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joonberriess · 7 months

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teeth. ☆ j.jk

⋆ TAGS — ghostface!jk, breaking in, TW: non-con to dub-con (oc does NOT consent verbally even if she does participate hence the dub-con), brief knife play, cunnilingus, degradation, misogyny(?), objectification, blow jobs, brief face/skull fucking, fuckin in the woods, unprotected sex, nasty talk by jk, possessive!jk, hints of kidnapping/captivity, fear play, facial, jk is lowkey yandere, iconic what’s your favorite scary movie scene but my style, DEAD DOVE, slight praises, ass n coochie worship cause jk is a ass man certified LMAO, cheerleader!oc, college setting

⋆ WORD COUNT — 4.2k

⋆ now playing: teeth - 5sos ⋆

“Color me your color, baby, color me your car, color me your color, darling, I know who you are,”

The music blared loudly, you hummed under your breath while lining over your lips with a dark lip pencil. The hour was getting closer and you realized you had to speed things up if you wanted to meet with your friends on time (you had been stuck in your cheer uniform ALL DAY). You moved around your room quickly while tossing articles of clothing onto your bed, no outfit in particular on your mind.

You uncapped the red lipstick and ran it over your lips slowly, filling in the blank spaces and blending the two colors to perfection. You decided a white long sleeve tucked into your mini jean skirt would serve as a perfect combo. If you were lucky, maybe that cute college senior Kim Seokjin would give you his jacket to wear. The idea has you smiling like a dummy.

Before you can slip out of your skirt the phone downstairs begins ringing loudly. You could have very well ignored it but you don’t feel like listening to your parents nag at you for not picking up the phone if it happens to be them. “Ugh, seriously.” You mutter and quickly run downstairs to the kitchen.

“Hello?” You softly sigh while twirling a piece of your hair around your finger.

“Hello,” some guy’s deep voice greets you, he says nothing else and you tilt your head in confusion muttering a soft ‘yes?’. “Who is this?”

Immediately you frown in confusion and balance the phone between your ear and shoulder, “Who are you trying to reach?” You pop a piece of chicken from your mom’s leftover casserole into your mouth.

“What number is this?”

“Uhh..what number are you trying to reach?”

“I don’t know.”

You hold back a deep sigh and check the time behind you on the clock, you really don’t have patience for this nonsense. Especially for some weirdo who’s either prank calling or just doesn’t know how to work a phone. “Then you have the wrong number,” you eat another piece of casserole, “it happens, take it easy though.” You hang up quickly before he can utter another word to you.

You had just set the phone down when it began to ring all over again, “Ugh…hello?” You stare at the decorative ceiling in annoyance, “Hello?” You say loudly when the other person doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“Why don’t you wanna talk to me? Just wanted to apologize, ‘s all.” He says with a teasing lilt, but it sounds more condescending than anything, “Just wanna..get to know you.”

You ignore the nasty little shiver you get down your spine when he talks to you like that, a deeper part of you is literally drooling over how this guy’s voice sounds but too bad he’s a weirdo though.. Your gut twists uncomfortably as your eyes dart to the side to look out the patio doors. “Okay..well you’re forgiven now, bye.” You go to hang up.

“Wait–if you tell me your name I’ll tell you mine.”

You can’t help your scoff, “Yeah, right. I don’t think so, why the hell would I give you my name? You sound like a total creep right now, you know that?” You huff and open your fridge up for a drink, “Besides, what’s your deal anyways? You keep calling and I’m obviously not who you’re looking for.” You complain while uncapping a bottle of water.

“Because,” he calmly starts, “I wanna know who I’m lookin’ at right now.. Pretty red lips and a tight little uniform on,” he draws out huskily.

You immediately go still, “W-What…how do you..?” you look around the empty kitchen and living room. “This isn’t funny.” You quickly head down the hall to the front door, making sure the locks are set before you go back to the living room and make sure the patio doors are locked as well.

“Never said it was babydoll.” He muses, “Though I do gotta admit, red looks spectacular on you, wonder if you got more around here in your drawers.” He trails off, the sound of drawers slamming close and another opening could be heard on the other side of the line.

You wait with a bated breath listening carefully, you slowly turn your head to look up at the ceiling. There’s a low thumping noise that follows the sounds you hear from the phone. Your eyes slip shut as you try to control the sob that’s about to come out of your throat, “What do you want from me?” You croak in a tiny voice.

“What’s your favorite scary movie sweetheart, hm?” His footsteps are heavy as he starts walking around upstairs in your room.

You blink your tears away and stumble towards the hallway to your only escape route: your dad’s office. “I-I don’t like any scary movies,” you whimper quietly, “p-please, I don’t wanna die.” You sniffle. You can hear him humming in the hallway upstairs now, causing you to duck into the office as silent as you can.

“That wasn’t my question. Time’s ticking babydoll, I’m not exactly a patient guy you know.”

“H-Halloween..!” You whisper-yell, “I like Halloween.”

“Which one?” He asks, you can hear him loud and clear at the bottom of the staircase, “Hm?”

You sniffle softly and back away, “Rob Zombie’s version,” you utter softly and hear him pause in his footsteps. He stands there for a few seconds before he slowly draws nearer and nearer. Your eyes squeeze shut as a terrified whimper escapes your lips, before you can plead with him the door slowly creaks open and a hooded figure stands in the doorway with the phone held up to his ear. You stare at him, the phone slipping from your trembling hand as it slams to the floor with a loud thud.

He tilts his head to the side and raises his gloved hand to wave at you. “Hey there sweetheart,” he purrs from under the mask.

You scream out in fear and knock over the desk chair, you’re lucky as hell your dad has a set of patio doors himself. You slip through the doors and run down the small hill, looking back and forth in time to see the hooded figure chasing after you.

The sounds of leaves crunching and branches snapping fill both sides of your ears. Adrenaline kicks in like never before and has you running the fastest you’ve ever moved in your entire life. If you can lose him in the woods you’ll make it to your neighbors’ in five minutes tops, might even get lucky if you detour to the main road but the hill to climb up will only slow you down.

“Don’t be like that babydoll!” He calls out from your left? Right? You don’t know where his voice is coming from, and quite frankly you’re too scared to look. You hear his heavy footsteps (now) directly behind you before a hand tangles itself in the back of your uniform top, gripping it tight as he stops you from going any further.

The force itself is enough to send you flying to the ground, knees scraping hard against a tree stump. You break your fall with your hands, crying out from the pain that erupts in both palms as tiny twigs and rocks dig into your soft skin. “Gotcha.” He chuckles and squats down to your level to admire your bruised form. You must have gave him a run for his money with how hard he’s breathing under the mask.

“P-Please!” You crawl backwards, back hitting the tree stump, “I don’t wanna die,” you pathetically cry, “I promise I won’t tell anyone if you let me go.” Call it cliche but it was worth a shot to plead with your killer? Stalker? You don’t know anymore.

He tilts his head, “Heard that one before, you’re not the first to beg so sweetly like that babydoll. Almost melts my poor little heart,” he coos mockingly, “but don’t stress your pretty little head over that, you’re not meant to use that brain of yours—meant to sit and look pretty for me.” He purrs and reaches out to run a gloved hand over your dirt stricken thighs.

You curl away and try to escape his touch, “Why are you doing this?” You whimper quietly, watching as his hand rubs circles over your bruised knees. A tremor runs down your spine as his leather gloves run over your shaking thighs, his touch feels scorching hot despite the cool material of his gloves pressing against your skin.

“Been watchin’ ya for a while,” he murmurs, “night n day—just imagining allll the different ways I could have you. Bet you’d look pretty with a mouth stuffed full of cock, wonder how pretty you’d look with cock deep inside your little cunt baby,” he trails off while giving your thigh a rough squeeze, “always did wonder how that pussy tastes.” You can practically picture the shit eating grin he must have under the mask.

You hate that his nasty words have a bubbling heat building in your lower stomach, it shouldn’t be that arousing to you yet here you were in the middle of the woods being fondled by your stalker while he talked about how much he wanted to fuck you. His voice even sounds hotter in person vs the phone.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He chuckles.

You land a harsh kick to his arm with a loud, “Get off of me!” You quickly turn over to stumble to your feet while he curses under his breath and stands to chase after you.

He’s not so gentle this time with the way he snatches you and slams you right up against the tree trunk, letting the chips and splinters bite into your skin unforgivingly. “Thought we were over this,” he growls, “was gonna treat you nice and sweet but by the looks of it you just wanna be tossed around like the filthy little slut you are,” he hisses in your ear while pressing you tight against the tree.

You whine loudly and push back against him in an effort to get him off of you, “Let me go—let go!” You growl angrily, “you’re a fucking psycho creep!” You grit your teeth while trying to turn to look directly at him.

He doesn’t shy away from hurting you to get you to become docile again. He pins both wrists behind your back in a tight grip, squeezing both of your hands until you hear a low threatening pop. A pained little whimper escapes your lip as he forces your head against the bark, “You gonna sit still like a good girl or do I have to tie you up?” He growls menacingly.

“I-I’ll be good!” You cry out as the pain starts to become unbearable.

“What was that?” He whispers in your ear, “Couldn’t hear ya.” He smirks.

A quiet sob slips from your lips as you slump over in defeat, “I-I’ll be a good girl.” You softly reply, too hung up on the pain to reply with the unbridled anger you feel right now. “Just please—let me go.” You sob.

He ignores your cries and instead brings out a rather intimidating looking hunting knife, it cuts into your skin almost right away with the slightest little touch. “Please no—” You immediately begin, thighs shifting as they slide against each other in an attempt to block him from either cutting or stabbing you. The only thing you achieve is the blade running into your thigh and slicing a small line downwards.

“None of that now babydoll,” he whispers while letting your wrists go and setting his big hand over your hip, “just sit still and look pretty for me yeah? Don’t need to think, just feel.” He breathes out as he guides the knife up your skirt, letting the sharp tip (which you noticed was slightly curved like a hook or something) hook under the side of your panties.

Your poor heart hammers in your chest as you begin to hyperventilate, “W-What are you gonna do to me?” The blade tugs at your panties, no doubt already piercing through the flimsy little material.

“Fuck.” You hear him whisper from behind, “You’re driving me fuckin’ crazy you know that?” His tongue clicks in annoyance as he suddenly yanks the knife down, a loud riiip following in suit, as well as your terrified scream/sob. “Gonna have a taste now babydoll, put your hands right there—yeahhh, good girl. Keep ‘em there baby,” he has you bending over with your legs spread wide apart and your hands over the tree, “ ‘s like a fuckin’ dream back here, fat little cunt n a nice ass.” He whistles while smacking his hand against your poor cheek.

You bite your lip as the cool air fans over your moist cunt, at this point in time you have long given up making any excuses as to why your pussy was drooling for this weirdo. Still didn’t mean you were less scared but you figured if you complied the faster things would go over. “Look at this slutty pussy, already leakin’ like a bitch in heat. Does a scary man like me chasing you through the woods get you goin’ sweetheart? Maybe you’re a little more fucked than I thought.” He chuckles.

There’s a brief pause and you wonder what he’s doing back there, so you turn your head to look at him when you gasp softly. He has the mask thrown off to the side, his face in all his glory—messy black hair and a lip ring with an array of piercings on his ears— he sits there with a shit eating grin, “Guess the cat’s out the bag huh?” You eye him with distaste before turning back around, you had at least hoped he was ugly or something.

“God,” he groans, “can’t get over this ass,” he mutters to himself while smacking both cheeks and pulling them apart to expose both of your holes to him, “wanna see it wrapped ‘round my cock, gonna have you squirting and messy babydoll. Might even have to get you on your knees to clean up your mess,” he whispers as his hot breath fans over your pussy lips, “you’re gonna be lookin’ at me with those sweet little eyes of yours too, gonna bust my load all over that pretty face of yours.” His tongue dips between your soft folds, licking from your winking hole down to your swollen little clit hiding under its hood.

Your eyes squeeze shut as his hands steady you by the hips, his face is practically smushed against your cunt as he slobbers over it with his greedy tongue. He sucks on your inner folds, getting every nook and cranny as he slurps up the mess he leaves behind before lapping over your clit with his tongue. Your thighs shake a little, you’ve never had anyone this eager to eat your cunt out like this. He’s a fucking menace and you hate how good he is at this.

“Fuck,” he pants softly, “can’t get enough baby, could eat this pussy for days.” He all but moans while latching on to your clit.

A shocked cry leaves your lips, you dig your nails into the tree bark and hold on tightly as your swollen bud throbs in his mouth. He doesn’t let up, suckling on your clit like a lollipop with just the right amount of pressure around the bud. A new wave of slick gushes from your untouched hole, loud mewls and whines leaving you as you subtly rut back against his face. It’s pure heaven.

He spreads your cheeks apart and pulls back to harshly spit on your cunt, “There you go, get nice n wet for me babydoll.” His hot breath fans over your empty little hole, “Good girl.”

You shouldn’t like the way he’s talking to you, but something about him calling you that has a delirious little whimper leaving you. He dips his tongue into your pussy, the sensation definitely welcomed as you sigh in bliss. His tongue wiggles around and curls upwards to brush over your sensitive walls in a flicking motion.

He jiggles your ass in both hands, moaning at the sight of the fat slipping through his fingers from his tight grip. He flicks his tongue back and forth over your swollen bud, you nearly double over as his tongue traces letters on your clit. “W-Wait,” you bite your lip as your eyes shut and you reach behind you to tangle your hand in his hair.

You freeze when you realize what you’re doing, but instead of getting angry with you he leans into your touch with a low moan. Clearly he loves it so you keep your hand in his hair, occasionally pulling just a tiny bit. When he pulls back to catch his breath, audibly gulping as he sits back on his haunches, “Turn around.” He says breathlessly.

From behind you can hear him shuffling around, the sounds of a belt being unbuckled fills your ears. “On your knees babydoll,” he rasps out while fisting his cock, sliding his thumb over the mess of precum he’s made at the tip of his cock. He’s watching you with dark lust filled eyes as you slowly fall to your knees in front of him, eye contact never wavering.

“Shit—when you look like that you make it harder for me to hold back.” He groans while licking his lip, “Exactly how I imagined you’d look.” He purrs as he brings the head of his cock to smother his precum over them, “Stick your tongue out for me baby—there you go, just like that.” He grins softly.

You lay your tongue flat under his fat cock, delighting in the delicious weight over your tongue. You can’t help but flick the tip of your tongue upwards causing it to brush over a throbbing vein. He releases a quiet hiss, fisting the shaft as he roughly slaps it against your tongue in repeated taps.

“Will you look at that, ‘nother little filthy slut we got here, how many other cocks you sucked huh?” He pushes into your mouth and holds the back of your head with one hand tightly fisted in your hair. You gag around his cock and fruitlessly claw at his thighs, “What’s the matter? Can’t take it? Poor baby can’t handle having a cock stuffed down her throat? Pathetic little thing you are, can’t even do what you were made for,” he rasps out while rolling his hips against your face.

His balls press snug against your chin as spit and drool dribble from the corners of your mouth. Your tears run freely no doubt ruining your makeup for the night, you probably look a hot mess right now. Your stalker moans and pants freely above you, he doesn’t bother hiding how good he feels right now as his cock twitches occasionally. You really lose it when he forces your head down and keeps you still, pelvis pressed right up against your nose as he rolls his hips in quick grinds.

“Oh shit,” he breathes out, “feels so fuckin’ good babydoll, knew you were the one when I first saw you.” He whispers out while slipping his cock out of your mouth, relishing in the gasping noises you make, “Gonna make you into my little cock sleeve, don’t need you doin’ anything else..belong with me right on my cock.” He shoves himself back into your mouth and begins fucking into your throat roughly. You cry and gurgle while weakly slapping your hands over his thighs. He doesn’t let up and only fucks your throat more eagerly.

“Fuck baby, c’mere,” he yanks you off his cock and brings you up to him.

He doesn’t waste time bending you back over the three and shoving his fat cock into you. You let out a loud cry and dig your nails into the tree from the pressure and slight twinge of pain from the size of his girthy cock. It sits nice and snug against your walls, curved slightly upwards to press into your g-spot, not quite hitting it but brushing over it.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper out as your toes curl from inside your shoes.

When a couple more seconds pass of him just idly rocking into you, he pulls all the way out until only the head remains before slamming back in with a loud slap. You jolt in pleasure as a tiny scream escapes, he doesn’t let up and keeps the same harsh pace he started with. His cock punches deep into your pussy, poking at your cervix painfully as you yelp out in pain between your moans.

“Fucking hell,” he moans out while moving his hands from your hips to your bouncing tits, “got a nice little pussy n a pair of pretty tits just for me right sweetheart?” He slaps one of your tits before taking your pebbled little nipple between his fingers and meanly pinching it.

“Mm!” You arch your back and try to twist away from his bruising grip. He manages to grip your other tit and knead it in his big hand.

Loud squelching noises fill the space around you in the woods, some of your slick even drips down onto the ground with tiny wet splats. The sound is filthy and has your face burning up in embarrassment as you hide in your hands with low whimpers and whiny moans. He suddenly changes the angle and begins grinding his fat cock right up against your g-spot, pressing insistently as he hits it over and over again.

“Oh you like it there don’t you sweetheart,” he grins while rolling his hips in slow circles, “go on then, fuck yourself on my cock like the little whore you are. Get that pussy nice and soaked for me.” He growls quietly in your ear while pinching your nipples once more.

A quiet squeal erupts from your throat, you shakily manage to knock your hips into his in a sloppy pace. “Please,” you slur out as your eyes slip shut, “c-can’t do it,” your pace is nowhere near the same as before.

“Can’t what?” He moves one hand down between your thighs, “Hm?”

You press your forehead against the tree bark in defeat, sobbing quietly as you wiggle your hips side to side, “ ‘s not the same, need you to f-fuck me.” You shamefully admit.

“Like this?” He slaps his hips upwards, “Or like this sweetheart?” He purrs and begins plowing into your drenched pussy, stuffing his cock deep inside with every thrust.

You throw your head back with a loud moan, “Yes, yes!” More drool begins slipping from your chin as you part your legs a bit wider and arch your back.

He swears at you from under his breath while rolling your swollen clit between his fingers. The sounds of skin slapping against skin begin louder, his balls collide with your swollen puffy folds and your ass ripples from his pelvis from his harsh thrusts. “Little fucking slut,” he grits out through his harsh punishing thrusts, “fuckin’ mine you hear that? So help me you ever think of looking at someone else I’ll fuckin gut them like a fish n fuck you over their dead body.” He hisses, “Better yet covered in their blood.” He roughly smacks your clit.

You mewl loudly and go still, your pussy pulses like crazy as you feel your orgasm hit you at full force. You cum with your clit trapped between his fingers and his cock stuffed deep. The orgasm is so strong it knocks you off your feet as you wobble and shake like a newborn lamb. “P-Please,” you sob out.

“On your knees,” he growls while slipping from your drenched cunt, “fuckin’ look at me.” He aims his cock at your face and strokes himself with loud slick noises. You stare up at him with a dazed expression, too fucked out to reply. He cums with a low moan, making sure to coat your lips and face with his cum as he taps the head against your cheek, “Fuck…” He sighs in bliss while lazily flicking his wrist.

You blink slowly and the last thing you see is him picking his knife back up.

Jungkook hums under his breath while he lazily digs through his bowl of popcorn, he’s been switching channels for a couple of minutes now. Nothing good is ever on these days, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head while flicking through the channels.

“Oh,” his face lights up in joy, “baby come look at this,” he grins and turns the volume up all the way high, “found somethin’ perfect for movie night.” He turns to look behind him, eyes wild and filled with sadistic joy.

“She was last seen Friday in the evening by her parents who were only going a few towns over to visit family. Her friends have all stated she was supposed to be meeting them that night but never showed, one even said they had spoken to her hours prior about their plans to meet. They said she wasn’t acting suspicious or anything—”

A muffled sob erupts, the sound of a cage rattling heard next as Jungkook slowly turns to look at your cowering form. You look so adorable all curled up in the cage like that, mascara streaking and lips wiped red from your lipstick. “Don’t like that movie?” He pouts, “Pity.” He turns back around and replays the entire missing persons ad.

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[halloween m.list]

#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut

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queenofcoquette · 2 months

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overcoming self doubt

introduction:

self doubt is something we all deal with. it's normal to have it, but when it gets to be a debilitating thing in your life, it's something that you need to work on. self efficacy is the opposite of self doubt- the belief that you CAN accomplish something. the term comes from albert bandura, a psychologist, and he stated that without self efficacy then you can't achieve what you set out to do.

bandura had a lot of beliefs that he believed could improve a person's self efficacy- a lot of it comes from observing other people's success and having positive role models. so i've combined some of those tips with things that've helped my friends and i :)

overcoming:

change your mindset about failures. failure is unavoidable, so it's important to learn to grow from it instead of breaking down. look at what you can do better next time- mistakes and failures aren't a bad thing if you learn from them.

positive affirmations. positive self talk is proven psychologically to make you feel better about yourself. visualizing yourself doing good is also something that helps. just improving your view of yourself and working on fixing your negative thoughts.

learn from others. when you want to improve at something it's great to observe others who are succesful. for example, when i first started swimming competitively i would watch people swim during meets and observe their technique.

pushing yourself out of your comfort zone. truly the only way to overcome your fears is by facing them slowly. i used to be terrified of water, especially deep water- couldnt swim or tread. now i play varsity water polo and have no problem in 13+ ft of water. the only thing that got me over it was being uncomfortable sometimes. ofc know your limits, but slowly work up to overcoming fears.

building self efficacy:

set goals you can measure and goals that're attainable. it's good to dream big but when it comes to goals set things that you won't have to overwork yourself to achieve. things that

break your tasks up into smaller tasks. biting off more than you can chew can just lead to burnout after a while.

being proud of your achievements. always be proud of your improvement, even if it seems small compared to others. remember- other people's journeys aren't pertinent to YOU. you need to measure your own success, not comparing yourself to what/how others are doing.

having good role models. having role models who've worked to achieve what we want can actually improve how well we think we can do at something. if you see someone did something you want to do, then it makes you realize that it IS possible.

conclusion:

it can take a long time to overcome self doubt and begin to feel confident in yourself. what's helped me a lot is just learning from other people and then being grateful when i make progress. i hope these tips help :)

#that girl 2024 #self improvement #self confidence #glow up #that girl #queenofcoquette #pink pilates princess #it girl #healthy habits #self care

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prettygiri222 · 4 months

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Summary: At your boyfriend Onyankopon's backyard pool, what could happen?

Onyankopon x Black Fem Reader SMUT

“girl I wanna handle you, put my hands up on you, baby…” you softly sang while scrolling through your boyfriend Onyankopon’s phone. you were in your own little world, lightly swaying in the water of his backyard pool as you queued up music. you were wearing a sparkly pink bikini that left very little to the imagination, Onya feared that during any little movement, your tits would spill out.

you and Onya hadn’t gone very far in your relationship, the most you’ve done so far was heated make-out sessions. you were a shy little thing when Onya first met you so he didn’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable. he opted to smoke a blunt to calm his nerves tonight, he asked if you wanted a hit but you said no.

instead of feeling relaxed, he became hyper-aware of your second lips slipping out of your bikini. he was trying his best to be respectful and not look but it was so hard, especially when you bent over to shake your ass, making waves in the water when your favourite songs came on.

you were taking sneak peeks at Onya as he smoked on the other side of the pool not wanting you to get a “second hand” high. but the herbal scent still wafted close. your man was so fine, he had a freshly done taper fade that exposed his chiselled jaw. his chest tattoo was on full display and his neck was decorated with a gold chain that held your initials in cursive with a little heart. the reflection of light off of the pool gave his dark skin a glowing hue.

you could feel yourself grow wetter in the pool, your fluid tainting your boyfriend's pool. you looked back down at the phone to distract yourself. but you couldn't help but want to relieve the feeling.

Onya watched you with the gaze of a hunter stalking its prey. he wanted to know what you tasted like, you always filled his nostrils with the sweet scent of cocoa butter. he imagined that you would taste no different.

“when you gon let me eat you out babygirl?” Onya’s husky voice echoed in the empty backyard. your eyes widened in shock at his blunt statement but the words went straight to your core. Onya shocked himself as well, he was thinking about it but he he wasn’t going to say it. you slowly turned around to look at your boyfriend seeing him put out the end of his blunt, he said it so he was gonna stand on it.

“Onya! what are you…” you stopped mid-sentence making eye contact with his red eyes. he was manspreading on the edge of the pool, his wet trunks sticking to his skin exposing his boner but he wasn’t ashamed. he followed your eyes smiling when he found what you were looking at. he jumped into the pool and slowly made his way over to you, holding eye contact till he got too close and you broke it. you looked to the side nervously, your lower stomach was doing flips.

“you ain’t hear what I said?” his usual deep voice sounded hoarse as he whispered in your ear. he pulled back to look at you, loving the way you were turning into putty without him even touching you. you guys were so close but so far, you backed into the wall when Onya came close but he had you trapped now. he let his question hang in the air waiting for your answer.

“I did” you whispered, still avoiding eye contact. he didn’t even have to touch you and you were already losing it. you wanted him so bad, but you were speechless. the tension was so thick it was suffocating.

“you gon let me have a taste?” he asked. you nodded your head, biting your lip. finally, given the green light he’s been looking for, Onya pounced on you, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. he took your ass in his palms, groping you as he pulled you closer. you gasped into the kiss and he used the opportunity to slither his tongue into your mouth. you closed your eyes and wrapped your hands around his neck pulling him in deeper, feeling your tongues mould together.

the spicy taste of the weed was present in his mouth but there was an underlying sweetness of the honey candy he was always sucking. without breaking the kiss Onya grabbed you by the thighs and pulled you onto the ledge of the pool, situating him in between your legs as he stood tall in the pool. he took the chance to grind into you, feeling you melt into the kiss.

your boyfriend's tongue gently sucked on yours swallowing up your moans, it wasn't long till you were out of breath. he felt you pulling back but he grabbed you by the back of the neck so you couldn’t break this kiss. his other hand moved to play with the strings of your bikini at your hips, slowly untying them.

only when he started feeling you gasp for breath he pulled back, breaking the string of saliva between your lips. you looked up at him with blown-out pupils and the view went straight to his dick, your soft lips swollen, your perky nipples from the cool air, your brown skin glistening and the invisible locs that framed your sculpted face. you were perfect in his eyes.

Onya bit his big plump lips as he peeled your bikini off, he was salivating at the thought of finally seeing lil ma. but before he could reveal her you grabbed onto his strong arms and closed your legs.

