#fic: the wolf you feed
Text
The Wolf You Feed (Part 1)
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI
Word Count: 8k
Part 1 / ? (Ongoing Series)
Summary: Set in fictional New England town, you fall for your handsome, intense and outdoorsy neighbor while renting out your parent's vacant summer home during a brutal winter.
Warnings: No Outbreak, AU but with TLoU characters, Large age gap (Reader is 29. Joel is 50). This chapter includes smut with fingering and cum eating. Dominant Joel. Eventual Angst. Drinking Alcohol. Pet names but no use of Y/N. Reader is smaller than Joel and has hair he can grab.
Chapter Excerpt: He presses a gentle kiss behind your ear and another one drags to your jawline and to the soft meat of your neck. His coarse beard scrapes against your skin and makes you shudder. You press your ass into him and feel him hard against your lower back. He responds by pressing into you firmly and brings his mouth to your ear.
“You feel what you do to me, beautiful girl?” He asks with his low, gravely voice and presses another kiss into you. His heat is searing into you.
A/N: Please hang in there. This chapter has a lot of setup and is a bit of a slow burn. Its also my first fic and I am pouring my heart and soul into it.
A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T | N O T I F I C A T I O N
“Remember, if you need anything you can ask Joel. He knows his way around the house” your mother reminds you.
“Thanks, I will be fine but I’ll keep that in mind.” You appease her but have no intention of bothering her neighbor.
“Love you, honey. Talk later!”
“Bye mom. Love you.” You end the call and slump back against the couch. This was going to be your home for the next few months. Your parents had gone south to avoid the brutal New England winter and had offered their summer vacation home in Kineo to you in the interim. No rent and plenty of free time to figure out what to do with your life next. All you had to do was pay the utilities and keep an eye on things.
The offer was genuine but also came from a place of concern. You had spent the last few years living a more-or-less nomadic life and poorly indulging your dreams of adventure. Your bachelors degree in Liberal Arts proving to be as useless as everyone told you it would be. It got you jobs easy enough but nothing that felt like a long term career. It all felt directionless but you also had been hell bent on proving everyone else wrong and keeping up the appearance that you were doing just fine.
Your past relationships were nothing too exciting either. Months of casually dating someone and it not really going anywhere or random hookups that you regretted the next day. One or two guys you were getting serious with but ultimately scared you off when they started talking about a family in their big picture. You were starting to get cynical about any compatible prospects.
You are only 29 and wonder if a midlife crisis before your 30’s is normal. At least, that is what it felt like was happening. You had been treading water for too long and felt like you were too tired to keep swimming.
Your mother finally wore you down enough when your lease was up at your Boston apartment and you had no real obligations. You hated your current job, your roommates were little more than acquaintances and the busy city life scene was starting to lose its charm especially when it was astronomically expensive to live there. It was getting harder to say no so you agreed to her offer.
You had to admit living in the country sounded like a nice change. You had a few months to figure stuff out and the thought of something new was exciting to you. Even if it meant continuing to endure the bitter winter, you had a chance to start fresh somewhere new. Something different.
You didn’t grow up here and spent most of your life living in suburban homes with slightly warmer climates. Your parents had bought a small one bedroom vacation home in a sleepy New England town that they mostly only enjoyed in the prime summer months. The home sat mostly vacant otherwise. They would rent it out for weeks at a time but in the winter months no one from away wanted to go there. Too far from ski resorts and civilization to be of interest to a casual vacationer. It had a lake that drew much attention from outsiders only when it wasn’t frozen. The town was reduced to just the year-round locals in the coldest months.
Your new residence was outside the main populous of Kineo and nearby the lake. In fact, you could see the lake peeking through the thick pine trees out the front window if you looked hard enough.
The closest and only neighbor in sight was the handyman your parents raved about across the street. He kept an eye on the place while they were away. You had never interacted with him on your occasional summer visits, but knew he had been kind to your folks and heard about him often enough. You occasionally saw him out in his yard from afar and he would give a lazy wave to your parents in passing. You never really got a good look at him up close but from what you could see he looked rugged and fit and always wore jeans and work boots. He had a modest waterfront cabin across the street and seemed to keep to himself.
You had arrived just a few days ago and already had a job lined up at the local coffee shop, Grind. You were getting your caffeine fix and saw a help wanted sign in their window and you had no trouble securing the job when you chatted with the owner. She hired you on the spot and seemed desperate but grateful that you actually had enthusiasm for coffee and knew your Americanos from your Lattes. Grind Coffee House was on the main drag along with some other quaint shops. It was charming enough and an easy 10 minute drive from your house. The pay was pitiful but would be enough to get by. Things seemed to be lining up perfectly.
You went to bed early that night and felt optimistic that this was going to be good for you. This was going to be the reset that you craved. A new adventure. It was like nothing you had experienced before and maybe that was exactly what you needed.
–
Shit. Your first day working at Grind and you can’t even get the car to start.
It was freezing cold. The kind of cold that hurts when it touches your exposed skin. You turn the key in the ignition again and the engine makes a pathetic attempt to turn over. Nothing. Fuck.
You turn the key again. Nothing. Fuck fuck fuck. You pull out your phone and realize you have no idea what to do other than call your new boss and make a horrible first impression. No, that wasn’t going to do. You look in the rearview mirror and see across the street that lights are on at your neighbors house, despite the early hour. As quickly as the thought crosses your mind you push it away. No. No way were you going to bother him at this hour. You hadn’t even officially met the guy yet.
You pull up Google on your phone and scan the first few results for “car won’t start” and narrow it down to engine troubles or dead battery. Either outcome is something you are not equipped to handle.
A few moments pass and you reluctantly weigh the options. Would a garage even be open this early? How long would that take to get someone out there? You were wasting time and had to do something. You curse to yourself and go back inside the house.
You walk over to the fridge where a note is hanging front and center “Joel Miller” with a phone number neatly printed. Your mothers careful handwriting to contact the poor neighbor that she probably harasses all the time. You sigh and open your phone to dial the number.
It rings a few times, and then you hear a gravelly voice that catches you off guard.
“Hello?” A deep and thick, unfamiliar accent answers. Not what you were expecting.
“Hi, Mr. Miller.” a long pause and you stumble over your words. “I uh, I’m sorry to call you so early. I'm Rick and Linda’s daughter.” and mumble your name. Another pause.
“Ah, right. Whatcha need, kid?” He asks with little expression in his tone. You can’t tell if he is annoyed or just sounded that way.
“My car won’t start and I–” you pause, not too sure how to ask for help from a stranger. “I don’t know what to do...” Your voice trails off with uncertainty on how to ask for help or what you are even expecting.
You hear a long exhale on the other end, like he is letting all the air out of his lungs while he is thinking on it.
“Dead battery most likely… on a day like this. I’ll be right over.” He hangs up the phone before you can say another word and instead say thank you out loud to yourself and let your voice trail off. You instantly regret making the call.
You zip up your coat, pull your knit hat snug over your ears and head back outside when you see a black Ford pickup truck ease into your driveway. A tall man wearing a brown suede jacket approaches. The morning light is faint but you can make out that he is much older and has some silver streaking his hair and beard. He looks weathered and rugged but also has a warmness about him that is hard to reconcile with his rough exterior.
“Joel Miller, I presume?” you nervously laugh and awkwardly introduce yourself for the second time. You attempt to be extra friendly and maybe penetrate his bristly wall. It seems to help when he notices you are a young woman and not some bratty teenager that your parents probably made you out to be. He takes a step forward and reaches a hand out towards you, nodding. He firmly shakes your hand and you are taken aback by how his grasp seems to engulf you.
“Pleasure to meet you, darling.” His voice is smooth and polite and has the tiniest hint of playfulness in his tone. You can’t place his accent, but you know it isn’t from around here and only someone from away would say ‘Darling’ so casually to a stranger.
His dark brown eyes hold your gaze for a moment and he has the faintest smirk as he subtly scans your body. It sends goosebumps down your spine. You are grateful that you made an extra effort to look cute for your first day of work. You realize your hands are still embraced and nervously laugh as you pull away. He gets right down to business, but not before stealing another peek of your body when he thinks you aren’t looking.
“Lets see what we got here.'' He climbs into the driver's seat and in no time confirms it's the battery when he hears your car's engine protest. He walks over to his tailgate and brings back some jumper cables.
You stand there with your arms wrapped around your body trying to hold in as much warmth as possible. Your bare hands clenched in a fist and tucked in as far as they could in your jacket sleeve to shelter from the cold. Your teeth chattering as you try to stand out of the way but want to be nearby too. At least give the illusion you can be helpful if he needs something. You regret your first meeting being a clueless damsel in distress, but maybe he liked that sort of thing. His tune did seem to change once he saw you.
Joel returns and leans over the edge of the seat leaving the door wide open, his large palm dragging up slowly from the floor to the steering column, searching for the hood release. His finger catches on the button and he pops the hood. It’s hard not to stare at him while he slides his expert hands with reckless abandon.
His eyes find yours and the corner of his mouth raises slightly. You question if you are mistaking his caught you watching me look for more than what it was. He seems to enjoy you watching him work. He steps away from the seat and pulls a pair of work gloves from his back pocket as he works to connect your car to his truck with the jumper cables. He starts his truck back up and approaches you. Your breath and his making little frozen clouds as you exhale.
“You can sit in my truck if you want, it’s plenty warm in there.” He gestures with his thumb over his shoulder. “This will just be a minute.” You thank him and take him up on his offer and climb into his passenger seat. He has a classical rock station playing on the radio. A thermos sitting in the center console. You glance in the back seat and see some neatly organized tools and miscellaneous junk on the floor. It smells metallic and leathery.
You outstretch your hands to the vents that are pouring warm air into the cabin and relish the heat.
A few moments pass and you don’t see much of what’s going on with the hood of the truck blocking your view. You doom scroll on Instagram to keep yourself busy but your mind keeps thinking about Joel. You were in no way prepared for your neighbor to be so fucking handsome. It felt absurd to be so turned on by him.
He’s too old. You tell yourself. Don’t even think about it.
Your thoughts are interrupted as the hood slams shut and Joel opens the driver's door. He reaches his arm out to grab his thermos while he climbs into the seat with a groan. The door shuts hard behind him and a blast of cold air invades your space briefly.
“Damn cold one today” He says it with a huff as more of an observation than a complaint. He takes a sip of his coffee and looks over to you. You nod in agreement and find yourself caught up in what to say to him. He pulls off his gloves and tosses them in his backseat. He rests his arm along the back of the seat and it is nearly touching your shoulder. The way his body takes up the space makes you feel small and helpless. Then, you remember you are small and helpless compared to him. He doesn’t feel threatening towards you but you certainly does give off the aura that he could be intense in the right circumstance. You find that undeniably attractive.
“Your folks called me last week. Told me you were gonna be staying here a while.” His eyes are back focused on you. “Meant to come over this weekend and introduce myself.” he seems a little nervous and takes another sip of his coffee. “Didn’t wanna bother you, though.”
You feel a small smile start to grow on your face. The thought that he shared the same reservations brought comfort. Joel rests his thermos between his legs while still holding it with one hand. He looks like he is hesitating to say something but does it anyway. He looks over at you with tender eyes,
“Didn’t expect.. You know...” He makes an unreadable expression as he is searching for the words and scans your body up and down. “Someone like you.” You were not entirely sure what he meant by that, but his smoldered stare on your body made you feel hot inside and your cheeks flush. He looked at you with intrigue and it made you feel good. It made you feel wanted. It had been too long since you felt that way.
In fact, it has been too long since you had any sort of relationship. Even a casual lay.
“You really saved my ass this morning. Thank you.” You pause and feel yourself giving a sultry gaze back at him. “I owe you one.” Joel makes a no big deal gesture with his hand and a cocky smile as he chews the inside of his cheek. In that brief moment you feel something between the two of you. The desire to flirt; tempt a man with at least 20 years on you. An unexpected but undeniable magnetic pull. A curiosity to learn what lies beneath. A forbidden fruit that is ripe and beckoning for you to take a bite. Something different. Something exciting. Something you know you should stifle before it even begins.
His eyes reflect the same sentiment but also harbor concern and restraint. It’s a bad idea. The brief silence between you looms loudly. The elephant in the room.
“Where ya’ off to so early anyways?” he asks, eager to change the subject. He takes another sip of his coffee while you reply.
“Oh, first day working at Grind. You know it?” Joel's demeanor changes in a subtle way that you may not have seen if you weren’t so focused on trying to read him.
“Oh. Yeah..” he chides and looks down, pensive in thought as he brings his hand to the back of his neck and rakes it through his hair. “I know the place.” He glances back up and avoids eye contact. The bite in his voice does not go unnoticed, but you don’t pry.
An uncomfortable subject; noted.
“Better coffee than this I reckon” he says as he places his thermos back in the center console. He attempts to lighten the tone and then glances at his watch.
“I gotta get to work, sweetheart. Keep your car runnin’ for a bit and you should be all set. Probably get that battery replaced.” His tone is more serious now, more business-like. You realize you had been waiting in his truck longer than necessary. You really have to get to work anyways.
You thank him again and return to your car. He waits for you to get in and raises his fingers off his steering wheel in a lazy wave to signal he was leaving. He backs out of your driveway and heads down the road towards town.
You take a deep breath and adjust the knobs in your car. Joel had put everything on high heat and full blast for you and your car was now unbearably toasty. You tune your radio and ease into the road and on your way to work.
All the while your mind can’t stop thinking about your charming, handyman neighbor.
So that's Joel Miller. You smile to yourself and faintly feel butterflies in your stomach. Anxious thoughts that excite and frighten you.
–
It took Marlene all of five minutes to become your new work bestie. She was efficient and smart and knew her way around the place. She was the only one working when you arrived and despite the line of customers she was friendly and teased you for arriving late on your first day.
Marlene had great rapport with everyone. It was apparent that the customers were all regulars and she wasted no time introducing you to them. She had a somewhat forward style but it was well received because she knew exactly what she was doing and didn’t waste time being flowery and over the top. It reminded you of the brashness of Boston.
After the morning rush things were relatively calm. You had time to chat and get to know her a little more while she was showing you the ropes. It wasn’t complicated and you were a quick study.
By mid afternoon it was time to close up shop. The hours were a perk. You were scheduled to work weekdays from open till close and would have to occasionally help out on Saturdays. Marlene worked the same shift and the weekends were mostly covered by high schoolers.
It was just after 2 o’clock when the owner, Tess, stopped by.
“How did it go?” she asks you both as she takes a seat and rests her bag on the counter. Marlene had no intention of telling her you were late and talked you up, pleased with your presence. Tess had a few other properties she owned so her time at the coffee shop was only as needed and Marlene you learnt was more or less the one who ran things day to day.
You recap the day and thank her again for the job. You did genuinely enjoy the work. It was easy. Simple and straightforward. You got to know lots of town folk and everyone was curious and interested in meeting the new girl in town.
Tess seemed pleased enough and was quick to head out. She was friendly but brief and gave the impression she had other responsibilities that demanded her attention. She joins you behind the counter briefly and pours herself a black hot coffee in a to-go cup. Another perk of the job was indulging in all the free coffee.
“Let me know if you guys need anything!” She says energetically as she collects her bag and heads out the door. She flips the sign to “closed” as she leaves.
“Tess is cool. She doesn’t interfere too much and we only see her a few times a week, if that.” You nod to acknowledge Marlene. “Lets finish cleaning up and get out of here.”
It was nice leaving with the sun bright and warm. Winter meant shorter days, so getting out of work with a few hours of daylight felt luxurious. The bitter cold from the morning had made its departure.
You had been so focused with work it wasn’t until you got back to your car that you allowed yourself to think about Joel again. You know you shouldn’t but can’t help feeling turned on at the thought of him. He was handsome in that brooding, mysterious way and he emanated competence. It was refreshing and welcomed.
You decided to send him a text message. You had his number in your recent contacts after all and you were curious if he would play along. You were certain that there was something sparked between the two of you, but unsure if he would act on it. Unsure if there were too many obstacles between you.
You keep it simple and friendly. ��
You: Thanks again for your help!
Your car starts up with no issue and you head home. When you arrive you glance down to your phone to see a simple reply.
Joel: Anytime
It was brief but you couldn’t help but read it with that low, southern drawl. His voice was so distinct. Polite but stern. You add him as a contact in your phone and wonder if he did the same.
You take a shower, make some dinner and get comfortable in your bed. It’s early and you watch some TV when you hear your phone chime. You glance at your phone and see Joel Miller has you on his mind as he revives the conversation with you.
Joel: So how did it go?
You smile and recount this feeling like you were a teenager talking to your crush. You want to gush about your first day but you play it cool and brief.
You: Went good, I think I’ll like it there
A few minutes pass. Against your better judgment you start to go into details but delete it before you hit send. You recalled his strange reaction earlier when you brought up Grind. This man has you second guessing yourself and you don’t want to blow it before it even begins. He replies instead before you elaborate.
Joel: Glad to hear. Thought you would.
You: I’m exhausted though, getting to bed
You decide to be playful and see how he reacts.
You: Goodnight, Mr. Miller.
Joel: Just Joel.
Joel: Goodnight darling
Darling. Even if it was just a typical Southern phrase it made you wild. It was uncommon to hear in the north and felt so endearing and warm. The knots in your stomach return as you struggle to fall asleep. Your mind is too excited to see where things go from here. You knew he was interested in you enough to keep talking. It would have been easy for him to end the conversation there and keep things formal and neighborly.
Your mind wanders thinking about how truly handsome he is. How badly you want his manly, rough hands on your body. How his voice makes you melt. How his domineering presence makes you tingle in your core. You feel yourself starting to get wet just at the thought of his body and what you wanted to do to it. What you wanted him to do to you. Sinful thoughts.
You slide your hand between your legs and feel yourself already wet and wanting. Your delicate fingers tease circles over your clit and it doesn’t take long before you get off. You feel ashamed to be lusting over an old man you barely know, but nevertheless wish it was Joel’s rough hands on you.
You wonder if he is doing the same thing and sharing the same thoughts about you.
–
A few uneventful days go by and now it’s Friday. You haven’t seen much of Joel other than his truck occasionally driving off, but he had been stuck on your mind all week. Lonely nights accompanied by dirty thoughts of Joel that only fueled your yearning to get closer to him. Your inhibitions regarding age and disapproval of your parents were blinded by your building desire. It still weighed on you though. Your parents would be appalled and probably disown you if they knew. It would just be another tick on the disappointment list.
Work is busy and the day flies by. Just a few hours to go. You are taking a break, sitting at one of the tables by the front window and snacking on a blueberry scone. You reason with yourself that tonight is as good as any to try to make something happen.
You: You doing anything tonight?
An agonizing hour passes and no reply. Your message is on read. Marlene takes notice of your change in demeanor. When things finally slow down and its just the two of you waiting around to close up she presses you.
“So.. whats going on? You look distant.”
“Just trying to… make friends here.” You pause. “A friend in particular.” Your voice trails off. Marlene catches on quick and she had suspected you were starting to fall for someone.
“Anyone I know?” Marlene knows everyone. You don’t want her judgment on the matter so you keep it vague.
“My neighbor. He doesn’t seem the type to come to a place like this though.” Your phone chimes and you try to play down your excitement as you look down and see it’s from Joel. You can barely contain a smile.
Joel: Just got done a job. No plans
Marlene searches your face and rolls her eyes.
“Just go over then. Easy enough.” she was right.
“Yeah, I think I will.”
The rest of the shift goes by quickly and you are both out the door by 3 o’clock.
You sit in your car and decide to just call him already. You were craving to hear his voice again and you wanted to put him on the spot. He answers quickly.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Joel. I still owe you, you know for helping me out earlier.” Joel sighs in defeat.
“I see you aint lettin’ that go. What did ya have in mind?”
“Can I come over tonight? I’ll bring over drinks.” Your offer was more forward than you intended, but you went with it.
“Yeah, ok. Sounds good.” He pauses and has a counter offer for you. “Come over for dinner first?” You melt at the thought and realize you haven’t responded and there is a silence while you are getting lost in your thoughts. “Grilling steaks. Nothin’ fancy.”
“Yeah. Sounds good.” You can feel your smile spilling into the phone. That sounds more than good. It sounds really fucking good.
“Alright. Come over ‘round 7.”
“Ok. See you tonight.” You end the call and take a deep breath. Your heart is beating out of your chest in excitement.
–
Getting ready for the night you attempted a relaxed look. You wanted to look nice, but approachable. You had some worn jeans that tucked neatly into your Bean boots. A button down flannel that you left undone over an intentionally low cut, fitted shirt. It accented your chest just right. You wore your hair down and went light on the makeup. You threw on a light leather jacket and grabbed the six pack of beer as you head across the street.
Joel opens the door and leans in the doorframe with a casual figure, taking you in while he bites his lip,
“Evening' sweetheart” He steps back and holds the door open for you and gestures to come in. He was definitely a gentleman. You normally are not a fan of the pet names, but he worked them into his vocabulary so smoothly it was welcomed.
You step inside and turn around, holding up the six pack of beer.
“Sam Adams. That ok?” He shuts the door and nods in approval. “Figured I’d bring some Boston culture over.” You step further inside. His kitchen is just off the main entrance and has an island with some bar stools at it. You make your way over and take a seat and rest the case on the countertop.
Your eyes scan the room. His kitchen is tidy, save the spot where he prepped the steaks. You see an empty whiskey glass. Evidence that he had at least one stiff drink before you came over. You panic a little and regret not doing the same.
“That where you lived before this?” He interrupts your thought as he stands across you at the island. His crossed forearms holding him up as he leans towards you with intrigue. He is dressed plainly in a pair of worn jeans and a plain navy blue t-shirt that hugs his arms just right. His biceps bulge as he is leaning forward and your mind is now preoccupied with just how broad his shoulders are. You almost forgot he asked you a question.
“Yeah, for a few years anyways.” You briefly recount, distracted when Joel takes a beer bottle from the case and effortlessly pops the cap with his large, calloused hands. A satisfying hiss escapes the bottle followed by a clink as the cap falls to the countertop. He slides it over to you and repeats the motion again for himself.
“Oh, wow.” you say out loud, without realizing it. Joel has that cocky side smirk again, well aware of his impressive party trick. He holds the bottle up and towards you and you do the same, clanking bottle necks together and taking a sip. Your eyes are locked on each other for a moment; trying to read each other's intentions.
“Make yourself comfortable. I’m gonna put the steaks on.” he gestures his head to the back door that leads onto the deck. He grabs his suede jacket off the back of a chair and walks towards the back entrance. You trail behind and this was the first time you really noticed just how beautiful his home was.
His open living room and kitchen had a vaulted ceiling with massive windows lining the whole back side of the cabin. It faced the lake and you could imagine how serene it would be to watch the sunrise. The cedar walls and flooring made it feel cozy and inviting. There was a large wood stove in the center of the living room and an open loft above the back of the living room. The deck seemed to wrap along a good part of the home.
“Your home is beautiful.” It had looked so much more discrete from the road; tucked behind some pines and a long driveway. The backyard was a short distance to the lake and sloped slightly down to a dock. Joel probably had a boat parked there in the summer. The cabin was perched perfectly with a breathtaking view; isolated and private from the world.
“Thank you. I built it myself. Me and my brother Tommy.”
“Thats… impressive.”
“Eh, just comes with being a contractor. Made more sense to build my own place the way I wanted.” There it was again, that feeling in your core that excites you. Joel likes to be in control, and he has the skill set to back it up making it all the more alluring.
Its a cool night, but not uncomfortably cold to be outside for a few minutes with a jacket. In fact, you are grateful to have the crisp air to help ground you and calm you down. It was embarrassing how easily Joel could work you up. You lean over the railing and gaze out over the lake while he tends to the grill for a moment and then joins you at the railing.
“I spent a few years there myself. Boston.” This was news to you, but you were still curious about his Southern accent.
“And… before?”
