace. Your mouth drops open around an empty moan. You can only hold onto him as he takes what he wants from your body, intensifying your orgasm with sloppy thrusts. With a few more upward pushes, he lets out a breathy grunt and finishes inside of you, painting your walls with his warmth.
You both stay in this position for a little longer.
You can feel Jake’s heart beat rapidly against your chest as you cuddle against him. He’s still recovering from the onslaught of sensations and emotions. Both of you are sticky with sweat and slick, but neither of you care. His cock is still inside of you, keeping his cum locked inside as you dutifully warm him with your cunt.
“Such a pretty girl…” He croons, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. He looks down at you with such sincerity in his eyes, that it’s almost overwhelming. You bite your lip nervously at the compliment and attempt to look away, but before you can, he’s tilting your face up with the light touch of a finger, “Really? You’re gonna act all shy with my cock still in you?”
His words only make you squirm on top of him. He nearly chokes at the accidental stimulation.
“You can’t just say stuff like that.” Your voice is small and cute.
“Then how am I supposed to fluster my girl?”
Your eyes widen. His girl?
“Your girl?”
“My girl.” He hums with a small smile before placing a soft kiss on your lips.
#jake lockley#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley smut#moon knight#cw: dubcon#cw: dub-con#oscar issac fanfiction
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🎃 That'll shut you up
Breath play CW: erotic asphyxiation, mildly bratty reader, Dub-con
"Knock it off." Jay tried his best not to lose his fucking mind, but his best friend was being a shit, rolling around his bed demanding attention like they were dating. A foot gently kicked his back, lurching him forward as he tried reading.
"Ugh, stop reading! I'm bored!" (Reader) sprawled out across the bed like they owned the thing, resting their foot on Jay's back, ready to kick again.
"Then go home!" He didn't even invite (Reader) over, so their attitude was beginning to wear his patience thin.
"Noooooooo...." whining, another kick pushed Jay nearly onto the floor.
(Reader) was an attractive person, and Jay would be lying if he said that he hadn't ever dreamt of them before or used them as masturbation material. The only downside to (Reader) was how annoying they could be. Knowing they were spread out across his bed, their t shirt riding up exposing the top of their pelvic area, vulnerable, was giving the poor man a hard on, reading only to cover up his growing erection. But goddamnit were they being such a fucking brat.
"Then shut up."
(Reader) smiled, pressing their foot harder into his back. "Make me!" They said it so teasingly that it finally made Jay snap, throwing his book to the side and pouncing onto (Reader).
They looked up at him, smiling but confused.
"Fine then."
"Huh?"
Pulling down his basketball shorts while grabbing (Reader) by their hair and pulling them up into a sitting position, (Reader) found themselves face to dick; Jay's angry red tip glistening as it pressed against (Reader's) lips. They opened their mouth to ask him what the hell he was doing, but it only came out as muffled noises of surprise as Jay took the opportunity to enter their mouth, hitting the back of their throat without warning.
They gagged at the sudden intrusion, trying not to vomit on his dick as he held it deep inside them, holding their head tightly into his crotch. (Reader) scratched at Jay's thighs, but he didn't move, holding them still as they choked on him, struggling to breathe through the nose crushed flat against his curly pubic hair. It was embarrassing, but (Reader) could feel themselves becoming aroused in their sweats, only fighting back at first in shock, then in desperation as they became light headed.
Bile rose and washed Jay's dick, but he only pulled out after it splurt out of (Reader's) nose, covering their face in snot and watery vomit.
"Wha- buh- why?" (Reader) mumbled, drool pouring from their swollen lips.
"You're still talking?" Jay smiled cruelly, enjoying the sight of (Reader) sputtering dumbly. He pushed them back down, throwing their sweats and underwear across the room. "Damn, did that turn you on?!"
Tears formed in their red eyes, weakly nodding, confirming that they wanted his cock just as badly as he needed to fuck them silly.
His wet dick slid easily into their needy hole, making (Reader) moan loudly as they felt Jay fill them up.
Before they could beg him to fuck them, Jay's large hands wrapped around their throat, gripping the sides and cutting off their circulation. (Reader) clenched around their best friend's dick without meaning to, arching their back as it became difficult to breathe again.
The pounding in their neck pulsated through their skull, and they couldn't tell if it was their heartbeat or Jay's. He released his fingers, allowing (Reader) to gasp pathetically underneath him as he pounded into them.
Jay hit their body perfectly, drawing out a whine as (Reader) felt an orgasm building. At the sound of their unintentional whimper Jay's hands returned to their neck.
His thrusts sped up, loving the feel of (Reader's) muscles spasming as the lack of oxygen made them twitch.
Their forehead felt hot, and their eyes were melting, tingling as tears and snot began leaking. (Reader's) head ached, but no matter how wide they opened their mouth they couldn't get enough air to alleviate the burning pain.
Just as the intensity became too much to bear, (Reader) came hard, exciting Jay into releasing (Reader), pulling out quickly as he shot his cum into their stomach.
(Reader) rode out their climax, lying in their fluids, unable to think as their breathing returned to normal.
"I would have done that a lot sooner, if I had known that that was all it took to shut you up."
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My Fanfic 💖 A Proud Slytherin (Harry Potter)
Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Rated E, 472 words
@hpkinktober || Day #2 Orgasm Denial
Dubious Consent, Parseltongue, Snakes, Dark, POV First Person
It was nice to be the one in control. To have someone to command. This must be what Voldemort felt with his Death Eaters kneeling at his feet.