“wait Onya!” he rolled his eyes but waited for you to speak. “we’re outside, what if one of your neighbours sees us?” you didn’t really care about his neighbours if you were being honest, you just wanted a second to breathe. you’ve never had a guy go down on you so you didn’t know what to expect and you were a little nervous.

Onya didn’t say anything as he got out of the pool beside you and walked over to the towels on the lawn chairs. you looked at his back in worry, did you make him mad? you watched silently as he walked back over to you with an intense burning in his eyes. he wrapped the towel over your wet body before picking you and your discarded bikini up.

you wrapped your legs around his waist shivering at the feeling of the cold night air against your exposed core and his hard-on rubbing against your stomach. he kicked open the glass door and hastily made his way across the living room and into his bedroom. he dropped you softly onto the bed, briefly exposing your lower half before you fixed the towel.

“is this better?” he looked deep into your eyes trying to sense any discomfort. you shuffled under the intensity of his gaze. Onyankopon was always such a gentleman, no matter how heated things got he never went further if you didn’t want to. but you were getting a bit frustrated, it’s not that you never wanted things to go further you just didn’t know how to initiate things.

“I need to hear you say yes baby,” he asked, sensing your hesitation. despite his demeanour, Onya was slowly losing it, he wanted you, no, he needed you. he was desperate to get a taste of you at this point if you said no he could see himself getting on his knees to beg.

“I want you, Onya,” you affirmed, holding his gaze. your boyfriend didn’t waste any more time. he dropped to his knees on the floor and grabbed you by the ankles to pull you toward the end of his king size bed. he was moving like a starved man, he made quick work of the towel and your bra leaving you exposed. but he couldn’t help but stare at you in awe, his beautiful girlfriend bare before him.

“stop staring, it’s embarrassing.” you lightly kicked his shoulder to get him out of his trance. he was staring at your naked body for so long you were starting to feel a little self-conscious. his gaze was intense, you could see the yearning in his deep brown eyes.

“you’re so beautiful, I can't help it.” he smiled up at you before he got to work. Onya grabbed the underneath of your thighs and pushed them up so they were out of the way. exposing your glistening two toned lips.

“shit, you ever touch yourself down here?” Onya hissed looking at your tiny hole. his dick jumped at the sight but he didn't think he would be able to fuck it tonight. it would be a tight fit. he would have to stretch you out and get you used to something smaller first, like his fingers.

“when I think about you,” you airly confessed. you looked up at the ceiling thinking of the countless nights after Onya dropped you home after hours of steamy makeout sessions that led to nothing. where his hands would ghost over your zipper unaware of your throbbing core desperate for his touch. how the thick material of his jeans prevented you from feeling his dick.

when you got home you would busy yourself playing with your little bud. imagining how Onya would fuck you, how he'd fill you up so well. on the days your dripping cunt miserably clenched around nothing, you would shove a finger or two to fulfil your fantasy of your boyfriend pounding into you.

“so you've been holding out on me?” Onya kept a steady hold on your plush thighs while he spread your lips with his right. he was able to witness the clear fluid gushing out of you. he dragged his forefinger around your hole collecting the liquid before pushing his middle finger past your tight muscle. “that's not very nice.”

“Onyaaa” you squealed out gripping the sheets.

“your fucking leaking babygirl” after giving you time to adjust he slowly inserted his ring finger. he loved the way your pink hole readily sucked him in, contrasting against your brown lips. “you a squirter? or you cream?”

“don't know” Onyankopon’s well-manicured fingers were prodding at spots your small fingers couldn’t reach. it had you twisting and turning in the sheets not knowing if you wanted to run away from the onslaught of pleasure or invite more.

“guess we'll both find out,” Onya loved how sensitive you were. when he pulled his fingers out your hips chased after. you let out airy moans and high-pitched mewls when he nudged your delicate spots.

Onyakopon looked up at you relishing in your beauty. your eyes were locked on him now but he could tell you were out of it. your brows were burrowing as you concentrated on the budding sensation on your lower abdomen.

you could feel him spreading you, he was doing a scissoring motion inside you. before you felt him slip a third finger into your dripping wet cunt. this felt way better than when you touched yourself alone.

now able to move his wrists more freely, Onyankopon started to curl his fingers against the roof of your core. goading out more of your translucent sap when he pushed in and out. the sounds of your wetness were mixing in with your moans.

his fingers were drenched. he was drooling just looking at it, he needed to have a taste. this time when he pulled out he removed his hands completely but it was replaced with a warm, wet feeling. you knew immediately that it was his tongue.

“mhmm,” your boyfriend let out a guttural moan at the taste of you. you were like a cold sweet lemonade after a long day of hard work in the sun, delicious. after he delivered a few kitten licks to your slit lapping up your slick he knew he was addicted and craved more.

“i'ma get it wet like a jacuzzi, and sex with me so amazing” rihanna’s song softly rang through the house from the speaker your boyfriend left playing outside due to his haste. but boy was it an understatement.

“ohmygod, Onya!” your hands found themselves on his head when he started suckling at your clit. you were grinding against his open mouth turning into putty from the mind-numbing pleasure.

“don’t stop, please!” you cried out even though he showed no signs of slowing or stopping. he licked from your hole to slit, sometimes dipping his wet muscle in to tongue-fuck you. the way you clenched around it was enough to tell him you were close.

“wasn't planning on it, just hold on for me ok baby?” Onya didn’t give you any time to process what he said before he inserted his fingers back into your soaking pussy. his lips still attached to your swollen nub giving you the best of both worlds. the onslaught of pleasure quickly had your legs begin to shake.

your hands locked into his short kinks grabbing at what you could. “m close, so close Onya” you were fiercely grinding into his face now. Onya loved it, you were using his face to get off like a fucking toy. your eyes were screwed shut as you focused on reaching your peak. you were so close you could taste it. “mhm mhm”

“can I cum Onya? pretty please?” Onyankopon thought it was cute that you thought you needed his permission to cum. even in your desperation, you were being such a good girl for him. so who was he to deny his sweet princess?

“uh huh” Onya didn’t bother to remove his lips to reply, busying himself with your clit while his fingers plunged into your throbbing cunt. the little vibration was enough to send you over the edge. and you plummeted hard.

“Onyaaa” you squealed out as the pleasure flooded your body. leaving your limbs trembling in its wake. “fuck fuck!” Onyankopon removed his mouth from your pulsating clit but focused on riding you through your orgasm with his fingers.

“shit, you do both” Onya ogled at his hands. when he pulled his fingers out they were covered in a creamy white paste. but still, a colourless liquid gushing out from your gaping hole. your empty whole was quivering at the loss of his fingers. your body let out little hiccups in attempt to calm itself.

“Onya…” you opened your eyes to see your boyfriend stuffing his fingers into his mouth. despite your previous orgasm, you felt yourself get wet again watching him lick and suck at the fingers he had shoved in you just a moment ago.

“I can't help myself, you just taste so good.”

#anime smut #aot smut #x black reader #aot x black reader #black reader smut #black y/n #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon smut #onyankopon x reader #black coded reader #fem reader #smut #aot x reader

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surftrips · 6 months

Text

CROSS YOUR HEART AND HOPE TO DIE

pairing: young coriolanus snow x reader

word count: 600+

summary: based on "follow you" by bring me the horizon. young/slightly ooc coriolanus snow finds comfort in y/n's arms.

a/n: yeah, i can't believe i'm returing from my hiatus with a coriolanus snow x reader fic, but here we are. please feel free to send in prompts/requests with him though ;)

"Because I don't want to fucking hurt you.” Coriolanus snapped. "God, half the time, I'm scared I could break you, even though I'm doing everything I can to hold back."

Your boyfriend was having a hard time lately. The anniversary of his father's death was creeping up and you knew he was having those thoughts again.

He had confided in you early on in your relationship his two biggest fears: losing you, and turning into his father. Now, he was spiraling with thoughts of both happening.

"Talk to me," you said, trying to reassure him. The two of you were by the lake, entangled in each other's arms on a blanket.

"I- I just..." he was trying to catch his breath. "I'm so angry all the time and you, you're an angel. You've never done anything wrong in your life. I don't deserve you, I don't know how to not fuck this up."

You couldn't help but smile at his name for you, reaching out to caress his cheek. He leaned into your familiar touch, one of the few things that could calm him down when he was like this.

It was true, he did get mad at the smallest things. Just last week, he got jealous of Sejanus for holding up your skirt as you went down the stairs, even though the two of you were clearly just friends.

And yesterday, he was frustrated with something that happened during training and came back to the cabin furious. You had asked him how his day was, like usual, and he had snapped at you.

"It was bad. Do you have to ask me that everyday?" he retorted, knocking over the items on the shelf closest to him.

But even though he got jealous or angry sometimes, you knew that he was working on it. He always felt awful afterward, and always made sure that you knew how sorry he was. That night, he had drawn a bath for you and even added some wild lavender he found near the water.

"Hey, you know I love you, right?" you said.

He sat up slightly to make better eye contact with you, "I do. But what if that's not enough?"

You frowned, "My love isn't?"

"No, no. I meant what if love, in general, is not enough? What if that's not enough to change my fate? Y/N, you know about my father, he was awful."

"I know, Coryo," you sighed. "But I also know you, and you're a good person. You love me, you love the Covey. You care about me, and your family. You want to be good, and I think that is enough."

Still, he didn't seem convinced. "I hate that I can barely remember him anymore, but he's still haunting me. The rebels that killed him haunt me. What if that happens to me?"

"Stop. No one here is going to do that, they know you're on our side. Don't you see? You're trying so hard to not be like your father, but you don't have to try to be good. You just are, deep-down in here," you pointed to where his heart is. "You are."

He leaned down now to pull you into a kiss. "Angel, can you promise me something?"

"What is it?"

"Promise me you'll never leave my side."

"Coryo, you could drag me through hell if it meant I could hold your hand. I will follow you to the ends of the earth. We're in this together."

That seemed to please him, finally. He wrapped his arms tighter around you and pulled you to lay back down with him. The two of you stared up at the stars, each silently wishing for this to work out.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus x reader

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redeyerhaenyra · 5 days

Text

Divine Hammer

Summary: You bring up something new to Simon. He's more enthusiastic than you expected.

Warnings: What else but smut, HEAVY UK slang usage (me and si come from the same area of England our slang is v similar) Simon slaps reader once, fem reader, oral(f), fingering in BOTH holes, pussy juice as lube, anal duh, simons fat cock, sprinkling of a size kink, mean Simon, kitchen sex mmm, no beta we die like soap (sorry), lmk if I missed anything!

Notes: Listen the taboo of anal just gets me going alright , also this has been in my drafts since JAN 9TH help

Wc: 2.5k

Simon's stare was unnerving. Well, it was always unnerving, to a degree. But he found ways to utilise it. Deadpan humour, emphasising points of conversation, scaring away would-be hookups from you in the pub. But here, it was unnerving in a whole other way.

It felt… intrusive.

Simon stared at you like he could see through your clothes, your body, into your mind to expose your deepest darkest fantasies. You squirmed under his penetrating gaze, tugging at the hem of your jumper.

After a little while of silence, you shook your head, scoffing at yourself;

“-No, nevermind um.. I'm.. s-sorry that was weird-” “Didn’ say tha’ ”

You gulped, gaze nervously fixed to the floor. Simon was still. Staring. At you. Never before had you felt so exposed, too embarrassed and, if you were honest, a little scared to look at your boyfriend face-on.

“Was just wonderin’ since when my bird was such a slag.”

His baritone words rolled down your spine, sending sparks of a deep, taboo satisfaction through you. You whimpered, and hid your face in your hands.

“Don’ act like a prude love, we both heard what you wanted just now.” “I shouldn't have said anythinnnggg-”

Conceptually, anal had… a certain taboo charm to it. From your perspective at least. Sure, it wasn't technically the “right” hole… it wouldn't feel the same, but the idea had always fascinated you.. intruded your shadowed thoughts at night with your fingers rubbing your clit and edging nervously to an opening further on than your cunt.

So, gently, you'd broached the topic one time you were both in the kitchen together- thinking, in hindsight foolishly, that it'd be something he'd instantly dismiss, or at least… talk about later. In the bedroom. Not in the middle of the kitchen… but now here you stood, in the hole you'd dug for yourself;

“On the contrary, I'm relieved you've finally admitted it to yourself.” His footsteps were heavy against the floorboards as he approached you. Confused, you peeked out of the gaps between your fingers to look at him;

“W-what?” “Don't be fuckin’ coy w'me love.” Simon towered over you, cadging you next to the kitchen side.

“Always suspected there was some depraved shit up here, yeah?” He poked your temple with his index finger, “Turns out my intuitions were correct then?”

“T-thats not-” “Oh yes it is sweet’art.” Simon's eyes grew more intense by the second, even more than before- you struggled to even picture them in your mind for fear of his retribution.

“Ay- fuckin’ look at me when I'm talking to ya.”

He could have been a lot harsher with the small smack he delivered to your cheek, but that knowledge did nothing to dull the pain, and your eyes watered a little at the sensation. He grabbed your cheeks between his fingers, squishing them till you pouted and shaking your head lightly, as if to keep hold of your attention.

As if you could look anywhere else…

Forced to return his ferocious gaze, you crumbled, knees bucking like a fawn under you- Simon grabbed you and roughly hauled you back up, manhandling you to bend over the kitchen counter. You allowed him to, biting your lip in an attempt to muffle your unintentional sounds of appreciation.

It earned you a harsh smack to your rear, and Simon's big paw of a hand tugging your hair. He leaned over you, “ ‘M not ‘avin any of tha’ yeah? You're not gonna be hidin’ how much of a slut you are from me anymore sweet'art.”

The juxtaposition of his words and the way he sweetly kissed your temple after he said them was almost comical. The grip on your hair disappeared, replaced with firm and consistent pulling at your clothes until you shuffled out of them- Simon wasted no time running his warm hands up and down your body, rumbling out various admirations of your physical form.

He slunk down your body, nipping and pressing hot, open mouthed kisses down your back, and then to each of your cheeks, all the way down to your pussy. Earlier on, when you'd ridden yourself of your panties, Simon had laughed at how wet they were. “Already?” He'd asked, “Y'that turned on already? Whore. Like a bitch in heat f'me, ey?”

He had no further comments to mock you with, not now at least. He was busy approving of the view of your wet cunt in front of him- out of the corner of your eye you spied him nodding to himself as if he were appraising fine art.

You huffed, a little impatient, petulant you wiggled your bum at him- only all you got from him was another spank.

“Be patient.” He said curtly.

You whined, but otherwise did as you were told, meekly resigned to your fate as Simon's personal eye candy.

“Why ya’ into it then?” You made a noise of confusion, Simon huffed.

“This.”

One of hands had moved to idly grope and squish your bottom while he'd been down there, and now his thumb creeped ever so slowly over to press on your rim. You keened- suddenly understanding what he meant.

“Well?” His thumb pressed in deeper, you gasped- “I-i don't know!” “Hmmm…”

You could tell from his tone he didn't quite believe you. He kissed your cheek again.

“I'm sure I'll find out.”

With that said, his thumb remained almost gently rubbing at your hole, his free hand moving to pull his balaclava up over his nose- wasting no time in burying himself in your cunt. He sighed contentedly at the taste, smell, feel of you, lazily lapping at your cunny with his broad tongue. His thumb still rubbing you in slow circles, almost.. in a comforting manner.

There was no one more intimidating than Simon- at least out of all the people you've ever met, and yet here he was, eating your pussy like it was a home cooked, three-course meal. You looked over your shoulder, and bit your lip; The visual of big bad Simon Riley on his knees for you, make you shiver and clench.

Simon seemed to be secretly a telepath however, as the way he suddenly roughly pinched your clit between his index finger and thumb- tugging on it cruelly, came off as a punishment. You whined loudly, panting into the counter, drooling a little. Vaguely, you could hear Simon humming thoughtfully to himself. He released his hold on your poor clit, though quickly replaced it by rubbing small, soothing circles on it instead.

It quite quickly becomes a lot more intense, Simon grunting in approval as he plunges his thick tongue into your cunt. Your breathing is staggered, coming out in short, little huffs- you reach behind you to tug at Simon's head, shoving him closer. Again, he groans in appreciation, eagerly nuzzling between your thighs closer, the rhythm of his tongue and fingers rubbing at your clit increased a hundredfold;

Like lighting, your orgasm crashed through you, the noises that left your pussy- wet, squelching, the drip of your juices against the floor, should surely have had you feeling at least some shame, but no. You were too twitchy, too fucked stupid on Simon's tongue to care.

With much reluctantance, Simon hauled himself off of your puffy pussy. He'd gladly stay nestled between your kegs for the rest of him life, at least from further away, he could admire his work.

At this point, you thought perhaps he'd finally get to the meat of what you'd suggested.. Simon wasn't finished yet though- two of his deliciously thick fingers were swiftly shoved into your sopping pussy.

You cried out at the sudden penetration, shivering and trembling.

“What? ..silly cow.” Simon told you gruffly, somewhat annoyed that you'd dare disturb his probing at your cunt with your exclamation of surprise. You whined at his degradation, but were still coherent enough to recognise the underlying affection in his tone. Huffing, you leaned forward to lay your torso fully on the cold, sideboard. The cool temperature of the marble was sharp and sudden, but soon soft and gentle to your hot body, palliative to your hard, puffed up nipples.

He lazily pumped his fingers inside you for a few moments, before curling his fingers forward, dragging against that spongey spot deep within you, and eased his fingers out of you.

You were left huffing and panting like an animal into the counter- Simon had cupped his two fingers- the ones that was just inside of you- just under your clit.. then abruptly he slid them upwards, slowly, pressing down hard.

You squeaked, struggling not to quiver too hard. Simon's fingers kept creeping up and up and up, gliding firmly over your cunny, finally halting at your rim. The hot, wet sensation of Simon rubbing your own slick into your hole as lube had you trembling.

“How's tha?” You heard Simon mumble from behind you, his accent had gotten a little thicker. It always got thicker when he was “in the zone”.

“Oh.. uh..” Seemingly irked by your lack of response, your boyfriend slapped your clit harshly with the back of his hand.

“G-good!! It's good! Good!!” You choked, and whined again when you heard Simon chuckle lowly at you. He tapped his fingers twice on your hole- you nodded shyly at him;

Simon hummed, cautiously easing one of his broad fingers covered in your slick into your ass. The noise of utter debauched pleasure you let escape your throat was nothing compared to Simon's groan-

“Oh fuck that's tight..”

God it was, you felt how hard your greedy hole swallowed up his thick finger. You huffed and puffed- vainly attempting to breath consitently, but your body was too sensitive, muscles pulled too rigid inside you to keep your thoughts on one thing alone.

Simon was your rock, somewhere in the thousands of feelings inside you, was a certainty that he was holding back. Taking it slow, just for you.

You felt the hazey cloud of sex overwhelm you, rendering you more or less unable to speak, only babble incoherently into the counter, your pretty eyes filled with tears as Simon took his sweet, sweet time opening you up.

By comparison to how rough the pads of his digits were, they were remarkably soft with you, even as Simon squeezed one more of his fingers in you. You coughed and hiccups at the fullness of it.

“Tha's it.. good girl.. cmon.. open up luv.. there we go..”

You head him whisper, and you moaned impatiently. You wanted to politely express your readiness for his dick, but all the you were able to whine out was “C-cock-!”

Simon laughed, which was always a nice, comforting rumble. “I know sweet'art, gotta get you a little looser f'me first yeah?”

Even as you keened and begged, Simon would not budge. Occasionally, if he was feeling particularly mean in that moment, he'd flick your poor clit harshly, you'd squeal and twitch. This continued for a while, and by the time he deemed you “ready” you might have passed out, the electric fizzles of pleasure that sizzled between your legs kept you awake.

Simon could tell you were tired, he was gentle with the way he slipped his hand under you tummy to push your bum in the air, and tender with how he cradled your hip. Your clit was kindly soothed with slow, small circles rubbed in by his middle finger.

You sobbed into the side- “cock…” you babbled, sniffing and feeling sorry for yourself. You felt a kiss to the base of your neck;

“Mmmm.. I know baby, I know, m' so mean aren't I?”

Vaguely, you heard yourself murmuring in agreement. The metallic sound of Simon's belt loosening and then his zipper coming down had warm excitement flutter over your body.

You felt the heat of his dick before it even touched you, whimpering when it finally did. Simon rubbed his thick cock up and down the apex of your thighs, right up to hole and then back down to your clit. When you would whine at him, he'd hum right back.

God, he was so much bigger than you. He leant over you and covered your entire body with his bulk. You felt him throb at your rim. A kiss was levied at your neck- “Y’ready?” He asked, voice low, and you babbled back something that sounded like impatience. Simon chuckled and kissed your neck again, bracing one strong arm against the counter next to you.

All of a sudden he was inside you, not all the way but he was inside you and that's all you could think about. You gasped, inadvertently holding your breath and then once more remembering to breathe. Simon had stayed silent throughout this.. you reached backwards for him with one hand;

“Si?” “Y-yeah, yeah m’here, g’ve us a minute love-”

His voice came out ragged and shaky, and from the sounds of it he was doing the same forgetting-to-breath thing you were.

You both needed occasionally little breaks from him sliding his cock inside you this time, either of you would cum too quickly. But soon, all of him was pressed snugly inside you. You drooled on the counter and Simon's head had dropped to rest on your back, taking slow, steady breaths, grounding himself.

The both of you stayed like this for a while. It was almost peaceful. Soft. Till Simon decided he was fine to move and dragged his dick alllllllll the way back out and then in again in one thrust. It left you choked for breath, Simon too, he was more vocal this time than any other time you'd fucked.

Neither of you lasted long, specially not after your boyfriend had clasped his big paw of a hand under your leg, and lifted it up onto the counter next to you, an entirely new and more intimate angle. You were cumming before you even realised Simon had crept his hand down to pinch your clit. He was so mean about it too- that same hand then came up to shove to of his fingers into your mouth, creating a spit-slicked mess. And when he came it was an event:

He threw his head back and moaned more desperately than you'd ever heard from him before. The rhythmic squelch that narrated your encounter kept going even after he'd cum, if anything it was louder now. His and your cum dripping down out of you and puddling on the floor beneath you. Still, meekly, Simon kept thrusting into you, as if the orgasm was too good to end. Though finally it did, Simon's weight all but collapsing ontop of you.

You stayed like that for a while, still connected. Basking in your respective afterglows. Simon kissed your neck again and you croaked out a satisfied noise;

“Fun..” The man behind you laughed, “Yeah fun was it? Just fun eh? Just fun~?” Cruelly he reached under you to tickle your sides- you squealed; “More than f-fun!!” and that seemed to sate him, releasing you.

“Yeah, s’what I thought…..” He drummed his fingers on the counter..

“Bath?” “bath….”

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #ghost cod #codmw2 smut #cod mw2

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macfrog · 1 month

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san angelo | one shot

what happens when joel miller meets his star-crossed lover?

big love to @mrsmando and @5oh5 for cheering me on with this one, and @bageldaddy for being my eyes, my ears, and - only sometimes - my brain.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader summary: it's the summer of two thousand eight. after two weeks following his little brother cross-country on the back of a harley, joel follows him through the doors of a dive bar - where fate delivers him to you. warnings: story is inserted into canon, so cordyceps outbreak happens, sarah dies (off-page), joel dissociates, doomed love, lots of mention of fate, alcohol consumption, reader is a smoker, cursing, drunken one-night stand, oral sex, unprotected piv, joel's cock is massive, a lot of angst, a lot of fluff, a lil smut to tie it all together. enjoy! word count: 9.8k

moodboard | main masterlist | playlist [in case you wanna vibe in sad] | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🤍

Palm lines.

It’s the first thing he thinks as soon as she stops moving in his arms. The second her little whimpers cease, the moment her chest stops heaving and her eyes glaze over. Suddenly, Joel’s little girl weighs more than he can bear.

Palm lines. And he has no fucking idea why.

He closes his eyes and there you are. The whir of the ceiling fan, the tinkling of bracelets loose on your wrist. You have sorta earth hands, you told him. Or, well – they could be water, if you look at ‘em this way. I don’t really know. I’m still learning.

You told him that air hands were long, spindly. And Sarah was always a lanky kid – tallest on the soccer team, head and shoulders above the other girls by the third grade. Her hands, he thinks, must be air. They must be.

Her fingers are still twisted around his right now. Lifeless, slippery with the blood still wet and quickly cooling.

Joel cradles her, squeezing so hard that he wonders whether he might be able to fuse their bodies together. Lock them in some white-knuckle grip so that he never has to let go of her – never has to leave this hill covered in dirt and blood.

His palms are ruined; a maroon river carving its way down his heart line, dirt deep in the groove of his life line. Why does he even fucking remember what they’re called?

Why the fuck are you what he’s thinking about, right now?

“Tommy,” he says, opening his eyes again. “We gotta…we gotta get to…”

She’s limp, draped over his thighs as though she’s nothing more than a stretch of crimson curtain. He looks down at her and begs her to come back, begs her to open her eyes and look up at him again.

But the night is passing and she’s still not breathing. Dawn is breaking and Joel’s daughter is dead.

He sucks in a shattered breath. “…to San Angelo, Tommy.”

The younger Miller stuffs his gun into the back of his jeans and paces over, soles coated thick in shit and grass. “I hear you, Joel.”

“You ain’t listenin’ to me, I –”

“I’m listenin’ fine, Joel.” Tommy hooks his hands under his niece’s arms. “Now, help me lift her. We can’t…” his voice strains, fighting the death grip his brother has on the girl, “…we can’t leave her here.”

Joel’s frozen to the spot; sinking further and further into the earth. Staring at his open hands, the stains like rust on his palms. He says to San Angelo again, and Tommy snaps.

“Jesus, Joel, enough! I’ve heard enough goddamn it! I see your hands, now – we gotta fuckin’ bury Sarah.”

Your fate line, your nail tickled, and Joel held his hand steady, It can change, if something big is coming.

Somethin’ big? he asked. A little younger, a lot more naïve. Still a healthy dose of belief in the world, an echo of the god-fearing faith that raised him.

His hand felt so light, cradled in two of yours. He half hoped he’d never have to let go – just lie there with you forever. Your legs tangled with his, the sheets disturbed; the room injected with amber from the streetlights outside.

You nodded. A big shift, or something.

And he scoffed. He actually scoffed, right there and then. Incredulous. The hell kinda big shift is comin’ our way? he asked, laughing.