“Texas.” He takes a sip of his beer. “Most my life.” You smile and give a slight laugh.
“Well, that certainly explains things. You don’t exactly sound like a New Englander” you tease him. Joel laughs and looks a little distant. Something you have come to realize about Joel is that he has a lot on his mind he doesn’t say out loud. His mysterious demeanor was something you found as attractive as it was frustrating.
“You like it here so far?” He asks.
“I do. Its simple and peaceful. Life is easy here.” you realize while saying this out loud that you mean it. You really are enjoying your time in Kineo more than you ever had expected. “And… my neighbor isn’t so bad.” You tease. Joel rolls his eyes and returns to the grill, pulling the steaks off.
“Mine is a pain in the ass.” He jokes as he closes the grill. He wasn’t wrong. You were persistent if anything.
–
Dinner is laid back and enjoyable. He has a small dining room table but you choose to sit next to each other at the island drinking your Sam Adams and enjoying your ribeye steaks. Joel cooked them to perfection. You stay seated long after you are done eating, getting carried away with conversation. Your bodies are facing each other and knees knocking into his as you get animated with your storytelling.
Joel mostly listens while you ramble on. The more you drink the lower your inhibitions get. You are a lightweight to begin with and it doesn’t take much. You don’t even notice that he isn’t really listening to you anymore. His focus has left your well intended words and shifted to your body. He’s looking at your low-cut shirt teasing him. The way you brush your hair out of your face when you laugh. How your neck looks so inviting when you tilt your head back to take a sip of beer, You don’t register that he is eyeing you crudely like you are a piece of meat. That he is fighting every urge inside him to just lose himself with you.
He inches his hand along the countertop closer to yours until he is grazing your wrist with a light touch and dragging his fingers back across yours. It sends a shiver through your body as you become aware how he is looking at you and how painfully reserved his touch is. It is polite but intrusive. He watches how it makes you feel. How you start to come undone.
Your pent up feelings are starting to overwhelm you and you excuse yourself reluctantly. Your heart starts to race and you wonder if he can hear it beating.
You get up and bring your plate over to the sink to wash it. It is a distraction more than anything while you gather yourself. Joel watches you from behind for a moment. You can feel his gaze burning into you and brace yourself against the counter. You like the way it feels. The way he makes you feel wanted.
That loud silence returns. The air in the room feels heavy. He joins you at the sink and you can feel his heat envelop you as he approaches you from behind. His broad body boxes you in and makes you feel small and vulnerable.
Joel takes his hands and dances his fingers down your arms lightly. His touch starts a fire inside you and you crave a heavier hold. You need him like you need air in your lungs. He presses a gentle kiss behind your ear and another one drags to your jawline and to the soft meat of your neck. His coarse beard scrapes against your skin and makes you shudder. You press your ass into him and feel him hard against your lower back. He responds by pressing into you firmly and brings his mouth to your ear.
“You feel what you do to me, beautiful girl?” He asks with his low, gravely voice and presses another kiss into you. His heat is searing into you.
He agonizingly slides his hands down to your hips and turns you to face him. He pushes your body gently against the countertop and moves one of his hands up to caress your face. He presses his hips into you and holds your chin gently between his thumb and finger. He stares down at you with a thirst in his eyes. He narrows his focus to try to get a reading on you. Your mouths are just inches apart. There is a hunger he is resisting but the wolf inside is slowly starting to win over reason.
“I want this, Joel.” You stare up at him and make sure he can see the desire in your eyes and that you are serious. You want to remove any hesitations he has on your account. You try to rock your hips into him but he has you pinned. He can feel your needy attempt.
“We shouldn’t…” Joel pleads, but his words are empty and not speaking the same language as his body.
Your age, your parents, your unfamiliarity with one another all should be reason enough to quelch this flame, but it just makes you want it that much more. He has wanted you since he first laid eyes on you that morning he came to your rescue. He wants to be respectful but fails, instead teasing you with how much he wants you. The hesitance is an illusion that he has kept up until that moment. Your body is trapped against his and he is looking at you like you are prey in his clutches. You had suspected and even hoped that Joel was a dominant lover with how confident he carried himself.
You seize the opportunity to show him just what he is doing to you.
You push your tongue into him and taste him; sweet and malty. His warm and wet mouth is inviting and intense. All reluctancy fades away as he gives in to you and takes control with his tongue. You can feel his cock is hard and straining against his jeans as he rocks into you. Your arms hang around his neck and tangle into his hair as you grind against each other. The friction of both your bodies sending each other into a frenzy.
He drags his mouth away, biting at your lower lip as he moves along your jawline to the soft skin at your neck. You stretch your head back giving him full access to your bare neck as he nips at you hungrily. His scruffy beard rubs roughly against your supple skin and feels so good. One hand roams up your shirt while his mouth traces lower and lower down to your collarbone. He thumbs and circles over your nipple. He can feel it harden through your bra and engulfs your breast with his large hand. His touch is brazen but you welcome it. You can feel just how badly he wants to devour you and it makes you moan.
He slides his expert hand from your breast and drags it down to your jeans. He unbuttons them hastily with force and works his hand slowly inside. Your underwear is already wet from your arousal. He pulls his mouth away from you and has a devilish grin as he grabs at your pussy and narrows his eyes on you.
“You’re so wet for me.” He says breathlessly with anticipation while he has you in his grasp.
He slides his hand inside your waistband and teases your clit as his hand slides against you. You want to reply to him but your words are trapped beneath the moans caught in your throat. He brings a finger to your opening and slowly pushes the tip inside you. The pressure from his large, calloused fingers makes you buck into him. He rubs his thumb over your clit as he slowly teases your entrance with his finger. He takes it slow and when he thinks you are ready he slips another one inside.
You can feel your walls clench around his obscenely thick fingers and he pushes deeper. Twisting and playing at your entrance and thrusting in. Your hips writhe in his grasp. While one hand is busy with your cunt the other has an iron grip on the back of your neck. His mouth messily returns to the soft skin above your collarbone and into the crook of your neck. You are completely at his mercy and can’t imagine any other place you’d want to be.
You are so tight but he stretches you open artfully. Moans escape your lips as you gasp when his fingers dip further into you, reaching that perfect part deep inside.
“Come for me.” He pants into you with a snarl as you convulse on him.
He doesn’t let up and fucks you relentlessly with his fingers until you are coming and moaning his name. Incoherent expletives escape you while you soak him.
You ride the wave of pleasure for as long as you can. It has been too long since you had fucked around with someone. However, no one had ever so masterfully gotten you off with just their fingers. The way he handled your body and worshiped you with his mouth was intoxicating.
As you come down from your high he slides his wet fingers from inside you and pulls his mouth away with a final ravenous kiss on your swollen lips. He places a kiss on top of your head and pulls you in close for an embrace. The hard protrusion against your body makes itself painfully known.
Joel presses his forehead against yours as he works to unzip his jeans and free himself. His fingers are wet with your slick. He smirks at you as his hand glides over his swollen cock and rubs your wetness all over his length. His breathing shallows as he strokes himself with one hand and braces his body on the countertop with the other. His swollen head grazes your belly with each thrust into his fist.
You watch him wantonly as he palms himself with more vigor. Joel’s cock is thick and intimidating, but you crave it in the worst way. It is by far the largest you have ever seen. It glistens in your slick and the precum that was beading at the head. A desire builds inside you and you yearn for more of Joel. Want him in your hands, your mouth, your cunt.
“Let me, please?” your voice comes out barely above a whisper. His hand slows and comes to a stop. He stretches out his arms to hold him up against the counter as he hovers above you and lets you take over.
You reach out and grab on to him. You marvel at its size and how weighty it feels in your hands as you start to rub them up and down. His skin is hot and velvety smooth and pulled tightly. Your pace is much slower but more precise. You feel the veins bulge under your grasp as your fingers glide up and down his length.
A moan hitches in his throat as you rub your thumb over his sensitive tip. You do it again and again. Teasing Joel Miller feels dangerous. You can feel how ragged he is and how close he is to coming. You want to make him come undone.
“God, damn it.” Joel grunts under his breath. He peels back your hand and painfully pulls it off of him. His cock twitches at the loss of your touch. He stands up straight and towers over you as you shrink back.
“Get on your knees.” He commands with his hand firmly on your wrist as he pulls your face closer to his. It sends a shiver through your body and you oblige. Any warmth in his eyes has been lost and he is staring at you; dark and menacing. He throws your wrist away and grips his hand along the side of your neck. His touch is rough and urgent. His fingers snake around to the back of your neck as he pulls you closer to him while you drop down. They twist into your hair and he has a hold on the back of your head. It doesn’t hurt, but his grasp is firm and might if you tried to fight it.
He takes his cock back in his grasp with his other hand and pumps it. His movements are jerky and his breathing is labored. You can tell he is so close. He roughly pulls your head back by your hair to look up at him.
“You gonna’ finish what you started?” he asks with darkened eyes. “Then open up.” He commands you through clenched teeth.
You respond with an uncontainable smirk. You part your mouth slowly and let your tongue hang out, never taking your eyes off his. You sit back onto your knees so that you are slightly under him and wait patiently. He widens his stance. His hand slides to the top of your head and tangles in your hair. You can feel him slowly starting to lose control and come undone before you while he strokes himself. You brace yourself, hooking your fingers into the back of his thighs and clawing at his jeans. You can smell his sex and feel his heat but he holds you just out of reach and makes you wait while your thirst grows.
Finally he taps the head of his weighty cock against your tongue and you lick at his slit, sending him over the edge. He groans as his thick spend coats your tongue and drips messily onto your chin. You close your mouth around him as he begins to stall out and swallow, pulling the final drops of cum from him while you choke his cock with your mouth.
“Good girl.” He rasps at you. “So fucking good.” His grip on you loosens and he tenderly drags his hand along your jawline. You relax your mouth and let him slide himself out. He groans when your tongue licks the underside of him as he pulls out.
He thumbs over some of his mess that falls out of your mouth and curls his thumb over your bottom lip. You lick him clean and he moves to hold your face in his hands while you look up at him.
“My good girl.” His words shoot straight to your core and make you weak. He brushes your hair behind your ear and helps you up. He places another kiss on your head and wraps his arms around you. His hot and heavy body feels so good against yours. You tilt your head up and press your mouth into him one more time.
“Are we even now?” you joke. Joel smiles. Everything about him feels warmer. He peels himself away from you and steps back, leaning against the island. You adjust your clothes and zip yourself back up while he does the same.
“Actually… think I might owe you now.” Joel says with a playful tone. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and shakes his head at you like he can’t believe his predicament. You like the idea of Joel owing you.
–
You don’t spend the night. He offers to walk you home but you opt to go alone. It felt good to get some fresh air, to clear your head and recap the night. You also wanted to leave him wanting more.
You weren’t sure what would come from this situation with Joel, but you knew you barely scratched the surface with him. He was rough around the edges but you liked that about him. You liked that a lot.
END CHAPTER
(Part 2!)
A/N: More to come! Undecided how many chapters but I have quite a bit mapped out. Please be kind. This is my first fic and it is nerve wrecking to post! If you loved it, PLEASE let me know. I'd love to know your thoughts so far! What did you like? What do you want more of? How much angst can your heart take? I aim to test it in future chapters. Comments/Reblogs are appreciated so much. Thank you all
Also special thanks to @magpiepills for the lovely cover photo (and her mood board inspirations she helped with along the way!) and to both her and @legendary-pink-dot for reading my first draft and giving their feedback AND courage to post this.
If you wish to know when I post the next chapter, please follow @ArcaneFoxFics and turn on notifications!
If you are here for my gifs only and are like WTF I dont want to see this mature content... you can follow me over at @ArcaneFoxGifs which will ONLY be reposts of my gif sets.
Love to my friends who give me the courage and support to do all the things @magpiepillsjunior @legendary-pink-dot @exquisiteserotonin @youandmeand5bucks @redhotkitchen @sparklefarts38 @pink-whiskey-woman @for-a-longlongtime @secretelephanttattoo
#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#the last of us#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fanfiction#the wolf you feed#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#New England Joel#joel miller x you#joel tlou#joel miller series#fic: the wolf you feed#pedro pascal characters#joel miller fanfic
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i simply cannot stop posting cringe. it’s in my blood
#(i'm escherfall)#bbc wolf#wolf (the show not the animal)#bbc wolf fandom. you thought you were safe from me? think again.#and yes i did mistake my latest fic for someone else's fanfic when it popped up on my rss feed#i was SO SAD ;_;
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I have been waiting for this! This has been stuck in my head since you mentioned how there's too many werewolf x bunny fics.
Imagine there's a village of prey hybrids. All the villagers that live there are some kind of prey animal.
The village is very peaceful, but is the target of a tribe of predator hybrids that dwell in the deepest part of the forest.
Every year, these predator hybrids would attack the prey village and would kidnap any villager unlucky enough to be caught.
These attacks typically happen around mid to late spring, from dusk to well into the night.
The prey villagers always hide around this time, but at least one to three people end up being taken.
Last year was one of the reader's friends. A sweet little sheep that was said to be taken by a large male black wolf. Poor girl was likely eaten by that horrible beast! (In a way she was eaten~)
This year, it is reader's turn.
Reader is a deer hybrid that got caught while out gathering food in the forest. Only to be jumped by a strong and handsome male mountain lion hybrid and taken back to his tribe.
There reader finds her friend as well as other people from her village, all well and alive and with large clearly pregnant bellies as well as a few children.
Turns out the predator tribe has been taking people from your village as their mates. Even treating their prey mates with the utmost care.
Something the reader will understand fully once she's been bred with her first litter of cubs.
your parents had always warned you to be careful when you left the safety of the village, especially during spring when nearby predators would go into heat and kill little deer girls like you to feed to keep up their strength. You were so careful, the fastest in the herd, the best at running away, no predator could ever catch you....other people weren't so lucky. Every year a few people would go missing, trail too close to the border, stay out foraging after sunset, and disappear.
Most of the time, you don't know the prey who gets taken, but sometimes you do, like when your best friend got dragged off by a horrifying wolf. You grieved the loss of your friend and redoubled your commitment to safety... but you got cocky. you were the fastest in your age group, no one could catch you, especially not some heavy, slow predator.
It's a warm spring evening, the breeze gentle and sweet, smelling like honeysuckle and green grass. the sunsets casting the valley in golden light, your basket is full of fat wild blackberries. how could anything go wrong on a day like this? A twig snaps to your right, and you turn and freeze, looking carefully at the tree line. you don't see anything... but your heart is still racing, by the time you spot the hungry green eyes peering up at you it's already too late. you take off running, but for once, you aren't fast enough.
The mountain lion pounces and lifts you off of your feet, throwing you easily over his broad shoulders, you freeze, your heart beating faster and faster, you need to think, he hasn't killed and eaten you yet- maybe you could escape, you just need to keep your head.
It's a much shorter journey to the preditor village than you would have thought, you'd never traveled far from home so you had no idea that they were so close this whole time. What's even more surprising is the amount of prey animals, wandering around town and looking happy. A rabbit boy with big floppy ears hanging off the arm of a buff-looking wolf, a deer hybrid like yourself flirting with two different lions, and a sheep- a sheep that you recognize. Your eyes go wide as it clicks into place. the people being taken weren't being killed at all.
The mountain lion puts you down and looks at you closely, evaluating you. "I wasn't too rough was I? You're not hurt?" he asks. you shake your head slowly
"n-no. I'm not hurt just- scared," you admit shyly. He nuzzles you comfortingly,
"awe, don't worry my mate, I'll keep you safe... I won't let anything happen to you, no one else will touch you while you're with me," he purrs and you shift, embarrassed to tell him that it was him you were afraid of. although you had to admit if this big scary mountain lion is guarding you, and claiming you as their mate, you do feel a little safer.
#monster imagine#monster#monster fucker#teratophillia#monster boyfriend#werewolf x reader#werewolf boyfriend#werewolves#werewolf
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it will come back
part one
a.k.a. sever the blight (eddie's version)
pairing(s): werewolf!eddie munson x fem!milkmaid!reader
summary: You don’t go into the woods. You don’t talk to strangers. And you don’t, under any circumstances, approach a wolf. Unless one shows up bleeding at your door.
cw: dark themes, mature content, animal cruelty, animal death mention, gunshots, physical abuse, reader is a servant to an abusive master, misogyny, suggestive themes, fairytale au, some kind of historical fantasy period, inspired by The Company of Wolves by Angela Carter, eventual smut (in later parts)
a/n: hiiiiiiii :) so remember when i said i'd stop posting fic on tumblr? well one mental breakdown later i decided that was literally making me miserable and ruining my hobby! so i'm back. it's me, hi, i'm the problem it's me <3 this is a reupload
ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI
There are things they tell you about the woods from the time you are born, weaning you on them just the same as you are weaned on milk. Don’t go into the woods on a full moon. Don’t talk to strange men. Likewise, if you see a strange man alone in the pines on the full moon, run and don’t look back. And don’t, for any reason, approach a wolf at any time. They’ll kill you before you turn the other cheek.
In your twenty-some-odd years, you have never seen a wolf. You’ve heard them howling, distantly, so deep in the forest that you don’t even feel the need to be frightened by it. They exist in there, somewhere, going about their business as wolves do.
Sometimes you hear about the wolves wandering into town. Old Mr. Thatch, from just over the creek, said his pigs were slaughtered in the night. He’ll have to spend a fortune to get a few more. Torben Plack from the end of Warder’s Row saw one drinking from the horse trough outside the inn last month.
There are whispers of wolves when a baby is missing from its crib. There are whispers of murder in the night. There are accusations that some of the townsfolk themselves are wolves in disguise.
Nonsense, the lot of it. Or, that’s what you believe. That’s what you choose to think about it– even though you’ve been told time and again that a pretty girl doesn’t think, a pretty girl believes and does what she’s told. She doesn’t go into the woods. She does her chores and she says her prayers and she marries a boy with a healthy income and lives quietly, rearing children until she can’t anymore.
(You don’t believe that, either.)
You don’t have the luxury of making any other choices, though. You are a servant, a milkmaid in the employ of a rather cold Master– you have no time for philosophy or discerning what you do and don’t believe about the local folklore.
You milk the cow. You chop the firewood. You feed the chickens. You harvest the cabbage and you don’t complain. You sleep on your bed in your shack– or, servant’s quarters– behind the grand house and you don’t, under any circumstances, question the Master or his wife. You wash the bedsheets after he sloppily takes his wife to bed, and you try to hide your disgust.
You usually do what you’re told. Usually.
On a night when the moon hangs round and full in the sky, lighting the stretch of land beyond your small shack in a milky blue haze, you’re building a small fire in the fireplace when you hear it. The howling. It’s so much closer than you’ve ever heard it, almost as though the wolves are just beyond the treeline that backs up to your master’s land.
You pay it no mind. Normally, the wolves are on the hunt for something– small animals that titter through the woods, unassuming until it’s too late. The howling will be distant soon, and you’ll be able to sleep soundly while the rest of the town frets about the dangers of the wolf-men, locking their windows and bolstering their doors.
Just as you thought, the howls drift away slowly. You snuggle down into the covers of your bed, and you barely flinch when Mr. Thatch fires off a pistol over the creek, ringing through the dead night louder than hell. These things mean little to you. You’re more interested in what the land of dreams holds for you tonight– it’s one of the only reprieves you get from your long days of work.
It isn’t until ten minutes later, when you are mere inches from sleep, that you hear a soft whining outside your cabin door. At first, you think it’s the wind. Then, when it gets louder, you wonder if you’re imagining it.
And when it turns into a soft howling, well. That’s not your imagination.
You wrap a woven blanket around your shoulders and leave the door open when you step out into the chilly night. You don’t have a candle– you could always knick one from the Mistress, but that might risk getting caught, and you don’t love that idea. So, you contend with the little amount of light that spills out of the open door from your small fireplace, and you squint into the dark toward the source of the sound.
It takes shape in the form of a wolf. A big one, covered in black fur and curled up beneath the gabled roof, as though attempting to make itself smaller. It shivers and whimpers miserably, tucking its paws close to its body.
You shrink back in the doorway, drawing your blanket closer around your shoulders. The hum of crickets in the bushes and in the grass across the pasture covers the shakiness of your rapid breathing. You don’t know what to do. You couldn’t possibly be expected to bother the Master this late at night– even if it is a wolf, the barn is shut up and the animals are safe. You’d probably be expected to just stay put in your little cabin and wait for it to go away on its own. Maybe in the morning the Master will find it and skin it for the Mistress’s bedquilt.
The image makes you shudder. This poor thing– even if it is nearly as big as you, even if it’s a nasty predator in the eyes of everyone else– is clearly looking for some sort of reprieve. Just the same as you do at the end of the day. You can’t let it be skinned alive just for searching for safety.
“Hey,” you whisper softly, and you know the creature hears you, because it flinches badly. Almost as though it may bolt away in a panic. “No, no… don’t be frightened.”
You lower yourself down towards the ground, tentatively inching forward as the creature turns its head to blink up at you. Water brims its dark eyes, sparkling in the low light from your open door. Streaks of tears flatten the fur on its snout; the wretched thing lets out a noise like a sob, hanging its head like it doesn’t have the energy to stand you off.
“I’ve never seen a wolf cry before,” you tell it quietly. You’ve never seen a wolf, period, but you don’t need to tell it that. You’re not sure that it can understand you, anyways, but you keep talking like it can. “Are you hurt?”
The wolf snorts, sneezes loudly, and then trembles. There’s a high pitched whining, a heart-shattering noise that cuts deep into your chest as the beast cowers away from you. The whine turns into a low growl when you move a bit closer, but it doesn’t sound like it really means business. More like it doesn’t know what to do with your closeness.
“Hey,” you say again, more insistently. You inch your way forward, crouched low to the ground, holding your blanket around you with one hand as you reach the other out toward it. You’ve never tried to approach a wolf. You don’t know if it’s similar to trying to gain a domesticated dog’s trust– hold out your hand, let it catch your scent. Show it that you mean no harm, allow it to come to you. “I’m trying to help you, okay? Let me help.”
The wolf growls for a moment longer before finally relenting, and reaching its head forward to sniff curiously at your hand. You don’t know what you expect– perhaps that it would drop its head again, or back away cautiously. Instead, the wolf surprises you by pushing its head into your outstretched palm like a sad puppy.
“Oh,” you coo, stroking the wolf’s soft head as it trembles. Its ears twitch against your fingers, and it snuffles a few times, its body shaking with each, like an all-too-human fit of sobbing. “Okay, baby. Let’s get you inside.”
Again, it’s a shot in the dark. You back slowly away from the creature, whose watery eyes blink up at you, and then you stand, and open the cabin door wider. The wolf doesn’t move, still continuing to shake with its uneven breathing.
You take a step into the door, and watch as the wolf slowly struggles up out of its cowering position. On all four legs, it seems to be favoring its right front leg, lifting its left paw limply upward. When you take another step back into the cabin, and it follows, it shudders a breath and limps badly on its left leg.
“Good job, honey,” you tell the wolf gently as it tentatively follows you into the cabin.
You don’t know whether to leave the door open or to shut it; you’re not sure if there’s any wisdom in shutting yourself in close quarters with a wild animal, but you also don’t want the Master to find it come morning. You suck your teeth and swing the door shut, quietly latching it and hoping the damned thing doesn’t suddenly decide it’s too hungry.
You turn, and take two steps before dropping to your knees in front of the fireplace, where the most light hits the ground. You drop your blanket to the floor, and pat your lap as you look at the creature shivering a few feet away. “C’mere. Lay down.”
As far as you know, wolves don’t normally lay down and play lapdog for strange humans, but this one does. You wonder at it, remarkable in its size and beauty, as it flops down tiredly onto your floor and rests its head in your lap. Through your cotton chemise, the wolf’s chin is warmer than the heat of the fire.
You pet the wolf’s head again gently as you examine its left leg. It doesn’t seem to have any major wounds except for a spot of wetness on the side of it. When you lift it, the wolf in your lap whines loudly.