Link: AO3 or Dreamwidth
#myfanfic#harry potter#hp kinktober 2023#mind the tags#severus snape#harry james potter#snarry#cw: dub con
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HI HI !!! i just wanted to request a fic of perv! stebrother! konig :D
he basically offers us a massage and us, innocent! reader would agree not knowing the intent behind this ‘innocent’ service— it’d turn into SEX,, ( you can figure the details out or just get straight into the scenario of you’d prefer )
that is all, teehee :3
Massage
Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, STEPCEST, massage, innocent/oblivious!reader, fingering, condescending, coercion, slight misogyny, size kink, tell me if I missed any.
You thought yourself extremely lucky to have an older brother so caring and gentle with you, always offering to pick you up after classes in his old pickup truck, helping you with finding inspiration for projects, acting as your model, soothing your aching muscles and always giving you a hand whenever you needed it. You really loved König despite his awkwardness and aversion to you when you first moved in with him, his avoidance of you when you crossed paths in the hall or his cold, lingering gaze on you, but after a while, he opened up, gracing you with soft affection and and eagerness to be near and help you.
You spent a lot of times together, be it in one of your rooms, in the kitchen, in the living room or in public, always so close to you and holding such an intimacy that some would think that you were a couple. Perhaps it’s this closeness that made you feel so comfortable being naked in front of him, splayed over his bigger bed without anything to cover yourself. His hands pressed down on the knot, feeling the tightness in your muscles and the softness of your skin, without being obstructed by your clothes —or any at all. König had your back oiled, stomach and breasts pressed into the cool sheets of his bed, tensing and groaning when he put pressure on a specific spot.
“You’re so tense, Spatzi,” he bemoaned, letting his rough fingers trail down your spine, feeling and staring at your arched back, mewling lightly when he ghosted your hips, “It’s good that have good hands, ja?”
You nodded against his bed, letting out a little sigh when he raised your hips with one of his big and silky pillows, hands grazing down your ass to grip your plush thighs. Kneading the sensitive, inner fat of your legs, drifting so closely to your uncovered cunt, teasing you a little flick of his thumb on your swollen clit. Your body reacted to his touch, cunt growing slick from all the stimulation of his calloused pads pressing and kneading your skin, especially when he moved down your ass or crawled up the sides of your tits, leaving fleeting touches on your perked nipples.
“Wait, König-” you mewled, squirming lightly beneath him, hips bucking against his palm from light touches, “König.”
“I know. I know,” he mumbled out, his tone wearing a slight edge of condescension, “Let me help you, Spatzi.”
You mewled lowly, your body too relaxed into his sheets to do anything against him but mewl out your objections and writhe beneath him, legs numb to the point that all you could do was give him light nudges. Shushing your cries with growling words, his fingers slipped down your slit, thumb nudging at your clit and rolling it before he dipped a thick finger into you. You moaned, gushing around him the moment he pressed his finger knuckle deep, your virginal walls unused to having a thick and rough finger curling inside of you.
You’ve fucked your self with your hand before, unable to stop the brewing flame in your core, but one finger of his equalled to two of yours, it filled you to the near brink, pumping and tapping your g-spot without fail. Your body moved on its own, ass raising lightly to coax König faster and harder, riding his hand for more stimulation than his muscle-deep massage. He nearly sneered at you for being so eager to want to come around his fingers, his sweet and innocent step-sister vulnerable and pliant for him. Giving you a few rough pumps, you gushed, soaking his palm with slick, rutting against his hand and screaming into his sheets, fingers clenching and body tense, thrashing and arching.
Your slick rolled down your thighs, wetting his bed with your salty and musky cum, gifting him with something to relieve himself with for the next days. You were complexly limp, after a massage and a mind-blowing orgasm, you felt boneless and aroused and floating on ecstasy.
“See?” König growled out, body pressing down on you to reaffirm his previous words, ”I know how to help you. I know better, Spatzi.”
Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts
#x reader#cod mw2#cod mw2 x reader#konig x reader#konig mw2#mw2 smut#tw: dark content#dark cod#dark content#tw dubcon#tw: dub con#tw: dubcon#dub con#dubious consent#cw: non con#tw noncon#tw: non con#tw: noncon#non con#tw: stepcest#stepcest#tw stepcest#konig smut#könig x reader#könig mw2#könig smut#Stepbrother!konig#Stepbrother!könig#konig#coercion
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The Ice Does Not Forgive Peril, Prey, Pursuit
Main Masterlist
©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.
#captain john price x reader#captain john price x you#john price x reader#john price x you#captain price x you#captain price x reader#captain john price#john price#captain price#john price x female reader#captain john price x female reader#captain price x female reader#wolf shifter#dub con#non con#cw blood#cw drowning#cw stalking
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tw: stepcest, dub-con (?)
guys stepbro!könig and stepbro!krueger?!
anybody interested ? :3 i just KNOW these two with gang up on you and make you feel all stupid, looming over you while you weep and shake, slowly turning around and bending over because you know that's all they want :(
atleast it'll stop their harsh, cruel comments :( 🎀
#orla speaks#tw stepcest#stepcest cw#stepcest#tw: stepcest#dub con#tw: dubcon#könig#könig call of duty#konig mw2#konig x reader#könig mw2#könig x reader#konig call of duty#sebastian krueger#krueger x reader#krueger#cod krueger#krueger call of duty#krueger cod
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