You just smiled back, shrugging. You were so fucking casual, that whole night. It would’ve unnerved him, if he hadn’t been so swept off by the sparkle in your eye, the glowing cherry of your cigarette.

Guess we just gotta wait ‘n see.

It’s August thirtieth, two thousand eight.

Almost five thousand miles on the back of a Harley, and Joel just wants to go home.

He arches his aching back, palms flat against the crests of his hips, and blinks in the light from the food mart in front of him. Twenty-six, he thinks to himself, only twenty-fuckin’-six.

It’s ninety degrees out. An uncomfortable heat, for a man who feels ten years older than he really is. For a man who hasn’t had a decent shower in almost two weeks. For a man who’s spent the last six hours tailing the brake lights of his little brother’s bike.

The sweat gathers sticky between his shoulder blades, prickles along the nape of his neck. There’s dust spattered down his bare arms and buried in the grooves of his knuckles.

He’s tired. He’s tired, he’s dirty, and goddamn, he wishes he was back home.

He holds a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun, the yellow sky melting to a purple haze. Squinting, he follows the soar of two swallows overhead, looping through the sky, until he’s rubbing the image from his eyes with the back of his wrist.

He’s gotta remember to call Sarah before she goes to bed.

The door opens with the tinkle of a brass bell older and rustier than Joel feels. A swaggering figure splits the glow from the store in two – a figure with a pack of Marlboros in one hand and an already half-empty bottle of water in the other.

Tommy holds them both out to Joel, who swipes the water with a scowl.

“Ain’t killed you yet, brother,” Tommy scoffs, stuffing the cigarettes into his back pocket. He swings a frayed-denim leg over the seat of his Harley.

Joel drains the bottle, panting as he crushes the plastic in one fist. “Damn near tryin’,” he mutters, tossing it in the trash. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip.

“Where are we?” Tommy asks. He glances over his shoulder, staring from the cracked roads to the telephone wires overhead. A Syclone pulls into the lot; a dehydrated squeal as it rolls to a halt.

“San Angelo,” Joel says. “Only a few more hours to go.” He settles on his own bike, pulling his leather jacket over his shoulders. “We passed a Super 8 coming into town, if you feel like restin’ up. Or – we leave now, be home around midnight.”

Tommy chuckles. “What’s the rush? We ain’t gotta be anywhere anytime soon.”

And Joel agrees – for the most part.

His mom is watching Sarah while they’re gone, and he reckons she’s hardly missing him. Too smart for her own good, Joel’s realizing: plotting and scheming her way into staying up past her bedtime, drinking Pepsi at dinner, watching Curtis and Viper – and swearing that her dad lets her do it all, too.

But, still. He misses his kid.

It’s the most they’ve ever been apart – time or distance. The longest he hasn’t had her climbing up his back or hanging off his arm. The least he’s been called Dad since he was eighteen years old.

He just…misses his kid.

He sighs, drumming his fingers on the body of the bike. “Tommy, I gotta get back home to Sarah.”

“Look,” Tommy says, and Joel knows that the argument is lost already, “By the time we got back, she’d be asleep anyways. Let’s leave in the morning – first thing, I swear – and we’ll be home in time for breakfast. Deal?”

They stare at one another, a stand-off in the parking lot. Both waiting for the other to break. The swallows gather on the roof of the store, basking in the weak wash of flickering fluorescents.

“Come on, brother,” Tommy pleads, “It’s one more night.” He lifts his helmet, punching it over his mop of shaggy hair, and kicks the bike to life.

Joel growls to himself, watching it drift over to the side of the road.

He considers heading to the Super 8 alone, grabbing a room only to shower and get some food, then hitting the road and leaving his little brother in the dust. Waiting for him to stumble through the door tomorrow morning – tired, groggy, probably hungover – while Joel, fresh as a daisy, drizzles syrup over Sarah’s pancakes and pours her orange juice.

He’s a pragmatic man. He’s a grown-up. Scares away the ghosts and ghouls and monsters of his daughter’s nightmares. Shushes her back to sleep in the crook of his arm, tiptoes as lightly as he can out of her room so as not to wake her.

Things like God, like the universe, things like horoscopes and laws of attraction…for the most part, Joel can do without them. Has done his whole life.

But then – the glow of indigo overhead, and the mysterious shadows lurking behind the buildings. The birdsong tittering in his ears, the twinkle of the sun in Tommy’s helmet – something distant in the dusty sphere.

Something, someone, winking at him from far away.

Something a little heavier than the breeze nudges at his spine, and Joel’s arms lift – fitting his own helmet over his head. He swings the heel of his boot into his kickstand and revs the bike, Harley roaring as it joins Tommy’s out on the boulevard.

Murphy’s is a small, green bar on the corner of an intersection. All peeled paint lettering and buzzing fluorescents – the y burnt out and pulsing.

Joel doesn’t think Tommy picked it for any reason other than the huge Lone Star mural on the side of the goddamn building, the way he tosses his thumb to it as they park up. A squint smirk on his face, muttering something like ‘s good to be home, big brother, as they hook helmets over handlebars.

Tommy leads Joel inside, their boots tacky on the wooden floor. Walls paneled by aged frames and sun-bleached photographs; air hanging thick with a smell like vinegar. The babble of slurred conversation is pierced by the sharp crack of pool balls breaking.

Metal-plate belt buckles snaked through strained jeans; low eyes which shift to size-up the two strangers. They all turn back to their fingerprinted glasses when Joel and Tommy settle into an empty booth.

It feels hotter in here than it is outside, stuffier. A thick humidity which clings to Joel’s bones, humming like the string lights draped from beams above his head.

Tommy reclines between the creaking leather cushion and the wall. He pokes at a yellowing poster of some Western, hums to himself, and then looks across the table.

Joel’s eyes loop once around the room before they meet his brother’s. “What?” he asks.

“First round is yours, old man.”

“Oh, is it, now?” He cocks an eyebrow. “Thought this was your idea?”

A weedy grin stretches across Tommy’s lips. He needs to fucking shave, Joel thinks. Whiskers poking from around his small mouth like pine needles. “’s my birthday trip,” he reasons.

And can Joel argue with that? Does he have the fucking energy? Will it get him out of here and back to Austin any quicker?

“Goddamn it,” he grumbles. He pushes himself to his feet, heels of his palms against the tacky wood.

He wanders over to the bar, tugging on the front of his tee to unstick it from his damp chest. Slots in beside an ivory cowboy hat with a pair of jeaned legs. The man fixes his bolo tie and watches Joel’s hand as he flags the bartender down.

And then he feels it.

You.

Then he feels you.

First, the weight of you – crashing some into his back. He shunts forward from the suddenness of it, knocking his ribs against the bar, and lifts a hand to brace himself on the ledge.

And then – heat, like an iron. Like every hair and freckle on your skin is branded into his the second you come into contact with him. A feeling like the roll of a wave against his spine, a hand hooked around his forearm when he begins to turn.

“Shit,” you hiss, steadying yourself on the curve of his shoulder. You glance down at your feet, clicking between your black boots. “I’m sorry, that was…that was my bad.”

“’s alright,” Joel says instantly. He holds his arm still until you let go and he sidesteps – though only a little. He watches, dumbstruck, as you rest your elbows on the bar and lean forward. His eyes linger on your back, trailing the crisscross straps wrapped tight over your spine.

You squint up at the menu pinned above shelves of crystal bottles. Your eyes move back and forth across the chalkboard, slowly descending until they’re meeting his in the speckled mirror opposite – a sweet smile growing on your lips.

It runs like whiskey through Joel’s veins: warm and dangerous.

And the way his head spins, the way the world blurs for a moment into one swipe of color around you; the way your cooing laugh echoes between his ears long after he’s heard it –

Joel’s already intoxicated.

He’s still staring when you pull back and motion to the bar. “You can go first, by the way,” you say, waving a hand. “I wasn’t cuttin’ in line. Just trying to read the drinks.”

“I’ll wait,” he replies, remembering how to be polite, how to be charming. Old cogs long out of use jerking to life inside him again. “Can’t read any of ‘em, either, anyways.”

It draws from you that same little laugh, a puff of air from your nostrils. You nod, biting your bottom lip.

He’s quickly forgetting why he’s stood in this room, why he’s in this city. He’d probably forget his own fucking name if you asked him right now what it was.

“’nother drink, darlin’?” a low voice interrupts, and you’re turning away.

Joel’s eyes follow you – a moth chasing something golden and radiant – as you face the wiggle of a snow-white mustache poking from beneath the brim of that ivory cowboy hat.

You shake your head, lifting two fingers with a bill slipped between them. “I’m good, thanks, George. Maybe next round.” You wave to the kid behind the bar – some name that Joel’s too fucking mindless to hear. Too distracted by the glint in your eye, the sparkle of your crescent moon earrings in the light.

If only he knew this feeling. If only he could put a name to it. As familiar as the sun and yet, brand new like dawn. His stomach swirls in a fleet of butterflies – as though he’s fifteen again, bumping elbows with his high school crush.

You nudge him, thumb pointing in the direction of the bartender.

Joel shakes his head. “Ladies first,” he says, heart skipping when you hold his stare.

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head, “Told you I ain’t jumping in.”

He asks the guy for two beers, barely taking his eyes off you. “Alright,” he leans in, lowering his voice, “Then let me buy you a drink. Make up for gettin’ in your way just then.”

You prop your chin on your knuckles, grinning as you push your twenty around the wooden bar top, dodging pooled rings of alcohol like it’s an arcade game. “I don’t do that,” you say, eyes tracing the slick trail left by the bill.

“Do what?”

“Accept drinks from strange men in bars.”

His tongue presses against the back of his teeth, the taste of humor honey-sweet. “Yeah? ‘n how long have you known…” he nods to the – what is he, sixty? Sixty-five? – year-old on your right, “…George?”

Your gaze lifts, eyes wide. Apparently as impressed by Joel’s confidence as he is himself. “We’re actually in a very serious relationship. Marriage proposal imminent.”

“Damn,” he mutters as the bartender reappears with two Coors, “And here I thought I had half a chance.”

You hum to yourself, studying him. Looking from his jaw across the span of his shoulders, his wide-knuckled hands and then back to his lips. Curious and wary, judging the strange animal stood before you.

And he knows he’s weathered from the weeks on the road, and all the years before that. Dirt under his nails and the light sheen of sun on his forehead. The flecks of gray through his thick, brown beard.

You take a deep breath, eyes twinkling, and tell him, “I’m here with my friend.”

“Ain’t that lucky?” Joel glances at Tommy. “I’m here with my brother.”

You look across to the dirty blond, sat tilting a glass candle in his hand. “He single?”

Joel nods. “Is she?”

You nod.

“Alright. You wanna come sit with us?”

Your smirk answers his question. You take the beers, rings clinking off the glass. “Rum,” you call over your shoulder, wandering off, “I drink rum.”

Joel’s gaze lowers to the sway of your hips. “Rum it is,” he says, turning back to the bar.

“So…a cross-country bike trip, and you wound up in San Angelo?”

You’re on your fourth drink, the first one Joel hasn’t paid for – and he only allowed it because it’s a Diet Coke (and maybe you got to the bar first, held his wrists with one hand so he couldn’t stop you from slapping your own money down).

“Yep,” Joel replies, pinching the lime from his drink and dropping it onto a napkin. “Just passin’ through. Shower, sleep, then head on home.”

“Where’s that, then? Home?”

“Austin.”

“Austin,” you pout, “Nice.”

Joel smirks, licking citrus from his fingertips. “Is it?”

“I’ve never been to Austin,” Brooke chirps, fiddling with the umbrella in her piña colada. She twirls the paper canopy and glances up to Tommy.

He snaps out of his slack-jawed gaze when he realizes what she’s implying. “Oh – yeah, well…” his head wobbles as he stutters, “…you two ever come down that way, we’d be happy to, uh…show ya ‘round, huh, Joel?”

Joel doesn’t reply, staring back at his brother with the same amused expression you are.

You’ve been an inch apart all evening – doused in the dive bar darkness, the shrouded conversations and muffled TV static. The tip of your nose and curve of your shoulders lit only by the luminous signs dotting the walls.

Tommy and Brooke are already deep in conversation again about the best car Tommy ever owned. Joel watches as your eyes flit between the pair, entertained by the way they trip over each other’s sentences. Your cheeks lift when Brooke lays a hand over Tommy’s, and he squeezes her fingers back.

Where did you come from? Joel’s thinking. He takes a swig of his whiskey, feeling your eyes on him. As he lowers his glass, you lift yours. When he turns in his seat towards you, you’re already facing him, back against the wainscotting. He smiles, and so do you.

Every movement feels choreographed, some merry dance only you two know. You’re in your own little world.

Where did you come from, again, and where have you been my entire fucking life?

“So, what about you?” Joel asks instead, swallowing – all warm-bellied and brave. “You grow up here?”

You shake your head, taking another sip. “Nope. Just liked it enough to hang up my coat for a few months. I grew up in Phoenix.”

“You travel a lot?”

“I’ve been around. This is the longest I’ve stayed in one place since I was a kid.”

He thinks of home: of Austin and its silver-snake river, burnt-orange jerseys and the pleated bunting lining Sixth Street. He thinks of late nights on lawn chairs, nursing a beer and shooting the shit with his brother. Keeping their voices lower than the buzz of the cicadas, looking more at the dusky sky than at each other.

“You don’t ever get tired of it?” Joel asks. “Of moving around so much?”

You scoff, breath clouding the inside of your glass. “Three weeks on a motorcycle starting to get to you, huh?”

He breathes a laugh, loose again. The cicadas fade from his ears.

Your head tilts in a shrug. “I don’t know. I guess the universe keeps on surprising me.”

Joel doesn’t do this. At least, he hasn’t done this since he was a teenager – crate of beer under his arm and a chest full of courage. He’s long forgotten the feeling of heat blooming in his cheeks, the twitch of his heart anytime you look at him.

But fuck, if there isn’t something about you. Something in the way you move, the way you look at him. Something in the way you play with your straw, knocking ice cubes around and chewing on the plastic once you’ve drained the glass.

Something – though it’s a little too early and Joel’s a little too tipsy to tell just what. He tries to remember that he’s pragmatic. A grown-up. He chases away the monsters in his daughter’s –

“Oh, shit,” Joel says suddenly, scrambling to pull his cell from his pocket. It’s nine thirty. He was supposed to – “I forgot…”

A miserable tone from his Motorola cuts him short. The screen flashes an empty battery before fading to black. He jams a thumb into the keypad a couple more times, cursing at the winking symbol.

“Someone you gotta call?” you ask.

He meets your eye and winces. “Yeah, I’m…I said I’d call an hour ago.”

“You wanna use mine?” You twist around, fishing in your purse for your own. “We can go outside.”

“No, no, it’s…it’s alright, I’m sure she won’t mind, she –”

You shake your head. “Shut up. Come on, let’s go. I could use some fresh air, anyways. Be back in a minute,” you tell Brooke – who nods and turns straight back to Tommy.

Joel extends his hand to help you out of the booth, then follows you to the door. The cool air tugs every nerve in his body to attention, pin-sharp when he steps out of that lazy heat. Under the emerald glow of the Murphy’s sign, he settles his glass on a window ledge. “Next round’s on me, alright?”

You roll your eyes, pushing the phone against his chest. “Just call, Joel.”

One last apologetic glance, and then he’s dialing. He makes to wander along the curb, the tone already pulsing in his ear, when he notices –

“You ain’t brought a jacket?”

You’re sitting on the ledge, clutching your elbows. Swatting midges from the light you’re bathed in, charms on your bracelets jingling. “Hm?”

He tuts. “A jacket. Here.” He shrugs his own off, sitting it around your frame. It’s warm from the bar and from Joel’s body heat, and you sink into it – letting the dark leather drown you as you rummage through your purse again.

“Nice,” Joel’s eyes narrow, “Fresh air.”

You hum into your hands, flicking your lighter. The cigarette trembles when you murmur, “We all got our skeletons, I guess.”

He turns on his heel when a familiar voice picks up.

“Hey, hey, M–Yeah, sorry it’s late…Yeah, we got held up. My phone died, so I’m using…Is she still–? Can I–? Oh, Sarah. Hi, baby.”

His little girl begins chattering down the line immediately, telling Joel everything she’s been up to since they last spoke this morning.

“…and then, Emily thought I was one of the Armadillos – I don’t even know how, ‘cause they play in red, remember Dad? – but she did, and she slide tackled me so bad that Coach Thomson had to sub in Akari for me so I could ice my ankle. Grandma was kinda mad about it, but she took me to Burger King after to cheer me up, and…”

Joel wanders back and forth, smiling to himself and scuffing the heel of his boot along the concrete – barely able to squeeze more than two words between her chirping. It’s all, Yeah, baby? and Wow, sweetheart; all uhuhs and mhms until she finally quietens, excitement plateauing again.

“Alright, well. You know what time it is, right?”

“Yeah,” Sarah groans. She knows it all too well.

Bedtime.

“…But you didn’t call when you said you would, Daddy, and it’s Saturday, it’s –”

“I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry. Just…somethin’ came up. But I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Where’s Uncle Tommy? Can I talk to him?”

Joel turns to face the bar. “He, uh…I’m not with him right now, sweetheart. I’ll tell him you asked after him, though.”

Sarah concedes, and then begins asking questions Joel knows she’s only asking to stay on the line a little longer – to stay awake a little later. But still, he answers each one – humoring her and, at the same time, letting himself listen to her voice just a little more before he has to let her go.

He thinks of scooping her up in the morning; thinks of being slumped on the couch after dinner with her head on his stomach – fast asleep with whatever movie she chose droning on in the background.

Despite the thousands of miles and close to two weeks between them – she makes him feel closer to home. She always does.

When Sarah asks where he is, he glances your way. Clocks your flat expression, the half-burnt cigarette hanging from your fingers.

You flick ash to the ground. Eyes unreadable beneath low brows, a tiny crease between them that Joel’s only just seeing for the first time.

“Uh…” he clears his throat, “…just a little – a little north of you, baby. Home first thing, I promise.”

He tells her he loves her and she says it back, and he tells her to sleep well and she says that back, too. And then he’s hanging up – Alright, see you soon, bye, Sarah, bye-bye, byebyebye – and pressing his thumb into the red button.

He wanders back over to you – ears flat like a guilty dog, though he isn’t quite sure why. He mumbles a quiet thanks as he passes the phone back, then stuffs his hands in his pockets.

You lean back, ankles crossed, studying him. Swirling what’s left of the cigarette in your fingers – the smoke lifting like a winding snake to the dark sky. “So,” you pout, “What are you doing flirting with me, if you got a wife and kid back home?”

His jaw ticks, a hand coming up to scratch his beard. “I don’t have a wife,” he says.

You stare blankly, filter back against your lips. “Okay, then – a girlfriend. Does she know you’re out tonight with us?”

He shakes his head. “No wife, no girlfriend. I don’t have an anything.”

“But you have a kid.”

Joel nods once, tongue in his cheek. “Uhuh.”

And then the penny seems to drop. A small oh; your jaw slack and eyes wide. The cigarette smolders between your fingers. “Fuck,” you whisper, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“No, hey,” Joel steps closer, “You didn’t know. It’s alright.”

He straightens the jacket on your shoulders. When you finally look at each other again, you snort.

“Sorry,” you repeat, shaking your head. “Is she okay? Your daughter – is she…?”

“Sarah,” Joel says. “She’s…she’s fine. Thanks.”

You look down, stubbing your cigarette against the brick. Voice quiet, you ask, “Her mom’s not around anymore?”

Relief settles in his chest: you’re softening to him again.

Joel slots onto the ledge at your side. Shoulder to shoulder. He reaches behind and lifts his drink. “Not since she was a year old.”

Your mouth pulls in a wince. “Jesus. That’s rough.”

He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t have to – you’re not asking him to explain – and he doesn’t want to, either.

You’re not stupid – you’ve seen enough of the world to hear what he’s really saying. The darkest, dustiest corners of it – all the places no one ever wants to look.

You don’t seem disturbed, barely even moved by the reality that…well, shit happens. People leave, families break; a two-car driveway is suddenly taken up by just a pick-up truck and a little pink bike with tassels.

He figures you get it. You don’t need to know how can that be? – you just…know that it can.

“So, uh…” you look up at him again, “…my apartment is, like, five minutes away if you wanna…you know. You can charge your phone, can shower – if it’s bugging you that much.”

Joel’s eyebrows lift. “Oh, really?”

You simper, eyes thin. “Really.”

“Charge my phone ‘n shower?” He stands, palm flat against the wall above your head, and leans in. His face is inches from yours.

You look up, mirroring his expression. “Yes,” your voice curls in a half-truth, “What’s the big deal?”

“What a goddamn line,” Joel says, smirking. “How long you been sittin’ on that one for?”

His blood thrums faster, harder, louder in his veins when you stand up, hands on your hips.

“It’s not a line, I’m serious –”

“I didn’t take you as the type, baby, I really didn’t – but if that’s how you wanna play this, then –”

He feels you before he sees you moving, like he’s stood at that bar all over again. Your hands on his jaw, your chest pressed to his. Your lips – soft as satin, with a tinge of sweet rum and smoke – against his.

Joel barely misses a beat. He closes his eyes and lifts a hand to the back of your head, kissing you back. It’s dizzying, the taste and feel of you so close; the wet of your tongue on his. The little scratches of your nails in his beard, the moans caught in your throat.

Dizzying – and fucking perfect.

You break apart and lean in to each other, catching your breath. Joel’s hands slip beneath the heavy leather of his jacket onto your waist.

“Unless…” you whisper, pulling away from him, “…you don’t want to. In which case, I’ll just…” You twirl back towards the door, batting your eyelashes.

Joel smiles. He catches your wrist and reels you back into his body. “I want to,” he breathes, kissing you again. “I want to.”

“Let’s go.”

You make it to your apartment door, fumbling with your keys – and Joel’s hands are glued to your waist.

You miss the lock over and over as he kisses your neck, grazing the skin with his teeth. Anything to satiate the hunger quickly taking over, the tightening in his jeans.

He pulls you against his hips – rough denim grinding into the curve of your ass. He can smell your flowery perfume, a strange melding of peony and menthol sharp in his nostrils.

It’s the hungriest he’s ever felt, he thinks – a starved animal pinning his prey to her flecked apartment door. He pauses, bottom lip damp against your neck; breathing a liquor-laced laugh over your skin.

You jam the key into the lock. The door finally shunts open and you spill inside, dragging Joel with you.

Your place is dark. Angled strips of streetlight thrown high up the bare walls and across the ceiling, splintered by tilted shades. The spill of a blanket draped over an empty couch; a pair of sneakers left on the rug. Joel’s knees brush by a houseplant guarding the door – heavy leaves which pfft when they sway out of his way.

It’s half-decorated. Temporary. Caught somewhere between home and away. Little fragments pieced together into something the shape of home: a mosaic vase that scatters light across the surface of the coffee table; a beaded curtain pinned around the closet doorway.

Like you’re a little magpie, collecting trinkets of silver and gold until your nest feels like yours. Bags dropped long enough to keep a Monstera plant alive, not to put nails in the wall for the frames propped against the skirting board.

You shrug Joel’s jacket off, dropping it over the back of the couch. When you spin back around to him, he lifts your chin with two fingers and presses his lips to yours. You lead him down the hallway, tumbling into your room.

He follows you over to your bed, collapsing onto a tousled mess of sheets with his hips between yours. The hem of your dress rides up your thighs, bunching around your hips and revealing a flash of pink lace underneath.

The world around him seems to sober up for a second, sharpens into focus. It begins to seep in: the realization that he has you – some girl he met no more than two hours ago in a bar – pinned to your mattress. A slick gathering in your underwear and a weight building in his.

Right now, he should be sinking into squealing bedsprings in a Super 8. Bathing in the flicker of a television set twenty years too old. He should be showered and rested – ready to head home at sunrise, if not sooner.

But then something led him to you, and – well.

There’s no fucking helping him now, is there?

Joel’s fingers hook around your panties. He pulls down, leaving a trail of kisses along your bare leg, until that same pink lace is dripping from your ankle.

His eyes flash up to yours, love-drunk and sparkling. He pushes your knees apart, watching your velvet folds open for him, and – oh, he thinks, staring at the glistening arousal smeared around your cunt. Such a slick little mess for him already.

“Goddamn, darlin’,” he licks his lips, “She’s so pretty.”

You hum, hands lowering. Your fingers separate, spreading your pussy for him. Your middle finger swirls around your clit, dips along your seam. And the n, silky and shining, you lift your hand again and slip your fingers into your mouth.

“Tastes even better than she looks,” you murmur, dappling your fingertip along your bottom lip.

Joel growls. He pushes down on your thighs, ignoring your little yelp, and drags the tip of his tongue through your slit.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp, back arching. Your fingers knot in his hair, twisting and tightening. “Shitshitshit.”

“Mhm,” he hums against you, tongue pushing inside.

Fuck, you’re just so perfect: so soft and warm and fucking dripping for him. He laps at your sweet center, wet already spreading all over his mouth and beard.

A dampness blooms in his boxers. He’s throbbing, fucking aching the longer he goes untouched. He grinds against the mattress, denim rough against his solid erection.

He lifts his chin, panting – satisfied by the way you squirm under the weight of him. “You like that, huh?” he asks, a sodden kiss to your mound. “Fuckin’ love it.”

He spits a thick bead of saliva, watching it dribble down your folds to your ass. His tongue swipes it back up, circling your clit, all slippery and swollen.

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan, tugging on his hair. Your legs spasm, hips lifting.

He loves the sound of his name when you say it. Broken in two, a lilt to it as it rolls from your tongue and down his spine. Like it’s yours as much as it is his, now.

He sucks hard on your clit, his tongue flicking. And he can tell you’re close; can feel your hips starting to lose rhythm, see your back desperately arching higher and higher.

Joel groans, pushing up to hover over you. He cups between your legs, dabbing two thick fingers at your entrance, and pushes in.

Your pussy draws him in knuckle-deep. Your chest lifts, the loose neckline of your dress exposing more and more. You grab your breast, pinching your nipple – a roll of pebbled flesh between your fingertips.

He lowers his lips to your ear – watching as you toy with yourself. “Come on, baby,” he grits his teeth, “Give me one. Let me feel this pretty cunt.”

Your head rolls back into the pillow; a high sob as your orgasm crests. Clamping tight around him; a warm flood down his fingers.

Joel kisses you as you come. You look so pretty, he thinks, with ecstasy behind your eyes and his fingers between your legs.

Christ, he wants to be inside you so badly. Wants to feel your cunt do all this around his cock instead.