“I know, baby,” you coo at it, trying to pet its head as soothingly as you can while you look over the mangled leg and paw. Through the fur and dirt, you see a patch of pink skin matted with bright red, and your own hand comes away smeared with blood. There is a bad gash, enough to still be bleeding.
You don’t want to jostle the animal now that it’s relatively comfortable, so you bend backwards and sideways to reach the cup of water on the shelf at your bedside. It’s what you have on hand to clean the wound– you suppose you could sneak into the grand house to steal some soap, but just the same as the candle, you’d rather not risk it. You take your time in pouring cool, clean water on the wolf’s wound, rubbing dirt and blood away from the gash. In your lap, the beast huffs softly in response.
“I don’t know what you’re doing out of the woods,” you tell it as you tenderly clean its wound, expecting that you’re only speaking to settle your own nerves, “but you ought not to come around here too often. The men here are bloodthirsty. Don’t want you getting any more beat up.”
The wolf heaves a sigh. For what it’s worth, you take that as some sort of acknowledgement.
“I can’t do much else for you besides this,” you continue softly. The wound is clean now, the fur gone wet enough that you can pull it aside and peer at the gash itself. It’s quite deep, straight, and slices from the middle of its leg upward at a diagonal. It continues to ooze even as you examine it, painting your fingers red. You tip a little more water onto it.
You grab one corner of the blanket you’d used to wrap yourself, and rip a strip off along the grain. The light pink fabric looks almost comical when you wrap it around the wolf’s leg, tying it and tucking the tails in gently so that it won’t fall off too easily. You figure, eventually, the damn thing will come off while the wolf goes off on its merry way. You don’t delude yourself into thinking you’ve got a pet, now.
“I wish I could give you more,” you tell the beast, petting your hand down its mane, feeling the silken fur slide through your fingers like the plushest finery that you’ll never be able to enjoy for yourself. “But, I suppose, you can rest here tonight. If you promise to stay polite.”
The wolf doesn’t fuss when you slide a stiff pillow under its chin, and slip back under the covers of your bed. You gaze at it, curled up in a big black mass on your floor in front of the hearth, and you wonder why on earth a wild animal would be so well behaved.
You wonder how a wolf is capable of crying.
You wake in the early morning light expecting to find a big black wolf sleeping in front of your hearth. Instead, when you rouse and rub the sleep from your eyes, you find that the wolf is gone.
In fact, there appears to have been no wolf at all. No blood on the floor, no black fur on the pillow that has inexplicably reappeared on the foot of your bed. Your water cup is full. And the door to your cabin is latched, just the same as it had been last night, after you let the wolf in.
By all appearances, nothing happened last night. There was no wolf. You half expect that you dreamed the entire thing. And you would continue to believe so– but, the end of your pink woven blanket is still torn, missing a strip from the end, frayed along the grain.
You slip from your bed and fling open the door to your shack, emerging into the cool morning air. You look down at the nook beside the door where the wolf had huddled in the dark, seeking shelter away from harm. There is nothing there to suggest that it had been there last night.
But you know it to be true. You know it.
How could a wolf, a four legged creature with full use of only three of them, manage to unlatch your door, step out, and then relatch it from the other side? How could your water magically refill itself? It’s a mile to the well in the town square, and it’s not like the wolf could have done it.
Broken from your thoughts, you hear a shriek of your name. You lift your head to see your Mistress, fully dressed, feeding the chickens. The daily chores have already begun.
“What are you doing outside in your underclothes?!” your Mistress yells, flinging grain down at the birds. “Go inside and dress yourself this instant, you wretch! And begin your morning duties!”
You jump, darting back behind the door. You hadn’t thought anyone would be out yet. “Sorry, Mistress!”
You rush to grab your stays from the end of your bed. You’ll pay for that one, you think.
There are a million reasons why you prefer doing your chores out of the house.
One, the Mistress isn’t around to rag on you over every little thing. Two, you don’t have to be watching over your shoulder to make sure you aren’t in the Master’s way. And three, you can take all the time you want to do other things as well, as long as you get done before dinner has to be served.
Your skirt is filthy, but it’s a beautiful day, and the creek that separates your Master’s land from Mr. Thatch’s land is babbling quite a bit, and it makes doing the washing up much easier than it otherwise would be. Which you’re happy about, since your arm is so badly welted you can barely curl your fingers.
You sniffle and lift your apron to wipe your nose. Then you wring out the Mistress’s petticoat– of which there are far too many for one woman to reasonably have– you whine at the strain on your injured hand, and you move to the basket of other soiled clothes. You think about blowing your nose in the Master’s linen shirt, and you’re about two seconds from doing it, too, when you hear a splash nearby.
“Shit,” says a man’s voice. There are a couple more splashes around the bend, and then yelps, and then there’s one enormous splash, and a laugh.
“Hello?” you call, trying to peer around the bank of overgrowth beside you. Then, there’s a cacophonous amount of splashing, which makes you screw up your face, and a man emerges from around the bank of greenery.
You pause, holding your Master’s laundry in your hands over the water like you’re wondering whether to dip it in or not. Really, you’re just shocked to see a strange man on your Master’s property at all. He’s out of breath, rosy cheeked and soaking wet from the chest down.
“Um,” is all you can say.
“Hello there,” the man says with a rakish grin that flashes sharp teeth at you. You blink a few times, just to make sure he’s really there. And when you do satisfy yourself with the fact that, yes, he’s very real, you then have to acclimate yourself to the idea that he’s also absolutely beautiful.
His very pretty face is framed by long, dark hair, and his eyes are strikingly dark. There’s something on his skin peeking out of the open collar of his burgundy blouse, but to look at that from this distance means to look at the way his shirt clings to his body, and then his trousers, and if you weren’t already struck dumb, now you are.
“How– how are you– um.” You wave your hands around, gesturing to the general area around you. “Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“I think I was going for a swim, of sorts,” the man laughs, holding one arm out a bit to indicate his damp appearance.
“Who are you?”
“Now, there’s a question for the ages.” The man tromps forward through the water, splashing along gracelessly and with exaggerated steps, like he’s trying to make you laugh. “Generally speaking, no one really cares who I am, just what I want.”
“Okay,” you snap, irritated by the man’s jovial attitude and his need to speak in riddles. “What do you want? Why are you on this land? What business do you have here, and with whom?”
“Whoa, hey–” the man holds up his hands, and grimaces like it’s painful to do so. Then he recovers with a flashy smile. “I don’t mean you any harm, princess. I have no business anywhere, I was just following the creek and seeing where it leads. Guess the time got away from me.”
“I’m not a princess,” you grumble back at him.
He tilts his head, his smile lingering as he looks at you. “Just an expression, no need to be nasty.”
You scowl down at your master’s clothes, and then plunge them into the water like they personally offended you. “Following the creek from where?” He points his thumb over his shoulder, towards the trees. “You came from the woods?”
“Thereabouts.”
You squint up at him. “What’s your name?”
“Eddie Munson, at your service.” He bows dramatically and takes another step towards you. “And may I ask who you are? Or shall I just call you ‘My Lovely Lady of the Creek,’ for time immemorial?”
You tell him your name flatly, and turn your face away as he gets closer, suddenly very invested in getting sweat stains out of your Master’s linen blouse using a cake of lye soap. “You should know not to go into those woods alone. There’s wolves.”
“Oh, I think I can handle myself in the woods, sweetheart.” Eddie smirks down at you. “Anyways, who wants to be in the trees on a day like this?”
You grunt. You don’t think the man will be going away anytime soon, which is bad news for you, because the closer he gets, the more inclined you are to look at him. Then, you’re more inclined to talk, and you’ve already been punished once today. You don’t think you could handle another.
The man, Eddie, sits himself down on a large rock jutting out of the water next to you. He watches you for a moment, scrubbing with one hand at the cloth on the board in the water, and then he points down at your arm. His billowing sleeve flashes red in your peripheral vision, along with the silver of the rings on his hand.
“What happened here?” he asks softly, his voice losing its humorous tone.
You look down at the welted skin. It stings, but the cold water numbs the pain just a bit. Now that he’s brought your attention back to it, your eyes prick with tears again, and you sniff. “My Mistress caught me outdoors in my chemise.”
“She should count herself lucky. It’s a sight to behold.”
“What?” You blink up at him. From this angle, him looming over you on a boulder, the sun rings his head in gold like a halo. “How would you know?”
“I’m… supposing.” Eddie bites his lip, staring off to the side for a moment, as if suddenly at a loss for the right words to say. “You’re a very… beautiful girl. I can only imagine.”
“That’s forward of you.”
“Besides, it doesn’t answer my question,” he rushes out. He scowls back down at your arm. “What did that to you?”
You heave a sigh. “Well, the Mistress told my Master. And the Master is very heavy handed with a cane.” A small sob constricts your throat for a moment, tears pricking your eyes again so badly that you have to stop working and close them. Your sinuses burn from the effort of holding it in.
“You were beaten because you went outside without a petticoat?” Eddie remarks incredulously, “That’s ridiculous.”
“Well, I… I was also late to start my chores,” you admit in a wobbly voice. “So I suppose I got off easier than most would…”
“It’s cruel. I’d love to see how he would take it, if the tables were turned.” Eddie’s dark eyes flash dangerously when you look up at him; there’s something in the set of his jaw and the steely expression on his face that makes you think of the growling wolf last night. After a moment, he softens towards you again. “Why were you late to your chores?”
“I…” you trail off. You think about telling him about the wolf, but you wonder if he’s the kind of person who will go into town and yell about the wolves trying to steal women in the night, and you could do without the embarrassment. “I had a nightmare. Slept too late.”
Eddie clicks his tongue and rocks backward a bit. “A nightmare,” he repeats, considering the word like it’s a part of life’s philosophy. “What about?”
You don’t respond for a few moments. You’ve moved on to washing a pillowcase now, which is significantly less soiled than your Master’s blouse. “Why do you care?”
“I care because I hate to see My Lovely Lady of the Creek in distress. Even if she is completely vexed by the sight of me,” He says lightly, as you tilt your head down to hide the way your cheeks burn. He reaches up his right hand and produces a silver coin from behind your ear. You stare at it in puzzlement as he hands it to you. “What was your nightmare about?”
You hesitate just a moment before taking the silver coin. “Is this bribery?”
“Absolutely,” Eddie announces with a wry smile. “For your thoughts.”
You sigh. You could use the coin, you’ll admit. Maybe you could buy yourself a new robe, or a loaf of bread from the baker, or any other of the myriad things you’re in want of.
You tuck the coin down the front of your bodice, where it slides down and gets stuck between your ribcage and your chemise. Eddie’s eyes follow the path that it takes between your breasts with a hungry glint in them.
“There was a wolf,” you tell him quietly, going back to your work. “It came to my door bleeding. I brought it inside and nursed it. But when I woke, there wasn’t a wolf. It was just a nightmare.”
“Oh,” Eddie hums amusedly. “I wouldn’t call that a nightmare. I’d rather call it a dream.”
“A dream?” you echo with a scoff.
“Yes. A lovely dream, with a heroine and a lonely beast in need of kindness.” He leans towards you, his hands on his knees. “But, you know what they say about wild things.”
You huff with indignance, but humor him, because you’re curious in spite of yourself. “I don’t know. What do they say?”
“You shouldn’t show them kindness,” he whispers, so close to your ear that you can feel his breath on your neck. “They’ll keep coming back for more.”
You startle, standing up with a noisy splash of water as you yank the last of the laundry from the creek. There’s a flush under your bodice that you don’t like, sticking to the coin that’s going hot against your skin as you think about it even being there. That it was produced by his hand. The more you think about it, the more you imagine it as an extension of his body, touching you just beneath your breast.
Eddie snickers to himself as you hurriedly, shakily, smack the last piece of laundry into the basket with the rest, and pick up the washboard from the water. With a frustrated huff, you stand and rest the basket of laundry on your hip. You gaze out across the creek, and then away towards the trees, and finally, when you’re sure you can form words, you turn back to him.
“Goodbye, Mr. Munson,” you say stiffly, so that you don’t trip over your own tongue. It comes out icily as a result, and you turn away to hide the way that you blush.
“Until we meet again.” Eddie presses his lips together, as though he’s stifling a laugh. Then he says, in a slightly bossy tone, “Take care of that arm for me, princess. Don’t want you getting any more beat up.”
You whirl around to ask him to repeat that– what the hell did you just say?– but when you do, the man is already gone. Along with any trace of his presence by the creekside.
Except, the coin he bought your dream with still grows warm against the heat of your skin, under your bodice.
#teaser for what's coming. if you even care#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#werewolf!eddie munson#werewolf!eddie munson x reader#stranger things#werewolf!eddie#roses*
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🪀 werewolf soap who only shows up at readers door in his wolf form so she thinks hes just a wild animal but hes SO FUCKING SWEET that she just. can't help herself (im nonbinary but by god do I perpetuate the "white woman" stereotype when it comes to dangerous animals. wdym thats a wolf thats just a big puppy and i call him soap 💖) and just. reader just keeps feeding him. keeps petting him, never lets him in but one day he just bullies himself right past her into her home and lays in the middle of the floor and refuses to leave. Spends an obscene amount of time leaving his scent on anything and everything she owns before he returns to his den. slowly starts hiding his things in her home while shes sleeping. Keeps weaseling his way inside at any given opportunity, until one night theres a wild storm (snow or thunder doesnt matter) and reader just. keeps pacing by the front door because her poor wolf friend could be out there in this. And sure, hes an animal thats built for it, but she feels bad. He's SO HAPPY the moment she slams open her door amd ushers him inside out of the cold that he transforms, naked and taller than her, and wrangles reader into his arms, ignoring her shrieks of surprise as he claims her mouth with his. and probably goes further bc this is soap we're talkjng abt hes kinda like that.
anyway the point is mmmm werewolf soap
alright i have three - count em three! - asks in my inbox about werewolf soap x reader stuff and im soooo sorry for the delay my beloveds but! im answering them now! they're really good and fun and i've been hoarding them for myself
this ask is like actually perfect. this is a full fic idea. i'd read 10k of this and im so serious
i loove the potential domesticity here. you try to teach him a trick and are blown away by how smart he is when he gets it immediately! (johnny's insulted the first time you tell him to sit, but you get very excited and hug him so he's more than willing to amuse you for a bit)
you come out of your house one morning and see him sleeping in your flowerbeds. you nearly screech at him, storming over in your robe and glaring. he's very shocked to wake up to that sight, and scrambles away from your flowers as quickly as possible. brings you a bunch of wildflowers later as an apology <3
you let him sleep in your house one night and wake up the next morning with his muzzle under your sleepshirt, resting on your stomach. he huffs all amused when you yelp and jerk away, cause you're just so cute when you're sleepy <3
he likes surprising you. you're always so trusting around him (once you're convinced he won't hurt you). you never hold back your personality at all, no fear of judgement from an animal. and he loves seeing you be so genuine, and you're never as genuine as you are when he sneaks up on you. he loves the way you gasp, then make a little high pitched noise (anywhere from a squeal to a screech) and then a laugh when you recognize him. he loves loves loves it, takes every opportunity to surprise you he can
im soooo into the image of soap being too excited to keep his ruse up any longer. he's so so so happy to see you!!!! can't settle for licking you anymore, needs to kiss you!!!! and so he shifts and scoops you up in his arms, holds you close and laughs all loud and from the belly when you start screaming <3 he loves how surprised you sound, pulls you up enough that he can rub his cheek along yours, rumbling a low sound in his chest
yeah mmm werewolf soap <3
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Hey i just read some of your fics and i can’t lie..IM. IN. LOVE!!!! I absolutely adore your writing style too! When i saw you wrote something that included Roman Empire I screamed lol.
I was curious tho how would König from that au would’ve react to his lover being tired and pregnant carrying his heir. (Pregnancy kink alert) and their sex life looks during pregnancy 👀.
(This is not a *fic* fic, I just love to do these cute little moodboards! lmao)
Roman!König gets so fussy when his little fairy gets pregnant 🥺
Their new hut is barely even built before she notices that her moonblood no longer arrives. When she tells König the good news, he's already the happiest man in the world but now he's about to burst from joy. All his dreams are finally coming true!
König is so proud of his queen, but he's also proud of himself. He’s been working hard every day – as a man should! – hunting and fishing and building their new home and making love to his woman, basically toiling from sunrise to sunset. Now that there's a baby on the way, he can finally catch his breath and concentrate on taking care of his wife and finishing the roof for their new house ❤️
And lovemaking! There's lots of it in the first months, but when the baby starts to grow, König refuses to "bully" her before the child is born. Says that in his homeland people believe that it can hurt the baby if a man tries to get an already pregnant woman pregnant again. As much as he would love to do his daily duties, he can't risk the health of their child so it will simply have to wait.
Man starts to talk to her belly before even a month has passed, and in his own crude language too. Doesn't see how his fairy queen is rolling her eyes at this – even a mighty warrior turns into a simpleton when they've managed to get a woman pregnant, it seems.
She’s not jealous, per se, she just thinks he’s being a bit silly :/ König likes to ramble to the baby even more than he rambles to her these days, and the baby bump is not even visible yet! And when it is, gods, he gets even more silly. Every morning König gives her a kiss, then goes down to her belly and gives the baby a kiss too, then says Guten Morgen with a wide, cheerful smile.
It’s nice to see that at least someone here is happy, because she’s not having it easy; her back and knees hurt all the time, she wakes up five times during the night, her feet are always sore, she has to pee constantly, and her appetite is gone. König isn't really helping: he tries to feed her all the time “to make the baby strong” and gets worried if she doesn’t eat enough.
So it's a good thing that König has his little building project going on, otherwise he would go mad :/ Man is working hard to build the animal pens before winter, hunt the food, and do some carpentry such as make them a sturdy enough bed (...) that he dozes off in the evening after eating three large bowls of stew. These two lovebirds are soon sleeping under a pile of furs, with König's large hand protectively over Fee's tummy while the embers in the firepit offer them warmth through the night ❤️
And if Fee was treated like a queen before, now she's almost like a goddess. Barely gets to prepare the food because König doesn't want Fee to exert herself. The only thing she's allowed to do is weave (they have this cute little vertical loom), and if she ever looks tired, König will order her to rest and comes to pet her head or massage her feet.
Starts to excitedly talk about how he will teach the child how to run and wrestle and hunt and fight, be it boy or a girl. He has to teach their little wolf cub to fend for itself if need be, right? When Fee cuts in and says that if it’s a girl she can always marry a strong husband, König looks at her in shock. His baby girl, marrying some ugly, big brute who just wants to force his head under her dress?? There's no way he’ll let that happen!
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Saw your tags saying Hannibal fanfiction is the best, I'm new to the fandom, do you have any recs? Love your blog btw!
Thank you Nonny and OOP you're in luck!
I just came across a cracking thread on Twitter t'other day where a bunch of us fannibals were recommending the fandom 'must reads!'
So here the list is so far:
Consenting to Dream (emungere) THE fic.
A Remedy for Love (emungere)
Blackbird (emungere)
Separately to a Wood (emungere)
Taken For Rubies (emungere)
Two Solitudes (emungere) S4
Faded Fantasy (phenobarbital)
Hyacinth House (bluesyturtle)
He Who Pours Out Vengeance (underground) S2 before S2
A Great and Gruesome Height (mokuyoubi) S4
The First Condition of Immortality is Death (onehandedbooks) S4
As Soft, as Wide as Air (blackknightsatellite) S4
The Shape of Me Will Always Be You (missdisoriental)
Shark Tank (xzombiexkittenx)
Bloodline (xzombiexkittenx)
Pi's Lullaby (t_pock)
Wolf And I (t_pock)
We Killed a Dragon Last Night (inameitlater) S4
A Cliff and the Wine Dark Sea (saintsavage) S4
One Way Out Of Many (hellotailor, nakamasmile)
Bright Hair About The Bone (missdisoriental)
Chimera of the Chapel (bleakmidwinter) S4
Eve of Dreams (Le Réveillon des Rêves) (inter_spem_et_metum) S4
Heart and Mouth (disenchanted)
Symbasis (tei)
Lagbrotna (cognomen)
Vorspiel (kareliasweet) S4
Omega Point (cognomen & whiskeyandspite)
Haarlem (spqr)
Heal Your Wolf(hound) Well (devotitonal_doldrums)
Falls the Shadow (littlesystem) my personal most-read fic!
The Fault in My Code (liaS0)
The Unquiet Grave (liaS0)
Flesh and Bone (pragmatichominid)
The Fisherman and the Beast From the Sea (pragmatichominid)
Attachment (pragmatichominid)
The Hole Is Still There (croik)
The Long Weekend (devereauxs_disease)
Each According to Its Kind (chaparral_crown)
Their Beaks Not Yet Turned Red (chaparral_crown)
The Lamb and His Monster (pterodactyl352)
Oddbodies (toffeecape)
This Dangerous Game (missdisoriental)
Page Six (thisbeautifuldrowning)
Bram Stoker's HANNIBAL (dbmars)
Falling Away with You (shotgun_sinner)
Two Slow Dancers, Last One’s Out (antiheroblake) MCD
Nowhere to Ascend but Down (yourminecraftboyfriend)
Overcoming (purefoysgirl)
Paragon (bloodywa2411)
Silence in Heaven (theglintoftherail)
The Mark of His Name (theglintoftherail)
The Mongoose and the Mouse (hiding now)
Between Here and There (deadratz)
Omiai (iesika)
Remember (that you are) to die (13empress) unfinished sadly
What the Water Gave Me (iesika) discontinued but so vivid it's worth reading anyway
And I would recommend looking at this twitter feed, which does nothing but recommend hannigram fics.
Bon appetit. 😈
#remember folks: REBLOG 🔁 / DON'T JUST LIKE 🤍#hannigram#murder husbands#toAyourQ#dat's me#hey nonny#fic rec#hannigram fic rec#hannibal nbc#I was right btw they are the best#the best hannibal fics will give you unfortunately high standards for your other fandoms 😕
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✨Tear You Apart Part 1: You’re Mine✨
Series Masterlist
My first dark! Joel fic and I think I’m obsessed. I plunged into this head on and got major inspiration from the vampire scene in Saltburn and Little Red Riding Hood. This is filthy and I absolutely love it! There might be a part 2 for this! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. I would love to hear your thoughts 🖤
“The wolves prey upon the lambs in the darkness of the night, but the blood stains remain upon the stones in the valley until the dawn comes, and the sun reveals the crime to all.” - Kahlil Gibran
- Summary: Joel comes for you late at night. He always does. Always stalks, chases, and prowls after you like a starving wolf. And when he catches you, he devours you, feeds on you like the animal he is. Will you run and hide or will you give into the temptation that calls you in the forest?
- Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY MDNI)
- Word Count: 9,718
- Tags: Dark themes, Little red riding hood references, dark! Joel, Joel is a menace, oral, fingering, choking, unprotected P in V, cream pie, filthy smut, degrading actions, not really violent but lots of dark themes, manipulation, rough sex, dirty talk, Joel calls reader little lamb, possessive Joel, feral! Joel, post outbreak! Joel, controlling Joel, dom! Joel, submissive reader, Joel x fem! reader, Joel is in his late 40’s and reader is in her late 20’s
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
Songs: “Change” and “Rosemary” by Deftones
The wind tears through the frigid night of Jackson, banging its haunted whispers against the side of the little wooden house. It screams in warning beware, beware. He’s coming. A glaring caution sign from the ghosts of the forest. They scream your name, shrieking and bellowing from the soil below as they make their way above the cold, vacant dirt, floating their way to your doorstep. Clawing, knocking, warning you that he’s close. Get out, leave. He’s near, he’s near. Run.
You want to run, want to sprint out of bed and run as far as you can, but you can’t. He’ll find you, stalk you till he hunts down your scent and discovers you hiding. You pray that he won’t, but he will. He always finds you. And when he does he takes and takes until you have nothing left, feeding his anger and bitter soul, using your body to escape whatever hell he had been through in the past.
You know he’s lost something special, something close to him. You can see it in the wrinkles that encase his forehead. See it in the dark brown flecks of his tired eyes. See it in the way he carries himself, worn and tattered like the old leather boots on his feet. Can feel it when he crowds your body as he lays over you in the middle of the night. Can feel it on his calloused fingers as he bleeds you dry from the inside, hollowing you out and sucking your lifeless soul and taking it as his own.
You never know what he’s lost, can never figure out what it was that was stolen from him. He doesn’t talk about it, will never let you in even though you beg him to. But you can feel the pain, the absolute agony that holds close to his cold heart. It’s whatever he’s lost that drives his rage, his desire for retribution. And it’s that loss that feeds his desire to take, destroy everything in his winding path. That’s why he comes, always at night, always at the dead blackness of night. He comes crawling to you, needing a way to soothe his scorching temper, needing a way to bury the agony of it all.
He’s broken, just like the shattered black military watch he wears on his left wrist. You try to ask him about it, try to graze your fingers over the broken glass, but he growls at you. Gnashing his sharp teeth as he releases the caged up wolf inside him. You know better, but you push back. Let me in, let me in, you scream. But he never does. That just pushes him further, bringing out the beast from within.
He’s coming closer. Almost here, almost here, the ghosts whisper in warning. You can feel him, as if he was already there at your doorstep, as if he was already clawing his fingers into your fragile skin. Tearing you apart piece by piece just the way he likes it.
Your body starts sweating, you toss and turn against the cold sheets that cling to your damp skin. He’s coming, they call. And it’s then that you can feel him as if he’s standing right outside. You can feel the weight of his steps on the cold, snowy ground. You can hear his shaky, quivering breaths as he trudges through the patches of white snow, can feel the warm breath as he blows it out, can reach your shaky fingers out as his breath kisses the sky. You can feel it, can almost taste it as it whips through the wind, landing up against your fogged up bedroom window.
Run. Hide. He’s here, he’s here, the voices warn. But you don’t listen, can’t listen. Joel’s deep voice washes the voices out, makes them flee from your mind. Mine, mine, he screams in your head as he claims you over and over again with his hands. Those big, rough hands that you so desperately want wrapped around you.
You shouldn’t want it, shouldn’t desire it, but you crave him like you’ve never craved anything in your life. He’s like a disease. Festering and invading your body, making you sick with want, with need. Pulling at your insides so much that you can’t ignore it. Can’t ignore the deep ache in between your thighs as you yearn for his touch, for his entire being. And you’re certain that you’re just as fucked in the head as him now.
He makes you sick. Sick with need, with desire. You shouldn’t crave him, shouldn’t want this. Most days he’s unkind, barely speaking, barely able to tolerate his own self. But he gives as much as he takes, and you crave the way he gives. And now you’re just as bad as him, just as selfish and needing as him. Mine, mine, you call in your mind. He’s yours just as much as you are his.
Your eyes open wide as you look at the small clock that hangs on the wall, the hand ticking and ticking as it reaches 1:00am, the time he usually comes after his late night watch shift. Your body quakes from the anticipation of him. You can hear him now. He’s here.
You feel the weight of his heavy feet against the wooden floorboards as he opens the front door, hearing it shriek as it closes behind him with a soft shutter as it knocks against the glass window. He’s coming, he’s coming.
You hear the narrow stairs creak as he climbs up the steep steps. He’s coming for you, coming to claim you, to devour you. He’s like a wolf in the night as he stalks his prey. His dark eyes search for you, your scent hanging in the air as he comes for it, chases it, wanting to taste it. Wanting to rip you to shreds under the weight of his body as he claws and pounces on you. Claiming you as his one and only as he dominates you. But you fully oblige, always surrendering yourself to him completely.
You’re little red riding hood, and he’s the big bad wolf that wants to eat you alive as you spill yourself for him, letting him mark his paws all over you until you can only see the blacks of his eyes as he claims you. My, what large eyes you have. But he’s talking to you as he’s in between your legs, lapping up your flavor as he looks up at you with those dark pits and smiles with his sharp canines glistening in the night. And God, you’re already wet thinking about it, already trembling in the sheets as you wait for him, waiting for him to completely ravage you and destroy you until you’re no more.
You want to touch yourself, want to put an end to that aching throb in your center as slick pools inside you, fighting hard to hold back the urge. He’ll be mad if you don’t wait for him. If he sees you fingering yourself before he gets to you, he’ll be furious. He’s selfish, always so fucking selfish with you. He wants to be the one that makes you feel good, under his conditions. He’s dominating, controlling, wanting your orgasms to come from him and him alone. He’s greedy, but he always gives, feeding into your sweet desires as he revels in your body, in your arousal, in your taste.
You hear the rusty doorknob twist and turn under his grasp, hear the door start to creak open as his dark form clouds against the darkness of the hallway. Take me, take me, you beg in your mind. And you swear he can hear you as he stalks towards you with his massive form.
He’s tired, you can see it in his weathered stare as his dark eyes search for you under the silky sheets. He throws off his tan, heavy coat and tosses it to the side of the room. As he makes his way to you, he pushes up his plaid, green sleeves slowly, exposing thick veins that spiral down his arms, ending in his massive hands. You gulp at the sight, taking in the way his arms flex against his sleeves. They pull and tug so tight that they’re bound to rip at any moment as his bulging muscles encase your nimble body.
He stops at the end of the bed, pulling back the clean sheets as he takes in the sheer nightgown you’re in. His eyes trail over your body as his deep scowl turns into something primal, dominant. “Get up,” he demands as he yanks you up by the wrist and pulls you to a standing position. There’s never such a thing as a hello or hi, beautiful. Only ever demands and commands as he comes for one thing, your body.
He pulls up the wooden chair that sits in the corner of the dark room and places it in the middle of the floor. He looks up at you with the darks of his eyes and curls his index finger, coaxing you to sit in the chair. Your body is hypnotized as you dance your way over to him under a waning spell that puts you at ease.
“Sit,” he says firmly as he pushes you down gently, your back hitting the hard wood as you sit up straighter, preparing yourself to give yourself to him. Your hands fall flat against your thighs as the sheer nightgown barely reaches the tips of your knees. You can feel the cold wind as it blows hard outside your window, can almost taste the white snowflakes that linger on his leather boots.
Your breathing goes ragged as he circles the chair. Circling and circling as he trails a calloused finger over your bare shoulders as he takes you in with his chocolate eyes, inspecting you as he drinks in your features. Your throat goes dry as you watch him stalk around you. He’s a hungry wolf and he’s starving for you.
“Tell me, have you been a good girl today?” His words drag against his teeth as he snarls the words out. He continues to circle, making you audibly gulp at the words that leave his mouth.
“Yes, sir,” you answer, your nails digging into the flesh of your aching skin.
“Have you touched yourself today?” he asks as he circles you again, peeling his hands over your arm as you shiver from his rough fingers.
“N-no,” you stutter out, falling over your words. Except you had. You did earlier in the shower, thinking of Joel’s hands, pretending his fingers were yours as you made yourself feel good, spilling yourself all over the tiled floor as you called his name. Joel, Joel.
“You filthy little liar. I know you did. I can smell your arousal all over your fingers.” He grabs your hand tight and pulls it up to his nose as he inhales deeply, his eyes closing as he breathes in your scent. When he opens his eyes up, he takes your fingers into his mouth and sucks slowly, watching you with cold, heavy eyes. Your eyes go wide as you watch him slurp your taste up. A wave of slick runs down the seam of your lacy underwear, and you have to squeeze your legs shut at the growing throb that’s now aching to be touched.
He releases your fingers slowly as you watch him pool his saliva all over you, watching it slide over your hand as he drops it back to your knees with a slapping sound that echoes through the walls of the bedroom. He makes a slow, steady circle around you as he halts right next to you. You see him out of the corner of your eye as he bends and places his hands on his knees, slowly curving his spine as he eyes you with a hard line strewn across his lips. You gulp and sit up straight. You’re in trouble, you know it too.
“I, I didn’t mean to…” you squeak out carefully.
“Shut the fuck up and listen to me,” he growls. You automatically go quiet, afraid to interrupt him again. “The next time I find out you pleasured yourself without me, I’m gonna make you fuck yourself on my fingers while I watch, you got that?” he hisses.
Your mouth drops open at the mention of you fucking his fingers yourself, and you have to gulp down a moan at the thought of it. “Mhm,” you hum.
“Repeat it!” he yells, anger seething up in him.
“Yes, I understand,” you say with your eyes low, looking down at your shaking hands.
“Good.”
He skates around and stops in front of you, bending down as he places his rough hands on your knees. “Now, what are we gonna do with you, huh? You gonna be a good girl for me?” he asks as he moves your hands away and places his own on the end of your sheer nightgown.
“Yes,” you breathe, your voice shaky as he inches your nightgown higher, grazing his calloused fingers over your thighs, feeling that low tingling sensation start in the back of your spine.
“Good. That’s good,” he groans as he pushes your nightgown up higher and higher, climbing up your thighs until no more material is touching your legs. The only thing left is your white lacy underwear that are ruined from how drenched you are.
“Now, tell me. What were ya thinkin’ about in the shower?” he asks as he slowly pushes your thighs apart, trailing his fingers up nice and slow as he teases you, getting you all worked up for him.
“You, I was thinking about you,” you gasp as he pushes your legs even further, causing more slick to build up from the action of his rugged hands.
“Were ya thinkin’ of these fingers curling up inside you as I make you cum? Or maybe my tongue swirling around that pretty pink clit of yours?” he purrs as he glides his fingers against the edges of your lace, almost touching you where you need him as he ghosts over your center.
“Y-yes, both. Please, Joel,” you beg as he teases you again, ghosting over you without so much as a light touch to your aching center.
“Please what?” he asks with his brown eyes growing darker, the edges of his pupils expanding into dark coal.
“Touch me, please,” you beg, licking your lower lip in anticipation. He sees you slide your tongue over your lip and you see his eyes grow sharper, arousal swirling all around his black pupils.
“Well, since you asked nicely.” He glides his fingers through your clothed folds, and you gasp at the feeling of your budding arousal. “So fuckin’ wet for me,” he groans as his chest rises and falls in waves, pulling his fingers away again as you huff in frustration.
He loves to tease you, loves to torture you as he builds you up and then makes you beg for it. He wants to hear it, wants you down on your knees as you plead and moan for him, calling his name as you beg again and again. Touch me, taste me, fuck me.
“Joelllll,” you beg again, dragging the last syllable out as you call his name, needing his fingers on you, needing his tongue, his cock, his everything.
“Such a needy girl, aren’t you?” he teases, trailing his fingers over your seams again as he slowly unhooks the material from your hips. He slides the wet material down your legs and disposes of them on the ground, leaving you completely bare from the waist down.
He pushes your thighs apart and smooths a thumb over your center as he slides it all the way up, collecting slick as he goes along. You shudder under him as you feel yourself drip on the wooden chair, so turned on that you feel like you could orgasm right at this moment. “Goddamn, you're drenched,” he groans as he takes his thumb in his mouth, sucking all the slick off as he stares into your eyes intensely. And fuck, it’s hot.
“Now, you’re gonna be a good girl and show me exactly what you were doing in the shower. Go on,” he nods at you. “Show me how you touched yourself.” He stands back against the wall and leans on it, crossing his arms and knitting his eyebrows together in concentration, watching as his flexed muscles pull at his plaid shirt. “Any day now,” he says sternly. “Touch yourself. Now,” he growls. You automatically obey and nod up at him.
You gulp saliva down your throat and slowly bring your right hand over your center, gently pressing your fingers to your throbbing clit as you circle yourself, leaning back into the chair as a quiet moan escapes your mouth as you feel the pressure building fast. You’re so close, already so close.
“Eyes on me,” he commands as the low, guttural sound emits around the room.
You pull your head up and lock eyes with him as you focus on your breathy moans, hitting the sensitive bundle of nerves again and again. You hear the pulsing blood rush through your ears, feel your body tense as you close in on your orgasm. Almost there, almost.
“Place a finger inside you,” he commands, his voice vibrating through your bones. You obey and slide your middle finger inside as you feel the drenched, tight walls cave around your finger. “Another,” he demands as his eyes go pitch black watching you play with yourself. You slide a second one in and curl them up, hitting the spongy walls that threaten to make you cum.
You let out a loud, aching moan as you curl your fingers again and again while your thumb circles your clit in meticulous circles. Your mouth shapes into an O position as you feel your walls clench around you. You pull out a deep rising orgasm that starts low in your spine and spreads over your heated cunt as you climb higher and higher into bliss.
“Good girl,” he growls as he watches your orgasm wash over you. White, hot heat spreading through your entire body as you ride out your first orgasm, throwing your head back as your eyes roll back into your skull, feeling the wooden chair become soaked with your slick.
You take a moment to come back down to earth, back to where you can breathe again. Feeling your ragged breaths become even as you open your eyes and focus on Joel as he stands in the corner brooding and revelling in your pleasure. He’s breathing fast as his broad chest moves up and down, can practically hear him as his breaths come out choked and fast. He’s turned on, you can see the bulge in the outline of his dark jeans as he takes you in with his eyes, trailing over your center again.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks with a deep voice rasping in the back of his throat.
“Yes, so good,” you breath out tensely. “Want you to make me feel good though,” you beg as you open up your legs for him, feeling his eyes scrape over your soaked outline.
“Oh? Think you learned your lesson?” he asks curiously with a raised brow.
“Yes, promise,” you confirm, already biting your lip at the anticipation of his fingers on you.
“Mmm, alright. Since you did what I asked, I guess you earned a reward.” He stalks toward you, bending down before you as he gets on his knees and brings your legs up over his shoulders, slowly trailing his fingers up your inner thighs as he works you up again, getting you ready for your second orgasm.
“Look at this pretty pussy, all soppin’ and drippin’ for me. Want me to make you wetter? Want me to make you see stars?” he purrs as he blows on your center, making you buck your hips up at the breezy feeling as it tickles your most sensitive areas.
“Fuck, yes,” you squirm, begging for his touch.
“Mmm patience, little lamb. Gonna take ya nice and slow. You gonna be a good girl and cum all over my fingers?” he groans as a deep growl escapes his chest.
“Yes, fuck. I’ll be the best girl, your best girl,” you whine out.
“Mmm that’s what I like to hear,” he praises. Before you can respond, he licks a long, slow stripe up your center as you moan out his name.
“What’s that, little lamb? Couldn’t hear you over your moans,” he teases.
He pulls you lower in the chair as the wood scrapes along your back, feeling his rough hands wrap around your thighs tight. He inhales deeply and then spits on your cunt in a degrading, ravishing way. He takes his thumb and spreads the warm spit over your folds as you writhe under his touch.
“Hold still,” he warns as he presses his other hand on your thigh. You nod up at him and let him continue stroking his thumb up and down you, spreading your wet folds as he gently presses slow circles around your bundle of nerves. You let out a low, drawn out moan as he slips two fingers inside you and flicks his tongue back and forth in slow, lapping circles, so close to bringing you to the heavens again, so close to orgasm already.
One more thrust inside of you and then he’s pulling his fingers out, leaving your clit as he takes his mouth off you and backs up, dropping your legs from his shoulders as he stays straddling in between your legs. Why did he stop? Why did he fucking stop?
“Joel, I need to…I need to…” you whine out. He hushes you with the swipe of his finger to your lips, and you quietly pout as your eyebrows furrow together. Need to cum, need to cum.
“Think you deserve it?” he asks as he wets his bottom lip with his tongue, building you up even more as you beg to cum.
“Yes,” you cry out, your clit throbbing with need, your body sick with desperation to let go.
He chuckles a low laugh and smirks up at you, his dark eyes honing in as the black pits expand around him. He’s cruel, wicked, a devil in disguise as he torments you. He knows what he’s doing, he knows.
Filthy trickster, vicious teaser. Cruel, cruel, cruel, the voices whisper in your mind, filling you with regret and longing as you dig your nails into the wooden chair, feeling your body screaming at you. Let go, let go. Need to cum, need to cum. Joel sees the torment in your needing eyes, sees the way you’re scraping your nails into the wood as you beg him to release you with your watering eyes.
“You know, the female orgasm is a complex thing. I can feel you screaming inside to let go, can see the way you ache for release.” He grunts as he pushes a wet, hot finger inside your mouth, slowly pushing a second in as he slides his fingers further up, feeling your saliva cake around him.
“Suck,” he commands. You do as he says and suck his fingers, feeling your sweet arousal slide down the back of your throat. “Good girl,” he praises, but he doesn’t let up. He keeps his fingers inside your panting mouth.
“It’s just so hot to watch you suck my fingers with your dripping slick all over them,” he says as he bites his lip, sending his fingers further down your throat as you gag and choke on them, seeing his eyes become full black pits as he watches with pleasure. “Such a good girl, choking on my fingers. Wanna see you choke on something else,” he growls as his sharp incisors beam up at you in a smirk as he slowly releases his fingers from your mouth, pulling saliva with him.
You groan at the sight of his disheveled, tousled curls, at the grey patchy beard that encases his face, at the smoldering stare he’s giving you, at that devilish smirk that’s taunting and teasing you in the most torturous way.
“Your mouth. God, your mouth looks so inviting, and your teeth. They’d feel so good closed around my neck,” you whine as you beg him to finish you off, let you cum in peace.
“Mhmm. The better to eat you with, my dear,” he smirks. The little red riding hood quote takes you for a ride as you feel your cunt clench up around nothing, needing a release.
He smirks up at you once more and winks before he dives back into you, his fingers curling up inside as they jab up into your spongy spot, his mouth pulling and sucking your clit into his mouth. You feel the bubbling sensation, feel the waves crashing around you as they pull you under, drowning you in a wave of bliss and white heat as it explodes around you. You scream his name loud and desperate as you feel yourself let go. You clench around his fingers and then release, spilling your slick all over him. But what takes you by surprise is that’s not all.
You feel another orgasm take over as your body crumbles underneath him as he continues licking up your slick, working his fingers up and down you as he draws out more, spilling all of you, taking all of you for himself. Selfish, so selfish. But he builds you up so good that this is the best release you’ve ever experienced, like you’re walking on cloud nine as you feel a squirting sensation take over. Feeling yourself inject him with your slick as it sprays all over the front of his plaid shirt.
“Goddamn!” he yells as he pumps his fingers inside you, slowing his rhythm as he works it all out of you. You feel your legs shake and shutter around him as he holds your thighs open, not letting you close until he’s gotten every last drop out of you. After a few seconds of total bliss, you feel your body relax as there’s no more. That was the most intense orgasm of your life, and you wanted more. Needed him to continue to do that for however long this would go on.
“See what happens when I make you wait, when I tease you,” he smirks. “Makes you feel that much better,” he smiles, a devilish grin taking form on his face.
“You’re a menace, Joel Miller,” you respond out of breath, your eyes glazed over as you look over his aroused face.
“A menace, huh? Is that what I am?” he laughs.
“Yes,” you say carefully.
“Better watch your mouth,” he warns, slowly sliding his hands over your pale skin as he drags over your thighs, ending at your knees.
“What if I don’t?” you mock, wanting to test the waters, wanting to feed his anger. Keep quiet, keep quiet, the voices whisper. But you don’t listen. You never listen, always pushing them aside.
He stays quiet for a moment, but you see his features turning from day to night. He’s furious, his anger fuming inside him as you challenge him. Back down, back down, run, the ghosts scream. But you don’t. You stand your ground, let him rip into you as he takes control. You want him to, you need him to. He’s ruined you like the dead soil that lies in the snowed over dirt outside. He fucking ruined you.
You watch as his eyes turn frigid, his blood running cold as his eyebrows furrow up, his rage conforming to every bone in his hollow body. He’s on you in the next second, his hand wrapping around your throat as he squeezes just slightly, not enough to hurt you. He’s warning you, declaring his dominance over you. Telling you that he owns you, controls you.
He hovers in front of your face as his hot breath blows over you, smelling a hint of coffee and whiskey as it surrounds you like a cloud. You could get drunk off his scent, drunk off him. “Don’t you dare talk back to me, little lamb. You know what happens when you open that pretty fuckin’ mouth of yours.” He narrows his eyes as they stare into you like sharp daggers.
He squeezes your neck tighter and you try to open your mouth, but nothing comes out. It’s not to the point of pain. He never goes too far, only gets you close. It feels good, so good the way he’s squeezing, the veins in your neck begging him to put more pressure into it. You’re sick, infected with his poison with the way he mind fucks you into doing anything he says. You're a puppet, and he’s pulling all the strings.
Get out, get out, they scream. He comes to take, he comes to destroy, they warn. But you don’t care. Let him destroy. You want him to, need him to destroy your body. You let him take, let him consume you as he throws you to the wolves. Except he is the wolf, and he is the one that tears you apart piece by fucking piece. A lamb to a wolf’s slaughter.
He ghosts his lips against your ear, slowly biting down on your earlobe as he pulls down sharply. You wince and he lets go slowly. His rough tongue glides up your jawline as he squeezes lightly around your throat, building that sweet pool of arousal up again as he twists your emotions. You can barely tell the difference between pain and pleasure anymore. He’s been so rough with you, has done so many demoralizing things as he takes and takes from you, feeding his hatred and anger from the ghosts of his past. But he makes you feel so good, so fucking good. You can never deny him, can never run from him. You want it, you want it. So you’ll have it, you’ll have him.
“I could just eat you right up,” he purrs as he bites at your lower lip, pulling it back and releasing as it slaps back into place. You feel the sting of his teeth mark your throbbing lip, but it feels so good. So good.
“So do it. Take me,” you beg, choking out the words with his strong hand wrapped around you.
His eyes go black as he smirks up at you, his eyes smoldering into yours. “You asked for it, little lamb. Now c’mere.” He growls as he releases his death grip on your neck and yanks you out of the chair, slamming you into the white wall as he pins your arms above you and shoves the sheer nightgown up your body. He rips it over your head and tosses it to the floor in a heap.
You feel the cold air across your bare skin as his body crowds you, his lips sinking deep into your neck as he bites at the thin flesh. He pulls and tugs and sucks in a needy, aggressive way. You release breathy moans as the pain turns to pleasure, as you fall deep into the wolf’s trap as he claws at you. Taking, taking, taking. He’s rough, insensitive, always taking what he wants, what he craves. But you let him, you always let him.
He rolls your nipples with the pads of his rough thumbs, gathering your breasts as he kneads them together, making you pebble underneath him as he bites at them, leaving marks all over you. He claims, he takes with no regard for you. It’s what he needs, but you need it just as bad now. He’s brought you to ruin again and again, and he’ll continue to take advantage. You’ll let him, you’ll let him.
He glides his tongue back up to the crook of your neck and bites hard as you scream in both pleasure and pain. It’s too much, too much. But you take it, allowing him to have his way with you. He needs it, he needs it.
You feel the edge of his bulge against your leg as his hips dig into you, feel the shape as your body shakes around you. You want it, you need his cock. Your hands are still held against your will above you, so you lift your leg up slowly, skimming the base of him as you feel his large length through his denim. He grabs your leg fast and shoves it down as he grabs your chin and brings your eyes to his level.
“Did I say you could fucking touch me?” he snarls as his jagged teeth shine in the moonlight.
“No…” you whisper scarcely.
“No is right,” he snarls with bared teeth. “You do as I say when I say it. Got it?” he asks as he shoves you up against the wall, keeping his hand planted firmly against your jaw.
“Yes, sir,” you respond with a shaky breath.
“Good girl,” he smirks. “Now, let me teach you a little lesson on how to fucking do as you’re told,” he growls. “Stay,” he commands as he leaves you clinging to the thin wall. He saunters over to the wooden chair and takes a seat as he spreads his legs, palming himself slowly as one hand unlatches his leather belt and drops it to the floor with a clank.