The blood rushes between his hips.

His fingers slip in and out, bringing you back around. Joel’s lips are on your neck, murmuring, “Good girl, that’s my girl,” as you resurface.

Your eyes open again – glossy, glazed with the aftershock of your high. “Fuck,” you breathe, playing with the hem of his shirt.

He pulls his fingers out and sucks them clean. Whips the tee over his head in one motion; another kiss tucked under your chin as you peel your dress from your body. He tosses it to the floor.

Still dazed, your body still trembling, you ask, “Do you have a condom?” All dreamy and distant, your hands trailing along his belt.

Joel pauses. Tilts his head, frowning. “I’m on a road trip with my brother, baby – the hell would I bring condoms for?”

You roll your eyes, sighing. It’s the cutest thing Joel thinks he’s ever seen. You thread the belt through the loops of his jeans. “In case you meet a really cool girl at a bar and wanna take her home, maybe?”

He lifts his eyebrows, impressed. He slips his salty tongue over yours again.

You moan at the taste. “It’s just I’m…I’m all out.”

His belt drops to the floor; buckle clinking against hardwood.

“Well, shit,” Joel whispers.

It’s not exactly a scenario he predicted, setting off from Austin. Meeting you wasn’t on the bucket list for the trip. It’s another three, four, probably five things to add to the list of shit he doesn’t do, shouldn’t do, wouldn’t fucking do if it hadn’t been for you.

No, Joel thinks, groaning as you palm the solid shape of him – he didn’t bring a goddamn condom. Jesus, the most he has in his pockets right now is fifteen bucks and a stick of gum.

You unzip his pants, shrugging the denim loose. “We can just do it…without,” you offer.

Joel stares down at you. “You sure?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Just pull out, right?”

“Just pull out…” he echoes. Your hands are cold on his heated skin, but he’s not about to fucking stop you.

You tug his underwear down with his jeans, following the darkening hair from his navel down. Another quiet pull out passes your lips – your voice dissolving when you spot the thick base of his dick.

Joel’s shaft springs free, heavy against the inside of his thigh.

“Holy shit.” You push yourself up on your elbows, eyes flooding black.

His tongue runs along the bottom of his teeth. He thrusts forward into your hand, a glassy drop of precome dribbling from his slit.

Your thumb swipes across his flushed tip, fingers wrapping around his width. You roll his balls in your other palm, massaging and squeezing just the right amount.

“Easy, easy,” Joel whispers. Too much, too soon. He can’t come yet, not until he feels your fluttering cunt around his cock.

Instead, you reach up – snaking an arm around his neck. You pull him back down, his naked body flush against yours, and hike a knee over his hip.

He grinds into you, his cock nudging between your legs. They fall apart for him – pliant and keen, like petals unfolding. He covers himself in your slick, his tip catching below your clit.

“Pl-ease,” you whine, scratching at his shoulders.

Joel nips at your damp neck. “Please, what?” he taunts.

Your breath is hot against his cheek – a stifling request which curls up in the shell of his ear. “F-fuck me.”

And his hips roll into yours.

“Jesus f…” your face buries into his chest, “…you’re…you’re so fucking big, Joel, I can’t –”

He nudges between your walls, groaning into your skin. You’re even tighter around his cock, even cozier. “I know,” he pants, “I know. Take it, baby, know you can take it.”

You stretch around him, opening up the deeper he pushes. “Fuckfuckfuck,” you pant, the thick hair at his base finally brushing against your clit. “Fuck, Joel.”

“Look at me,” he taps your jaw, “Hey. Look at me. Breathe.”

You exhale, hot and shaky across his lips.

“Good, that’s good.” Joel nods. He holds you by the waist, lets you adjust to his size.

He pulls back, your cunt clamping around him. Halfway out, and then in again. Feeling you open up, inch by inch, until he builds a steady rhythm.

“Jesus, baby, she’s so…” he moans, “…she’s so goddamn tight.”

You drape an arm over his shoulders, a hissing pain where your nails dig into his skin. Yelping each time he bottoms out, your leaking cunt wrapped snug around him. “So – goddamn – big,” you whine, a ruined smile on your lips.

He slams his body into yours again, watching the way your tits bounce. Nipples hard, skin tacky and shining with sweat. Your pussy pinches, and he starts to unravel.

Fuck the road trip, Joel thinks, fuck all of it. This is where he should be: in the middle of your bed, burrowed deep between your legs. This is the only place he wants to fucking be, right now.

So he fucks you harder; the headboard hammering against the wall. A fistful of the pillow, his knuckles whitening. He guides his cock when he slips out – a filthy sound as your clutch sucks him back in.

“Fuck,” he growls, gripping your hips so hard he worries he might bruise you. His thrusts become sloppy – quick and desperate.

“So close,” you gasp. You’re squeezing him so tight that he sees stars. “I’m gonna – I’m…”

Perfect, Joel thinks, watching you bloom. You’re so fucking perfect.

He coaxes you through it. Slows enough to feel you come around his cock, your warmth as it gushes all over him. “That’s it, baby, I got you. Shit, you’re gonna make me come.”

He pulls out just in time to coat your stomach; a throaty groan as he comes. He pumps his shaft, covering from your sternum to the plush of your tummy. It dribbles down your waist, spurts between your breasts.

He collapses over you, pressing his forehead to yours. His dick, soaked and softening, smears the ejaculate across your skin.

You giggle, leaving sticky kisses along his beard.

“You okay?” he asks, breathless.

You nod, and his tongue dabs at the inside of your lips. You taste like sex and sweat – sweet and salt.

Joel shifts to the edge of the bed. He feels you follow, your lips featherlight on the curve of his shoulder.

You make to stand – going to clean yourself up, he reckons, your tummy dripping with his semen – and he locks a hand around your bare thigh.

“Stay,” he says, voice low and rough – sex still smoldering. “Let me get you a towel.”

You smile, resting your chin on his shoulder. Your fingers link around the other side of his waist. “I’ll get it. Just relax.”

And for a minute or two, you stay like that. Hooked onto one another, tired eyes closing over, breathing in rhythm. Your cheek on his shoulder, your knee brushing against his tummy.

It’s simple; quiet and still. Joel feels like half a person – the other half tracing her chipped nails along his bare thigh. Eyelashes fluttering, teeth holding back a grin that she thinks might give her away.

Eventually, you move. Shimmy yourself down the mattress, swipe a crinkled tee from the ottoman – and slink off to the bathroom.

Joel lies back against the headboard, body sticky hot. He watches the shadow of your figure stretch across the open door. His eyes drift upwards to the looping ceiling fan – only half as dizzying as the sound of your humming in the next room.

And just when he starts to think he might be fucking missing you, you reappear in the doorway. Leant against the frame, some worn band tee hanging from your shoulders. Arms crossed; smiling back at him.

A rush of words floods to the tip of his tongue. You look beautiful. Your makeup’s smudged, chains of your necklace twisted; your shirt is frayed and splotched with faded stains – and you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

He holds his arms out and you prance over.

You crawl over his figure, kissing your way up to his lips, and then turn in his lap. Cradled against his broad chest, your head nuzzling into the dark threads of hair between his pecs. You clasp one of his hands in two of yours.

“Offer’s still there for a shower, if you want it,” you whisper, kissing the pads of his fingers.

Joel tilts his head, mumbling against your temple, “Will you be in there with me?”

You answer something shaped like a tease, just as sharp with wit – but he’s too busy watching your nails trace his open palm. Too distracted by the sweet scent of your skin: a fresh burst of fruit, singed with the edge of tobacco.

“What do you do for work?” you ask.

He makes some sort of sleepy sound – a grunt, a hm? into your skull. “Oh, uh – I’m a contractor,” he says.

Your chin lifts. “That why your palms are all…?” Your thumb strokes light as lace against his worn skin.

“Probably,” Joel admits. He draws shapes on your thigh with his free hand.

“Do you sand the wood with your bare hands, or somethin’?”

Joel scoffs. “Alright, alright. You liked my hands plenty, twenty minutes ago.”

Your cheeks lift, a low hum caught in your throat. You angle your head to let his lips trail along your shoulder, pressing into the hinge of your jaw. A dark nail following the landscape of Joel’s skin – each score and divot, the callused pads at the bottom of each finger.

“You have sorta…earth hands, I think.”

It sits in the air for a few seconds before Joel turns to you. “What?”

“Earth hands. Or, well – I guess they could be water, if you look at ‘em this way.” You open up his hand, fingers stretched. “I don’t really know. I’m still learning.”

He looks down at you. Feels the now-steady pulse of your heart on his sternum. “Learnin’…hands?”

You snort. “Palm reading, Joel.”

His brows draw tight. He licks the inside of his whiskey-stained cheek. “You’re into all that hippie sh…stuff?”

You knock your knuckles against his chest, still staring at his hands. The hills and their valleys, the ravine-like lines; the worn skin and hatch marks.

“Let’s see…Your heart line,” you whisper – more to yourself than Joel, but he’s listening all the same. “It’s pretty deep, which means the relationships you’ve had have been…important. But it’s kinda…it tails off right here, see? It’s broken. So…I guess they didn’t end too good.”

Joel raises an eyebrow – playful, encouraging your timid smile. Keep figuring me out, he thinks, stoking the curious flame behind your eyes. “Alright,” he says, “Now tell me something you didn’t already know about me.”

You gawk, holding his wrist up. “You don’t see that? The way it breaks up? I’m not bullshitting you, Joel, it’s –”

“Naw, I see it,” he nods, squinting a little at his palm, “Just – tell me more. What’s all these other lines mean?”

“Well,” you adjust between his hips, “you got your life line right here. Short, which means –”

“Don’t tell me that part.”

“No,” you roll your eyes, “It just means you’re independent. You never needed much from anyone. And it runs past this mount – these are called mounts – right here. Venus: all to do with love and sexuality.”

Joel holds your open palm next to his, comparing them. He takes less than a second’s look, lines his lips to your ear and says, “Seem like a pretty good match to me.”

You wriggle when he tickles your ribcage, trying to twist out of his grasp. You’re laughing again – the same laugh he’s been hearing all damn night. The same giggle that’s had his stomach somersaulting since he first heard it.

The room seems to light with it, this glow he feels from you – as if you’re the sun. Spent and still half-drunk; lazing with a stranger in the middle of her bed. Tracing the lines and scars on his palm, telling him how logical and grounded he’s supposed to be.

As if the world orbits around you – everything you touch turning to molten gold. And for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, Joel looks at you and wonders: Where the hell did you come from?

You hold your hand against his, folding your fingers perfectly together. The evidence of your night flaking from Joel’s knuckles; sweat still simmering on the nape of his neck.

He hasn’t done this for years. Hasn’t felt this gentle aftermath. It’s usually a rush, a hastened zip and clink of his pants. An awkward dance, plucking clothes from the bedroom floor and pacing back to his truck.

It’s never like this. Talking and laughing, holding and kissing. Questions about his parents and yours; his biggest dream as a kid, or the time you broke your arm falling out of a tree.

He tells you stories about growing up with Tommy; tells you Sarah’s favorite flavor of cake. He tells you about the time they tried to make it for a school bake sale, forgot to turn the oven off, and almost burned the damn kitchen down.

You snicker and tell him that never would’ve happened if you were there.

Yeah, well, Joel smiles, I wish you were.

He notices you’re drifting off, despite your slurred protests and your weak grip on his wrist. He pulls you under the covers, curving his body around yours, praying that the quickening drum of his heartbeat won’t wake you.

His nose nuzzles into the curve of your skull, his hands link in front of your tummy. And he wonders whether his body was made with yours in mind.

He glances out at the sky – light starting to bleed from the horizon – and wills the turn of the sun to slow. Only a little; just let him stay here a little while longer.

Just a little while.

Dawn forces her way in eventually – more unwelcome than ever before.

There’s a throb between his temples which swells to life when the light floods past his pupils. “Jesus Christ,” he grumbles, face turning back into the pillow. He gives you a gentle squeeze and then pushes up from the mattress.

You roll to the middle of the bed, still sound asleep. The sun spills golden all over the valleys and crests of your body. The bedsheets carve pathways up to your hips, dipping at your waist.

Last night, there was something so mystical about you – so otherworldly. Joel felt himself drawn towards you like a compass needle shooting north, the second he felt your weight crash against his spine.

A figure behind a cloud of smoke, like the mountaintops disappearing into a thick mist. And now, blood drained of alcohol, you’re just you.

Your shirt is twisted around your shoulders. Your lips puffy, mumbling to yourself in your doze. Makeup smudged like chalk under your eyes, and still – just as beautiful. Just as radiant as you were ten hours ago.

Joel rubs his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed. He blinks down at his bare feet, the morning sharpening into focus. As he lifts his phone from the nightstand, the cable drops – hitting the wooden floor with a snap.

He pauses, shoulders hunched. Hears you stir over his shoulder, and turns around.

The earth of your body shifts beneath cotton hills, clouds of sleep clearing from behind your eyes. “Hey,” you whisper, voice pretty and broken.

A little bird in the palm of his hand – that magpie curled up in her nest of gems and trinkets.

“Hey.” He leans down and kisses your cheek. “Sorry, darlin’, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You wrap your arms around his wrist, tugging. “Are…are you…leaving?”

Joel feels a pang in his chest, and he doesn’t know why. He takes a deep breath. Your scent fills his lungs and steadies his heart. “I…” he sniffs, “…I gotta go home, baby.”

You give a slow and heavy nod. “S-Sarah…”

He strokes your head with his thumb. “Yeah. Shh, go back to sleep. It’s still early.”

He glances at his phone – it’s just after six. He knows Tommy will be waiting for him, parked outside the Super 8 and wondering where the hell Joel is. He knows Sarah will be, too – sat by the living room window, listening for the rumble of their bikes.

And still, he thinks – How do I fucking leave you? Leave this?

He shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought. He has a kid waiting for him back home; soccer practice, packed lunches, homework and bedtime stories. He has work to do, bills to pay, a roof to keep over their heads. It’s all waiting in Austin, two hundred miles away.

As though you can see the question flipping in his mind, you pull him closer. A weak finger in the palm of his hand, drawing circles. Your bleary gaze meets his, and you whisper, “In the next life.”

Joel smiles. Twelve hours ago, he’d have laughed at the idea of it. Now, he’s not so sure. He kisses your knuckles, muttering, “Promise.”

Another wave of sleep washes over you, and you’re gone again.

Joel pushes himself from the bed, reaching for his clothes. His back twinges as he stretches, pulling his T-shirt over his shoulders. He steps into his jeans; pinches his belt between two fingers and lifts it from the floor.

He leans over and tilts your shades the opposite way, dulling your bedroom. He unplugs the charger, neatly winds the cord, and sits it on your nightstand. He fixes his side of the sheets: folds them over the mattress, tucks them in at your back.

With a deep breath, he makes for the door.

His jaw turns, eyes still low. Your dress is in a heap at the foot of the bed; a tube of lip gloss lying next to it. He looks up, following the landscape of sheets – the slope from your ankle to your hip. Your hunched shoulders, your cheek smushed into the pillow.

If he looks too long, he’ll never leave.

The image burns golden into his eyes. He hopes for half a heartbeat that you’ll wake again and pull him back into bed. Kiss him all over, whisper something sharp and sweet in his ear. Touch him and graze him and wrap yourself around him – anchoring him right here and now.

But you don’t.

And Joel slips out of the room.

Jackson stirs to life over his shoulder.

A white lump in the snow-covered valley, the settlement seems so far away now. Tommy sets off up ahead, leading the way to the outpost. The blizzard is picking up – it almost swallows the silhouette of him whole.

Joel had tried to warn him: the weather would be too bad to see five feet in front of them, never mind any infected. But Tommy argued with the same determination that dragged the pair of them into that dive bar thirty years ago, and Joel didn’t have half the energy nor the will to argue back.

He’s thinking about you. He always is.

Your searing gaze over the rim of your glass; the weight of you against his chest. The tickling of your nail on his palm, severing each line and changing him forever. You and your palm lines.

You were just learning to read them. Joel didn’t know a thing about any of it, and he told you so. You took his hand in yours and said, Here. Let me see.

He runs a thumb down his fate line, swaying in time with his horse. And he shakes his head with a little smile – he still remembers which one is fate and which is heart.

He still remembers all of it. He has earth hands. All salt and soil and solid as stone. His earth hands have gotten him this far, right? Twenty-five years and he’s still here. Gray and grown; stiff joints and sewn-up scars.

His head line has channeled more strangers’ blood than Joel can count. Mounts that’ve stopped breath in the throat of any man who crossed him. He doesn’t think you’d recognize his hands anymore, if your fingertips traced over them again. Broken and bruised and bloody.

And he doesn’t think he’d want you to – doesn’t want you to meet the shadow of the man you knew back then. He’d prefer you remember that same brown-eyed, soft-touched stranger with enough charm and naivety to survive anything. No need for bone-breaking fists or bloodstained hands.

Where are you, he wonders?

The answer knots deep in his stomach: the same old rope twisting into the same old shape. A fist of anger, of guilt. Some terrible cocktail of both, spilling poison through his veins.

He’s terrified to wonder what might’ve happened if he had ever made it back there. What he might’ve found in your apartment – what he might not.

Where would you have gone, that day? Would you have fled, or would you have stayed?

You were smart, he knows that much. He saw the cogs of your mind turning right in front of him, standing opposite each other in that bar. Barely thirty seconds in and he could’ve sworn you had him all figured out.

But – oh, Jesus, you were kind. Open and willing to help a stranger with a dead phone and a tired smile. Would that kindness still glow as bright against the flicker of a world on fire?

A lone hawk swoops down before him, shooting straight between the pines. Joel slips his glove back over his freezing hand.

He thinks about you every day. Every fucking day, and it never eases. Never loosens. It keeps him up some nights – the truth he’s too afraid to look square in the face.

You live now in the back of his mind like a little ghost. His little ghost – still floating around that dusty city; the warm light of life and innocence still bright in your eyes.

Tommy glances over his shoulder. He gestures ahead as if to say, Would you take a look at this goddamn storm?

And Yeah, Joel thinks, I’m lookin’, brother.

All he wants is to go home. Jackson, Austin, the bedroom of your apartment in San Angelo. Just let me go back.

He blinks, and the snow melts to cracked asphalt under a lilac sunset. Tommy’s holding handlebars instead of reins. The horses’ hot puffs of breath darken to clouds of smoke, choking from the exhaust pipes of the Harleys.

You’re somewhere on the other side of town, waiting for him in the faint glow of a jukebox. Sipping what’s left of your rum and Coke, fishing a twenty from your purse for the next round.

Just let me go back home.

He tugs on his horse’s reins and pulls off after his brother.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #san angelo

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zeltqz · 7 months

Note

begging for a jealous/possessive hanma that catches someone hitting on his s/o

#—♱𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇♱—#

— syn : hanma doesn't like the fact someone's hitting on his girlfriend.

— cw : nsfw content ahead ⚠︎ - deranged!hanma, death threats, choking, possessiveness, hanma refers to you as his, he almost kills a guy for you, red flag but its shuji so its ok <3

— length : 900 words

— a/n : i love my little red flag lmao. also i listened to house of ballons while writing this so its linked under the title if u wanna listen too lol

“Come onnnnnnn. You’re too pretty to be acting like this.” The man nudged you playfully, inching impossibly closer to your sitting form. “At least tell me yer name beautiful.”

You sighed exhaustedly and raised your glass back to your lips, taking a sip of your water. As you swallowed the liquid, you glanced at him from the corner of your eye. Yup, he looked like your typical wannabe punk. Someone that thinks everybody and their mamas are scared of in the streets.

Before dating Hanma, you would’ve been scared of him. They’re known for their violence, threatening any person that dares to even walk past them on the street or look at them sideways.

The crazed look in his eyes, the tongue piercing, the oddly dyed hair; wannabe punk.

You put your drink down and motioned to the bartender to refill your cup of water.

“I’m waiting girl. What’s yer name?” He was met with more silence. You could practically feel his irritation growing. “Stop being sucha bitch and just—”

“I have a boyfriend.” You thanked the bartender as he passed your cup back, filled with water. Taking another sip, you peeked over at him again from the corner of your eye, hoping to see him back away now that he knows the truth.

But you forget who you’re messing with right now.

“Boyfriend ? I don’t see a boyfriend. Oi!” He motioned over at the bartender, ushering him closer. Once the bartender got close enough, he wrapped an arm around his shoulder and brought him closer. “Do you see a boyfriend around here?” The bartender stammered and stuttered, so he clicked his tongue irritatedly and looked back at you. “Is this your boyfriend? Hah?”

You shook your head, remaining utterly calm. “Nope.”

“Exactly.” His voice sounded amused, as if he’d proved you wrong. “What kind of boyfriend would let ya walk outside wearing this, huuuuh?”

You could feel his fingers trailing along your thigh and closed your eyes, counting to ten in your head. In the midst of your counting, his touches got more bold, trailing them up towards the slope of your waist, up and down your arm.

By the time you got to seven, you gave him three more seconds to get his hands off you, giving him the benefit of the doubt until the touches suddenly stopped.

You opened your eyes and looked to your left to see a long arm wrapped around the mans shoulder, the kanji sin tattooed big on his palm and you couldn’t help but smirk.

“Is there a reason you’re groping my girlfriend, hmm?” Hanma’s voice was sickly sweet and the man went red in the face.

“No! No reason. Just mistook her, that’s all.” He smiled, showing all his teeth, hoping Hanma would let him off easy.

“Mistook her?” Hanma hummed, confused. “Baby, did this man mistake you for anyone?”

You looked him deep in the eye for a second and fought back the urge to laugh when his lip started trembling, hoping and pleading in his eyes that you’d lie for him. “Not really. He actually even questioned your existence, Shuji.”

“I didn’t!”

“You did.” You grinned and watched the full fear sprout on his face.

“She’s lyin—” The hand resting on his shoulder quickly moved to his throat, squeezing until you saw veins forming down the length of his arm. You squeezed your thighs together, trying to calm the roaring pulse between your legs as you watched your boyfriend currently choking the fuck out of your harasser, all with a calm smile on his face.

“Don’t kill him Shuji.”

He winked and squeezed a little more until he went red in the face, his eyes threatening to pop out of his skull.

You frowned, crossing your arms over your chest. “Let go. He’s not worth it Shuji.”

“He touched what’s mine. Death would be the easy way out for him.” As if to prove his point, he began squeezing tighter and you knew if you didn’t stop him, you’d see the light in his eyes slowly fade.

The chair squeaked as you slid off it and walked up to your boyfriend. “Shuji. Let go. He’s not worth it,” you repeated, voice a little firmer.

Shuji had a deadpan look on his face as he stared at you, as if examining how serious you were. If he were to kill him right now, cleanup wouldn’t be an issue, your attitude would be. You’d stop talking to him for at least a week and ignore all his advances which would piss him the fuck off.

“You’re so fucking lucky I want some pussy tonight,” Shuji said lowly in the man’s ear before letting go.

The man dropped to the floor, coughing and holding his throat.

You smiled and stepped over his crouched form, over to your boyfriend and wrapped your arms around his waist. “Love you Shu’.”’

“Mhm whatever.” He bent down to your level and kissed your lips. His hands gripped onto your waist, holding your tight and making you giggle into his lips. “Next guy that looks at you though, I won’t be so kind.”

#18+ banner cred to cafekitsune #they're so cute i love em sm #POSSESSIVE HANMA WOOFWOFOOWOOF #—tr </3 #hanma smut #hanma x reader #shuji hanma x reader #hanma shuji x reader #hanma x you #tr smut #tr x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokrev x reader #tokrev

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darby-rowe · 4 months

Text

༊*·˚ princely.

coriolanus snow x dark!fem!reader

word count 1.5k cw dark themes, NONCON SOMNOPHILIA, dead dove do not eat, reader has a gross internal monologue, handjob, coriolanus is unaware of his assault, not proofread notes hey! i don't condone anything described in this fic irl! what the reader does here is gross and is literally assault. PLEASE HEED THE CONTENT WARNINGS BECAUSE SHIT GETS WEIRD! got it? good. then pls enjoy ♡ wanna give a quick thanks to my mutual @shellxrls for inspiring me to write more dark content, and for encouraging me to post this. if it wasn't for her, this fic would have never seen the light of day.

Your fingernails grip so hard into the blanket you fear you may rip the soft fleece from its stitches. Staring down at the beautiful boy sleeping next to you in your bed, looking so utterly soft and peaceful. You watch his chest rise up and down slowly with each breath he takes, studying how his muscles move beneath his skin. His soft blonde curls sprawl delicately across his face. You didn’t even know it was possible to look so princely while you slept, but Coriolanus Snow was living proof.

You had previously allowed Coriolanus to stay at your apartment for a few days while his place went under renovations, courtesy of his newfound inheritance of the Pinths’ fortune. He was your best friend after all, so who were you to deny him hospitality?

But on the first night of him sleeping in your bed, you find yourself questioning every aspect of your moral compass now that you had him beside you looking so vulnerable. Your fingers twitch. The temptation is nearly killing you. He’s most likely deep within some kind of dream, so…

Before your mind comprehends what you’re doing, your hand is on his smooth, toned chest, feeling him breathe underneath your touch. You want to pull your hand away, to stop before you start, but your hand feels as if it’s stuck to his smooth skin. What’s happening? Why aren’t you stopping yourself? Oh god, Coryo looks so hot when he sleeps. Is he dreaming? Is he dreaming about you? If he’s dreaming about you, then surely that means he’s into you, so he wouldn’t mind if you were to just—

Before you could realize what you’re doing, your hand is moving further down south Coriolanus’s torso, heeding every single physical and verbal cue that could indicate he’s waking up. You bite down hard on your lip — almost a bit too hard — as your hand approaches closer and closer to the waistband of his boxers. So crisply pristine, a pearly white color, almost too perfect. Did he not have a single pair of ruined underwear? Surely he must have a pair in the hamper with his cum stains painting the front. Maybe even multiple pairs. Yeah, multiple pairs of ruined underwear caused by Coriolanus’s physiology. The thought makes your pussy throb, and you look down as you thumb the waistband of his boxers.

But you decide to not venture towards the promised land just yet. Instead, you ghost your fingertips over the print of Coriolanus’s large cock. You have to swallow hard as your mouth waters, frantically flicking your eyes back and forth from his face to your hands. You think to yourself, is it too late to turn back? Could you still save yourself from the horrifying embarrassment of getting caught touching your friend in his sleep?

A small groan escapes his throat, and at the speed of light you retract your hand and wait for further instruction. Coriolanus does not open his eyes, but you still wait a few moments before putting your hand back.