“Get on all fours, now,” he commands as he swiftly unzips his jeans, slowly yanking them to the ground as he kicks off his leather boots and pushes the jeans to the floor, leaving him bare from the waist down. You gawk at the size of him, of that massive twitching erection as it plants firmly against his tight stomach, a bead of precum glistening on the swollen tip of him. He’s so fucking pretty sitting there, about to palm himself as he watches you. Something about that brings out the sultry, unruly side of you. You want to taste him, need to feel him inside you.
You’re on all fours, waiting for his commanding call as he allows you to come to him. You need to feel him, need to taste him, need to smell him as his hot arousal encases the air, taking over every logical sense of your brain as he calls to you in your mind. Come out, come out wherever you are, little lamb. Time to come play with the big, bad wolf.
“Crawl,” he growls from the middle of the room, glaring his dark black pits into your soul. You generously oblige as you scrape your nails over the wooden floor, feeling your knees drag behind you as you make your way to him slowly and steadily. You feel your eyes gloss over with pure lust as you stare up at him, watching him pump his hand up and down his large cock, spreading precum all over himself. You gulp at the sight, at the massive length he has on him.
God, he’s so big. So big that when he takes you, he stretches you to your limits. Splitting you in two as he drives into you over and over again. It’s never vanilla, it’s always rough. So very rough. But you like it. Like the way he feels inside you as he claims you, dominates you. You’re mine, all mine, he grits through his teeth as he takes you, digging his nails into your skin as he rips at you, shredding you to pieces.
Take me, take me, you beg through your mind. And you swear he hears you by the way he sits up straighter at full attention and smirks down at you with eyes full of pure lust. And he’s telling you now with his smirk, with his eyes. You’re mine, he growls. And you know it, you know it. His to take.
You grovel over to him, batting your long eyelashes up at him as if that’ll stir the desire in him. You bite your lower lip and flick your tongue across the edge seductively as you smolder for him. Take me, take me, you scream.
The anger builds in him as he snarls down at you and hisses as he continues to pump his large length. The thick veins cascade around his thick cock as shots of precum drip down around him, ending in his coarse, wiry hair. You want to taste him, need to taste him. You’ve never craved anyone like this in your entire life.
He wrapped his twisting vines around your wrists and pulled until he had a forceful hold on you. He dragged you through the pitch black forest and devoured your body, claiming you as his own in the first week he met you. And you were hooked ever since, never being able to say no to him. You could even hear the forest shrieking its warning calls. Run away, leave, get away from the wolf with dark eyes. But you didn’t listen, only hypnotized by the dark, dominant beast of the night.
When you finally reach him and work your way in between his legs, he grabs your jaw with his rough hand and forces you to open as he squeezes you tight. “Tongue out,” he presses and you fully oblige.
You stick your wet tongue out, and he brings the tip of his cock to you as you slowly lap at the end with your tongue. “Fuck,” he groans from deep in his chest as he stares down at you with a snarl. You slowly draw sensual circles with your tongue along his most sensitive spots and lap up precum into your mouth as you generously swallow the salty flavor of him. You smirk up at him as you lap at his tip, giving him your best smoldering eyes that you can.
You watch his eyes turn coal black as he grabs the back of your hair and pulls your eyes up to his. You wince at the pain simmering through your skull as he holds you tight, unable to move an inch from him. “Quit fuckin’ teasin’ me,” he growls as his piercing eyes sear through you like a knife. He pulls your hair tighter and you cry out in pain. “You gonna be a good girl and behave?” he asks with a twinge of anger in his deep voice.
“Mhm,” you nod as he stares his hard eyes into you.
“Better be.” He bares his teeth as he lets his grip drop from you, and you catch yourself on his knees. “Now be a good little lamb and show me how good your mouth fucks,” he growls as he sits back in the wooden chair and scoots his hips up, waiting to be pleasured by you.
You’re quick to appease him. You wrap a hand around his thick cock and slide your hand up and down, spreading precum all around his length, and then you take him in your mouth. You work him nice and slow as you bob up and down, up and down, gathering spit all over his cock. He moans a deep, sated sound out of his throat as he watches you with hollowed out black eyes.
You continue flicking your tongue and sucking his thick, substantial length as you work up and down to please him. You can tell he’s right on the edge of release by the way he’s clenching his jaw and breathing out ragged, concentrated moans. But he won’t end there, not tonight. He’ll push your boundaries, he always does.
As you pull back to his tip, he reaches down and grabs your hair hard and thrusts up into your mouth. He brings your head forward and forces you down as his large length hits the back of your throat, making your eyes start to water from the action. He doesn’t let up, he just keeps thrusting harder and faster as he mouth fucks you forcefully.
You choke and gag on him as he hits the back of your throat over and over again. Your mouth is a swimming pool of saliva as it drips down your chin, caking his cock with slick drool. You feel like you're drowning and can’t breathe underneath him, but he keeps going. He’s almost there, almost there. Need to breathe, need to breathe. Your eyes water as tears spill down your crimson cheeks and fall to the cold floor. He’s pushing you, always pushing you to your limits as he pushes past them. He loves when you choke on him, loves to hear the gargled, gagging sounds as your throat constricts around him. And when you look into his black eyes and see the way he bares his sharp teeth down at you, you know you made him feel good.
“You look so goddamn pretty choking on me, little lamb. Feels so fucking good when you deep throat me, when I fuck your mouth with my cock,” he moans as he pushes you deeper, nearly suffocating you under the weight of his massive cock that’s coated in drool. “Now you’re gonna be a good girl and swallow for me,” he commands as he thrusts inside you.
You can’t take much more. You’re out of breath and you’re digging into his thighs as you continue to take him, barely able to hold on anymore. You see him clench his jaw again, his breath speeding up as he groans curses out of his mouth. He’s there, he’s there. His dark eyes roll back as he holds your head in place and releases his load all through the back of your throat. You feel the white, hot liquid slide down your throat as you swallow the salty taste of him.
“Good girl. That’s a good fucking girl,” he growls as he finishes releasing himself in you. You watch his body go slack against the back of the chair as he breathes hot, whimpered moans from deep within his chest. He drops his hand from the back of your head, and you pull back, finally able to breathe again. You catch your breath and cough as you choke on more saliva and cum. You brace your hands on the cool floor and sink your nails into the wood, getting a grip on reality again as your body comes back to earth. Your voice is so shaky, so raspy as you wipe the drool from your chin and swipe the tears from your eyes.
He takes, he takes, the voices whisper. But you let him take, you let him ravage you as much as he wants. Don’t give in, don’t listen to the beast. But you do, you always do. The beast has claimed you as his, and little lambs always listen to their master.
The shrieking wind blows against your window, warning you of the beast that lies inside. Warning you that there’s danger near, and it’s lurking. That danger sits in your wooden chair, revitalizing himself before he crowds your body over the bed. He’s not done with you just yet. He needs to feed, needs to devour the entirety of you. He needs to destroy every last part of you as he claims you for himself over and over again.
He slowly pushes himself out of the wooden chair and grabs your arm, pulling you up from the cold floor as he grasps you tight. “On the bed,” he commands as he bares his teeth and pulls you over to the queen sized bed. He pushes you down as you fall on your back into the cool, satiny sheets.
He slowly unbuttons his plaid shirt as he stalks toward you with dark eyes that look like they want to devour you whole. When he gets to the last button, he pulls off the shirt and drops it to the floor, leaving him completely bare. He’s so goddamn handsome that it hurts to even stare for too long.
His broad shoulders and thick arms make it hard to breathe. His bulging veins that spider down his arms and cover his massive hands makes you want to whine in need. His tousled curls and brown flecked eyes make you want to come undone just from one look. They’re hypnotizing, spellbinding. And if you look close enough, you swear you can see the flash of yellow in his eyes as he stalks toward you, ready to pounce as he comes in for the kill.
Run, go now before it’s too late, the voices warn. The wolf comes to steal, the wolf comes to kill, they shriek. Let him, you whisper to the voices. You’re his to take. You want him to take. Take me, take me, you beg. And he will, he always does.
You feel the mattress shift underneath you as he drags his body over the edge of the bed, slowly crawling on top of you as his massive form hangs over you. His eyes are black pits as they stare at you, tempting you to come into the darkness as he drags you down again and again. Your eyes go wide and your pulse races in your neck as you stare up at the man made of nightmares.
“What’s the matter, little lamb? Scared of the big bad wolf?” he asks as he smirks down at you, his eyes pooled with darkness.
“No, I’m not scared,” you whisper out as you gulp down your fears.
“Then why can I smell the fear on you?” he smiles, his teeth like white, jagged razors.
“I’m not scared of you. No. I’m scared you’ll run off into the night and never come back.” Your voice comes out meek, breathy. Why the fuck did you just say that? His smile drops from his face and his eyebrows knit together. You can’t tell what he’s feeling, can’t tell what he’ll do. Don’t go, don’t go, you whisper. You need him. You need him.
His jaw flexes and relaxes as you see his waning features in the moonlight. He grazes his calloused fingers over your jaw slowly and comes to cup your chin as he pulls your eyes up to his. “You don’t have to worry about that, little lamb. Even if I run, I always come back. You’re mine and mine alone. Tell me who you belong to,” he growls possessively, making you desperate for his touch. You need him, you need him.
“You. I belong to you. I’m yours,” you gasp out, not able to hold on much longer. Touch me, taste me, devour me.
“That’s my good girl,” he praises.
Before you can comprehend what happens, he crashes his lips down to yours and devours you. Sucking, biting, kissing your throbbing lips as he shoves his tongue in your mouth and glides his rough tongue against yours. He swirls and swirls, filling up your senses with the taste of him. He tastes so fucking good, you could get lost in his whiskey taste, needing to drown in it until it fills up your lungs completely.
When he releases from your mouth, he cages his arms around your shoulders and crowds your body with his. “Little lamb, little lamb. What pretty eyes you have,” he purrs as he slowly pushes your legs apart with his knees, spreading you wide open for him to take. You bite your lip at the gentle praise and feel yourself become wet with arousal at the sight of him spreading you.
He lowers his head to your neck and licks a stripe up the side, right in the sensitive crevice of your neck. “And you taste so fucking good, I just love eating you up,” he groans as he bites down on your most sensitive nerve ending in your neck. You moan at the sharp, hot sensation as a wave of slick runs down your inner thigh.
He trails his hand slowly down your center, starting at your chin, gliding down your sternum, sliding over your abdomen, and ending at your wet, hot center. He spreads your soft folds and draws tight, slow circles around your clit as you hear the sloshing noises from your arousal.
“Joel,” you moan out, whining as it takes you under a sea of hypnotic pleasure. “Take me. Please, take me,” you beg.
“That’s right, little lamb. Good girls get rewarded, and you’ve been such a good girl for me tonight,” he praises through your thick cloud of pleasure. “Gonna fuck you now, little lamb. Gonna show you how good I can make you feel,” he says with bared teeth.
“Please,” you beg as he takes his thumb off your clit and pulls you down further in the bed, angling your hips up as he wraps your legs tight around his back.
“You’re mine, little lamb. Mine,” he growls as he plunges his thick cock in you, spreading you wide and splitting you in two as you moan out in pleasure.
He keeps his strides steady and slow, quickly picking up the pace as he fucks up into you over and over again. Driving your moans out of you as he bottoms out inside you, pounding over and over again against your tight walls. He throws your legs over his shoulders and digs his nails into your hips as he fucks you hard and fast, repeatedly hitting the soft, spongy area inside you over and over again. It’s too much, it’s too fucking much. You whine out as you moan his name over and over again. So good, it feels so good. You can feel the pressure building, feel your orgasm about to take form as your walls flutter against his cock.
“You’re squeezin’ me so tight, little lamb. Feels so fuckin’ good. Let go for me, want you to come for me. Tell me who fuckin’ makes you feel good. Tell me who you fuckin’ belong to,” he growls as he fucks inside you harder, pressing the pad of his calloused thumb against your throbbing bundle of nerves as he circles and circles, drawing that sweet orgasm out of you.
You feel the tingling sensation wash over your head, down your spine, and ending at your aching cunt as your toes curl around him. You keep your eyes trained on him as you’re barely able to keep them open. You feel your mouth drop open wide as you let out a loud moan that’s meant for Joel.
“You. I belong to you, Joel.” You scream out his name as your orgasm washes over you, feeling your walls clench up around him and then release white slick all over his cock as he continues to thrust up inside you, as he continues to circle your pulsing clit. White, hot heat spills through you as you completely lose yourself to him. Your body feels staticky as your mind goes fuzzy and your brain fogs over, only thinking of the man with dark eyes that takes you over completely.
“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he growls as he leans over your body and hovers over you, driving his thick cock in and out, in and out. Bottoming out so many times that you see stars. He’s there, he’s almost there, he’s about to cum. Four more thrusts and his body tenses up, his black pupils expanding as he throws his head back and clenches his jaw. He spills his seed inside of you as you feel the sticky cum coat your walls. He claims you, he claims you, and you love it, can never get enough. Mine, mine, mine, he growls possessively. And you’re his, you’re all his.
He slowly pulls out of you as you feel his seed drip down your inner thighs. “Did so good for me, little lamb. So good,” he praises as he cleans the mess from your thighs, wiping away the evidence that he had been there. He collapses next to you in bed and pulls you to him as he wraps his strong arms around you, crushing you to his chest. It feels good, this feels good.
He always leaves right after he finishes, never stays to comfort or hold you. He’s selfish, mean, but tonight he holds you. He holds you. He stays. You don’t say anything about it, don’t ask him why he stays because he’ll just get up and leave, leaving you empty and alone.
You feel the heavy weight he holds close to him, feel the heartbreak he carries with him day after day, can feel the cold glass of the broken watch grazing against your back. But you don’t ask, don’t chance it. You feel the loss cover him, feel his anger seething somewhere underneath his calm demeanor. It’s there just waiting to pounce, waiting to lash out at whatever stands in front of him.
He’s the wolf that stalks Jackson, the wolf that terrorizes the forest, the wolf that haunts the whispering ghosts that lie buried in the cold, dead ground. He goes around destroying, rampaging, slaughtering in the thick of the night. He’s a menace that looks for anything he can sink his teeth into and bleed dry. He’s a looming threat over every area he enters, threatening to destroy and kill. He takes, he takes. Again and again. But that’s what wolves do. They hunt and they take and they dominate while their prey cower before them, just waiting for the kill.
Joel is a wolf. A reckless, vengeful, powerful wolf. He loves to devour, loves to control, loves to dominate you. But he also gives, never letting you go starving for his touch. He always comes at the dead of night, always pulls you from your deep sleep to tumble around with the wolf in the sheets.
He’s like a melodic, captivating melody that hypnotizes you, calling you into the forest night after night with his deep howl. You always go, never ignoring the call that’s meant for you and you alone. And when you go, the ghosts reach for you from under the dirt and try to pull you away, warning you of what you’re about to face. But you ignore them, stepping over their graves as if they were never there. You go, you always go. Never betraying the lonely wolf with the sad, dark eyes.
It’s now while he holds you tight in his arms that you realize maybe you were meant to find him. He’s broken, a lone wolf that walks the hollow streets of Jackson just trying to find a purpose to keep going, to keep fighting. And when you showed up a few months ago, it's like a little light turned on inside him when it was all around black before you came.
You see him now for what he really is. He’s not all bad, not all teeth and claws. He yearns to break free from his wolf form, begging to run free with the rest of the pack instead of being cast out like he is. You see it in his wrinkled forehead, in his jaw that repeatedly clenches and relaxes, in his dark brown eyes that hollow out when you stare into them.
He’s so close, so close that you smell his mahogany forest scent that clings to him as it pulls you in, intoxicating you into a relaxed state. He stares at you with those dark eyes, his chest breathing in and out in shallow waves. You try something new, feeling brave all of a sudden. You slowly reach out your hand and brush it through his tousled curls, gently moving away a dark piece that falls against the side of his face. He doesn’t move, doesn’t lash out at you like a wild animal. He stays calm, just staring at you with a soft expression. His eyes change to a chocolate brown instead of the deep black pits he usually has. And then he surprises you by reaching his hand up slowly to your face, hesitating at the gentleness of himself. He trails his calloused fingers over your cheek, as light as a feather as he takes in your tranquil features.
He changes, he changes, the voices call. No more teeth, no more slaughter, they chant louder. A quiet victory to the ghosts that haunt the forest.
And just like that, you have tamed the wolf, controlling all his pent up rage, giving him the restitution he needed all along. You can see it in his big brown eyes, how he looks at you as if you saw him for the first time when no one else did. When no one else could give him what he needed. He needed someone that could understand all the hurt and loss he had been through. You’ve lost, you’ve died a thousand times through grief, but you found your way again through him. The hungry wolf that you were searching for all along.
And so the lost, scared lamb found herself in the face of the big, bad wolf. He came to destroy, to take, and to use. But you found a way to tame the claws, to tame the gnashing teeth. Somehow you controlled the beast, showing him that he truly wasn’t alone. Never leave, never leave, you call to him in your mind. And it’s like he can hear your thoughts because he drags his thumb lightly down your jawline and responds.
“I’ll stay, little lamb. I’ll stay,” he whispers. And he does, he does.
Maybe not all wolves are out to steal, kill, and destroy. Maybe there are wolves that are just lonely, broken, needing to know that someone understands them. Needing to know that they’re truly not alone. Joel is that wolf. He just needed to find you. He needed to find the lamb that wouldn’t run and cower in his presence. He needed a lamb that would stay by his side, that would show him the way out of the dark and into the light. He needed restitution. He needed you. He needed you.
And so he stays, he stays. The lonely, bleeding, broken wolf finding resolve and contentment with the quiet, gentle lamb. He stays.
Tags: @janaispunk @amyispxnk @iamasaddie @ashleymsnodgrass @tuquoquebrute @whxtedreams @fanfictilltheend @burntheedges @cinnamongorll @studioghibelli @pedrostories @blueseastorm @trea-bae
#joel miller#joel x female reader#joel miller smut#joel the last of us#tlou fanfiction#joel tlou#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#dark!joel x reader#dark!joel miller#joel miller pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedrostories#feral!joel#outbreak!joel#post outbreak joel#possessive j#dark joel miller#feral Joel#joel x reader#joel x you#pedro pascal#angst#enemies to lovers#pedro pascal fandom#jackson!joel
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- masterlist
disclaimer: these are collections of scenes that happen with one couple within their story / verse, not traditional chaptered fics. you can read them standalone or in whatever order you please. they're organized in chronological order here
and I will do the best I can, with the little that I know
tim drake x reader x conner kent
- please just stay with me tonight (and please don't let tomorrow come)
bloody nose and a crooked tongue (I always wanted to be someone)
tim drake x reader
- my life does not belong to me (but these secrets are my own)
- these hands may be bloody (but they're still mine and I'm still yours)
- I've let this wolf into my home (I feed it even when it bites)
- there has never been enough of me (and I have nothing left to give) - coming soon...
- this devotion of yours is misplaced (but this love, perhaps, is not)
carry me slowly, my sunlight (these colours, they fade for you only)
damian wayne x reader
- like a lamb led to slaughter (my heart held in your hands)
- ask me about my sins (and I'll tell you about my love)
- is this my soul, still? (is this my ghost, again?)
- this goodness hurts (and I'm drowning in it)
comfort came against my will
dick grayson x reader
- there's nothing here for you (and there's nothing left of me)
- I'll find you always (but I'd rather go alone)
- nothing in my life is as easy as you (and nothing in my life is as hard)
- you've been holding out on me (but I can't find a way to hold onto you)
- it isn't always easy (but how lucky I am to be known)
- remember me as small (I fear I've swallowed the sun whole)
damn your love, damn your lies
roy harper x reader
- we're strangers these days (but that has to be enough)
hope here needs a humble hand
platonic bruce wayne x reader, platonic batfamily x reader
- it comes and it goes (but it always comes back)
- there's an anger in me (I think I learned it from you)
love is not designed for the cynical
jason todd x reader
- there is no home for me there (and no solace for me here)
- I'm not me anymore (and maybe you're not you)
- this pain is inevitable (it sleeps with me while you're elsewhere)
- this may be my grief (but it's you who's made a mess of it)
- my love has no direction (and my anger is a vice)
let me wrap my teeth around the world
poly marauders x reader
- I don't know you anymore (maybe I never really did)
- please forgive this fear of mine (it used to keep me safe)
- there is love in me, I swear (tell me there's something in you, too)
- Is there hope in us, still? (is there something worth believing in?)
- you are not poison here (and you never really were) - coming soon...
absinthe makes the heart grow fonder
rockstar au // poly marauders x reader
- you said you'd stay with us (you swore you'd still be you)
but isn't bite also touch?
simon riley x reader
- I need an altar to pray to (I need a hand on my shoulder)
this lust is a burden that we both share
din djarin x reader
- this fear is a part of me (please don't take my hope away)
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“Wintered”
Jacob Black x Fem-reader
Soulmates
Fluff, slight NSFW, mostly fluff 😊
A/N: This is similar to my previous Jacob x reader post. My head cannon is where the reader is part of the pack and imprints on Jacob, but he doesn’t immediately imprint on her back. Anyway, this scene takes place before the confrontation with the Voltori in BD pt 2. Jacob has finally imprinted on Y/N after you have a near death experience. (I refuse to accept the storyline of Jacob imprinting on Ratatouille 🤢) and the two of you station yourself out in the clearing to scout the area before the rest of the Cullens and wolves arrive. A blizzard comes in and forces the two of you to make camp within the woods. This allows for some fluffy conversations to occur. 😉
Might make a NSFW scene as a part 2 to this story. 🤷🏻♀️ Jacob Black has my heart so expect one 😉
Edit: I did make part 2 😬 here’s a link. Okay byeee
Part 2
Enjoy 🤘🏼
You had been careful. Maybe too careful these past few weeks after the birth of Bella’s daughter. It had been a chaotic period of your life. You had chosen to break apart from the pack in order to follow Jacob. Your new Alpha. Your imprint. Your soulmate. Even from the beginning it was never really a choice, but still, you were proud of his decision to leave.
He was fighting to save Bella, as he always did. And even though it broke your heart to see the man you loved more than anything in the world fight so hard for someone who would never love him like he deserved, you stood by his side through it all. Even when the fight became deadly.
It had been a risky plan. But the Cullens needed to feed. Distract the pack. Protect the Cullens. That was the plan that fateful night. But it turned sour real quick. Bella had gone into labor, and Sam’s pack had launched an attack on the remaining Cullens. Paul had the small vampire, Alice, in between his giant wolf mouth. She had been weak and hungry, and even her immortal strength began to give way. You couldn’t let her die. Despite knowing Paul’s size and strength over powered you every time you trained with the pack, you didn’t care.
You had launched yourself at Paul, your claws and teeth slashing at his neck, forcing him to release Alice, allowing her to escape. Paul was enraged with you then. You could feel the rumble of his growl deep in his chest as he set his sights on you and pounced.
“Y/N!” Jacob’s voice called, snapping you out of the memory.
The wind was whipping all around you. Flurries of snow bit at your face and clung in your hair. The sun was beginning to set and the landscape was quickly turning dark. Jacob came up from behind you, his bare chest unfazed by the chill weather. You stood unbothered as well, the warmth of your wolf blood fought against the cold, especially after shifting. You turned to look at him, and as always your chest tugged at you to close the space between you. But you fought yourself and stood your ground.
“The weather is getting worse,” he nearly had to yell over the wind. You nodded. Alice had said this would happen. A winter vortex would come in and blanket the clearing with snow and ice. Then, after the sun returned, the Volturi would arrive.
“Should we head back?” You asked. It would take no time at all to head back to the Cullen house, but Edward had wanted eyes on the clearing to make sure there were no surprises.
Jacob shook his head and pulled over the backpack he had been carrying. “This storm shouldn’t last too long. Alice said it would be over by tomorrow morning.” He looked at you with a strange sparkle in his eyes. “I brought us a tent,” he continued, “I mean only- if you want to.” You arched your brow at him in amusement. You had never seen him trip over his words before, and lately he seemed to be doing that a lot around you.
“Yeah, okay. Let’s find somewhere out of this wind.” You reply.
The two of you found a nice spot within the trees, up against a large rock that blocked out a great deal of wind. You helped him set up the tent between the trees and found yourself glad to take refuge within. Jacob was close behind you, taking great care to zip up the tent, securing the two of you inside.
You sat across from him in silence for a moment. There seemed to be an electric charge buzzing between the two of you. It sent a strange sensation down your spine when you noticed how he looked at you. His lips parted slightly, as if he was going to speak, but to break the tension you finally reached over and yanked his pack away.
“What else are you hiding in here?” You teased.
Amusement warmed his face. He leaned back and crossed his arms and you searched his pack. “Oh you know, stakes, cloves of garlic, usual leech killing gear.”
You snorted. “Oh that’s what that smell was? The whole run over here I thought it was your breath.”
Jacob let out a laugh, a real genuine laugh. It had been a while, it had been months, since you heard that laugh of his. It warmed your heart to hear his laugh again. You pulled out the contents of his backpack, and found that he had packed the two of you an extra set of clothes, in case transforming caused any wardrobe issues. There was a handmade quilt that you pulled out and set aside. And a few granola bars and a few waters.
You tossed him a bar and a bottle and let yourself stretch out across the tent as you ate. The two of you chatted mindlessly a bit as you tried to ignore the growing tension that seemed to build within the tent. It was as if you could reach out and touch the electric waves that buzzed between you. Finally, you let yourself stretch out on the tent floor, using the quilt as a pillow. Jacob hesitated a moment before joining you on the floor, your bodies inches apart from each other as the wind picked up outside of the tent.
You turned on your side to face him, and were shocked to find him already facing you. His eyes seemed deep in thought as they scanned your face. You felt your face redden slightly at the intensity of his gaze.
“Jake?” You ask softly. His eyes snapped up to look at yours. “Hmm” was all he answered. You couldn’t help but smile at him. “Are you okay?” You ask with a small chuckle, “You’ve been acting—different ever since Ness was born.” At that Jacob’s smile wavered a bit but his eyes kept roaming your face.
“I’ve just been thinking,” he murmured, “ a lot of things have changed since then. It’s an— adjustment.” You expected that in some capacity. You were prepared to help Jacob once Bella became a vampire, to help distract him from the pain of that, but it never came. He seemed to almost welcome Bella into her immortal life, taking satisfaction in the fact of her still being alive in some capacity anyway. It had shocked you how— calm he was about it all.
“Does it hurt being around her?” You nearly whispered. Normally would wouldn’t have dared asked such a question, but his silence these past few weeks had been maddening. Confusion swept Jacob’s face for a moment before he realized what you meant. And then he chuckled.
“Around Bella? No. Not anymore. That’s— not the change I meant, although it has been an adjustment getting used to her new life. But that isn’t what I meant. ” He said. You scrunched you brows at him in confusion and then abruptly sat up. Jacob propped himself up on one arm to meet your gaze, his eyes searching your face to see what he had done.
“Then what do you mean, Jacob? Why else have you been acting so weird lately?” Anger tipped on your words, but you found yourself unable to restrain your emotions. Jacob waited for you to continue, his lips pressed together as if he was holding back.
“For weeks now you’ve been so calm, so careful… I thought you would be upset or angry or something! Leah and Seth won’t tell me anything, but I know they know something. Even Edward seems to know what it is but for some reason you refuse to tell me? Jacob, you’ve just been so quiet around me lately and I can’t understand why. What changed? Did I do something to you?” At the last question you felt tears fall down your eyes.
Without hesitation, Jacob’s hand we on either side of your face, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, “I was afraid that if I admitted the truth— that if I told you—“
“Told me what, Jacob?” You pleaded. You grabbed his hands that held your face.
“I—“ he struggled to say, “I imprinted.”
Suddenly you were back in that moment. You felt Paul’s teeth clamp down on your neck, the sharp crunching pain of his canines crunching down on bone. That pain was excruciating. But even then, the pain and shock allowed you to pass out from it. Death was a numbing relief to the pain, or so you imagined. But this pain had no relief. You dropped your hands from Jacob’s and felt your heart collapse.
“On who?” Your voice cracked. “When did you—?”
Jacob froze at your reaction. You could no longer hide the pain that radiated from your chest. You felt as if you might vomit. Would it be better to know? Who she was, how he now felt for her? His world now revolved around her. How would you survive?
“I need to leave,” you choke out. You tried to fumble with the zipper but Jacob’s strong hands gripped you and pulled you away.
“Y/N, please,” he voice was oddly strained, “let me explain—“
“I cant!” You cried, “i can’t do this anymore Jacob! I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay, when my heart is breaking! I can’t keep pretending that I don’t love you. That you are everything to me, my purpose, my entire existence! Please, let me go!”
The words you promised to never say were out. Your body heaved in violent sobs as the weight of your soul poured out before him. You expected him to release you. To be horrified by what you just said. But instead you felt him move closer, the space between you disappeared as he wrapped his large arms around you tightly and securely.
“Oh Y/N,” he murmured against your hair, “oh sweetheart, my love, my everything, no, no, no, no.” You stilled under him, his words piercing your body with every syllable. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why didn’t you tell me you imprinted?”
You pushed yourself away from him far enough to look into his eyes. You searched his wildly waiting for him to explain. He ran a hand through your hair, pushing it away from your face. “That night, when Paul nearly killed you—“ his voice cracked at the memory, “ I thought I would lose you. Something snapped in me that night, something deep and primal in my blood. Suddenly, you were the only pull I felt. Everything in my heart, body, and soul was fighting for you.”
You weren’t sure if you were breathing then. Tears fell down your face as Jacob continued. “I knew it was the imprint, I felt it deep within my bones. When you finally woke up, I waited to see if maybe the bond had snapped into place for you too… but nothing had seemed to change for you. I wasn’t sure how to tell you— so I waited and kept my distance. I didn’t want to force this on you, or scare you away. But I never thought…” he trailed off. His thumb traced down the side of your face, stopping at the edge of your bottom lip.
“How long have you known?” He asked.
“I’ve always known,” you whispered.
And with those words alone, any restraint, and uncertainty Jacob had had vanished. In an instant his hand cupped the back of your neck as he pulled you closer and kissed you. The contact of him made stars dance in your vision, but immediately you found yourself melting against him. You threw your arms around his neck and anchored yourself to him. He growled against your mouth in reaction, and deepened the kiss.
His tongue explored your mouth, intoxicating your senses with the taste of him. Your fingers knotted up in his hair, and you pulled his head closer to yours, needing more of him in your reach. He reacted to your touch, a soft groan escaping his lips as he nipped your bottom lip. His free hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer. You gave out a small yelp in surprise and you couldn’t help but giggle.
Jacob moved his lips from your mouth to trace the line of your jaw, peppering you with kisses as he made his way down your neck. “Whats so funny?” He murmured against the nape of your neck. You tilted your head back to give him easier access, the warmth of his lips were inviting. “You have no idea—“ you said breathlessly, “how long I’ve wanted you to kiss me.”
You felt him smile against your neck, his teeth grazing you as he pulled away slowly. He looked at you, desire burning in his dark eyes, his face oddly flushed with red and warmth. “I’m sorry for not realizing sooner. I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting. All this time,” he said, both of his arms slipped around you, pulling you as close to him as possible, “I thought it was friendship that made our relationship so strong.” He said the word as a curse. As if he realized now that what the two of you had was more than that. More than any word used to describe this feeling.
“I thought it was a different kind of love you felt for me,” he admitted, “I never imagined it was— this.” You slid one hand down from his neck and traced the line of his jaw. Gentle touches you had always restrained yourself from. He leaned into you, shivering at each touch. A smile spread across your face as you held your heart in your hands. All of the heartache these past few years had suddenly vanished from your mind. None of it mattered. Not anymore. “I suppose you have time to make up for then,” you challenged.
Jacob’s eyes bore into you, waiting for you to make the next move. He would bend to you, only you. Your thumb traced the outline of his lips. Two words. One command of him. The one thing you had sought after since you met him. A whisper within the wind.
“Kiss me.”
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don't say you need me (it's understood)
vampire!steve x deliveryDriver!fem!reader
summary: you are a delivery driver who gets extra hazard pay to bring blood to the vampires of Crimson Alley, but this time, you get up the nerve to ask Steve for something you have always wanted. This story has a surprise ending and an appearance from vampire!eddie. Steve is not a typical vampire. Slightly True Blood au. wc:6.3k
18+ONLY, mature themes, Steve is a vampire but he is also something else, reader's first time feeding a vampire, smut, drinking blood, sensitive!steve, lovesick!steve, monsterfucking, doordash delivery for vampires, oral for all, reader wears a sportsbra, unprotected p in v, creampie, self-inflicted knife wound.
author's note: I've had this one in my wip's for a while, and it was going to drive me crazy if I didn't finish it. My Steve fics rarely see the light of day, but I can't stop writing them for some reason. This is my last little detour before I go back to working on my other series. Or, until I get distracted again, which will probably be in two minutes.
Part 2 smut extra Wolf Moon
Part 3 fluff request
The way you earned money lately was not your dream job, but it paid the bills. Food delivery was a necessary evil with your life being as chaotic as it was. The particular app you worked for paid better than the rest because of the “hazard pay” you accrued for some of the deliveries that required more “risk”.
The risk in question had you delivering blood to the local vampire population, most of which lived in a particular section of the city called Crimson Alley. It wasn’t just an alley; there were apartment buildings and a long street full of picket fence houses, all with heavy, black out curtains over them during the day.
One minute, you’re leaving tofu Pad Thai on someone’s doorstep, and the next—-you’re casually dropping off a grocery bag full of type O.
It was dark, of course, when you made your final delivery before clocking out. You took on as many deliveries to Crimson Alley as the app would allow, mostly because you needed the money, but also—you weren’t afraid of death.
Most of the vampire clients who signed up for deliveries on the app were decent, law abiding ghouls, but there had been two noted incidents where the vampire in question only wanted a live human to feed on, and ended up draining the delivery driver before disappearing into the night.
You told yourself they were just rumors, but also, you spent quite a bit of time ruminating on what the sensation of fangs breaking your skin would feel like.
The receipt stapled to the front of the paper bag from the blood bank said Harrington, and you matched it with the information on your phone before making your way up the sidewalk. It was an old, vintage building with renovated apartments inside, and so you punched in the alarm code from the notes in your phone, waited for the beep, and then made your way up to C5.
Two female vampires were just leaving as you stepped into the foyer, and they seemed to be dressed for a night on the town. You jumped back to make room for them, and they excused themselves with a laugh and a wave, fangs exposed, as if they were any other living humans going out for drinks. That was the great thing about vampire specific blood banks and the recently invented blood substitutes; fed vampires, for the most part, were happy vampires. Sure, there were those who still lusted after the chase and the thrill of the kill, but most of the newer vampires were surprisingly chill.
The customer requested that you hand the delivery directly to them, which meant you had to knock instead of just dropping it at the door and bolting.
But, as your finger rose to touch the doorbell, the door opened, yanking back into the apartment so fast, and you scrambled back, startled, testing the handle of the bag with your vise grip.
“Oh, shit, sorry,” the vampire said, smiling around his fangs, wearing Wayfarer sunglasses even though it was dark outside. “I didn’t mean to scare you, my bad.”
“You didn’t scare me,” you stiffened, shaking your head, hoping that was the correct answer, since the customer is always right.
In the next few heartbeats, the two of you looked over each other. Your vampire customer had a full head of lush, dark hair, just long enough to tuck behind his ears, and a solid, muscular frame. He had on a white shirt that was of little contrast to his pale skin, rolled up to the elbows and unbuttoned to expose a swatch of chest hair, black pants that made it look like he was getting ready to go somewhere fancy, and a pinky ring with what looked like a skull on it. He smelled like sandalwood and vanilla tobacco, and your mouth produced an overabundance of saliva that made you swallow and choke a bit.
Steve liked what he saw so much that he didn’t want to remove his sunglasses, so that he could continue to look you over without you seeing his eyes move. But, eventually, he did, sliding them up on top of his head, clearing his throat.
“Harrington,” he said, leaning against the door frame, forgetting why he was about to leave the apartment in the first place. “That’s me, I’m Steve.”
You introduced yourself, and then lifted the bag up in the space between the two of you. “Would you like me to set this by the door, or—?”
“Oh, damn, yeah, of course,” he chuckled fondly to himself, as if remembering a private joke. “I can—yeah, sure, here—I’ll take it.”
You passed it off and he opened it to look inside as if he didn’t know what he’d ordered.
“Alright,” you backed up, offering a low wave. “I guess I’ll be going,then? As long as everything looks okay.”
“Sure,” Steve said, uncertain, still staring into the bag. You turned on your heel to head for the stairs. “But, wait—” he called after you.
You spun around to face him, rubbing your lips together, wondering if you were crazy, or if the vampire was trying to flirt with you.
Steve held the bag with one hand and let it fall to his side while his other hand shoved into his front pocket, smirking at you in a way that screamed trouble. “Would you like to meet up later? After your shift? For a drink, or something?”
Or something.
This wasn’t a good idea, you told yourself, as you turned around to accept his invitation.
“I’m free right now,” you told him.
—-------
Steve didn’t have a plan; he just knew he didn’t want you to go.
“Were you about to leave?” You asked, gesturing to his outfit as you accepted his invitation inside the apartment.
“Nowhere…special,” Steve looked you up and down again, forgetting that his sunglasses weren’t covering his eyes. He was about to go and meet up with his friend Eddie, but he’d shoot him a text real quick and let him know he got “caught up”. Eddie had canceled on him at the last minute more times than he could count, so his conscience was clear.
Steve had eclectic taste, and the first thing you noticed was the Depeche Mode poster on the wall, along with some original art, oil abstracts, and there was a retro sense to the place: a boombox from the 80’s, a panasonic tv/vcr combo on a stand in the corner and a 1960’s wicker rattan chair with a big, dark blue cushion. He had a large collection of vinyl in vintage, wood apple crates stacked up the wall, and a yellow kitchen table set that looked like it was right out of the 1950’s.
You turned to ask him a question, but he was right there on your heels, and your chests pressed into each other, your noses almost bumping, and that was when you took a closer look at his fangs. They weren’t long, obnoxious fangs like in the movies, and could almost pass for normal, albeit extra sharp incisors, but for the way they extended down further than the rest of his perfect teeth.
“Do you ever accidentally—” you motioned to your own tooth, tapping it.
“Bite my own lip? All the time,” he gave a snort. “My tongue too, and it fucking sucks.”
He offered you a beverage and you were surprised to find out he had human food there.
“I have several human friends. I cook for them sometimes too,” he assured you from the kitchen which was around the corner. He carried the grocery bag of blood in to pour some out for himself, and then you heard the top pop off a beer. But then he peeked his head around the corner, raising his eyebrows at you. “Did you think all vampires were hermits that just hung out with each other in a cave somewhere? Like in The Lost Boys?”
You put your hands in your back pockets and went over to take a closer look at the bat with nail spikes through it that was mounted like a trophy above his stereo system. He came out carrying a wine glass full of a deep claret liquid, and handed you the beer, gesturing to the futon with his elbow.
He’d only known you for a few minutes and he already wanted to kiss you. He could see the heartbeat in your throat from where he sat, and he wanted to take a sip from your lifeforce and then kiss you with his bloody lips, smearing it down your chin. He couldn’t smell any other man or partner on you, but he also couldn’t let you walk out and be with someone else; he was actively attaching to the scent of your blood, and if you stayed any longer, he’d have to do something about it.
You took a few gulps of your beer, thinking that if you didn’t make you move, you’d lose your nerve. A chance to be consensually bitten by a vampire did not come around as often as people would think. Especially for the modern vamps of today who’d been following a set of rules for decades. Most vampires had specific humans they “bonded” with, be it a familiar or a partner, or they ingested a specific type from the blood bank or blood substitute. Vampires were very finicky creatures, and the blood had to taste good in order for them to want to ingest it. The way it tasted had to do with a certain mix of hormones and chemistry, you really had no clue.
After a bit of small talk about where you came from, and how long Steve had been a vampire—he was turned in 1996 by an ex he didn’t want to talk about—you set your empty beer down on the rectangular wood coffee table and sat back.
“So,” you bobbed your head a few times. “Here we are.”
“Yes,” he inclined his glass to you, taking the last sip of his Type O claret. “Cheers to us.”
And then, there was silence, but for the sound of people chatting out in the hall, the low hum of the Depeche Mode song It’s no Good, and your heartbeat in your ears.
But then, you just blurted it out, and Steve started to talk at the same time.
“How would you feel if I asked you to—”
“I have to confess that I—”
You licked your lips. “You go first,” you said on a nervous exhale, fiddling with the arm of the futon.
“No, you—please,” Steve sank down and rested his head on the back of the cushion, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made your cheeks hot. You couldn’t help but notice the bulge in his pants was abnormally large even though it wasn’t even erect.
This was crazy, what were you even doing in his apartment? Your friends would be screaming obscenities at you if they knew, telling you to pull out your colloidal silver mace spray and run. But yet, all of your blood seemed to be tickling at the surface of your skin, wanting to escape.
You turned in your seat and Steve’s eyes followed your movements, watching how you bent your knee up and scooted towards him..
“Here’s the thing,” you cleared your throat, finding your words. “I’ve never been bitten before, by, you know, a vampire, but I’d really love to know what it feels like. I fantasize about it, sometimes.”
In an unexpected turn of events, Steve abruptly got to his feet, mumbling, “not another one,” as he put his back to you and rolled his head from side to side, walking away.
“Wait,” you stood up too. “What do you mean, ‘not another one’? Do delivery drivers normally show up here asking you to bite them?”
When he faced you, his eyes were full of weary disappointment. “I’m not turning you, okay? I will never turn anyone as long as I exist,” and then he rounded the corner into the kitchen and you heard the wine glass drop into the sink.
“Hold on,” you followed, coming up behind him as he bent forward to brace his hands on the countertop. He appeared so suddenly distraught, your hand hovered at his lower back for a while, wondering if you should touch him, and then you finally did—feeling his cold skin through his shirt like winter marble.
You made a few comforting circles with your palm, and he let you, secretly closing his eyes at the soothing nature of your touch.
“Hey,” you whispered. “I don’t want to be a vampire. And even if I did, I would never want to put that on you, a complete stranger.”
This admission made him stand, and you watched the way the ends of his hair caught on the collar of his shirt, shoulder blades flexing under the material.
You rested your hip by the sink, eyeing his back muscles. “I’m kind of embarrassed now, that I admitted that to you,” you laughed a little then, at yourself, at the situation, looking down at your nails. Could you have fucked this up any harder?
You barely had time to register that he had turned around and was coming toward you, it all happened in a human blink. But then he had your back pressed flush against the wall by the fridge, one hand cupped your throat while the other pinned your hip. It knocked the air out of you, but it also turned you on, and he returned your stare with a flicker of uncertainty. Silky brown eyes that seemed to go ink black as the pupils expanded.
He brought his cheek down, rubbing it against yours, inhaling the scent of your hair, his words a tight whisper at your ear. “Why do you want me to hurt you?”
“I-I don’t want that,” you stammered, knees wobbling as he sniffed along the side of your face and down your neck; his skin was cold and it made your nipples hard. “I just want to know what it feels like to be…needed like that.”
Steve snapped his head up to look at you; brows clenched, cherry lips parted. The urge to taste you, to feast on you, had him questioning almost a decade of sobriety from using his fangs to feed. His teeth ached, his stomach growled. The light in the kitchen was on, and aside from a lamp in the living room and the street lights from outside, the rest of the apartment was dark.
Steve nudged your nose with his; lips an inch or two away from yours. “Maybe…just a taste.”
You lifted your chin to kiss his pouty lips, but he pulled back. “We can’t do that, though. We can’t kiss.”
You searched his eyes, confused.
Steve released your throat, and the tension of the moment subsided. “It’s too…intimate. I can’t risk an attachment to a complete stranger.” You could tell he was using your words against you, and you wondered why that description bothered him so much. You were both, indeed, strangers, and you didn't know how else to categorize him.
“I want it to be a good experience, though,” he hushed, taking your hand, guiding you back out to the living room. “It’s the least I can do.”
He told you to wait there while he got a towel from the closet; he didn’t want blood on his new futon. If only you knew how many offers like this he’d turned down in his life; if only you knew how nervous he was to break this seal with you.
“Should I lay down or sit up?” You asked. Your mind was having a hard time registering that this was actually happening.
Steve came back and plopped down onto the squishy futon. His shirt was off, and your eyes locked on the patch of chest hair over his milk white skin. “It’s less messy this way,” he gestured to his bare chest, and then he raised an eyebrow, his face serious. “Are you comfortable straddling my lap?”
“Facing you?”
Steve dropped his shoulders, giving you a look, and then he patted the cushion on either side of him.
You were about to drop your knee down to do as he suggested.
“Oh wait,” he stopped you, giving you an open, earnest expression. “Do you want to take your shirt off? It might get blood on it. It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”
You looked down at your shirt. It was a vintage concert tee, and you didn’t want to risk it. “Um, yeah, okay,” you had a sports bra on underneath, so this was fine.
Steve watched you remove your shirt with a hitch in his chest, but then looked down when you finished and tossed it over the chair.
You climbed on top of him, bracing your hands on his shoulders. “You’re so cold,” you observed. “You make me want to get you a blanket.”
“You’re all the warmth I need,” he muttered, shifting as your core settled above his cock, his hands tentative at your hips.
“Listen, it’s probably going to sting, or hurt, even,” he coached, watching the plump artery in your throat. “But once I start drinking, your endorphins take over and it should feel…good, in a way.”
You nodded, pushing your shoulders back.
“Now, come forward,” he continued, pulling you close so that the two of you were skin on skin, his fingers spread out on your back. “And tilt your head to the side, just like that.”
Steve’s mouth watered as he took in the sight of your neck so exposed to him, like an offering. It reminded him of way back when he used to confuse the gift of blood as a form of love. Back when he was naive and bursting with wet dreams about a home and a family and one love forever.
A few seconds passed and your chin rested on the cool muscles of his shoulder. You could feel his breath on your skin, tingly like wintermint gum.
“Should I count down?” He asked.
“No, I’m fine,” you returned with an edge of irritation. “Whenever you’re ready.”
You adjusted yourself in his lap and it made his cock throb, and now he was nervous that you could tell how aroused he was. It’s been a while since he drank from someone he wasn’t in love with, and his cock assumed it was its turn to get involved too.
You felt his lips tremble on your flesh as he brushed over the spot.
“Okay, here we go,” he mumbled. Steve’s stomach growled again as he made “O” with his mouth over your big, thumping artery, swiping his tongue a few times over your salty barrier.
But then his teeth broke the surface, making you choke and clutch his arm.
It did hurt, in the same way thorns from a rose bush hurt, and your adrenaline surged, preparing your body for fight or flight, but Steve’s arms were strong, and now they had you caged in a vice grip.
The sweet hesitancy of consent was gone now that he knew the honey nectar in your veins.
Now, his animal urges made him growl as he drank from you; whimpering, even, when he felt you ease into it, shifting to be closer to him.
There were only a few seconds of that sharp pain, but then as he sucked, you felt your pussy flutter and bloom—a reaction that you had not expected. You closed your eyes, vibrating, leaning into each pull, turned on more and more by his wanton need for you. A trickle of blood trailed down along your breast and it made your skin raise with gooseflesh.
Steve jerked his mouth away with a gasp after about a minute, breathless. He looked at the dripping fang marks in your neck, and then, without thinking, he kissed you there. He released his double arm lock on you and held your upper arms, his forehead dropping to your shoulder.
“Fuck,” be breathed. “That was so good.”
“You can have…more,” you whispered, keeping your head tilted to the side.