Oh, Coryo. Oh sweet, princely, beautiful Coryo — if only he could see how pretty he looks right now resting his soft curls on your pillows, then maybe he’ll understand why you’re doing what you’re doing. Just can’t help myself, you think.

You really begin to think about the circumstances. You’re a hot girl. You’re insanely hot with a sharp tongue and even sharper brain. You have ambitions, goals, and fully thought out plans for the future. You’re perfect girlfriend and wife material. Would Coriolanus really be bothered by someone like you touching him in his sleep? In fact, he would probably be grateful.

Ugh, no! What? Stop thinking like that. You’re so full of yourself you’re choking on your own ego. You’re a violator. A venomous pervert. A venomous, conniving, irresistibly hot pervert.

You sigh to yourself. Your brain just keeps thinking in circles and in circles and in circles and in circles. You can’t be doing this. Just a little won’t hurt? This is as far as you’ll go. He won’t even mind at all because you notice the way he looks at you like you’re a lamb for the slaughter. This isn’t right. You can’t be doing this. Just a little won’t hurt?

The room temperature rises. A lining of sweat appears on your hairline as you continue to lightly ghost your fingers over the print of Coriolanus’s hardening cock. He’s starting to make noises more frequently. He must be dreaming now.

You dare to whisper, see if maybe your voice will bleed into his dreams. You’re dying to know how he’ll react. Ever so softly, his name escapes your lips like a delicate puff of smoke from inhaling a cigarette.

“Coryo,”

You wait.

You wait for a moan, a sigh, a physical response.

Nothing.

You say a silent prayer to yourself before leaning in closer, attempting to manipulate his dreams once more.

“Coryo, I’m here,”

You perk up as a tiny moan escapes Coriolanus’s mouth, and even more exciting, his cock twitches beneath your fingertips.

This was your sign to keep going.

Carefully, you retract your hand and drool a generous amount of saliva onto your fingers and in the palm of your hand before slipping your hand underneath the waistband of his boxers. And as your fingers made contact with his hardening cock, you shiver.

Your entire body flares up with goosebumps and your pussy throbs and aches almost instantly. You have to take a moment to yourself before you begin stroking him, to just hold his shaft within your perverted, filthy hand. Your heart is beating so fast that you’re afraid you might pass out before you can indulge in the fun.

Your hand trembles as you begin to stroke him, keeping a light yet generous grip as you pump his cock up and down. He’s beginning to moan more loud than before, and more frequently. You think to yourself about how you could cum right then and there just from feeling his dick and listening to him moan.

It’s dark in your bedroom, but your eyes adjusted a while ago, giving you a fair view of Coriolanus’s cock in your hand. You swipe your thumb across his slit, and for a moment you stop as a sharp gasp emits from the sleeping boy. But when he shows no sign of waking up, you continue.

“So big…” you whisper to yourself, voice barely audible. You feel his cock begin to leak with pre-cum and you slick up his shaft with his own bodily juices, making your hand pump his cock more smoothly as you pick up the pace.

You wonder to yourself if you could even get away with straddling his hips to sit down on his dick, slowly impaling yourself as your tight pussy envelops him in his sleep. How would he react? You can picture it now: you, stripped of your panties and nightgown, tits bouncing up and down as you ride his cock. Eventually, he’ll stir awake to the image of your hot body on top of him, moaning and whimpering sweetly. And he won’t fight back, oh no. Because you’ve seen the way he looks at you — you don’t think he knows how you study the way he licks his lips as he eyes you up and down. Your pussy is on his mind 24/7. He’s obsessed with you. You’re surprised he hasn’t tried to touch you in your sleep. You’d welcome the sentiment, though, as your eyes would slowly flutter open to the sight of Coriolanus pounding his cock into you. You wouldn’t tell him to stop.

Would he tell you to stop?

You’d like to think so. But you can’t afford to think of alternate versions of this night as your hand is now thoroughly pumping his cock in a proper handjob. Coriolanus mewls and twitches in his sleep, and your mind can’t begin to comprehend how hot he looks completely at your mercy.

“Pretty, so pretty,” you whisper. “Don’t even know I’m fisting your fucking cock, yeah? Wish this was my pussy? Wish I was fucking you in your sleep instead of giving you this lousy handjob?”

You don’t know what comes over you as you lean down to kiss his sleeping lips, and before you know it, he’s lazily grunting as he spills his cum all over your hand.

And you’re so turned on you feel more as if you have to pee more than anything. Your pussy pulsates as you feel his cock throb underneath your hand, and you have to practically force yourself to pull your hand away and lay back down.

Mere seconds after his orgasm, you feel and hear Coriolanus stir and wake up. He mumbles a curse word under his breath as he assesses his sticky situation.

You just lay there, with your hand still covered in his cum, as a deep, dark dread fills your chest. Someone pours liquid lead into your heart as reality settles back in for you.

What have I done?

darby-rowe, 2024. do not plagiarize my content, nor distribute my content onto any other website like AO3, etc. my writing is exclusive to tumblr only.

#♡; dally writes!#dead dove do not eat #cw noncon #cw somnophilia #cw noncon somno #fem!reader #fem reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow smut #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg tbosas #tbosas #x reader #x reader fanfiction #x reader smut

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marvelsswansong · 2 years

Text

tornado warnings

summary: out of all the girls Eddie could like, of course he'd pick Jason Carver's girlfriend. He kept ignoring the warnings, and now he's in too deep.

tags: Eddie x fem!reader, pining!Eddie, friends to lovers, requited love but both parties are idiots, Dustin trying to talk sense into Eddie, cw for Jason being a misogynistic asshole, song fic, pure fluff, slow burn ish, oneshot

☆ word count: 6.5K+ (she's worth it i promise) ☆

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

It's sprialed out of control. Eddie knows that now.

It's as if he's been struck by lightning, the realization jolting him awake when your fingers deftly brush against his whilst you pass over the chemistry pop quiz. The touch lasts for less than two seconds, accompanied by a friendly smile and a quiet "good luck" thrown in, but it's enough for him to falter and almost let the paper slip from his fingers.

It reminds him of the first time you two met, late after school - you because of cheerleading practice, him because of detention.

Eddie was exhausted. Having shown up late to school with mismatched socks and his roleplaying notebook forgotten by the driver's seat of his van - not that it mattered anymore, considering he had to cancel tonight's session due to detention - he swore that the world was out to get him.

It was half past five and the spring rain was unrelenting, the pitter patter of water droplets against glass windows drowning out all other noise. Eddie scowled, not even the weather was on his side today. He'd have to make a run for it to his car, with nothing more than a floppy notebook to hold over his head.

His footsteps faltered, however, when he heard a feminine voice swear followed by the clattering of metal. Peeking his head around the corner, he was met with none other than the sight of you struggling to open up your locker, delicate fingers fumbling with the lock desperately.

"Oh for fuck's sake." you swore, trying the combination again and pulling the lock with all your strength to no avail. Dropping your duffel bag onto the floor, you tried again, this time grasping the metal lock with both your manicured hands.

No luck.

Sighing, you dropped your arms and fell forward onto your locker head first, before perking up and looking around for someone to ask for help - perhaps a janitor would know how to deal with this. Your eyes met Eddie's, and his eyes widened in an instant (fearing the worst, being caught staring wordlessly at one of the most popular girls in school) but your eyes lit up with recognition and joy.

"Hey! Eddie, right?" you called out, waving him over.

You knew his name? Eddie was simultaneously flattered and shocked, considering you two were separated by several stratospheres in the popularity pyramid. He was in your Advanced Physics class junior year before he dropped down to regular Physics, and even then you sat by the front row with the rest of the cheerleading squad whilst he doodled in his notebooks at the back.

"Do you think you could try opening up my locker for me? I left some important notes in there and my European History test is tomorrow, so I really need them." you sheepishly added, leaning against your locker. Eddie hesitated for a few seconds - was this a trick? Why were you being so nice to him? Why was the smile on your face so pure and so genuine, never once faltering?

Ignoring the sirens going off in his mind, he wordlessly nodded and walked up to your locker.

"The combination is 8-1-8-2."

He spun the dials around and tugged at the lock, but it remained stuck. He tried again, being extra careful to spin the numbers to the exact digit this time, but it still didn't budge.

"Nothing?" you questioned anxiously, peeking over from behind his shoulder. Eddie just grinned at that, hand flying to his jean front pocket to fish out an extra hairpin.

"Maybe not. Hold on."

Bending the metal pin straight, he fumbled with the little hole at the bottom of the lock, until a satisfying 'click' rang out. He was then able to finally unhook the lock and open it up to the contents of your locker - textbooks and folders spilling with notes neatly piled up at the bottom, with a Dior perfume, tube of lipstick and a jar of gummies sitting on the top shelf.

He was about to make a lighthearted joke about the gummies when the joke died in his mouth at the warm sensation of your arms wrapping around his waist, face buried in his shirt as you joyously embraced him.

"YES! Thank you so much, Eddie, you are a lifesaver!"

The sudden burst of affection was totally foreign to him and his senses were going haywire - overwhelmed at how your hair was tickling his exposed skin, your sweet scent (notes of caramel, honey and vanilla) evident but not too strong from this proximity. He fumbled over what to do with his arms, not knowing what was appropriate to do, before awkwardly settling on patting your back with his left hand.

"It's uh, no big deal." he managed to stutter out, small grin on his lips. A grin far outshined by the massive one on yours, bubbly laughter flowing as you quickly dug out the notes from your locker before slamming it shut and locking it back up.

There was another foreign sensation now beginning to register in his brain. Warmth, pleasant fires kindling in his lower stomach, an ache in his chest to have you close to him again. And his next sentence was blurted out before he could even think through all the repercussions.

"Do you need a ride home? Since it's raining and all."

"Yeah! That'd be great."

Following the locker incident, you began to wave at him and exchange quick greetings with him in the hallways. It was a minor change, a verbal acknowledgment instead of silent smiles and polite nods, but that didn't stop others from giving Eddie dirty looks. After all, why was the most popular girl in school giving any time of her day to the resident school freak?

Truth be told, he didn't understand it either. But he wasn't going to complain either, only returning the gestures wholeheartedly. This amicable state of acquaintance - knowing each other's names and being friendly, but never crossing the line into friendship - was broken less than a week later, when he was sitting in Mr.Wilson's office and being lectured about how he really needed to get his grades up.

"I've assigned you a tutor. She's one of my star students and she's kindly agreed to tutor you for free, so please do show up on time and try." the elderly man sighed under his breath, pushing his metal rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose before shuffling through a stack of papers.

"Her name's (Y/n). I'll leave the specifics of the arrangement up to the two of you, but the expectation is one session every week or two. Understood?"

"Understood, sir."

So here he was now. Standing in front of your house, double checking the address scribbled down hurriedly onto his notebook for the hundredth time, agonizing over what to do. Should he knock? Ring the door bell? He was a few minutes early, maybe it'd be best to just wait for you outside-

"Hi there!" you exclaimed, throwing open the door excitedly, making him jump back in surprise. "Come on in, we can go up to my room."

Your hands were preoccupied with drying your wet hair with a towel - it looked as if you had just emerged from the shower, the thought of which made his throat dry, a dirty sight he had to immediately scrub from his mind. Not that it worked particularly well, not when you were wearing an oversized black t-shirt that showed off your legs and the cheerleading shorts you had on hugged your thighs perfectly.

Carefully eyeing the living room and kitchen, he half expected for your parents to jump out and begin to interrogate him as to his identity.

"Are your... parents around?" he'd asked quietly, fingers anxiously twiddling by his sides. You shook your head sideways.

"My parents work out of state most of the time. My godfather drops by every few days though to make sure I'm fine though."

He raised his eyebrows at that, following behind you up the stairs.

"Doesn't that get lonely?"

You hummed, dabbing the last droplets of water from your forehead.

"I guess so. But Hopper - my godfather - has a lot of friends in the community so I get invited over to a lot of things. Plus cheerleading and school stuff keeps me pretty busy so it's not too bad."

You then pushed open the door to your bedroom with your shoulder, stepping backwards to let Eddie in first.

He marveled at how well organized your room was: sunflowers potted by the windowsill, a collection of vinyls leaning against a propped up vinyl record player playing a slow Whitney Houston song. White wardrobe pushed against the wall next to pastel pink drawers, makeup and skincare products neatly placed one after another.

Your cheerleading uniform was ironed and nicely draped over a cushy velvet chair, a full length body mirror with polaroids of you and your friends stuck to its sides on the white wooden frame.

You led him over to your study desk, pristine and white, and gestured to the chair to your left. He was still drinking in the sight of your room as you closed the door shut and hung your towel over the frame of your bed - which was complete with frilly lace sheets, pink and yellow cushions, bumblebee patterns stitched into the fabric.

In summary, Eddie thought, the whole room was so damn... clean and cute. A stark and sore contrast to his messy room, unfolded laundry everywhere and his walls crowded with his guitar and various metal band posters. He was just grateful now that he had insisted on doing the first session at your place instead of his.

"Everything okay?" you questioned, noticing his silence and awed expression. He blinked at you wordlessly at that, mind blanking in an instant.

"Yep! Amazing. Awesome, really. Just very stoked to get started on this exciting English Literature." he boasted, tapping his hand down on the thick textbook. You giggled at that, leaning against your chair.

"Listen, I know that Steinbeck and Fitzgerald aren't as exciting as Iron Maiden or Black Sabbath, but I promise you that there's a charm to these authors as well."

"You know about Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath?" Eddie perked up at that, pleasantly surprised. You rolled your eyes playfully, as if it was common knowledge.

"Duh, what else would I listen to whilst I jog? I can't say I'm as big of a fan as you, but I do listen to a bit of everything and metal is a cool genre."

It was his turn to chuckle, leaning forward onto the table to rest his head on his palms.

"You know, (L/n), you're not at all like what I'd expected you to be."

"What'd you mean by that, Munson?" you challenged, quirking up your eyebrows teasingly, his heart skipping a beat at the action.

"Nothing bad, I promise! Just, I don't know, your friends aren't as friendly or as cool as you."

You click your tongue at that, faux frown on your glossy lips.

"But aren't we friends? And you're plenty cool and friendly."

Friends. The word felt heavy on his tongue, goosebumps rising on his skin. Plus, you'd called him cool and friendly - by far the nicest thing any popular student had ever said to him. All logic flew out the window at that moment, walls tumbling down faster than the next words on his lips.

"Of course we're friends."

It was dangerous territory, a quiet voice was nagging him in the crevices of his mind that this was totally new and treacherous - accepting the friendship of the most popular and desired girl in school. The sirens were blaring in his head, red warning signs clouding his vision.

But Eddie consciously chose to turn the other way, running farther into your embrace.

"Cool. Glad to hear it, friend."

Once the initial hurdle was jumped over, the label of 'friends' hanging over you and Eddie, everything fell into place. Weeks flew by with tutoring sessions filled with inside jokes and excited ramblings, with Eddie taking every chance to insert a dirty joke in somehow to make you laugh.

He walked you from class to class at your insistence, your sharp glare at any staring passerbys enough to shut them up. Conversation was never awkward, there was plenty to talk about. His D&D sessions, the latest Metallica record, the next football game that Eddie would begrudgingly turn up to (but ultimately always would, just to be able to hug you in celebration afterwards).

It was all platonic, he told himself. Sure, he thought you were pretty and fun, but that didn't mean anything. He had it all under control, he reasoned, no, insisted. He was feigning igornace, arguing with his inner voice that it was all just excitement and nerves over having a friend who was popular.

"A lot on your mind?" you asked him a few months later, tongue swiping across the top of your ice cream, legs uncrossing underneath your cheerleading uniform.

You'd insisted on celebrating his first A in English Literature by going out for ice cream - "it's on me" you'd added, making it impossible to say no. It was a sizzling hot summer day and both of you were seeking refuge under the shade of a large willow tree, sitting on the roof of Eddie's van with him only a few inches separated from you.

'Yes.' Eddie wanted to say. 'I can't stop thinking about you.' he wanted to confess. 'I hear your laughter whilst I fold my clothes. I see you in the corner of my eyes everywhere I go, laying on my sofa with your legs dangling off the armrest, smiling at me in the rearview mirror from the backseat of my car.'

But he didn't say that.

"Not really. Just still reeling from the fact that I got an A." he joked, choosing to suppress his inner thoughts.

"Aw, well, you're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for, Eds. This is just the beginning, I know it."

Humming, he shot you a quick wink.

"I'll take your word for it, doll."

Both of you fell into a comfortable silence after that, until a loud shriek was heard from inside the ice cream store. A girl Eddie vaguely recognized from one of his classes was nodding fiercely and hugging her boyfriend close, making his eyebrows raise in piqued curiosity.

"Oh, probably just a promposal for the dance next week." you commented lazily, tongue flicking at the top of your cone.

"Are you... going?" Eddie tested the waters, eyes cautiously picking apart your reaction.

"Yeah, I am! Jason's being really difficult about the color palette we're matching as though. He wants pink and blue, I'd rather we do yellow and blue or pink and white."

Eddie's vision flashed white at the mention of Jason's name, bone chilling cold seeping through his chest.

"Jason as in... Jason Carver?"

You nodded, and the pain he felt upon seeing the fond smile that spread across your lips instantly felt worse than a million needle pricks at his heart.

"That's him. He can be kind of difficult at times but... he's my boyfriend and I love him, you know?"

Eddie knew he'd never have a chance with you. He never deluded himself into that fantasy, but now it was confirmed, written in clear black and white: you were taken. Not only that, but you loved Jason Carver. He was your boyfriend.

It made total sense. How had Eddie not noticed it before? Perhaps you had mentioned it to him previously, an off the cuff comment here and there, but Eddie wasn't listening carefully. Too intoxicated on your quiet giggles, too busy admiring the golden sunlight kissing your hairline.

It was impossible to prevent the smile from dissipating from his face, a forced grin instead replacing his genuine warm smile.

"Yeah. Makes sense, I guess."

"How about you, Eds?" you excitedly asked, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Anyone caught your eye that you want to take to the dance?"

It burned his mouth to respond, heart throbbing, fingers strained by his sides.

"Yeah, but uh... I don't think I'll be able to make it, so I'm not going to ask her."

You frowned at that and there were a few drops of strawberry ice cream hanging from your lips, which Eddie reached out to wipe away with his thumb instinctively.

"S-sorry." he muttered out, retracting his hand quickly as if he'd been burnt.

"Yeah, you better be." Jason barked out from behind Eddie, making him straighten up in alarm, not having heard Jason's car pull into the parking lot.

The jock glared at Eddie as he walked around to wrap a possessive arm around your waist, pulling you right against his figure. Your widening smile was unmissable, so was the way you kicked your legs forward in delighted joy when Jason suddenly swooped down and pressed a harsh kiss against your lips.

Eddie awkwardly averted his gaze as Jason continued to glare at the metalhead from over your shoulder, deepening the kiss possessively, his vice grip only loosening from your waist when you patted him on the back indicating that you needed air.

"Ready to go, babe?" Jason asked, not even missing a beat. You nodded, scrunching up the paper cup in your hands and throwing it away to the nearest bin.

"I'll catch you round?" you asked cheerfully, linking your hands with Jason and shooting Eddie a hopeful smile. The smart answer to give would've been to make up an excuse, to cut the friendship there and for good - especially with how Jason was steaming with anger next to you, blue icy eyes narrowing in on Eddie's figure.

There was a storm brewing, toxic smoke billowing into the air. But Eddie stood there, unwavering, only nonchalantly rolling back his shoulders and winking at you.

"Yep. See you round."

Jason's hatred for Eddie only intensified as time went on - you'd tagged along to a D&D session once and the jock found you leaning over Eddie mid-dice roll, metal ring clad fingers on top of yours as he guided you. Eddie waited for you after school whenever you had late practice to drive you back home, only for Jason to then pop out of nowhere and insist on driving you home (though he lived in the opposite direction from you).

"I don't fucking trust you, freak." Jason once spat the moment you ran off to the bathroom, leaving the two men to be standing around your locker. "I don't know what the fuck my girlfriend sees in you, but you better not be dragging her into any of your shit."

Eddie clenched his jaw, fists grasping and ungrasping by his sides in an attempt to control his anger.

"Relax, Carver. We're just friends."

Jason just rolled his eyes at that, stepping forward threateningly.

"Yeah, friends. Just don't get your dick hard thinking she's yours. She shouldn't be wasting her time on you anyways."

Eddie's blood boiled at the way the basketball player talked about you, wanting to control and dictate everything you did.

"She's not property for you to fucking control, jackass." he retorted, only succeeding in causing Jason's nostrils to flare with fury.

"I'm back, and I- Oh." you paused, noticing the tension lingering in the air and the defensive postures. "Is everything alright?"

The boys stared at each other silently, hatred still tinging the air, but it all melted into fake smiles on both their faces when turning to you.

"Yep." they both affirmed.

"Everything's... perfect. Just as it should be." Jason slowly drawled, eyeing Eddie up and down. It was a threat, an alarm bell ringing right by his ears. It dawned on Eddie that this was becoming unavoidable now, the mess that he was in, his love for you an unstoppable tornado.

It was incredibly reckless to continue to be friends with you. But god, it felt so damn good.

So out of selfish nature or not, Eddie didn't pull away. He chose to clutch on to you tighter, grit his teeth harder, damn all the consequences that would follow. He'd wander closer into the eye of the storm, wholeheartedly and willingly, all for you.

Though Jason wasn't silent about his unhappiness over your friendship with Eddie, you never let it affect you. So Eddie continued to be your friend, maybe even best friend at this point after six months, what in between Saturday movie nights and late evening talks on the bleachers after practice.

Eddie forced himself to be content with being your go-to platonic company: of helping you pick out a dress for your date with Jason whilst leaning against the headboard of your bed, carrying your things for you at school as you rushed to class after cheerleading practice, laughing with you over a pack of cheep bear in someone's backyard during a loud house party.

It hurt - doing all the things couples did, but under the label of friendship and under Jason's persistent gaze. After all, Eddie was the one to hold your hair back when you'd had too much to drink at the end of year summer party, helping to wipe your mouth with a stray towel and gently guiding a water bottle to your lips.

Your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen, having ditched you the moment his fellow basketball players called him over. It made Eddie furious, how it seemed Jason only wanted you as a trophy to show off to the school before abandoning you in favor of his friends, but you seemed to be blind to it.

Besides, Eddie reasoned, who was he to intervene? Overall, you were happy, right?

The metalhead wasn't even in the bathroom with you for more than three minutes when Jason came pummeling through the door, chest heaving with anger upon having been told that you were seen stumbling into an empty bathroom with Eddie 'the freak' Munson.

The jock never said it - at least in front of Eddie - but it was clear that he suspected something more than friendship, you two always tilting dangerously close into romantic territory. Jason ordered Eddie out, insisting that you were in need of your boyfriend instead of him, and with a heavy heart Eddie sighed and wandered back into the party.

He still thought about you the rest of the night though, no matter how many jaegar bomb shots he downed.

Come autumn, and it wasn't just Jason who saw what was going on. At this point, you were beloved by everyone in the Hellfire Club and you'd even swung by Eddie's trailer multiple times. Wayne and the kids would all tease Eddie for his clear infatuation with you, which Eddie would vehemently deny, though he knew deep down they were right.

"So are you ever going to admit that you like her?" Dustin teased, knocking his shoulder into the older boy's.

They were sitting on the railings of the skate park, the boys having lost a game of rock-paper-scissors with Max to pick between going to the arcade or to the skate park. The redhead was busy coaching you on how to skate - your legs wobbly on the skateboard as Max held onto your arms, wide amused smiles on both your faces - whilst Lucas and Mike ran off to the corner store to get some water.

"What, (Y/n)?" Eddie tried to play dumb.

"Duh, who the hell else?" Dustin retorted, appalled that his friend would even try to feign ignorance.

Both boys picked up their heads at the sound of loud laughter, your back on the pavement as you seemingly fell, Max laughing so hard that she had tears in her eyes and was hunched over to clutch her stomach. The fond smile gracing Eddie's lips was instantaneous- you were always so good with the kids, they all adored you. The boys pestered you for gaming tips, Max and you bonded over music, Erica thought you were the "coolest adult" she knew.

It made Eddie fall even deeper for you, his heart now fully in the eye of the hurricane. You were ripping down all his walls, your laughter destructive and haunting. You left him dizzy and stumbling through the hallways, heart heavy with infatuation, lips aching to be on yours.

"There. Right there." Dustin commented, pointing right at Eddie's face. "You get that stupid grin on your face whenever she smiles or talks or shit, does anything really. We all have bets on when you're finally gotta make a move, so when are you?"

Eddie shoved off the curly haired boy, fingers scrambling to brush off the sleeves of his jacket in false boredom.

"For the millionth time, Henderson, she has a boyfriend. Said boyfriend, who by the way, hates me and frankly I don't feel like being a homewrecker." he spat, venom dropping from his voice at the thought of Jason. Letting out a short exhale, he flashed the younger boy a tired smile.

"Besides, we've been friends for like, what, over half a year now? The ship has sailed, I've got no chance."

"You're just saying that because you don't see the way she looks at you." the younger boy insisted. "Seriously. Friends don't look at each other like that."

Eddie had nothing to say to that, you looking up from the opposite site of the skate park to wave at the two boys with delight, which they both quickly returned. The fluttering in Eddie's stomach was easy to anticipate at this point, as was the heavy pang in his heart at the realization that Jason would be coming to pick you up in a short bit.

"She's just being nice, Dustin." Eddie muttered, running a shaky hand through his hair.

You looked ethereal whilst skating, so carefree, hair flowing in the wind as your knees bent and braced for the dip off the edge. Fading red orange sunlight accentuating the dip and curve of your facial features, autumn foliage stuck in your messy hair.

You'd come into his life, a tornado, and destroyed his whole being. He was wandering alone now, knees brushing up against green fields with nothing but trees surrounding him, but Eddie didn't mind.

So long as he got to continue to watch you smile like that.

Cut to the present, Eddie's mindlessly filling out the pop quiz, brain still fuzzy from your touch lingering over his skin, ghostly yet ever so present. The rest of the class flies by and it's the end of the school day, so Eddie quickly moves to shove his things into his bag, crushing all his paper notes with the haste with which he does so.

"Any plans for tonight?" you ask, tossing your bag over your shoulder.

It's Friday night, which to everyone else means parties and fancy dinners, but to Eddie it usually means going back to the trailer and watching a rerun of a shitty sitcom over a bowl of microwave mac and cheese. Not that he'll tell you that, though.