Steve swallowed hard: the temptation was real. “I can’t,” he managed. “I’m afraid I’ll take too much.”
You wanted to cry out in disappointment, to beg for more. But then, Steve picked up the towel and started wiping you off. He pricked his finger to heal the fang holes with his blood and you felt a sizzle as they closed up and vanished.
You couldn’t look at him right away, but when you finally did—you saw the trickles of your life force in the corners of his mouth and the strawberry wine tinted hue of his lips. His cinnamon brown eyes that had somehow turned hazel Your need was too great, and before you could stop yourself, you were leaning forward to flick your tongue out to taste the evidence of his feast.
Steve turned his head and that was when you remembered the rule: no kissing. He was the Julia Roberts Pretty Woman version of vampires.
But a twitch of his cock against your inner thigh from inside his jeans betrayed him.
“Oh, fuck it,” he hissed, acquiescing to his own desires, holding the back of your head to find your mouth. He kissed you deep, without any hesitation. It was innocent and urgent, like a man who had been starving in many different ways for a long time.
The taste of your blood in his mouth had your eyes rolling back in your head. There was something about the closeness of it; the way he received nourishment from you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back, not paying any attention to the way your hips were grinding into him.
“Wait,” there was a smacking noise as Steve pulled his mouth away. He ran the back of his fingers down your cheek. “Do you want this? Do you want…me?”
Your lips throbbed and felt bruised, and you nodded, unable to form words.
Steve would regret this the next day, he knew he would. He wasn’t one of those people who could do casual intimacy like Eddie and Argyle. He wondered if he was hypnotized by your blood, wondered if maybe he’d see clearer in the morning. But right then, he didn’t care.
You crossed your arms over yourself and pulled your sports bra off, watching Steve’s breath catch at the sight of your nipples. He took one in his mouth, swirling his tongue, moaning as he did so, and you flexed your hips against him. His sucking popped off as your mouth went to his neck; you didn’t kiss him, you just planted your lips there and said:
“I love knowing my blood is inside of you.”
And for some reason—that was it for Steve.
He gasped, clamping his hands onto your thighs, locking you in place. “Wait…fuck…oh shit—”
You felt him tremble and arch his pelvis up, his hips stuttered, and then his head dropped to your arm with a strangled cry.
“Hold on…did you just?”
“I’m afraid so,” Steve admitted with a tight, aggravated sigh. “Excuse me while I—”
He motioned for you to move out of his lap, but you stayed there, lowering your head to find his eyes. “Can I clean you up?”
Steve shifted, feeling embarrassed and a little uncomfortable, about to decline your offer, but then you were sliding down between his legs, pushing them wider with your shoulders. Your attention went to unbuckling his belt and zipper, but then your eyes flicked up to meet him, hovering there.
“What are you doing?” He asked softly, lifting his hips when you needed to scoot his jeans and red boxers down. You saw the wet spot where his tip had exploded and the dark hair around the base of his cock. You grabbed onto his length to bring it out of hiding and Steve shivered.
“You don’t have to—” but your lips were already on the fat, sticky tip, licking down the vein and the excess that dribbled down his shaft. His cum didn’t really have a taste—it reminded you of something with a clear flavor, like glycerine. He was semi-hard now; caught between being done and getting excited again. He threw his head back onto the couch, exposing his throat to the ceiling, Adam’s apple jerking as he swallowed back a whimper.
His hips bucked up when you took the tip to the back of your throat, and Steve’s fingers dug into the couch, wondering if he should touch you. “Do you like the way I taste?” He asked in a hush.
You nodded, meeting his gaze again, kissing the head of his cock. “I want more.”
Steve leaned down to grab your face with both hands and coaxed you back up into his lap for another depraved kiss; moaning into each dive of your tongue.
“It’s my turn,” he said with a crooked grin, rubbing his nose on yours, and then he flipped you over with surprising strength. You pushed your jeans down as he pulled them, yanking the denim all the way off your feet. They landed inside out in a crumpled pile nearby. He kissed down your breasts, your stomach, flicking his devilish tongue along the soft curve of your hip.
Your legs stretched out to meet the width of his strong shoulders, cursing when his tongue licked a stripe up and down your slit a few times. When his mouth pulled away, there was a string of saliva connecting you to his chin, and he found your eyes before he moved to taste you again.
He lifted your thighs up off the couch—god, he was so strong—and licked down even further, until his tongue fluttered at your tight muscle back there, making both holes clench. Your torso was almost bent in half when he looked up at you over your pussy. “Do you like that?”
“Don’t stop Steve, please,” you gushed.
He took that as a yes, smiling to himself, continuing to work you over in that spot.
He lowered you and moved up to suck your clit and sank two fingers in a little too fast, making you tighten up for a moment. “Shit, your fingers are so big.”
He made a guttural growl, staring at the way his fingers stretched you, and it sounded so unlike the noises he made thus far, it made your eyes snap open.
“More,” you gasped, taking his head in your hands. Your fingers threaded through his hair that was a bit crunchy from styling product.
He slipped a third finger in and your cunt pulsed around him, making his cock get stiff and leaky again. “Fuck, you’re going to take my cock so good.”
The throb of the artery in your inner thigh caught his attention and so—that was all he could think about.
His fingers went in to the last knuckle, and twisted them a few times.
Your jaw went slack with a moan. You watched his mouth lift off an inch so that he could stare at the spot just below the curve of your hip. You could almost hear his thoughts, they were so loud, and the thought of him feeding on you again made your cunt tighten like a fist.
“Fuck, Steve, please do it,” you whined, squirming. “Take more of my blood.”
Steve felt like a man out of control. Like the vehicle had already flown off the cliff, but he was still trying to work the break and steer. There was no hope for him now—he might as well release his grip on the wheel.
His fingers curled up inside you as his fangs nipped at your tender flesh, toying with you. When his his sharp teeth finally sank in, he didn’t give a shit about staining the couch or his clothes—he didn’t care if you could tell how much he fucking loved this.
When his mouth locked onto you, your pussy clenched around his fingers, and you were whimpering, clutching the back of his head, encouraging him, “moremoremore.”
Steve had to push himself off of you with all of his strength, sending the couch sliding back a few inches with you on it, knocking over a table and a lamp that went crashing to the ground. Your flesh was still leaking as he stumbled back, breathing quick and heavy, mouth and chin wet from his meal. His jeans were still down his hips a bit and his cock curved angry and sticky against his belly.
“Cover it,” he braced his hands behind him on the carpet, gesturing to your inner thigh, but you weren’t quick enough. “Cover it now!” He barked, wincing, baring his teeth.
You reached over for the towel and did as he asked, wrapping it around your thigh, securing it with your hand, watching whatever struggle he seemed to be having with himself. It looked almost as if Steve was…changing? The hair on his chest and arms seemed to grow thicker right before your eyes and his jaw muscles strained as if making room for more teeth.
Once he caught his breath, his eyes locked on your cunt—so open and ready for him—and another animal growl escaped his chest. You watched his cock twitch a few times, a sticky strand of precum connecting to his stomach.
No words were needed as he grabbed you by the crook of your knees and yanked you off the couch. You yelped only because his movements were so fast and your lower back skidded on the rug, but you were equally opening yourself up wider for him, spreading your knees out.
He knelt before you, chest hairier than ever, and his eyes flicked red for a moment. He stretched his thick cock down along your slick and with one thrust, buried himself to the hilt, making you both throw your heads back with a cry.
“Fuck,” you wanted him deeper, you wanted all of it. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the size. He put one hand at your shoulder and one at the crease of your thigh and began to pound you onto his cock as if you were a toy. Your breasts bounced and you kept eye contact with him as your jaw went slack, feeling a mounting orgasm already teasing in your core.
Steve’s hands no longer resembled the hands of a man; they were completely covered in hair now with curved claws. Honey brown fur covered his flesh entirely, and his nose was more of a snout as his eyes bore into you, burning an orange red. His mouth was wider, teeth bigger and sharper as he revealed them to you in a sneer; his tongue lolling out thick and sharp.
You were not afraid though, and he could see it in the way you regarded him, as if the change had not taken place at all. Your curiosity was piqued, but you were not disgusted, nor did you look away.
The curse, it was real. He had not dared to tempt it for so long, thought maybe he had outrun it, but now he was mating you and he didn’t know how to stop.
You didn’t want him to stop. You wondered if maybe this was what happened when some vampires had sex—you’d never tried it before.
His strong, animal hips slammed against you; muscular, hairy legs splitting his jeans open so the seams ripped to accommodate his size.
“Steve, I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, brushing your fingers over your clit.
Monster Steve’s movements sped up and got erratic as you screamed his name again and the fire in your belly swelled to your entire body, exploding like firecrackers behind your eyes.
Steve barked and locked you up against him, balls deep, as his cock pumped everything he had inside of you; body tensing, muscles straining.
You were both panting when your eyes found each other again. He searched your face with his feral eyes as his cock jumped a few times inside of you. You wondered if he had lost the ability to speak since he hadn’t said a word since the transformation.
He unhooked his hand from your shoulder and ran a claw down your face, gently, parting your lips with it, and then drawing down your throat.
There was a knock at the door, and somewhere in the deeply muffled civilized part of Steve’s brain he thought: “Shit, I forgot to text Eddie.”
You looked around, wondering what to do, wanting to cover yourself up, and Steve pulled out of you, savoring one last look at his cum leaking out before he bolted to the fire escape window on all fours and then crouched there.
“Steve?” Another man’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Yo Steve man, what gives? I waited at the bar for like two hours.” He knocked on the door again, and then tried the knob. “I’m going to use my spare key if you don’t answer, man. It’s not like you not to text.”
Monster Steve growled low, staring across the room at the door, snarling like a dog.
Getting the hint that maybe Steve didn’t want anyone to see him like that, you jumped up to find your clothes when you heard the key in the door. You had your shirt on and were struggling to button your jeans when the door opened.
You rushed over to greet whoever it was and found yourself face to face with another vampire, but this one had long, dark messy hair, and bangs that were too long, and a leather jacket over his Alice in Chains tee shirt.
“Hey,” he paused, offering a confused smile to expose his fangs. “I’m Eddie. Is Steve here? We were supposed to meet me but he—-”
That was when Eddie caught sight of the huge, hairy monster dropping from Steve’s fire escape and into the street.
“Shit!” Eddie cursed, pushing passed you, yelling for Steve.
You both made it to the window in time to see monster Steve bounce over the hoods of several cars like something out of a DC comic, and then bolt down an alleyway on all fours before climbing up the next building.
Eddie turned to you, the only human in the vicinity, and cursed. “You let him drink your blood, didn’t you?”
“Well I—” you stammered, trying to catch sight of Steve from the window again, but he was long gone. “I-I didn’t know that vampires couldn’t—”
“Most can,” Eddie sucked in his bottom lip and put his hands on his hips, looking around. “But not Steve. He was already a werewolf when he was bitten and turned into a vampire, and if hybrids drink blood directly from a human, they turn into a beast, like what you saw.” Eddie glanced down at how your jeans were unzipped, and then he quickly looked out the window again. “Especially if there is some type of sexual act involved.”
Eddie paced back and forth in a line for a minute, wondering what he should do—-who he should call.
You swallowed so hard there was a click in the back of your throat. “How long will he…be like that?”
Eddie scratched his forehead, parting his bangs. “It’s really hard to say. Could be hours, could be weeks. But the problem is—” Eddie trailed off, thinking about the last time this happened. “----he’s out there all alone and there’s no way to find him or catch him. He’s stronger than any vampire or a werewolf now.”
You told Eddie a little bit about who you were as you collected your things and went out in the hall with him so he could lock the apartment back up. You told him that you didn’t mind waiting there, until Steve came back. Maybe he just went for a run to stretch his monster legs?”
“That’s way too dangerous,” Eddie promised. “Once Steve is back to Steve again, he’ll want to know I kept you away from him, that I kept you from danger,” he walked you out of the complex and down to your car. “The smartest thing you can do right now, sweetheart, is go home and wait for things to go back to normal. I’m sure he’ll call you when he returns to himself.”
You thanked him and shook his hand, even though you knew Steve didn’t have your number.
You had a plan you thought might work even better.
Once you got back to your place, you showered, cleaned up the sticky trail of Steve’s cum down your inner thigh, and then wrapped a towel around you and went to the kitchen to find a sharp knife.
You went out to your modest balcony on the 6th floor of your building, and blinked against the breeze as a hand-shaped cloud circled the moon. The stars were bright and the air smelled of honeysuckle, and you held the blade of the knife tight before yanking it through your grip.
It slit the flesh of your palm like butter, and you bit your lip against the pain. You squeezed your fist in the air—a summoning on the wind—and watched the dark red flow trickle down your forearm.
You let it drip onto the railing, all along the cement ledge, and then left the sliding door open and made a trail of droplets on the floor to your bedroom.
And then, you waited.
#vampire!steve#Steve Harrington#vampires#monsterfucking#monsterfucker#monster!steve#Steeb#monster lover#vampire steve harrington#stranger things fic#Steve Harrington fic#Steve Harrington smut#steve smut#steve harrington one shot#Spotify
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In honor of pride month; I am compiling fics of gay, bi & pan Eddie Munson
comment, or send an ask for yours or one of your favorites to be added
boys on film (series) - pornstar!steddie x virgin fem reader
by: @corrodedcorpses
summary: Eddie and Steve have been your best friends for years. Although they've never done or said anything to make you feel bad, you can't help but feel inadequate to them when it comes to sexual experience. After they star in their first Threesome together, some weird emotions arise.
Now in technicolor (series) - soulmate!steddie x fem reader
by: @thorfemmes
“Color! What a deep and mysterious language, the language of dreams"
The tutor (series)- queer!eddie munson x fem reader 18+
by: @brewsterispunkk
summary: reader has had a secret crush on Eddie Munson for months, only she has been too scared to tell him. When she’s forced to tutor him, she lets it slip that she feels like she’s missed out on the normal “high school experience.” Eddie aims to change that.
I’m in control (series) - pornstar!steddie x fem!reader 18+
by: @justmeinadaze
summary: You're just promoted to agent for the porn agency you work for. You worked really hard to get where you are and beg your boss to allow you to manage the 2 new up and coming pornstars they just signed.
seeing stars (series) - bi!eddie munson x fem!reader 18+
by: @boogiewrites
summary: A new girl with a mysterious air to her and a questionable past comes to Hawkins. After a chance encounter at a party, Eddie becomes a bit smitten with her. The problem is, she’s an unreadable brick wall when she’s sober. Despite her hesitation to letting men in her life, they become best friends. Will Eddie’s attentive persistence help him break down the walls she’s put up to protect herself from not getting hurt? Will Star learn she can be in love and be loved in return after her last relationship left her traumatized? Will her spiritual guidance help her see that Eddie really is the one for her? A story of strangers to best friends to lovers with a splash of witchiness and a lot of trauma healing.
The pull (short series) - steddie x succubus!fem reader 18+
by: @xxhellfiregirlxx
summary: You move to Hawkins after spending the last decade in New York City hoping to have a peaceful and quiet next few years flying under the radar only feeding when necessary and making everyone you spend a night with forget you. But when you arrive, you feel a pull from two men like you’ve never felt before. As soon as you feel it you know flying under the radar here wasn’t going to cut it, you had to find them.
Ready, steddie, go. (One shot) - steddie x fem reader 18+
By: @bettyfrommars
Trapped under ice (series) - hockey player!steddie x figure skater!fem reader 18+
by: @lofaewrites & @teddyseyeswinchester
summary: The one where the Ice Princess, The Wolf & The Monster celebrate in the only way they know how-by making it dirty.
Rockstar!eddieverse - bisexual rockstar!eddie munson x fem! reader
by: @enam3l
I want you both - steddie x reader 18+
by: @screammunson
summary: you can’t help yourself when you catch them, they can’t help themselves when they ask you to join
Heavy metal parking lot (one shot) - queer!eddie munson x fem reader 18+
by: me
summary: the last thing you ever expected was to hit it off with a cute guy at a Judas Priest concert, but stranger things have happened.
To be added…
I know I’m forgetting so many! :(
fics on ao3
Lessons in anatomy (series) - bisexual!eddie munson x fem reader x slowburn steddie x fem reader 18+
by: LilithsLullaby
summary: When you agree to help Eddie Munson in study hall, you don’t anticipate those lessons to go beyond using textbooks to some real life practice in anatomy.
If it's just till St. Patrick's Day (series) - gay!Eddie Munson x trans fem! Steve Harrington 18+
by: RedLegumes
summary: Eddie Munson is positive he's gay. Sure girls are nice to look at, smell good, look like they taste lovely and sweet. But that's not his thing. Never been his thing. He likes hard, blaring, rough and tumble. He likes guys. But when one of those guys reveals he wanted to transition… Eddie has to do some thinking. He likes guys, but he really likes Harrington.
I Promise That You Won't Wanna Get Off (one shot) - steddie 18+
by: Kwills91
summary: Robin drags Steve to a bachelorette party having no idea he's going to be just as entertained by the gorgeous stripper as everyone else. Possibly even more so.
To be added…
#eddie munson#fic rec#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie x reader#steddie x reader#steddie x reader smut#steddie x you#steddie recs
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Johnny Boy (Chapter 1) Werewolf! Soap x reader
Once upon a time, you would've done anything for John Mctavish. He had been your older brother's cool best friend, and you were always desperate for him to see you as more--until one fateful night that ends up with you pregnant and him...gone. Fast forward six years and you've made a good life for yourself with your daughter Emma, with Johnny none the wiser. Until one day, he decides to knock on your door.
Warnings: this will be dark Johnny, he's a werewolf so in my fics they don't really have the same morals. There will be smut in the future, and this will be quite a slowburn.
PS. shoutout to @ceilidho for inspiring this Johnny fic, especially in the future you will see Johnny calls reader "kitty" and ceilidho absolutely came up with that amazing nickname and I love them for it :) Read their stuff for more Johnny fics!
You couldn’t remember the last time Emma had slept through the night.
She was always a restless little thing, even as a baby. She hardly cried during her first year of life, quiet as a lamb with her wide blue eyes and pursed mouth, squirming out of swaddles and cradles with a single-minded determination. Your wee old man, you used to say, always looking out at the world and finding it lacking.
She didn’t get those blue eyes from you, though you wish she had. It was as if you weren’t allowed to forget him.
Emma was curled around you like a cat, her dark hair sprawled across your pillow. She didn’t like to be alone at night, but that was common for baby wolves, always searching for the closest source of warmth.
You spent half your time researching, reading books like How to Raise a Wolf Pup 101, or Ensuring Your Child Stays Connected to Their Inner Animal and enrolling her into a mixed kindergarten, where pups and children co-mingled (usually) without incident. It helped that you had grown up with a werewolf, you could look at his early life and see the flaws in the way his parents raised him.
You always worried, worried that you weren’t doing as good a job as someone like her would, worried that you weren’t feeding her a proper diet despite the fact that you spent another good chunk of your time preparing raw meat to mix with her school lunch. She was so small for her age, but she had John’s spirit, all wild-hair and quick temper.
Today was going to be a hard day for you both. Today was the day of the funeral.
Emma’s great grandfather took a turn last week and died at a rather impressive age, considering his history. He was a charming old wolf, but back in the day had belonged to the underground fighting rings London used to harbor, where wolves and humans alike ripped each other apart in grimy warehouses and subway tunnels. You had a suspicion that he had involved John in it a handful of times, when Johnny was just a skinny teenager with bruised knuckles.
But Emma loved Grandpa Jack, and the funeral wasn’t going to be easy for her. She understood death in a way you hadn’t when you were six, hearing the old man’s heart stop from across the hospital lobby during your visit last week.
Emma shifted against your neck, breathing in your smell. It was as comforting for you as it was for her , her hair tickling your nose.
“Emma?” You whispered, jostling her. “Emma, it’s time to get up.” It was already eight, and the funeral was going to be at ten. You needed a shower and Emma needed breakfast–nothing put her in a worse mood than skipping breakfast.
Emma grumbled, tucking herself deeper in the blankets. You smiled to yourself, sliding out of the blankets. “Fine, but you’re getting up when I’m out of the shower.”
She nodded, tucking her head under the pillows. In another life, John used to do the same thing, growling whenever you tried to wake him before ten.
You had thought of him often lately. You blamed it on Jack’s death, the scary thought that John might actually turn up at the funeral–but Tom had reassured you that the last he had heard from John was that he was in the Middle East, a half a world away.
You undressed, laying out the neat black dress and ballet flats you had chosen the night before. You kept the door cracked, so you could keep an eye on Emma.
If Jack hadn’t been Emma’s grandfather figure, you would simply not go. John’s mother liked you well enough, at least, more than she liked her son, but you understood why he left.
Not enough to forgive him for it, of course, but that was probably because he spent one night with you, knocked you up, and then disappeared completely for four years. He resurfaced two years ago, reaching out to Tom, your brother and his best friend, by sending an expletive-filled letter about the violent and bloody years he had spent in the military. Tommy came to you first and asked if you wanted him to know about Emma.
That was the kicker. When you learned you were pregnant, you spent months and months trying to reach him, calling whatever high-ranking officer you could find–but they all said the same thing: John Mctavish agreed to have his life before the military erased in the records, therefore he no longer existed.
He had no intention of coming back. And he didn’t even attempt to contact you along with Tommy, the girl that he had grown up with, the girl that used to love him more than anything in the world.
Emma was awake by the time you were out and dressed, her eyes bright at the thought of breakfast.
“Cereal?” She asked hopefully.
You opened your mouth to refuse, thinking of the sugar but then you remembered that she was going to have to see her grandfather’s corpse today. You shrugged, “Sure, Em, as long as you have eggs too.”
Emma nodded eagerly. She had the appetite of a grown man, and wasn’t particularly picky–something you were grateful for every day.
She was quiet as you cooked, her eyes focused on your black dress. “Do you think Grandpa Jack is going to haunt us?”
You paused, halfway through flipping a fried egg. With Emma, it was best to really think about your answer. “Well,” you said, gesturing for her to start on her plate of raw, sliced liver. “Do you want him to?”
“I think so. He could just stay in his armchair like he always used to,” Emma said thoughtfully. “We should leave one of his books out for him, just in case.”
Her obsession with ghosts started when bloody Tom let her watch one of those cheesy ghost-hunting shows. Instead of being terrified, she found it exciting, the thought that people can remain even in death.
To tell her that Grandpa Jack wasn’t going to prop his ghostly specter up on your ratty armchair and read his ancient western novels would break her heart. So you nodded, scraping two eggs onto her plate with the liver. “Alright. We’ll pick one before the funeral. I’m sure he’ll need a break from your cousins bickering by now.”
She smiled and dove into the liver. It was good for her, of course, the vitamins and the minerals in organ meat, but that didn’t make you any less squeamish watching your child tearing into the raw flesh.
Your own breakfast was a cup of black coffee and nerves, your stomach twisting into knots. He wasn’t going to be there, you told yourself. He had stayed away for this long, your idyllic little life with your daughter and your job at the library wasn’t going to be interrupted by the man that had abandoned you.
You didn’t want things to change. You didn’t want him here, in your space, with your daughter that you raised alone.
Jack and Tom had helped of course. The old man had done his best to teach your little girl to not chew on the furniture or chase the squirrels up the tree, and your parents and Tom spoiled her endlessly.
Emma helped you wash and dry the dishes, nuzzling your hip affectionately. “You smell like you did when you went to work at the book place,” she said, sensing your anxiety. “How come? Do you think Grandpa Jack’s family’ll ruin things?”
Jack’s family, not John’s. You hadn’t told her much about her biological father, and Emma was observant enough to understand that he wasn’t ever going to be around. It didn’t seem to bother her, she had enough males in her life patting her head and teaching her how to play rugby.
“No, of course not, bear,” you said, tweaking one of her dark pigtails. “I’m just…I’m really sad. I’m going to miss your grandfather.”