"Not really. Why, up for another spontaneous drive through town?" he teases, heart fluttering hopefully. You sigh and shake your head sideways.

"Can't - Jason's taking me out on a date, but... rain check for maybe next Friday?" you question, peeking up from your lashes.

"Sure, next Friday." the bitter smile and forced ambivalence to his tone is painful, but it's a dull ache he's made peace with at this point. "If anything changes, you know where to find me." Eddie jokes, cocking his head to the side.

And unexpectedly, things do change.

In the blink of an eye, it seems.

Eddie's mid-way through the rented copy of Evil Dead, hands stuck in a greasy bowl of popcorn as he lies chest down on the sofa, blue light from the television illuminating his tired face, until someone bangs against his trailer door furiously.

Jumping up at the sudden loud noise, he pauses the VHS tape, abandoning his bowl of popcorn on the couch before throwing open the door.

It's you, mascara running down your cheeks, arms crossed over your chest, clutching at your skin so harshly that the baby blue dress you're wearing bunches at your waist.

"I broke up with him." is the first thing you say, voice shaky, body still trembling. "He said some, fuck, awful things, Eds. Really awful things. I had no choice and I know it was the right thing to do but-"

Your voice breaks as another wave of tears overwhelms you.

"But then why does it still hurt?"

Eddie's quick to shush you and envelope you into his arms, not caring that your makeup is probably smudging against his shirt, his hands coming up to comfortingly cradle your head against his chest. Your body trembles with every sob that escapes your lips and Eddie presses a soft kiss to your hairline, wishing nothing more than to take your pain away from you.

His mind is whirring with a million different things to say to you, but your comfort is on the forefront of his mind above all.

"Hey... have you ever been to the park by Saint Street? You know, the one with the playground." he quietly suggests, pulling away slightly.

You look up at him, confused, wiping your eyes.

"I don't think so, why?"

Picking up the jean jacket thrown over his kitchen counter, he digs out his car keys from the side pocket and extends his left hand out for you to grab.

"Because. We should go. It's impossible to be sad at a playground."

It's a stupid thing to say, childish even, but it does the job of putting a smile back onto your face, your cold hands grasping his warm ones. It's a quick drive - no less than 15 minutes - but he can't help but look over at you at every intersection and red light, making sure that you're okay.

He jumps out first to open the car door for you before helping you climb over the metal fence - "no one comes by, I swear" he assures you - shaky feet meeting dead leaves and dirt, he's quick to tug you towards the swing set.

He refuses to let you talk - "play first, until you stop crying" - and he insists on pushing you on the swing as high as he can. He chases you down the slides then races you to the top of the jungle gym, drunk off of your bubbly laughter and the way your eyes twinkle in the moonlight.

Neither of you know how much time has passed before you two sit across from each other on the seesaw, ribs hurting from the lack of oxygen. You can faintly make out Eddie's features in the dark - moonlight illuminating his curls, amused grin on his handsome face (the same face you've been unable to stop thinking about for the past few months).

"So what'd Jason say?" Eddie asks, leaning forward. "But only if you wanna talk about it, of course." he clarifies.

You let out a slow exhale, nodding tiredly.

"No, no, you... you deserve to know. Jason was on edge at the restuarant - I didn't think much of it, he's always a bit on edge - but he just went crazy today. Like, the moment the waiter left he started screaming at me, accusing me of cheating on him."

"Cheating on him?" Eddie strains his neck with the speed with which he picks his head up to stare at you, wide mouthed. "You? You would never!"

You scoff at that, thumbs anxiously twiddling on your lap.

"I know. That's what I tried to tell him but he wouldn't hear it. Just kept on going and on about how I was clearly in love with-" you stop yourself then, the gravity of the situation falling into place like dominoes.

You just broke up with your boyfriend of nearly a year. You came to Eddie crying, showing up at his doorstep in a heartbeat. Now you two are staring at each other in the park, leaned over opposite sides of a fucking seesaw, pouring each other's feelings out into the chilly winter air.

"With who?" he furrows his eyebrows and you almost want to laugh at how oblivious he is. You suppose maybe you've been hiding it well - well enough for Eddie to not notice how your touch has always lingered a bit too long on his skin, how your head so easily found home in the crook of his neck, how you began to prioritize meeting up with him over your fellow cheerleaders.

But not well enough for Jason, eagle eyed and jealous, constantly hovering over your interactions with Eddie and deluding himself with the gossip around school that you'd gone further than that.

"You."

It's whispered, heart falling to the bottom of your stomach at the confession now lingering in the open, cold and heavy.

"M-me?" Eddie stutters, clearly taken back. You lick your lips, chapped and dry, your shaky breaths coming out in small whisps of white smoke.

"Yeah. Jason insisted that it was clear that I was cheating on him with you and that we were spending way too much time to be just friends, and he... he called me a lying slut. Straight up. Screamed that I was whore to my face, demanded to know how many times we fucked behind his back."

"W-we never even kissed!"

"Yeah, I know." you chuckle sadly, shaking your head sideways, blinking away new tears which spring to your eyes. "But Jason didn't believe me. I dumped him, left him with the check and... I don't know, didn't feel like going home to an empty house. And I just... all I could think about was how much I wanted to see you."

Eddie doesn't know what to say to that. So he takes the safe route, nodding sympathetically and flashing you a small grin.

"Well, I'm glad that you did. I hope me dragging you to the playground wasn't the wrong thing to do." he teases, attempting to lighten the heavy mood. It works, soft grin tugging at your face.

"Yeah it definitely wasn't. Coming here was perfect."

The night breeze blows against your bare shoulders and it hits you that you really aren't dressed for the outside. Even if winter is only beginning to slowly roll in, it's still chilly enough to see your breath in front of your eyes in puffs of smoke and you've been sitting still on this seesaw for a while. So Eddie steps off to shrug off his jacket, musky earth tones warming your senses as he places it carefully around your shoulders.

"Thanks." you mutter, fingers grasping the lapels of the fabric.

"Don't mention it." he responds, waving you off.

A few beats of silence pass and then you throw your head back, staring up at the night sky full of stars.

"You know, weirdly though, I'm kind of relieved."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Deep down, I knew it wouldn't last. Too many red flags, you know? I just keep on ignoring them because... I don't know, really. Don't like change."

"I get that."

"God, feelings suck." you chuckle, shaking your head sideways. "Don't they? Pining, infatuation, love."

Eddie hums, nodding along.

"I'm there with you. For example-" he pauses. He's staring the storm right in the eye now, he has to made a decision.

He's tired of running, he decides.

"The girl I've been fawning over for almost a year now has been totally blind to my love for her and I'm exhausted." he makes it a point to stare straight at you with an unwavering intensity. "But she's worth it."

It's a shot in the dark but there's a surge of courage and adrenaline pumping through his veins, and the dark makes him more bold. He blames it on the wind rush, the night high, how beautiful you look in that velvet blue dress.

"She sounds like a very lucky girl." you choke out, mind blanking unexpectedly. Eddie nods and walks up towards you slowly, your throat running dry under the intensity of his stare.

"Yeah, and she's incredible, too. Head cheerleader. Great English Literature tutor. So funny, so kind, so damn beautiful, especially in blue. Great with kids, loved by my uncle, and I just heard-" his left hand comes over to brush up against your cheek. "That she's single. Funny how things work out like this, huh?"

You nod wordlessly, entranced by his warm brown eyes.

"It is."

You stand up cautiously, never once breaking eye contact with him, leaning in closer and closer. Eddie's expecting you to pull away from him in any instant, disgust springing onto your face or apologies falling from your lips, but you remain still. Your lashes fluttering shut is the last sign he needs before he commits to closing the gap and kissing you squarely on your lips, knocking the cold air out from your lungs.

It's a cold night but his skin's on fire, left hand springing up to cup your chin, other hand supporting your neck as he tugs you in even closer. You taste like cherry chapstick and smell like French perfume, velvet fabric brushing up against his arms as he backs you up against a park bench.

It's a messy kiss, all teeth and tongue, but he can't give a fuck. Not when his heart is soaring, fingertips electric, mind hazy at the realization that he is finally kissing his dream girl after a whole year of pining.

"Holy shit." you manage to say when you two pull apart, hair slightly messied and lips wet and plump.

"I hope that's a good holy shit, princess." Eddie teases, the nickname causing your stomach to flutter with butterflies.

"It's a good holy shit. A really good holy shit." you confirm, nodding fiercely. You both laugh at that, warmth blossoming across both your chests.

"W-why didn't you ever say anything?" you stutter out, head still reeling from the passionate kiss.

"I wanted to. God, I wanted to so many times. I knew I was falling for you from the beginning, all these little indicators and signs and the intrusive thoughts. But I kept on ignoring them and by the time I realized I loved you, I knew you were with Jason and you two seemed happy. And I didn't want to be selfish and intrude on your happiness like that."

He tugs you down onto his lap, sitting both your bodies down on the metal bench. Your hands come up to carress his cold cheeks, trembling thumbs rubbing up and down his jawline, eyes admiring the freckles on his nose and the specks of moonlight in his hair.

"Well, no need to ignore those warnings anymore, huh?" you say quietly, voice heavy with adoration.

He just nods, head falling forwards to rest on your chest, hearing your soft heartbeat through velvet fabric.

"Absolutely."

Eddie ignored the tornado warnings.

But in the wreckage, you two found each other, hands desperately grasping each other's in the darkness.

Burrowing his head into the crevice of your neck, he's content to stay with you in the aftermath of the disaster, so long as you continue to grip onto him like this.

a/n: this was based on the song with the same title by Sabrina Carpenter! Please go stream and support her new album, 'emails I can't send', it is fantastic and there are so many other bangers on the album.

Speaking of which, the way that the metaphor of the tornado is used in the song is kinda different from how I used it here but idk, I thought it was a cute concept and the song motivated me to write it haha. Not sure how this fic will be received but I loved writing it :)

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #eddie munson #1k #2k #3k #4k #5k #6k #7k #8k

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dr3c0mix · 8 months

Note

Please more poly vampires please😭🙏! I can hardly ever find x male/masc reader stuff especially about monsters😭. What happens when they take us back to their home. What's gonna happen to us? What will the townsfolk react?

Poly!Vampires x Reader Pt. 2

CW: kidnapping, silas is a freak for a brief moment

waaaaa !! so sorry this took so long !! thank you all for being so patient with me ! >w< <3

update: i mixed up garrick and silas' names im sorry im sorry its fixed now guys im so-

🌙 Its been a week since the townspeople found your house empty, your bedroom looking like something out of a mystery novel.

🌙 The bed was stained with blood and claw marks were dug deep into your bedframe with the moonlight illuminating your room through your broken window.

🌙 It looked as if you've been taken by a creature of the night, but weirdly enough, your luggage was nowhere to be found. Your closet and drawers had clothes missing and the painting you had just finished was gone.

🌙 Who could have done this?

🌙 "Garrick, it's your turn to drive!"

🌙 "Already?! Just one more minute Viktor~?"

🌙 You're being held hostage, no, hostage wasn't the right word..kidnapped? Enslaved maybe? who knows..All you know was that these..creatures..will never let you out of their sight.

🌙 You remember that night when you bore witness to their inhuman ways, they were at the foot of your bed when you took out the crucifix under your pillow and held it to Viktor, his eyes turning all red and he hissed at the holy figure.

🌙 "Ohoho! Our little mortal's smart!" Garrick grins, showing off his sharp fangs.

🌙 Silas tries to grab you but you dodge, but his long claws managed to cut your cheek, you couldn't say the same for your bedframe..

🌙 Viktor gets a hold of you and chuckles darkly at your cut, the red liquid bleeding out of it made his mouth water.

🌙 "My my~ What a fierce little minx you are my darling~" he coos with a raspy cold breath as he licks your wound. The feeling made your stomach churn and your spine shiver.

🌙 Garrick was busy making a mess of your room and stuffing your clothes in bags. Also stuffing a pair of your underwear in his shirt for himself.. "Come on you idiots! It's almost dawn!" He whisper-yells as he fiddles with the window's lock.

🌙 Silas rolls his eyes and kicks the window, breaking it and jumping through, with Garrick holding his hand.

🌙 You were confused beyond compare. Were they really gonna kidnap you?! What's gonna happen to you?! Should you scream for help?!

🌙 "I'm sorry for this Darling.." Viktor says softly before knocking you out.

🌙 Now back to the present, the 3 rode around in a caravan, a charming little wagon that doubled as a moving home of sorts. One went in front and drove while the other two looked after you or did other things.

🌙 Every escape attempt you had would end up in failure, their superhuman senses were no match for you.

🌙 "Garrick you said that 10 minutes ago!" Viktor growls at the younger vampire.

🌙 Garrick groans "Fiiiiiine!" He says before giving you one last hug and kiss and going out with a coat to shield him from the sun.

🌙 You had about 10 seconds to yourself before Viktor sits down next to you and pulls you onto his lap.

🌙 "Oh how I missed your warmth little mortal~" He purrs, kissing your neck which made you tense up in fear of his fangs. He feels your heart beat faster and smirks. "Am I making you nervous~?" He teases.

🌙 Silas comes over and smacks the dark-haired man on the head "Enough Viktor! Don't you think our precious little darling is frightened already?" he scolds before smiling down at you warmly. Viktor just rolls his eyes and buries his face into your neck.

🌙 He hands you a cup of tea and sits down across from you and Viktor "Drink up dear, mortals like you need to stay warm in the winter~"

🌙 Silas was the most respectful one out of the 3, he was always taking care of you and making sure the others didn't make you feel uncomfortable, but of course he was just as obsessive of you as they were.

🌙 Viktor is such a cuddle bug, always hugging you close every chance he gets. He'd even have the luxury to sleep with you, an activity he hasn't done in a while. He might not need to sleep, but just lying in bed with your adorable sleeping form was like being in heaven for him.

🌙 Garrick love love loves chatting with you. Rambling to you about people he's killed or jewelry he's looted off of his food weren't the best topics to talk about, but he's got no one else to talk to! And you are his darling after all!

🌙 And you could do nothing about any of it. You were treated like a glorified pet and there was no way to leave or escape of have any time for yourself..

🌙 It continued on like this until the caravan came to a stop by a small town. The weather was much colder now than it was in your hometown with rain softly pouring down from the sky.

🌙 Your heart drops, knowing what they're going to do here.

🌙 They all come off the caravan, Silas going to give the horses some food. You refused to leave the caravan in your anxiety-stricken state.

🌙 Garrick notices your nervousness and smiles, sitting next to you and putting his forehead to yours "Darling, you miss home don't you~?" he coos softly.

🌙 You nod slightly as you refuse to look at him or even move.

🌙 The vampire sighs and rests his head on your shoulder and holds your hand. "I know honey...but we won't hurt you! And besides, you don't know these people anyway! You scared we'll kill them and stuff? It's fine! We do it all the time!" He laughs. He wasn't making anything better..

🌙 "You're shit at comforting people Silas." Viktor looks at the red head with a deadpanned expression. "Oh up yours Vik!" Garrick rolls his eyes at him.

🌙 At least that made you lighten up a bit..

🌙 Garrick pulls you up from your seat and you get out of the caravan, rain hitting your face before the vampire opens up an umbrella and holds you close to him so you don't get wet.

🌙 "Its fine dear, this is the last stop before we head back to our new home~" Silas walks over and places a kiss on your cheek.

🌙 Wait..home?..

🌙 "Now gentleman! Who's hungry~?"

sorry this is a bit short ! but feel free to request or ask anything about these blorbos! i love em a lot !

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f4riedimples · 7 months

Text

one of the girls

Pairings:Sam carpenter x f!reader

summary:truthfully ,after months of hooking up you never knew if Sam would ever officially be yours.

Inspired song:one of the girls-Jennie,The Weeknd,lily-rose depp.

a/n:(reader is 19, Sam is 25)

warnings:friends with benefits?,small smut/suggestiveness, secrets, jealousy

‘We don't gotta be in love, no I don't gotta be the one, no I just wanna be one of your girls tonight’

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Yes, you had feelings for Sam but you’d never thought it’d turn out like this.

I mean- why would she decide to do this herself anyways? It all felt so unreal. you’d known each other since before she left her home 5-6 years ago.

and ever since she was back you couldn’t help but have feelings for her. She was everything that you wanted.

“Right there- right there, fuck.” She had whispered to you as you continued to please her, switching to whatever you knew she truly wanted deep down.

she loved to be dominant but you knew she’d also love to be taken care of so you decided to do whatever you can to please her.

‘Give me tough love Leave me with nothin' when I come down My kinda love Force me and choke me 'til I pass out’

after you made her feel good you both just would simply put on your clothes. No aftercare, sometimes no words.

nothing.

after you both came out of her room you helped yourself to a bottle of water in her fridge. You really needed it after all.

If you were gonna be honest as much as you loved doing whatever Sam asked of you, you wanted so bad sometimes for more. A real relationship. You hated how attached you were getting.

You at least would’ve loved some sex that felt soft, loving, and of course comforting. Not just sex that’s more…freaky. Not just the degrading words that would turn you on, the way she would spank you, the way she made you feel the way no one else could.

it felt good in the moment but you wanted more.

but you might never speak on that.

“hey y/n.” You turned around as she said your name, waiting for what she was gonna say next.

“can you hand me a bottle of water?” She panted as she wiped a bit of sweat off her brow. You handed her some water and she eagerly almost chugged it before chuckling.

“hey is it okay if I take a shower real quick before Tara and the others come back?” You asked almost shyly before she sent you a smile.

“of course.” You smiled and made your way to the shower trying not to think about everything running in your head.

after getting out of the shower you quickly threw on some clothes and excited the apartment, giving Sam a rushed good bye as you power walked out of the apartment.

Sam on the other hand…well. She didn’t know how to feel. Or what she felt.

the next day you had come over with the rest of the group to hang out before going out to the club that night. As soon as you arrived and Sam answered the door you saw Danny in the room.

you stared, almost glared at the muscular boy before Sam interrupted all the thoughts that were coming to your petty little head.

“y/n, come in!” She smiles seemingly not knowing what you were staring at. Once you had got in and set your bag down you hugged Mindy before sitting on the couch next to her.

You guys had quite a fun time for a while. All until when you weren’t paying attention Sam was taking Danny to her room.

your eyes widen as it felt like your worst fears were coming true right in front of your eyes.

no one noticed at first until you had this almost upset look on your face. Chad turned to you concerned thinking that you were about to cry or maybe even scream.

“Y/n? You okay? You seem pretty tense.” He asked concerned as you just shook your head and sighed with a chuckle.

“I’m fine. Thanks Chad.” You sent him a smile at his caring nature and also because to night was supposed to be fun.

and besides, Sam wasn’t yours anyways. Why would you be mad over someone who doesn’t belong to you?

once Sam and Danny had came out of the room after what felt like an eternity you had all went to the club.

while there you had some shots but decided to separate from the group.

In the corner of your eye you had saw Sam dancing pretty suggestively with someone else. There was so many people around you that you could only focus on Sam in the face she was making as she was touching the person.

“she’s not yours, she’s not yours, she’s not yours…she’s not…” you said in your mind as your eyes filled with tears. You didn’t know wether you wanted to tell that to the person or how much you were telling it literally to yourself.

she wasn’t yours. She wasn’t anybody’s.

you were just lucky your friends weren’t currently seeing you. You made your back to the bar and ordered another shot.

“thank you!-“ you almost squealed trying to be happy and cheer up. As you took the shot and felt the alcohol burn your throat you tried to get out of the sad mood and shake it off.

you felt a tap on your shoulder. You didn’t wether or not you hoped it was Sam before turning around to reveal…

some random guy.

he had a smirk like smile on his face and you already knew he wanted to dance.

you really wanted to roll your eyes.

“sorry. I’m not good at dancing.” You lied as you tried not to have an attitude. But of course he wouldn’t let up that easily.

“oh come on sexy. I saw you dancing a few minutes ago. I know you got moves.”

you sighed. “Sorry I just really don’t wanna dance right now.

the guy rolled his eyes with an attitude.” Cmon! I could really make it worth your while. Besides…maybe if you want we could go back to my place and you could experience some real fun.” His breath reeked of alcohol. You could tell by his clothes, scent, messed up tattoos and teeth that it wouldn’t be happening.

he was clearly fucked up in more ways than one. He yelled at the bartender to get you both shots of one of your least favorite alcohols.

You tried to be patient and talk out of this. “Listen man I’m just not interested. You’re not my type. Keep your shots for yourself. I can buy my own.” You argued with a slight attitude.

he couldn’t help but groan. “Damn. Why don’t chicks like a real man who’ll take care of you?” He then mumbled under his breath as he started to walk away. “Ugly bitch.”

you gripped the bar table in anger as you tried to keep a your emotions from the past weeks at bay.

you quickly turned around and ordered another shot from the bartender Toni who had a really sorry look on their face feeling bad for you.

as you took your next shot you heard Tara shout your name happily.

“y/n cmon! Why are you just sitting there by yourself?” It wasn’t anything to be rude or sarcastic but you still felt angry at it. But you knew that it wasn’t her fault for the predicament you were in.

you turned around and sighed before taking another shot and smiling. “Let’s party!”

now you were currently dancing with Mindy in not a too suggestive way. Everyone around you could tell it was just playful and friendly.

she was behind you as you two danced to the current song that was playing. It felt so good to let loose that you started to forget about the whole Sam situation.

that is until she took your hand and led you to another part of the club.

you were shocked and confused in your drunk mind. “Sam? What are you doing?”

“dancing. With you.” You could tell that she was probably not too happy but you ignored it and made sure not to make her mood worse. you guys were dancing like a couple who were ready to get it on. You felt her hands on your body and saw how she sent a slight glare at Mindy.

was she jealous? Couldn’t be. Her and Mindy probably just had an argument recently or for all you could know it probably wasn’t even aimed directly at Mindy.

you were almost getting turned on with the way Sam was dancing against you and grabbing you. It made you wanna kiss her so bad. And you almost did until you realized how angry could be.

‘Lock me up and throw away the key *She* knows how to get the best out of me I'm no fools for the world to see Trade my whole life just to be’

you were so ready and hoping Sam would take you back to her apartment right then and there when everyone got back and wouldn’t notice. But after a few minutes you saw her staring on another direction with a much different gaze.

you knew that this would probably be the end of your dancing now and you were right as Sam pulled away and walked off.

you were sad again. You weren’t gonna do anything crazy to get her jealous again. No. You were just gonna go back over to your friends and dance in a much more friendly and less provocative way.

you were once again trying to feel better but everyone around you could tell that was a mask to hide how you truly felt.

‘Top of the world but I'm still not free It's such a secret that I keep Until it's gone, I can never find peace Brace my whole life just to be’

when you all got back to Sam’s your drunkenness had already died down from all of your emotions on everything.

you so desperately wanted to talk to Sam before you all got back into the car.

but you’d just embarrass yourself or at least that’s what you felt.

you wanted so badly to move on. Get away. Stop it. But you knew that it would be such a bitch to leave. Not when you and Sam had already done so much.

you were just thankful that she didn’t try to bring back whoever she was dancing with at the club.

you hopped into the shower first and got rid of all the little bit of sweat from your time parting at that club. even as the drunken state your mind had was fading you couldn’t help but think about if Sam came in her right now.

seeing you like this. But not just for some hook up to end the night. No. Maybe to…finally be official?

You knew it was beyond stupid so you tried to get that hopeful thought out of your head.

as you came out of the shower you realized that as everyone was mostly asleep Sam had her door wide open.

she pulled you inside. “There you are princesca.” She whispered lustfully before kissing you passionately.

at least you were her girl for the night.

#scream vi #sam carpenter #sam carpenter smut #scream smut #sam carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin #tara carpenter #sam carpenter x female reader

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mountainsandmayhem · 4 months

Text

You’re Mine, Little Dove

(Joel Miller x Female!Reader) 18+

Summary: You’ve always loved walking at night, but an unexpected visitor goes from the most terrifying to most erotic night of your life.

TW: predator/prey dynamics, ropes, blindfolding, gagging, non consent, consensual non consent, oral, fingering, unprotected P in V, dirty talk, pet names (little dove, baby girl etc.)

A/N: I can’t say much without giving anything away, but this scene has been so fun for me to write. I’m tagging @untamedheart81 @beboldbebravethings @rav3n-pascal22 and @spookyxsam since you 4 wonderful people had such amazing support for my last story. And because delulu is the solulu, I’m also tagging @swiftispunk and @thetriumphantpanda because they’re both incredible creators and I truly admire their work.

🤍🕊️🤍 •• 🤍🕊️🤍 •• 🤍🕊️🤍 •• 🤍🕊️🤍

You’ve always loved the night, and since getting promoted at work walking in the dark has become your way of winding down. Your friends think you’re crazy, blabbing on about how it’s dangerous and you shouldn’t be out there alone. One even suggested buying really dark sunglasses and walking during the day. You all laughed at that as you sipped rosé, but it’s not the same. For one, the summer sun in Texas is way too hot most days, but it’s also too “peopley” during the day. You want the solitude and quiet that comes with the dark.

All day you’re interrupted and expected to do things outside of your lane. Take work for example, today you were asked to take meeting minutes for a meeting that the team you lead isn’t even a part of. You lead a team, and have an assistant of your own who takes meeting notes, doesn’t that team lead have an assistant who can do that?

Probably not. He’s an arrogant prick, you think to yourself. But he’s the boss's son so he gets away with it. And because of that, you agree. You always fucking agree. Always happy to help, never saying no.

Here in the night though, it’s just you. The night doesn’t ask you to do anything but sleep, which you will do after enjoying the cooler summer air on your skin as you wander through the park behind your house.

There’s also a slight edge of danger to it that entices you. The park is well-lit, but who knows what could happen in the darkness between the casts of yellow light from lamppost to lamppost. Those darker spots might be your favourite, just a few steps away from the safety of the light.

You stop in one of those dark spots, closing your eyes and tilting your head up to the sky, taking a big cleansing breath in.

Silence. Calm. Peace.

You hold your breath for a few seconds, silence ringing in your ears before you slowly exhale. Just before you open your eyes, two strong arms wrap around you. A hand clamps over your mouth, the other arm other snakes tightly around your waist, pinning your arms down with it.

Silence, calm, and peace, were quickly replaced with fear, terror, and panic.

A solid wall of a person leads you to the grassy, non-lit areas of the park and you realize you have never known fear before. The fun fear of a roller coaster or haunted house, yes; but never true heart-stopping fear. Your stomach drops and everything inside you is yelling to fight.