She nodded, her mouth pursing in that mournful way she did when she was a baby. Back then, you had convinced herself it meant that she somehow knew her father wasn’t there, that you were doing this all alone and she knew you would fuck it up. “I still smell him in the living room.”
You kissed the soft crown of her head. “I know, bear, I’m sorry.”
Together, you picked one of his Louis L’Amour novels off your rickety little bookshelf.
“This was the one he was reading,” Emma said, carefully opening it to the page he had dog-eared. “We’ve got to remember to turn the pages every day, Mommy. He always reads so slow.”
“Once in the morning and once in the evening,” you agreed, patting the worn-down leather. His imprint was still in the cushions, a big, tall man worn down by years of violence.
You were going to miss him. He had come to your door shortly after Emma was born, a suitcase in hand. “I’m moving in, love,” he said. “She’ll need a wolf in her life and I’m all you’ve got.”
You could have cried with relief back then. He had had such a way with her, always shushing her cries by cupping her in his big, callused hands and bringing her to his barrel chest.
“I raised Johnny and fucked it up,” he had said, following the tiny whorl of her ear with the tip of his finger. “I’ll do my best to help you with her, pup, you loved my boy more than he deserved.”
You helped Emma into her frilly black dress, the one Jack had chosen himself. He wanted to buy her something nice, to be his darling little granddaughter for him one last time.
She sat quietly while you braided her hair, uncharacteristically still.
“Ready?” You asked.
She nodded, glancing one last time to the Louis L’Amour on the armchair.
Tom greeted the two of you at the door, a tall, skinny man that still looked like the stubborn big brother you knew. He had retired from the military last year to settle down in the house across from yours and got a job doing the only thing he really liked doing–which was cooking french dishes for eight hours a day and shouting until he was blue in the face.
He smiled sadly, sweeping Emma up in a hug. “Hullo, bear,” he said, kissing her cheek. “You look dashing.”
“Grandpa Jack made me wear it,” she said, frowning disapprovingly at the ruffles on the sleeves.
Tom laughed, but it was hollow, his eyes shifting to you before swiftly flitting away. “Of course he did. Here, I’ll watch Em for a bit if you want to mingle, Johnny’s mother was looking for you.”
Of course she was. Anxiety twisted deeper in your gut, the coffee bubbling up your throat. “Alright,” you said lightly, forcing a nod. “I’ll be inside if you need me, bear.”
She nodded, turning to her uncle with a single minded purpose–to convince him to let her have some of the biscuits in the tin he had brought.
Susan, John’s mum, was sitting in the lobby of the funeral home, sorting the trays of casserole into neat rows. She was a thin, tired woman with the same blue eyes as your daughter.
“Susan,” you said, “I heard you were looking for me.”
You opened your arms as she came in for a hug, her body brittle against yours. She had been sober for a few years now, mostly because you had refused to let her near Emma while she was drinking–which used to be every day.
“I need to tell you something,” Susan said, gripping your palms in a hard grip. “I just…I don’t know with Daddy gone now…” her eyes welled up.
You hugged her again, shushing her gently. “It’s alright, Susan,” you said, “Whatever it is can’t be that bad.”
Looking back, you were a right bloody idiot. Susan pulled away from you, joy sparking her face as she smiled. “Honey, he’s home.”
Stupidly, you thought she was talking about Jack.
She wasn’t.
The hair prickled at the back of your neck, your body aware before your brain could catch up. Your stomach twisted, dread spilling down your spine like ice.
He was behind you.
You refused to look, your eyes still locked with Susan’s teary gaze. “No,” you said quietly. “No, tell me you didn’t just let me walk into this.”
She had understood when you asked her not to tell John. She understood that her son had chosen war over you once again and that he didn’t deserve to be in your life.
“I’m sorry,” Susan said, squeezing your arm apologetically.
A hand brushed against your shoulder, big and warm and so familiar it hurt.
“Hey, bonnie,” John said roughly, his voice deeper than it used to be.
You couldn’t help yourself, you had to see.
You pushed away from Susan, looking up into the familiar face of John Mctavish.
He looked ten years older, but no less handsome, scars turning his face into something you didn’t recognize, something like a predator. He was still keeping his hair in that stupid fucking mowhawk, but he had gained an impressive amount of mass, so tall and thick he looked like a stranger.
You couldn’t breathe.
Johnny. The only man you’ve ever loved. The father of your child.
The man that took your virginity and abandoned you, all in one night.
“It’s been awhile,” he said, his accent twisting up his words.
You blinked.
Emma.
Emma was outside and he had no idea. You had to leave, take her away from him.
“It could have been longer, John,” you said, your voice so cold it stung your tongue as you spoke. The ache in your chest was overtaken by rage, pure and hot. “Excuse me.”
You pushed past him, suddenly grateful you hadn’t worn the heels when your knees gave a funny little tremble.
He moved, as if to catch you, as if to hold you still while he came up with whatever bullshit excuse he could think of–but you were faster, putting the crowd and tables between the two of you as you made a break for the door.
Emma, Emma, Emma.
Tom was with her, her skinny knees in his lap as they split a delicate almond biscuit.
“Mum?” Her head went up, sniffing the air. “Mum, what’s wrong?”
Tom knew. He looked at you, guilty as sin. “Love,” he began, but you were already ripping her out of his arms, her arms and legs flailing as you made a break for the parking lot.
The funeral home’s door burst open, slamming against the wall with a crash that had you shoving your daughter into the back of your car, utterly deaf to her squawking.
But John had already seen her. Smelled her. He stood in front of you, frozen in place.
“How old is she?” He asked, deadly calm. His blue eyes burned, like they used to when he was a teen, hormonal and angry. Always so angry.
“Go fuck yourself, Mctavish,” you snapped, reaching for your door.
He was already there, hand slamming against your car door with a crack that split the air. Johnny really was different now, confidence stiffening his spine, his sheer size making you take a step back.
What did they do to him overseas? He looked like he was about to eat you alive.
“No,” John said, sounding like a wounded animal. “Ye wouldn’t keep something like this from me.”
“You’re right,” you said coldly. “I wouldn’t have. Then I spent three years of her life waiting for you to get your head out of your fucking arse. I called. I emailed. I sent a hundred fucking letters.”
He made a noise like you gutted him, his eyes going to Emma.
She was curled up in the back of your car, wide-eyed and staring at John. Her father.
Of course she would know. She could smell it on him, her own flesh and blood.
“I…I didn’t know,” John said, “Hen, look at me-”
“I don’t care.” You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. You wanted to dig your nails into his skin and hurt him like he hurt you. “We don’t need you, we never needed you. I loved you, and you left for years. Deal with the consequences.”
Johnny Mctavish, a wolf, a soldier, flinched from you.
It wasn’t the victory you thought it would be.
You ripped your door open, and he let you. You put the car in reverse and sped out of the parking lot, and he let you.
“Mum?” Emma said cautiously. “Mum was that…”
“We’ll never see him again, Em,” you said, utterly sure of that fact. “Forget him. John always runs.”
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I have a Mattheo imagine request, or 2. If either call out to you please use them
1. Reader is ex girlfriend of Mattheo and they’re in the same DADA class, well she faces her boggart and it’s mattheo
2. Dating Mattheo while being secretly super nerdy and in a different house
Okay so I literally love both of these so much, I’m gonna write the first one sometime soon but here’s the second one in the mean time :D
A little Nerdy - Mattheo Riddle
Summary - Mattheo catches Ravenclaw GN!Reader being super Nerdy over TV shows and science
A/n - Literally so excited to write this because I’m a very Nerdy person so I literally get to gush over my Nerdy interests
Warnings/Mentions - The Nerdy stuff that is mentioned in this fic is the following, Doctor Who, knowing 100 digits of Pi literally just because of a song, talking about Teen Wolf, literally ENJOYING doing science homework, GN!Reader, this is more of a Drabble than an actual fic
POV - 3rd
Requested - Yes
Word Count - 771
The first time Mattheo noticed how Nerdy you were was when he overheard you talking to Luna Lovegood. He was quite confused at first since it was clear you were talking about some muggle show but it was very obvious you were gushing over it.
Mattheo had been out for a walk in the forbidden forest, looking for a place to smoke when he had seen you and Luna. Luna was feeding some of the animals in the forest when he had heard you start speaking.
“And then one of my favorite muggle shows is called Teen Wolf, it’s about this teenager named Scott Mcall who gets bitten by a werewolf and he’s actually like really cute. But people seem to like him less than his best friend, and his name is Stiles. Stiles is like my dream man, he’s so stupid and smart at the same time. He’s also like totally in love with this girl named Lydia Martin, she’s like kind of a bitch but she’s also super smart and I actually really love her. She’s probably one of my first girl crushes. Oh and don’t even get me started on Derek Hale or Theo or Liam. OR the dread doctors, they were actually quite scary from time to time.” His eyes lit up in amusement once he heard how quickly you were talking, you were so lost in your rambling that you didn’t notice him standing against a tree, attempting to not laugh at you.
He absolutely thought it was adorable how much you cared about the plot and characters of this television show.
The next time he became aware of your Nerdy tendencies was when he stopped by your dorm. Your roommate had been out and when he walked in, all he saw was you laying on the floor in front of a television screen. There was a Scottish man on the screen talking to another man. Before he made his presence known, you had recited the lines the characters were speaking.
“Compensating? For what? Regenerations a lottery.” Mattheo walked over towards your bed, picking up a pillow and throwing it at you. It hit you in the back of the head and you swiftly turned. Immediately pausing the show and standing when you realized it was Mattheo.
“What are you doing here? It’s my Doctor Who time.” You said with a slight frown on your face, like you were genuinely sad about him interfering with the show.
“Is this what you do in your free time?” He snorted, before sitting down on your bed. Mattheo gestured for you to press play again and you happily did so when you realized he wasn’t going to say anything mean to you.
Mattheo honestly found it funny and cute when you were Nerdy. You were already a Ravenclaw but he didn’t expect you to be so open about your interests.
The third time Mattheo had seen you being Nerdy, it was for potions class. But you had kept talking about how much you liked science when you were younger. Something called Chemistry.
“Okay Mattheo, go grab the next ingredients, I’m gonna sit here and stir the cauldron because otherwise it could explode. Which would be kind of fun but I like when things don’t blow up.” Mattheo does as you say, going to grab the next list of ingredients for a potion. This was a more complicated one that required a lot of eyes on the cauldron at all times.
The last and final time, the MOST Nerdy possible thing he could have witnessed was you having a competition with Harry. You had a bet placed on you where whoever knows the most digits of Pi, gets all the money that was bet on them. Harry had got to 3.14 on his paper and you were already 6 digits ahead of him. You were humming a tune to yourself as you scribbled down the answers on the paper. The timer for a minute went off and in total you had written 100 digits of Pi.
And as Nerdy and weird as you are (because literally who needs to know 100 digits of Pi?) He absolutely ADORED it. He loved how oddly smart you were with certain things. And he loved how you would ramble on and on about something random, even if it wasn’t important to the task at hand.
In fact, Mattheo loved how Nerdy you are, so much, that when he bought you a custom bracelet with his name on it. The inside of the bracelet had a sentence on it.
“wibbly wobbly, timey wimey stuff”
#slytherin boys#harry potter#mattheo riddle fanfic#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo x y/n#mattheo x you#nerdy stuff
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Flower Shop
Richie Jerimovich x F!Reader
For @the-slumberparty's Bingo Challenge! Bingo square: Flower Shop
A/N: This is NOT the same reader as my other Richie fics. I've decided to compile those fics into their own multichap because I've gotten some Bear fic ideas outside of that little universe I've created. ALSO, huge shout out to @kind-wolf for this idea!!!! Seriously sparked so much inspiration, thank you x 10000000 I hope you enjoy :)
Warnings: Cursing, arguing, light angst, mentions of harassment, and someone being drunk and disorderly.
The Bear Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @quixscentsposts @dadbodfanatic-x @adorable-punk-superheroes @lodeddiperrodrick @isalver @captainweasleybarnes @musicwithteeth
“We’re across from that stupid fuckin’ flower shop.” Richie spoke into the phone. “Yes, that one.” He was staring out the window at the shop he mentioned, annoyance growing as he stared out. “No, I don’t know if they’ve got white roses, look, will you just tell me when my meat delivery is gonna be here, I gotta fuckin’ feed people.” Richie had slammed his hand down on the table like the person on the other line could see his frustration. Before the conversion continued, Richie saw movement where he was staring across the street. “I gotta go, just deliver the fuckin’ meat.”
As you stepped outside of your flower shop, dragging to large potted plants to sit alongside the front door, you heard the familiar bell of the shop across the street. At first the noise went unnoticed, the first few weeks it was just part of the Chicago hustle and bustle but two months in, you began to notice it because it usually meant that someone was about to start yelling at you.
“I thought I told you that putting that shit out on the street causes distractions and traffic!” The man yelled out to you.
Right on schedule was the thought in your head as you huffed and stood up to yell back.
“I thought I told you to mind your fuckin’ business, beef boy!” You usually had discourse like this on a daily basis but between the early start you had and the exhaustion from pulling these plants out of the back storage room, you were a little more rowdy today.
“Beef boy?” He scoffed. “Stop blocking the sidewalk, you–you–flower fuck!” He tripped up on what to call you there and it made you smile.
“T-t-t- today, Junior!” You mocked him back.
“Are you making fun of me by quoting Billy fucking Madison?!”
The cars of traffic were moving on the roads in front of you, the audacity they had interrupting your heated discussion. But nonetheless, you weren’t going to let it stop you from going back and forth.
“Why are you such a fuckin’ jagoff?!” You called back out at him.
The comment made the slightest smirk grow on Richie’s face, you were too far to notice it which he was grateful for but hearing the word that he called people so often out of someone else’s mouth was amusing.
“I don’t know, why don’t you look in the mirror and tell me why you’re such a jagoff!” He lifted his hand up and pointed his finger, throwing it at you as he spoke.
“Wow.” You started clapping. “Great comeback, what are we 10? I know you are what am I?” You called out in a immature tone.
“I’m gonna go back inside and work because some of us put our blood sweat and tears into our jobs, while other people sit up on their bouqueted pedestals and fuck over us hard workers!”
You had no idea what he was saying, what he meant by it but that was also a pretty normal and everyday occurrence so you didn’t think twice about it and just yelled out before going back inside your flower shop.
“Go fuck yourself, beef boy!”
These things happened pretty often, not everyday but often enough that your comebacks got funnier, they got more detailed, more pointed, on both sides. When you went out to water the plants on display in front of the store and Richie went out for a smoke break you yelled across at each other. When you both were at the window looking at the rain clouds forming or the rain drops falling, you’d throw middle fingers up and mouth profanities at each other. When you’d stay late and look across the street to see Richie there at the restaurant late, you’d stare at each other, give mean looks and turn the lights off to work in the back offices at your shop.
It was strangely something enjoyable, for both of you. It was a way to get out so much frustration and build up tension that had accrued in the days. It wasn’t healthy, and you knew that but you weren’t exactly looking for the textbook solution to your problems these days.
As you stood outside, past closing time, sweeping up the dead leaves and fallen petals from the day, Richie was out for what was likely his 5th smoke break of the day. It was late, and you both tended to keep it down when curfew hours hit, out of respect for the block, not each other. As you moved along your storefront, you heard a voice that wasn’t familiar.
“Yo, can I please get some flowers, my girl’s mad at me and I need something to bring home.” The voice was slurred, the person sounded drunk. You looked up and saw the person who had stumbled up to your store.
“I can give you a mix of stuff for $10.” You weren’t in the mood to cause problems so you thought this would be a good compromise. A bouquet like that would normally be double so you thought this was the perfect meet in the middle deal.
“Nah, I don’t got any money. Just let me go in and grab something small, no biggie, alright?” The man started to push by and tried to get in the door that you had already locked.
“We’re closed, I can go grab something for you, and you can give me $10 for it, that’s it.” Your voice was firm as you stepped in front of the door.
“C’mon!” The guy whined.
“Alright, new plan. No flowers, and you get the fuck out of here.” There was no whine in your tone, you weren’t playing games which is why the push you gave the guy was more aggressive than your initial block.
While the push worked to get him away from the door, the man didn’t leave.
“Pretty sure she told you to get the fuck out of here.”
That sentence was said by someone else and it made both you and the man turn to look at where the hardened voice was coming from. You saw the man from across the street, now much closer on your side of the street, on your sidewalk. He looked different closer up, you could see the features of his face better, despite it being late at night you could see things that the space hid. The bags under his eyes, the roughness of his stubbled beard, the wrinkles in his forehead and eyes, he was worn, he had been through a lot, you could tell. You also could tell that he had been used to these type of run ins, or you so assumed as you looked at the gun in his hand that wasn’t being threatened yet, but was ready in the case it needed to be.
“But my flowers…” The man stumbled slightly as he spoke.
“They’re her flowers, not yours. Go home, get the fuck out of here.” Richie stepped forward, using his body to show force and slightly raising the gun to let the man know it was there.
And it worked. The man left, drunk and defeated, leaving you and Richie on the sidewalk in front of your shop.
“I had it handled.” The glare you had was still on the man walking away and when he got out of your view, you turned to the person still next to you.
“Most people just say thank you.” He scoffed as he put the gun in his back waistband.
“You have a history of showing up armed and ready to shoot someone?” You raised your eyebrow and leaned on the broom handle.
“No, I just–do you have to argue everything?” He was frustrated.
“I just assumed that was our thing.” Your shoulders shrugged so nonchalantly.
Richie let out a laugh and shook his head as he took a step off the curb and was now standing on the asphalt of the street, slowly making his way back over to the restaurant. “I’d buy yourself a piece, get yourself familiar with it, this block can get hot sometimes.”
“Who says I’m not familiar?” You called out to him with a smirk on your face.
“My mistake.” He lifted his hands up in surrender with a similar smirk to your own before turning around fully to step onto his side of the street.
“Hey, beef boy!” The humor in your voice was being held back by a thin thread as you smiled through your words.
Richie turned around, his hand on the door handle ready to enter back into the restaurant as he stared at you. For the first time ever, you weren’t going to yell profanities at eachother, give rude gestures or annoyed looked. For the first time you smiled at him and truly had no sarcastic attitude in what the next two words out of your mouth would be.
“Thank you!”
#The Bear#The bear fx#the bear fanfiction#the bear fanfic#richie jerimovich#richie fuckin jerimovich#richie jerimovich x f!reader#richie jerimovich x reader
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Yandere Blaidd The Half Wolf
¡Well well well! What do we have here? A 10-foot werewolf with a heart of gold and the attitude of an edgy young man. And isn't there a single person who makes fics about him? eeehhhh, we have to fix that honey.
You met the half-wolf while you were pulling aquatic plants from the bottom of the lake for your concoctions and potions. You found him dirty and injured at the bottom of the waterfall where you took your baths at night. The half-wolf had the appearance of an abandoned animal. At first you thought it was dead, but you noticed a pulse and a heavy, short breath.
Blaidd is tall as an oak tree, wears massive armor and always carries his trusty greatsword with him. So you can imagine how difficult it was for you to move this good boy to your house. I mean, he probably weights at least 400 pounds.
Once in your home, you weren't entirely sure what to do with him, or his giant armor. You clearly didn't have enough strength to lift him onto the bed, and to be honest, your bed didn't seem strong enough to hold blaidd's weight.
Sooo, you stripped him of his giant armor and left him with a blanket by the fire.
It took blaidd four days to wake up. In that time, you did your best to care for Blaidd. You clean him, keep him warm, feed him and treat his wounds.
When he finally woke up you did your best to try to talk to him. But, the half- wolf just curled up and cried by the fire like a dog that loses its master. Blaidd's words were short, but they all had in common the whisper of a name you didn't recognise.
After three weeks of taking care of him. Blaidd looked so much healthier. But, he still refused to speak most of the times and always seemed to look at you with a tenderness and sadness that broke your heart.
As the four weeks passed, Blaidd began to engage in small conversations with you. He thanked you every time you fed him, and, before you know it, he started to asked you more and more about your private life. He seemed to want to know everything about you, every little detail seemed to be the most interesting thing for Blaidd.
After six weeks, the half wolf was already walking from one side to the other helping you with everything. Do you need help carrying a box full of absolutely nothing? Of course not, but that means nothing to Blaidd. Before you know it, the half wolf was following around like your own shadow.
And, before you know it, blaidd decided to follow you to one of your late-night showers in the river, thing that made you feel uncomfortable... But his wounded puppy expression made you change your mind and just let him follow you around.
As Blaidd and you arrived at the waterfall where your found him, his personality changed radically. He seemed to be afraid that even the smallest and most fragile blade would hurt you. Almost as if a thousand unseen assassins would leap out of the shadows if Blaidd took his eyes off you. You approached the crystal clear water and, in an attempt to ignore the constant warnings of the half-wolf, you took off your boots to wipe your feet.
Blaidd stood by the edge, from a safe distance. Blaidd clearly seemed not to like the idea of taking a bath. As you wiped your feet in the moonlight you gave the half-wolf an accusing look. Your look said: "Are you planning to stay and watch?". Which seemed to annoy him a bit, but after a "Stare-Combat", Blaidd gave up.
"I'll go for a walk, I need to make sure no one comes snooping around while you take your clothes off" Blaidd said with a more authoritative tone than he had ever used before. You responded to Blaidd with a confused and shy nod. And before you even knew it, Blaidd was gone (Which made you feel relieved).
You felt a strange weight on your conscience for being relieved to see Blaidd leave. "He doesn't do it with bad intentions, he's just worried…" you thought as you proceeded to remove your mud-darkened rags. You left your belongings on the shore and proceeded into the depths of the lake. The sound of the waterfall calmed you, for a moment you forgot about Blaidd and his injuries. Now you were just the crazy person who lived in the forest as a hermit, you felt a relaxation and a satisfaction that you had not felt in weeks. Exactly since you dragged the half wolf to your home.
You were so relaxed that you were unable to hear the strange man enter the lake. Like the stealthiest of all snakes the bandit approached with a smart and methodical step, he seemed to want to make sure you didn't hear him, clearly he wanted something more than just your life…
In a fleeting moment, you felt the vibration of the water next to you, and you were able to distinguish the strange figure raising a rusty dagger towards you. But, at the same time that you noticed the figure, you also noticed the giant wolf grab him by the throat, with his claws as sharp as the most lethal of all spears, he tore part of the man's face, and, with a savage movement, he bit the man's neck, causing it to rattle like a weak twig.
In the blink of an eye, next to you, lay the floating corpse of a man you had never seen before in your life. His blood stained the crystalline property of the lake you loved so much. Blaidd's eyes looked at you with an accusing gaze. But, eventually his gaze faded into an expression of compassion and concern. The half wolf approached you, ignoring the corpse of the man floating right at him.
Your legs trembled and tears fell from your eyes like a waterfall. The half wolf brought one of its blood-stained claws close to your face in an attempt to remove the tears from your eyes. With a clumsy movement, you moved away from Blaidd as best you could, managing only to fall on your ass as the sound of the waterfall deafened your attempts to scream and the water made sure you didn't get very far.
Blaidd grabbed one of your legs, digging one of his claws into your foot. You screamed like a pig about to be slaughtered. And, with impressive strength, Blaidd pulled you close, bringing you face to face with him. The half-wolf seemed to be in a trance, his face and muzzle tinged with crimson red. And without a word, he proceeded to pull you out of the lake, ignoring your nakedness. You screamed as loud as you could, but the only ones in that place able to hear you were Blaidd, the dead man and you.
You slapped his back, demanding that he put you down. And, without any emotion in his raspy tone of voice, he replied, "I told you it wasn't safe to come out… but don't worry. You'll be safe now, Y/N. No one will hurt you as long as I protect you." Soon, the forest enveloped your screams, as your giant and fierce protector dragged you into the darkness of the woods.
#Yandere blaidd#yandere werewolf#yandere exophilia#yandere monster#yandere male#male yandere#yandere elden ring#yandere teratophilia
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