“Don’t scream, little dove.” A deep voice rumbles through you. If it wasn’t for his massive form holding you up, you’re sure you’d fall over.

This doesn’t happen here. This is a safe neighbourhood where you know all your neighbours. For a second you think it’s a joke, someone sneaking up on you that you know, but it’s almost midnight on a Wednesday. Who would be up at this point?

As he pulls you along your fear evolves into terror. You’re frantically trying to catch your breath through your nose as every happy memory floods through you. The sparkly pink bike you got when you were six. The first time you saw white sand and crystal clear blue waters. Watching your best friend get engaged. How proud your parents looked when you got promoted last year. What was the last thing you even said to your parents?

His strong frame forces you to the grass. He places a knee on your back, holding you down as he ties your hands with a scratchy rope. Your mouth is free as your forehead rests on the grass.

Scream. Now.

You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Why can’t you scream or at least look back at him to see who he is so you can describe him to the police?

Oh god, what if he doesn’t let you go?

Just as you open your mouth to try to scream again he gags you and then blindfolds you. You’re pretty sure it’s done with silk ties, but you really can’t be sure.

“Good job, little dove.” He coos in your ear as he helps you up. “You’ll be rewarded for keeping quiet.”

He leads you through more of the grassy fields. You try to map out which house you’re headed toward in your mind’s eye until you’re interrupted by the sound of crunching gravel under your shoes. You assume you’re in an alley or street as you hear the clicking of a car door.

Your overly conservative father's voice comes into your head. “You can’t go out dressed like that. Boys will get the wrong idea. You’re inviting them to take advantage of you.”

That was years ago. You’re an adult woman now, with a degree and a mortgage. You know your clothing isn’t an excuse for this man’s abhorrent behaviour, but maybe you should have changed from your denim skirt and tight black top.

As you hear the vehicle door open the panic begins. Your breath comes in shorter and shallower, and it feels like your heart is thumping in your throat. You’re sure your captor can hear it, or at least feel it through the skin of your bicep that he’s gripping so tightly. A whimper escapes you as he hoists you into a back seat and slams the door.

“Don’t cry, little dove.” He says from the front as he starts the engine. “It’ll only entice me.”

Fuck. Fuck. You’re dead. Or trafficked. How could you not have screamed?! You let him take you, but did you stand a chance either way? You could feel his chest on the back of your head when he grabbed you, he was probably a foot taller than you. His strong hand was large enough to practically cover your whole face. He was the predator…you were the prey.

You calm your breathing and focus on the turns the vehicle takes as it pulls out of your neighbourhood, not letting the tears fall, you refuse to give him that sort of satisfaction.

It feels like you’ve been driving for hours before you finally come to a stop. He hasn’t said anything from the front seat. No music played. As he turns off the car you can hear the sound of a garage door closing. You’re royally fucked.

The door near your feet opens and you scramble to the other side of the vehicle as your instincts to fight ignite. A strong hand grabs your ankle and pulls you forward. You kick blindly with your other leg, screaming through the silk that’s wedged between your teeth. He catches your other ankle, squeezing them both together with one hand and binds them together.

He hoists you over his shoulder and lays a hard spank across your ass, eliciting a squeal as the walls of your pussy clench a little. “Behave, little dove,” he says cockily. You can’t see him, but you know he’s smirking over how easily he overpowered you.

You try to say ‘fuck you’ through your gag.

“Oh, I intend to.” He says as he takes you inside and up the stairs.

He drops you down on a bed and undoes the gag. “Tell me your name.”

“Touch me again and I’ll rip your dick off.” You spit.

He chuckles a little while straddling you and lifting the hem of your shift, exposing the soft skin of your stomach. “I love it when my little doves talk dirty to me.”

He places light kisses along your skin and you squirm to try to get free, but his large frame has you trapped and your arms and legs are useless if they’re bound. A deep moan from his chest shoots straight to your core, sending a new wave of arousal as your body starts to betray you.

“You’re a fucking coward,” you say with as much hate as you can muster, trying to ignore the want that’s spreading through your traitorous body.

He lifts your shirt higher, exposing all the skin between your bra and denim skirt, continuing to place soft kisses and light nibbles along your skin.

“I only want to make you feel good, little dove.” He says in a husky whisper, “How does that make me a coward?”

God dammit he feels so warm against you. You push his soft lips and deep soothing voice out of your mind and focus back on the fear, terror and panic you felt earlier.

“Capturing someone in the night. Binding them. Real men aren’t afraid of the fight.” Taunting him is incredibly risky, but if you entice him enough he might untie you and you can fight like hell to get free. He couldn’t have taken you far.

His kisses cease. You almost let out a whimper of protest at him stopping. Are you this desperate for touch? You have a boyfriend.

“Is that what you think, little dove?” He shifts to be straddling your hips, leaning forward with both forearms on either side of your face. He brushes away some hair that has stuck to your lips. “That I’m not a real man?”

You can feel the bulge in his pants pressing against your stomach as you try to squirm free. “Yes, you’re fucking pathetic.”

His lips move to your neck. Wet kisses moving from your ear to your collarbone. You’ve always been a sucker for neck kisses and with sight being taken away, your sense of touch seems heightened. Shit, his lips feel good and at this proximity, you catch a faint smell of leather and cedar. He trails his tongue back up before gently biting your earlobe.

Fuck, a small shiver runs down your back and your breath hitches as you squeeze your thighs together.

“I’ll make you a deal, little dove,” he whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “If you can keep your breathing steady for the next 5 minutes, I’ll untie you and remove the blindfold.”

You feel dizzy by the closeness and gentleness of him. “And if I can’t?” You breathe.

“If you can’t…I’ll untie your ankles and remove the blindfold. I have a feeling you have beautiful eyes.”

You swallow hard, contemplating your options. He kidnapped you. He doesn’t have your consent to any of this, but based on the wetness that is now coating your thighs, your body doesn’t seem to get the same message.

You take a deep breath before saying, “Deal.”

Before the word has fully left your lips, he’s ripped your tank top completely open. His fingers work the front clasp on your bra as he whispers that he’s sorry about your shirt and starts placing hungry kisses down your neck. Your breasts are completely exposed to him, the cool air turning your nipples into stiff peaks.

“You’re fucking gorgeous.” He says as he cups both your breasts. His tongue swipes along the left nipple as his thumb caresses the smooth skin underside of the right one.

You remind yourself that he kidnapped you and try not to let your body and breathing betray you, but your thighs squeeze tighter for relief and your mind is swimming.

His tongue swipes harder before he moves over to the right one, sucking it into his mouth and rolling the other between his fingers.

He’s playing you like a fiddle. How does he seem to know exactly what you like?

He releases your nipple with a pop before gently blowing cool air on it. He latches back onto the left one, swirling with his tongue and your hips involuntarily buck forward as your breath stutters.

“Good girl, little dove.” He says with a low growl, coming back up to be face to face. “Looks like I win. Your hands stay tied, but I’ll free your ankles and take off the blindfold.”

His minty breath hits your nostrils. Fuck, my hands!! How could you have forgotten about your hands? Shit. You can’t believe you let this monster make you feel good.

He slips the blindfold off and you blink a few times, adjusting to the dimly lit room and taking in the man on top of you. Fuck, monster he is not. His curly dark hair is pushed back and you can see some salt and pepper around the temples. He has patchy facial that you couldn’t even feel when he was kissing you, he was being much more gentle than you thought. He’s handsome and rugged…if anything, this man is your type.

“I was right,” he says, his deep brown eyes staring right into you. “You do have beautiful eyes.”

Now that he sees you as a person, you might be able to elicit some sympathy.

“P-please let me go.” You say, holding in tears.

He tilts his head to one side, a small smile revealing a dimple that makes you melt a little. “Let you go? We’ve only just started, little dove.”

The fear starts to come back again as he shifts to untie your ankles. “Please don’t do this.”

He kisses up your thighs and speaks between kisses. “Sshhhh…let me make you feel good and then you can go home.”

You should kick or flail or do something, you had your best chance just seconds ago, but his warm, soft kisses had you too distracted. You start to think this man wouldn’t actually hurt you. But he is hurting you by forcing you to be here in the first place, isn’t he?

You look down at him to see him lying beside you, head propped in one hand near your hip as the other trails up and down your legs. His features are soft, eyes wholly focused on the tiny goosebumps he’s leaving on his skin. His hand slips between your thighs and tries to part your legs, you’re suddenly unsure if you’re squeezing them together to ease the throbbing of your clit or out of fear.

“Open your legs for me, little dove.” He says as he kisses the tops of your thighs.

You shake your head as the tears you were holding in roll down your cheeks. He’s right near your knees now, you could draw one up into his jaw, but those big chocolate eyes are looking up at you so lovingly.

He get up, walks towards the end of the bed and grabs your ankles. Like the flip of a switch, his look turns harsh and angry before he pulls you to the edge of the bed. Your skirt hikes up around your waist from the motion and he licks his lips as he wedges his body between your knees, spreading you apart enough for him to see you glistening for him.

“Tsk, tsk.” He says while shaking his head and lowering himself slowly between your legs. “Walking alone at night, in this little skirt with no panties?”

He lowers himself between your thighs and you begin to realize just how broad he is as your leg muscles cry out from the stretch. The rest of the room comes into view. There are handcuffs and ropes, along with paddles and whips hanging on the wall. There was no escaping this man, and your curiosity is peaked by the ropes you notice around the bed frame.

“Perhaps you’re not a little dove after all.” He taunts, looking at your wide eyes as they take in the room. He’s going to take what he wants from you and you barely fought it. You’re enjoying his words and touches, even more so now that you see how incredibly handsome he is.

“Please.” You whimper, making eye contact with your captor. Though you aren’t sure if it’s a plea to stop or keep going.

“You look even more gorgeous spread out for me like this. So wet. And warm.” He’s looking at your cunt like it’s the newest wonder of the world. “Doesn’t look like she has gotten the attention she needs lately. Does your boyfriend not know what he’s doing?”

His warm breath hits your core as he speaks, sending waves of warmth from the base of your spine out to your fingertips.

“He….” you aren’t sure what to say. You love your boyfriend, “he does. He just isn’t…skilled.”

A gentle kiss is placed on your mound, right above the spot that’s aching for attention. “Poor baby. Do you need me to take care of it, little dove?”

You clamp your eyes shut. You shouldn’t. This is wrong. But your traitorous pussy has other plans and you very quietly whisper yes.

His mouth is on your before you can even process what you just agreed to. A flat, wet tongue laps from your entrance to your clit a few times before he sucks your clit into his mouth. He groans deeply as he tastes you, sending a rumble straight through you. You cry out loudly and arch your back, pushing yourself into him.

“Good girl.” He says before doing it again. “I want to hear you enjoy it.”

His mouth continues to keep you on edge. Rotating between licking and sucking, adding pressure until you start breathing heavily and then easing up. You’re right on the edge, but he’s not letting you over.

“Please. Please let me come.” You beg.

He stops, looking at you with a cocky smirk, revealing that fucking dimple again. “That boyfriend of yours has been mistreating you, little dove. So worked up.”

You let a whine when he stops and begs some more. “Please. You feel so good.”

He slams two fingers deep inside of you. You’re so wet that it happens with ease and when he curls his fingers forward, right to that spongy part, you start to feel like your bones are dissolving.

“F-fuuuuuck,” you gasp.

His tongue begins to flick against your clit again, gently at first as he works you with his fingers. You can feel your arousal dripping down his hand and pooling under your ass. He starts applying more pressure with his tongue and you know that he’s going to make you come. Hard. And with your hands still tied behind your back you won’t be able to push him away when you become too sensitive. Too overly stimulated.

“Come on my little dove,” he says between licks. “Show me how good this feels.”

Your orgasm hits with a force you have never felt before. Electricity feels like it courses through your entire body and you scream out to the room, legs shaking as you cover his hand and mouth with your arousal. He doesn’t let up, sucking and licking as your orgasm feels like it lasts forever. Finally, you can’t take it anymore and you try to roll away.

“S-Stop. S’too much,” you gasp. “Please.”

He pulls his fingers from you, pinning your hips down with his forearm making you a prisoner to his tongue. He’s going to make you come again.

“I can’t,” you huff as you try to escape.

“Ssh, little dove. You can take it.” He keeps sucking and licking your swollen bundle of nerves.

Your body starts to shake, the word no escaping your lips over and over. You mean yes, but this man is overwhelming you with pleasure in a way no one ever has before, and you don’t know if you can take it.

He moans against you as he sucks, that same rumble from earlier, it consumes you and that’s what does it. You come again, grinding shamelessly against his face as he smiles up at you.

“Good girl. Fuck, I am going to ruin you for every other man. No one is going to make you come as hard, or as much as I will. Roll over.”

The fact that he’s taken you against your will is not even in your mind as you slide back into the bed to roll over. He pulls you up so your knees are resting right on the edge, fully on display for him.

“Such a perfect little pussy. And a perfect girl. Being so good for me.” You hear his belt and jeans hit the floor. Glancing back you see him naked from the waist down, pumping his cock in his hand. Your eyes widen at the size of him.

“No. It’s not gonna….I can’t do it.” You crawl up the bed to get away, laying flat on your stomach.

He climbs up behind you and hitches one of your legs up before aligning himself with your soaked entrance.

“Relax, little dove,” he whispers in your ear before gently kissing your neck. He pushes himself into you and you tense up at the size of him.

“You need to relax, baby girl.” He says deeply, “Take a deep breath. You can do this.”

You do as he says, looking over your shoulder at him and breathing deeply.

He pushes into you more, not breaking eye contact. “Good girl. Make room for me.”

He’s stretching you almost to the point of pain but you listen and breathe. The more relaxed you are the better it feels. There can’t be much more left for him to get inside of you.

“Almost there. You’re such a good little dove. One more breath baby.” Finally, you feel his hips pressed against your ass. He stays still for a second and you grind back into him.

“Fuck, stay still for a second. You’re so tight.” He gasps. Pride fills you that this big man can be brought to pieces by just the tiniest wiggle of your ass.

He takes a few breaths this time before he starts to move. He starts slow. Moving halfway out and then back in a few times. You need more.

“Fuck me,” you moan. “Please. Ruin me for other men like you promised.”

A hard smack lands on your ass cheek before he pumps in and out of you. He’s rough with you now, grabbing your hair and pounding as deep as he can after pulling out to the tip.

“You won’t be able to walk for a week.” He grunts before releasing your hair and spanking you again.

It’s euphoric. The perfect mix of pleasure and pain. You arch your back more and he lays another slap across your ass.

“You’re not a little dove are you?” He growls as he fucks you.

“No,” you breathe. Barely able to form a thought.

“Tell me what you are.” He says, slapping your ass again.

“I’m yours. I’m your desperate, cock loving little dove.” It comes out as a whine, your orgasm growing closer.

He doesn’t stop pounding into you. “Fuck. That’s my good girl. You’re taking me so well.”

You can feel your arousal soaking the sheets below you, and hear the squelching as he fucks into you. You arch your back again so he can brush against that spot you love so much. He reaches under you, rubbing tight little circles on your clit.

“Oh….f-fuck.” You coo.

“Yea?” He taunts, “You like that? My rough fingers on your beautiful little cunt?”

His words send another rush of arousal to your core, this is wrong. You shouldn’t like this, but you’re not sure you’ll survive if he stops what he’s doing.

“N-no. Fuck you.” You try to sound mad but it hits his ears in breathy moans.

“My perfect girl.” He taunts, “Come on my big cock. Squeeze me with that tightly little pussy.”

Your vision blurs as you start to gush all over him. Your whole body tenses as wave after wave of pleasure consumes you, moaning and squealing like a woman possessed. Your legs shake so hard that you feel like you’re in the middle of an intense gym session. Slowly you gain control of your body again and he’s right, you’re ruined for all other men.

“Good fucking girl,” he says as he pulls out and climbs up the bed. “You’re so hot. Open your mouth for me, little dove.”

He pumps himself over you as you roll on your back and open your mouth. His strokes and breathing become erratic as warm ropes of come hit your tongue and face. He lets out a deep moan as he covers you.

He leans in a kisses your lips, not caring about the come on your chin or cheeks, the biggest smile crossing his face.

“Let me get you a face cloth, babe.” He says with a little laugh.

“Thank you, Joel.” You say with a wink. “And please untie me, my hands are asleep.”

He laughs, “I would, but I’m just your unskilled boyfriend now.”

He gently wipes off your face before reaching back and untying your wrists. He kisses them gently before laying back on the bed. “Was that ok?”

You curl into his arms. “It was perfect, baby.”

“Are you sure?” He squeezes you reassuringly. “You seemed genuinely scared a few times.”

“I told you I was in theatre in high school.” You laugh to yourself.

He chuckles deeply as he rubs your back. “I don’t think all of that was acting…”

You glance up to see him smiling at the ceiling, clearly very proud of himself for making you come so hard. “True, I think we need to change the sheets.”

Another gentle kiss lands on your forehead. “I love you.”

“You too, Joel. Very much.”

———————————————

Tags: @wannab-urs

#joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedrohub #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller x f!reader

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rosewaterandivy · 8 months

Text

girl crush

Summary: there’s more than two beds, but of course you sleep in his.

W.C.: 2.5k

Warnings: y’all know me - it’ll be the usual! Smut, idolatry, devotion, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), pussy drunk Steve— I don’t make the rules 😤‼️

a/n: aka your first time with Steve, who may or may not be your boyfriend?

🎶 I’ve got a girl crush, I don’t get no sleep, I don’t get no peace, thinkin’ bout her 🎶

“Wish I could babe,” his voice sounds distant over the phone, wind whipping every other word through the mic, “But we just started production out here, we won’t wrap for a while yet.” You’d caught him during a break in filming, miraculously.

Several dates in LA after an introduction from Eddie, and here you are trying (and failing) to plan another. He’s back in California after a press tour and you were fresh off of recording your latest album.

“Well,” you drawl out, “I could come to you?” The question is rushed, breathless, you screw your eyes close in fear of fucking it all up.

A pause.

“You sure?”

“S’easier than dealing with your schedule, Harrington,” you say lightly, “Palm Springs is doable enough.”

He’s working on some indie picture out in the desert, you were murky on the details. You hear shuffling from his end and ‘psst’s trying to get someone’s attention.

“Rob… Rob! Can you– yeah, the address?”

A moment later your phone dings with a notification.

“So,” you say, throwing clothes haphazardly into a bag, “What’ve you got planned for us?”

Three or so hours later finds you in the desert and absolutely ecstatic about it. Dressed down in cut-offs and an old merch tank–or, as dressed down as you could get–you breathe in deep, thankful to be out of LA. Little to no paps and tabloids to be worried about–or worse, Deuxmoi acolytes–so you could finally relax.

Steve met you out front with the fattest joint you’d seen in years, he nearly dropped it when you all but tackled him to the ground. You were so happy to be with him again.

“Little soon to be proposing, no?”

“Think I’d do better than some hydro from Arglye,” he grouses, but you take it from him anyway with a deep inhale, “Says ‘hi’ by the way.”

“Tell him I accept and we’re registered at Tiffany’s,” you say finally, exhaling slowly.

He rolls his eyes, “Okay, Material Girl,” he helps to hoist you back up, “Tour time.”

After the grand tour, which was impressive–“Holy shit, do you have Robin on retainer? ‘Cause if not...”--Steve entertained you in the kitchen, making what he called the ‘secret sauce.’

“Oh, that?” you scoff, pouring some wine, “Had that on date number two, if you’ll recall.” You take a sip and continue with a waggle of your brows, “My compliments to the chef, as ever.”

Steve blushes at that, recalling how pretty you had looked with your glossed lips around his cock, all warm and soft under the dim light from the setting sun. A groan rumbles from his chest as he braces himself against the countertop, knuckles turning white.

“You’re a menace,” he said, voice low and gravelly, before he turned his attention back to the pots and pans on the stove.

You shrug and drink some wine, savoring the crisp tart taste against your tongue. Steve flits from one spot to the next while he cooks, stirring the sauce one moment and blanching veggies the next; all the while, remaining loose enough to pour a second glass of wine for you and another for himself.

Infuriatingly attractive that.

The sun had gone down in the desert while Steve finished with the pasta. You’d assigned yourself the task of setting the table and doing the dishes after dinner. Plates and cutlery arranged, you helped yourself to some salad while Steve served the pasta.

You mouth had already been watering at the mere scent of whatever was bubbling away on the stove, and all it took was one bite to have you audibly moaning at the dinner table. His eyes met yours, mischievous and curious, as he sipped his wine.

“Fuck me, that’s good,” you say with closed eyes, savoring the taste.

Steve laughs quietly across the table.

Dinner goes on, you try to reign in your vocal appreciation of the meal. He fills you in on some details of the shoot, set gossip, and the like. You offer up the scant information you have about the upcoming tour and album release. Clearing the table is easy enough between the two of you, knocking hips every so often as you washed and he dried the dishes.

You ended up in his bedroom, collecting the duffle you’d packed from the guest room down the hall. It was a kind thought, that you would opt for a separate room and your own space; he was hesitant like that, never wanting to assume.

Electing to change in the ensuite bathroom, you step out of the denim cutoffs and fold them neatly on the counter. Shoes had been kicked off at the front door earlier in the evening, leaving you now in an ancient Corroded Coffin shirt that had seen better days. He’s sat on the bed, looking all soft and sweet–tousled hair and wire rimmed glasses framing his face nicely, skin flushed from the wine.

He bit his lip when he saw you come out, hair a mess and legs, legs, legs, but a vision nevertheless. He can’t help himself as you step between his splayed knees at the edge of the bed, his hands coming to rest against he curve of your hips.

“Hey honey,” he murmurs as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Hey Steve,” you greet in return, lips pulled tight in an embarrassed smile.

Gently, he tugs you closer to him, the fabric of the shirt rucking up against your skin. His finger skirts against the back of your thigh, the skin shivering involuntarily. “Missed you,” he says, voice raspy and low.

His soft gaze lingers on you, warm hazel eyes looking up through long lashes. “Missed you too,” you say quietly.

“Yeah?” he asks, fingers grasping at the flare of your hips before he leans back on the bed, “C’mere then.”

As you clamber onto the bed, he lays back against the cool cotton of the duvet pulling you down with him. Substantively seated in his lap, you rest your head against his chest and let out a sigh.

“Comfy?” he says, a hand trailing lazily up and down your back. You nod, fingering the fabric of the shirt between your fingers. Softened by time and wear, paint and lettering disintegrating each time you wore it. It smells comforting like you–cardamom and sandalwood with a hint of something boozy–smells like home.

“I’ll keep you close then.”

His other arms falls against your hips while he continues to trace shapes against your back. You feel his lips leave at the crown of your head before his head falls back against the mattress. It’s quiet and he can tell from the rhythm of your breathing that you’re a few minutes from falling asleep.

The nation’s favorite spitfire in his bed, face nuzzled into his chest, bit by bit chiseling your way into his heart.

Steve lets his teeth worry his bottom lip, willing his nerves not to get the best of him. “Y’know, I really like you.”

“Mmm,” your drowsy moan comforting, the lazy smile tugging at your lips setting off the butterflies in his stomach. “I really like you too.”

Fuck, he hadn’t been this nervous in a while. And yeah, you’d been seeing each other for a minute but not long enough to have the ‘what are we’ conversation.

His hand tangles in your hair, loose and windswept from the drive, fingers scratching lightly at your scalp. A muffled moan pours from your lips and vibrates his chest.

“Sorry, sorry” you slur sleepily, “M’not normally such a lightweight.”

Steve, for his part, doesn’t think anything of it. You’d had, what, one glass of wine at dinner— maybe two? But you could be tired from the drive.

Maybe he’s misreading this thing entirely. A brief flicker of panic licks up his spine; maybe it’s too soon, maybe you just want to sleep—

“Can hear you thinkin’ up there,” you mumble and pull him from his downward spiral. A brief movement as you settle your chin to his chest and glance up. Your eyes are half-lidded and sultry, lips pulled in an enticing fashion.

He grunts when you shift your weight until you’re practically sitting on his chest to keep him breathless. He’s smiling up toward the ceiling, one side of his lips curled upward, jaw slack, easy and yielding because Steve offers himself to everything like this: headfirst and wide-open.

It’s be infuriating if he wasn’t crashing headlong toward you. It’d be irritating if he wasn’t so damn earnest about it.

After a while of feeling out each other's atmosphere, eyes catching every so often before flitting away to focus on something else, Steve arches up to request a kiss, all warmth and need.

You lean down to touch your lips to his gently, brushing your nose with his along the way— a wholly delicate gesture he never would’ve expected from you, but has grown to adore.

“We can go slow,” you breathe against his lips. “Don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Steve’s stomach swoops. He reaches up to cradle the back of your neck, drawing your forehead to his. “That so?”

You're smiling— so big and beautiful it hurts. And his heart is so loud he thinks you must hear it.

The kiss was clumsy, you chalked it up to too much drink, but the touch of your lips to his burned down his throat, like whiskey and joy— warm and smooth and cataclysmic as his hand cupped your face. You kiss him and Steve hears himself sighing into your mouth. His cheeks flush in excitement because you’re not letting go, so he presses his lips to yours a little slower, a little firmer, learning all the ways you like to feel him there.

“Steve,” you breathe, and it lights him up. “Steve,” you say again, and his eyes slip shut. Even now, he’s crushed with longing.

You press the heat of your core into his groin, grinding your hips into his.

When your tongue touches him again, he thinks he might go blind. His eyes flutter open as much as they can, to savor the moment of your face so close to his. Your eyes, shut. Your skin, flushed. Your hair, a silky, folded curtain against his chest.

You are straddling Steve’s thigh now, sitting on your knees and moving against his thick limb in slow orbits. The underwear sitting against your hips is still there but does nothing to keep the slickness between your legs at bay. His thigh is moist from it, and it catches a shine in the fading light.

“Need you, baby,” you plead. “Any way you want.”

You glow like a full moon in the night, divining his animal desires with phosphorescent eyes.

Too eager now with permission. Too eager now with the fiercest kind of lust—of love—he lets it go. All for you, and you all for him. He nips at your collar, drowning deeper and deeper. Fingers meandering to hook into the gauzy and damp fabric hiding you from him and pulls. Wants you bare and shuddering beneath him. Hip bones against hip bones, the noises you make—ragged and hoarse—sending tremors down his back.

Steve grips your waist and moves you from his leg. A whimper escapes before it turns into a gasp as he turns you around, back meeting the cool of the sheets. “You call it, sweetheart.” Comes his husky voice in your ear. You know he means it completely.

A moan slips forth when he dives into the back of your shirt and tears it off, does the same with his. He wants to hear that noise again. The two of you are entwined like real lovers, pulling apart only to breathe and whisper to each other.

He falls onto his forearms, touching foreheads together, noses together, lips hovering until you meet him in a sloppy half-kiss, tongue slipping over his, spit and sweat shimmering across your mouth.

Steve doesn’t bother taking his boxer-briefs off completely, crumpling them down just below his cock is enough for him to slide in like he was created for you. He tells you as much, as you whimper and cry out beneath him.

“Look at me,” He prompts, tilting your face so you see where he’s connected to you. He’s searing hot as he thrusts upwards. “You were made for this.” He’s delirious with it, the heavy thrum that flows through the union of your bodies, “You were made for me.”

Like a prayer, he repeats your name.

Inside of that deafening miasma, Steve is still awake and a part of him knows that this is what he’d been longing for. His cock is throbbing inside of you and every time he pulls out and thrusts back in, your cunt wipes any shred of doubt from his mind.

Your head tips backwards and he catches the base of your skull in one giant hand. “So good,” you praise, “You’re so good, Steve.”

God, he’s so hard. Cramming himself inside your body, torso to torso, as close as he can get because he needs it—he needs it so bad.

He’s blind with it, drunk off it, beginning to rut like he’s in heat, surprised at the confessions he burns into your neck g’na marry you, fuck— that have you gasping and clenching in equal measure. Catalogues and litanies of honey, baby, fuckfuckfuck, god—growling devotions sinking into your throat, your shoulder, your chest. Sucking inscriptions in the common tongue of love as they slip past his lips.

You take all of him again and again, matching his pace, eyes squeezed shut, opening briefly but dazed. Panting and pleading his name, sudden waves of orgasm making you shake and shiver. Then he starts again— easier, kinder, letting the beast work its way back through his skin. Tongue sweeping lines. Canines pulling flesh.

You sigh and smile. A sacred dream of flesh and blood wrapped around him. “Wanna see you, baby,” you say, “Let me see you, sweetheart.”

So he does, blinking through the darkness and finds you like a beacon, as you always are, as you always will be. His hair falls to one side, lighter from the summer sun, suspended and rocking along.

“’S that good? Like this?”

“Yeah. Yes,” he babbles, “Wanna give you everything.”

“Come with me, Steve—come on, baby.”

And it’s all so fast. Your words. His words. Your hands. His hands. Hips moving in heavy thrusts and hair falling over his face and endless moans of god, fuck, 'm gonna come at the last minute before his eyes roll back behind his lids.

Steve buries his face into your neck, groaning. “Mine,” he whispers finally coming back to himself. Raspy and slow and again when you gasp. Your nails dig into his back reflexively, thighs squeezing him tight.

He’s smiling like an idiot because he doesn’t know what else to do about it. His heart is fluttering and filling up. He looked at you for too long, thought about you too hard even though you’re right here and his, and maybe that’s what launched itself into his dizzy head.

A hard kiss that makes you whimper. Mine. Another to the line of your open jaw. Mine. Your throat. Your collar. Your chest. Mine. Mine. Mine.

You smile into his temple, rubbing your cheek on him, too.

“Keeping me all to yourself?”

He nods eagerly, heart full, then overflowing. “Keeping you forever.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #modern!actor!steve #fic: hmlhr #Spotify

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shanastoryteller · 9 months

Note

Happy Pride!!!! Living Blood or Lady Mo please!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43

Xuanyu disrobes unashamedly, hesitating only at the last second with the sleeve covering her left arm.

Jiang Yanli laughs. “Bit late to be modest, I think.”

“Modesty is overrated,” she returns, which is something that Zixuan would say and A-Yao would think. She slips the rest of the robes off and steps into the steaming bath, letting out a deep sigh of satisfaction.

The changes her body has undergone are even more obvious without the thick layers of the robes obscuring her form. The extra weight seems to have settled in ideal places, not only thickening her waist and limbs but settling heavily along her hips and breasts, which hadn’t exactly been small to begin with.

She sits behind Xuanyu, filling a bowl with water and then pouring it over her hair to rinse it of blood and dirt that had been hidden by her dark hair. Acting as a bathing assistant is far below her station, but Xuanyu had sent all the servants away and she doesn’t mind, really. Xuanyu is her sister, likely the only one she’ll ever have considering A-Cheng’s track record with matchmakers, and she’s been worried about her. This gives them time to speak alone. “How has your marriage with Lan Wangji been? Has he been kind?”

Xuanyu pulls a face, which isn’t encouraging. “I guess. He mostly left me alone, and then we had a couple fights and he was a jerk, and now I think he’s trying to make up for being a jerk, but it’s a little – well, it’s nice that he’s making an effort. I suppose.”

Not as good as she’d hoped, but not as bad as she’d feared. “Sect Leader Lan seems fond of you.”

“Oh, Lan Xichen is great,” she says easily. Better than reaction to Lan Wangji, but still not what Jiang Yanli had been hoping for. Then her eyes light up. “Sizhui is wonderful! I’ll give Wangji one thing, he’s raised a good kid. He’s so sweet, and a great cultivator, and he’s always trying to help out everyone around him. I’m glad Jingyi’s always hanging around – without him, I think everyone would just take advantage of Sizhui’s good nature.”

Well, that’s something. Surely Lan Wangji can’t resist Xuanyu’s charms for long, not when she dotes on his son and gets along with his brother.

“What trouble did you get into on the road?” she asks, running her hand over the wound on Xuanyu’s shoulder. It looks nearly fully healed already and there’s another mostly healed wound on her hip, a thin slice on her left arm, and the shadow of various bruises that were likely much worse a couple hours ago. It’s of course a good thing that Xuanyu has a strong golden core, but Jiang Yanli can’t help a moment of wistfulness.

Her own core never lived up to her mother’s expectations, or her own. If she’d had a stronger core, she could have given A-Ling siblings. A child should have siblings. She would have had a calmer childhood without two little brothers underfoot, but a lonelier one too.

Xuanyu shrugs, lazily scrubbing herself down. “Looks like Xiao Xingchen picked up the girl, A-Qing, while he and Song Lan were separated and was trapped in this place that was basically a ghost town.” How could he be trapped by a place that had no people? “And I’d heard some rumors so when we ran into Song Lan I helped him find Xiao Xingchen, but there was a bit of a fight with someone who didn’t want him to leave. I just happened to get caught in the crossfire, so to speak.”

She’s stretching the truth to outright lying. Before Jiang Yanli can call her on it, her stomach growls.

“Didn’t get a chance to eat on the road?” she teases.

Xuanyu flushes, ducking briefly beneath the water to hide her flaming cheeks before resurfacing. “Things were a little hectic. It may have slipped my mind.”

How has she managed to put on weight while also forgetting to eat? Perhaps Lan Wangji deserves more credit.

“I think I have some candies in my room, if you want something before the banquet,” she offers. “I know the speeches take forever.”

Her eyes light up before dimming and she slumps in the bath. “Thanks, Yanli-jie, but I better not. Sizhui gave me some on the road and I usually love them but just putting it in my mouth almost made me sick. It was awful. And weird! They’re my favorite.”

Jiang Yanli blinks then gives Xuanyu’s significantly larger chest a considering look. It could be nothing. It’s probably nothing. She hasn’t even been married a year and it doesn’t sound as if she and Lan Wangji have been seeing eye to eye.

Then again, the same could have been said about her and Zixuan.

“Can I ask you something personal, Meimei?”

Xuanyu nods. “You can ask me anything, Yanli-jie.”

“Are you and Lan Wangji having sex?”

She turns bright red and ducks beneath the water for so long that Jiang Yanli is starting to get concerned before she resurfaces, still red faced. “Um. We did once. Well – I guess, technically, it was three times, but it was only one night.”

Well. Apparently Lan Wangji has stamina on and off the battlefield.

“One moment,” she says, briefly squeezing Xuanyu’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

It takes one whispered conversation with the servant outside the hall and approximately ninety seconds before her personal healer is standing in front of her. Jiang Yanli ducks back inside to see Xuanyu out of the bath, in a thin bathing robe that’s clinging to her as she wrings her hair out. “I’d like my healer to take a look at you, Meimei.”

Xuanyu freezes, slowly standing straight with a wary look on her face. “That’s really not necessary. The wounds were just superficial and they’re basically healed already.”

“It’ll be quick,” she says, because if she’s right then she can’t let Xuanyu go down to the banquet without letting her know. “She’s very discreet – she’s been my personal healer since I was a child.”

“Jiang Xingyi?” Xuanyu asks, some of her tension draining away.

Jiang Yanli nods, trying to think of some reason that Xuanyu would know her healer’s name, or her reputation, but all the servants are terrible gossips and her health is a frequent topic of derision. “Just your wrist, okay? Your golden core has changed a lot. I just want her to take a look.”

She feels bad about lying, but Xuanyu had lied to her first.

Xuanyu relaxes even further. “Okay, Yanli-jie. If it’ll make you feel better.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, then opens the door to usher Jiang Xingyi in.

The old woman doesn’t smile, but Xuanyu grins back undeterred, and says, “Hi, Granny,” before paling and adding, “uh, um. Sorry.”

Jiang Yanli feels a familiar pang of grief go through her. A-Xian had referred to Jiang Xingyi as Granny, the only disciple both bold and beloved enough to get away with it.

Jiang Xingyi ignores her, instead reaching for her wrist and pressing her fingers against it. Xuanyu fidgets, shifting from one foot to the other, but says nothing as the moments stack on top of one another.

Finally, Jiang Xingyi drops her wrist and steps back. Her stern visage breaks, a smile stretching her mouth across her face. “Congratulations, Madame Lan.”

She knew it!

“Thanks,” Xuanyu answers before wrinkling her nose. “Um. For what?”

“You are expecting,” she answers. “At least a couple months along, I believe, although I’d have to do a more thorough examination to be sure.”

Jiang Yanli moves to embrace her, but Xuanyu’s face drops and she turns dangerously pale. “What? No. That’s not possible. I can’t be.”

“Three times,” Jiang Yanli reminds her, trying to goad Xuanyu into laughter.

But instead she just shakes her head. “No, no I can’t, I – this can’t be happening,” she whispers to herself, grabbing her own arms in a white knuckled grip. “It’s not. It’s impossible. I can’t be.”

She’s young, and this wasn’t a marriage of her own choosing, and it’s so new. Of course she’s surprised and nervous. Jiang Yanli touches her elbow, intending to say something soothing, but Xuanyu collapses into her arms, gripping her waist and hiding her tears in her shoulder.

“Xuanyu!” she says, hugging her back just as fiercely, her heart breaking for the younger girl’s anguish. “Meimei, it’s okay, I know this is scary, but it’s going to be fine.”

“It’s not,” she says, voice thick with tears, “A-jie, this is awful, this is – it can’t happen! It can’t, Wangji is going to be so mad, he’s going to hate me, and everything is ruined and awful, I can’t be – I can’t! I’m going to die!”

Jiang Yanli’s whole body goes cold and she grips Xuanyu even tighter against her. “You’re going to be fine,” she says, pushing her conviction into every syllable.

No matter what Jiang Yanli has to do, Xuanyu is going to be fine.

#oh wwx #our babygirl is going through it #dw everything is going to be fine #wwx is like i'm going to die before i can have this baby and kill lan zhan's baby and he's going to hate me forever #and jyl who obviously has no context for this hears that xuanyu thinks that lwj is going to kill her #which she'd think that lwj would never do but also she saw him during war and she's not the one married to him #and everyone knows he didn't want this marriage and also made a big thing about how sizhui's position won't be usurped #jyl to herself: do i have to kill lan wangji?#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #untamed

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queenshelby · 8 months

Text

Auctioned (P. 4)

Pairing: Dom! Thomas Shelby x Virgin! Reader

Warning: SMUT!

The night of nights had finally come and you stood nervously in your lavish bedroom of Arrow House, the place you now called home. It was all so overwhelming - the grandeur, the opulence, and the weight of the responsibility that came with being in the service of Thomas Shelby, the infamous leader of the Peaky Blinders.

Tonight, was the night you would be losing your innocence to this man, and with this on your mind, you were startled when, suddenly, the door creaked open, and Alison sauntered in with a knowing smirk. She had been tasked with preparing you for your first time, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of anxiety and curiosity.

"Alright, darling, let's get you ready," Alison said, her voice filled with a mixture of sympathy and matter-of-factness. "We'll start with a bath. It's important to be clean and presentable for what's to come."

As you undressed, Alison filled the large, marble bathtub with warm water, fragrant oils, and rose petals. The room was filled with an intoxicating scent as you stepped into the water, feeling a strange mix of comfort and apprehension.

"I know this is all new to you, and it won't be easy, my dear. Thomas is a man who knows what he wants, and he takes it without remorse,” Alison said, handing you a soft sponge. "But trust me, whilst Thomas Shelby may be rough around the edges, he does have an eye for innocence. He is a complex man. But he's also passionate and caring, in his own twisted way, and you may even enjoy yourself."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest, unsure of what lay ahead.

And then, you tilted your head, curiosity getting the better of your fear. "What is it that he sees in me you think? I am sure he could have money women for free,” you wondered as Alison's eyes sparkled mischievously.

"He sees a vulnerability that he can't resist. A purity that he longs to corrupt,” she determined as she gently washed your body, guiding your hesitant hands along your curves.

"Remember, he likes to be in control. Don't resist him," Alison said, her voice filled with a hint of warning. "You're here to please him. Understood?"

You nodded again, the weight of the situation sinking in. The thought of pleasing Thomas Shelby felt both terrifying and strangely exciting.

Once the bath was over, Alison helped you out and wrapped you in a fluffy towel. She sat you down on a plush velvet chair and moved to a nearby vanity, where she laid out an array of cosmetics.

"Now, my dear, let's talk about what to expect," Alison said, her voice tinged with a mix of anticipation and compassion. "It may hurt, and there may be some blood since it is your first time. It's perfectly normal, love. Thomas won't be fazed by it, and neither should you."

You bit your lip, your anxiety swirling like a storm inside you. You hadn't anticipated the reality of the situation being so raw and gritty. But you were committed, having agreed to Thomas Shelby's terms.

Alison then handed you a small bottle of painkillers, a stark reminder that this encounter would not be without its consequences. "Take these before you go to him. They will help with any discomfort you may feel afterwards. You can thank me later," she smirked as your trembling hand took the vial, the tiny capsules, a stark reminder of the pain that awaited you.

Numbly, you accepted the painkillers, but your mind was filled with a flurry of thoughts. Was this really what you had signed up for? Was it worth it?

Sensing your doubt, Alison leaned in closer, her voice low and gentle. "Honey, I won't sugarcoat it. Thomas has tastes that may seem unconventional to you. But you must do as you're told and please him, in return of which he will look after you,” she explained.

Her words offered a small glimmer of reassurance, but deep down, you couldn't shake the nerves and uncertainty that clung to you like a heavy fog.

Alison stood up and retrieved a beautifully embroidered silk robe from the wardrobe. She helped you slip it on, tying the delicate sash with a practised touch.

"Now that you're ready, my dear, let's talk about what Thomas expects from you," Alison said, her tone shifting to a more direct and business-like demeanour.

You leaned in, hanging on her every word, desperate to understand your role in this twisted dance of power and desire.

"Thomas likes it when you're attentive and when you anticipate his needs," Alison explained, her voice laced with a hint of admiration. "He's a dominant man, and he expects you to submit to his commands. You already had some practice this week, and I doubt that he would go as far as he usually does with me. That will happen in due course” Alison explained and, again, you nodded while fidgeting with the sash of the robe, trying to come to terms with the contradictory nature of Thomas Shelby. A man of darkness and light, capable of both cruelty and compassion.

"Now, let's talk about clean-up," Alison continued, a hint of mischief glinting in her eyes.

"To avoid any unwanted consequences, you'll want to take some precautions after your encounter," Alison told you and her tone held a hint of macabre humor, as if she were discussing the mundane rather than the grotesque.

She took you to a small room adjoining the chamber, where supplies awaited. Bottles of antiseptics, cotton swabs, and instructions that felt more like warnings. It was a ritual you must perform after every encounter with Thomas.

"You'll need to be thorough," she explained, her fingers gently demonstrating the motions. "Cleanse yourself of his touch, his seed. We can't afford any slip-ups, my dear."

The realisation of what she meant hit you like a punch to the gut. The thought that this encounter could lead to something more permanent than just a night of submission and pain hadn't crossed your mind until now.

"But what if I'm..." you whispered, your voice barely audible. "What if I'm with child?"

Alison's eyes softened for a moment, a glimmer of empathy breaking through the walls she had built around herself. "Then you'll do what you must. But let's hope it doesn't come to that."

The words hung in the air, the weight of the unsaid echoing in the silence. You knew what she meant - the desperate measures that would need to be taken if you were to avoid the consequences of bringing a Shelby child into this world.

"Now, love, I've taught you all I can for tonight but if you need anything, if there's anything you're unsure of, don't hesitate to come to me. I'm here for you,” Alison finally told you before leaving you to your own devices.

Gratitude welled up within you as a small smile tugged at the corners of your trembling lips. In this dark world, you had found an ally, someone who understood the intricacies and dangers that lay ahead.

You took a deep breath, drawing upon the newfound strength that Alison's words had instilled in you. Ready or not, you were about to face Thomas Shelby, the enigmatic and dangerous man who held your fate in his hands.

***

The hallway outside the bedroom was dimly lit, its worn carpet muffling the sounds of your anxious footsteps. As the door to Thomas' bedroom came into view, your heart began to race, pounding in your chest like a drum.

You hesitantly pushed open the door and stepped inside, feeling the weight of his gaze immediately upon you. The atmosphere in the room was heavy, suffused with his dominant presence. Each step closer to him felt like walking to the edge of a precipice, unsure of what lay below.

Thomas Shelby, the formidable leader of the Peaky Blinders, sat on a luxurious armchair near the fireplace, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. His intense gaze locked onto you, causing a shiver to cascade down your spine. "Ten thousand pounds, eh," he quipped, his voice laced with arrogance.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. "I hope you won’t regret it, Mr. Shelby," Your eyes darted around the room, unable to meet his piercing gaze. The nervousness in your voice was palpable.

Thomas then stood up and circled you, his eyes tracing every contour of your body, his gaze filled with undisguised hunger. "I won’t," he then said, before making his first command.

“Now undress,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for disobedience. With trembling hands, you began to peel away the layers of protective silk, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks as your vulnerability became more exposed with each passing second.

“Show yourself to me, Love. Show me your innocent body,” he then cued and your heart skipped a beat as Thomas' words infiltrated your mind.

The contrast of light against shadow, innocence against raw power - it captivated you and frightened you all at once. Thomas moved closer, breathing in your delicate scent, his fingertips grazing the fabric of the robe that still hugged your trembling form. He leaned down, his voice seductive and filled with authority.

"Remember, Love, you are mine tonight. Every thought, every breath, every moan belongs to me. You are my property,” he told you as his gaze roamed over your trembling form, his lips curling up into a satisfied smirk.

You nodded, your voice failing you once again. You were but a canvas, ready to be painted with the brushstrokes of Thomas Shelby's desires. Slowly, Thomas stepped back, his eyes locked on yours as he began to strip away his tailored suit. The muscles of his chest and abdomen rippled with each movement, revealing a powerful physique that left you breathless. The air in the room crackled with a potent mix of anticipation and apprehension. There was a dance happening, an intricate choreography that only Thomas knew the steps to.

"Come closer," Thomas commanded, his voice soft but commanding and you took a hesitant step forward, the floor cool against the soles of your feet, your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

In that moment, the line between fear and desire blurred, and you knew you were at the mercy of a man who thrived on both. He circled you like a predator stalking its prey, his fingers grazing the soft skin of your exposed neck. A shiver ran down your spine, your body instinctively seeking the warmth and safety of his touch.

"Your sister wasn't wrong, eh," Thomas mused, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "There is a certain innocence about you, a vulnerability that intrigues me. It's rare in this world."

“My sister?” you asked, trembling, as you dared to look into his eyes, searching for any cracks in the façade. But all you found was an enigmatic intensity, a fire that consumed everything in its path.

“Your sister was the one who suggested that I attend the auction which I, may add, I considered to be somewhat distasteful,” Thomas pointed out and, whilst you had so many questions now, you knew that they all would have to wait when Thomas leaned in, his lips brushing gently against your ear as he whispered, sending delicious waves of electricity through your entire being. "But, enough of that now. Tonight, I will show you what it means to be mine and you will submit to me, completely," Tommy said and, with that, Thomas took your hand and led you towards the bed.

The soft sheets cradled your weight as he gently pushed you onto the mattress, his dominance like a spell that held you captive. His touch was electrifying, searing your skin as his hands roamed every inch of your trembling body. Each caress, each brush of his fingertips, sent quivers of anticipation through your core.

"Do you trust me, Love?" Thomas asked, his voice dripping with a mix of lust and possession. It was a question that held more weight than mere words could convey. You looked deep into his eyes, seeing the raw vulnerability that lay hidden beneath the layers of darkness.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I trust you." A fierce fire ignited within Thomas' gaze, his control slipping for a moment as he passionately claimed your lips, his kiss a mixture of tenderness and hunger. It was a whirlwind that consumed you, making you lose all sense of time and space.

Every touch of his lips, every stroke of his fingers, made you forget about everything else except his commanding presence. He expertly navigated your body with the view of getting you ready for the inevitable.

"Spread your legs, Love. Let me see how wet you are," Tommy commanded, his voice low and husky. Your heart hammered in your chest as you followed his instruction, your breath coming in short gasps.

"You are fucking soaking, eh," he determined, his finger stroking your inner thigh. "You really want me to fuck that virgin hole of yours, don't you Love?" he then asked with a devilish grin. Your face flushed red, your eyes fixed on the ceiling, unable to meet his gaze. The thought of giving yourself to him, of surrendering yourself completely, both terrified and excited you.

He pulled you closer, his large hands tracing gentle circles across your back.

"I can see it in your eyes, you want this," he murmured, his breath tickling your ear. Your heart hammered wildly in your chest, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body as you pressed against him.

"I do, Mr. Shelby," you gasped nervously as he slid his hands along your hips, guiding you to straddle him. "But I am scared that it will hurt," you then admitted as your body shook slightly, fear and excitement coursing through you as you felt his fingers teasingly brush against your entrance.

"Don't worry, love," he whispered into your ear, his deep voice a soothing balm to your racing thoughts. "It will hurt, but only for a little bit. I won't fuck you until I make sure that you are ready," he assured you before beginning to trail kisses down your body.

"I will use my tongue on you first, sweetheart. Just like last night, eh" Tommy determined, his eyes burning with intensity. Your heart raced at the thought of what he meant, and the thought made you even more aroused. You nodded, unable to speak due to the throbbing pulse between your legs and Tommy smiled knowingly, adoring your shyness.

As he slowly lowered himself to your level, his gaze fixated on yours, ensuring you were comfortable with every move he made. His hands caressed your hips and thighs, easing any discomfort that might arise from his actions.

Thomas's lips brushed gently against your sensitive skin, trailing tender kisses along your neck and shoulders. "Trust me, Love," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. As you allowed yourself to melt into his embrace, you couldn't help but acknowledge the intoxicating sensation that overtook you with each deliberate stroke of his fingers, each soft press of his lips.

Eventually, then, he reached your glistening core and started circling it with his tongue, eliciting soft moans from you as he explored every inch of your nether regions.

Gently, he lifted your leg, spreading you wider with his firm hands, taking full advantage of your submission. You gasped as he probed deeper, teasing your tightness with his tongue, drawing tiny circles around your entrance.

"Fuck, you taste amazing," Tommy groaned, his voice thick with desire. He continued to torment you, pushing you further and further along the edge of ecstasy. With each flick of his tongue, your body seemed to writhe with uncontrollable pleasure.

"Please, Mr. Shelby..." you begged, your voice hoarse from the intensity of your arousal.

Tommy smiled, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted you. He continued to torture you with his skilled mouth, pushing you to the precipice of orgasm.

You squirmed underneath him, trying to find some sort of release. The tension built up inside you, reaching almost unbearable levels.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the pressure growing stronger. "Tommy!" you cried out, your body shuddering violently. "Tommy, please! I need..." You didn't get to finish your sentence, as he shifted his position and smiled.

"No, Love. I won't let you cum until I fucked you thoroughly with my cock," Tommy smiled, unbothered by the fact that you had just dropped the formalities and called him by his first name.

The way he said it, so matter-of-factly, made you realize how much power he held over you, your body. It was an erotic thrill, the thought of being taken by him, of surrendering your body fully to his demands.

"Now, get on to all fours for me Love. It is time!" Tommy ordered, causing you to swallow hard, thinking that this position in particular would be more uncomfortable than you had anticipated.

Nevertheless, you complied, getting onto all fours, presenting your backside to him. You heard the rustle of the sheets behind you, as Tommy undressed, tossing the remainder of his clothes carelessly aside. His powerful presence filled the room, leaving no doubt as to whose domain it truly was.

Your breath hitched as he came up behind you, his hands resting lightly on your hips. He took his time, running his fingers lightly over your body, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.

The anticipation was almost unbearable, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to ask him to hurry.

"Are you ready for my cock, Love?" he asked, his voice laced with authority. Your heart pounded faster, the thought of him filling you, bringing not only terror but also a strange sense of exhilaration.

"Yes," you managed to utter, feeling a flush of pride at your own boldness. "I am ready, Mr. Shelby." Your words carried a newfound confidence, a sense of control that had been missing earlier.

Tommy smiled, pleased by your bravery. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade. "Good," he whispered.

"I expect you to take it like a good girl, eh? And I want you to hold nice and still when I fill you," Tommy told you and you could hear the excitement in his voice, a fervour that mirrored your own. He lubricated his fingers, preparing himself for the task ahead. Gently, he pressed a single digit into your entrance, causing you to gasp and clench involuntarily. Slowly, he worked another finger inside of you, stretching you incrementally, building up to what was about to happen next.

"Relax, Love," he instructed gently, his fingers working rhythmically in and out of you. "Let yourself feel the pleasure I'm going to give you." Your breathing became increasingly erratic, your entire focus narrowed to the point where you could only concentrate on his touch.

But, just before you could cum, Tommy removed his fingers and replaced them with his thick cock, which now pushed against your entrance.

"I am going to push in now," Tommy warned you and your eyes widened, your body trembling with anticipation and fear. But there was also a sense of triumph, as if conquering something deeply personal, something that made you feel both vulnerable and powerful at the same time.

You braced yourself, tensing as he began to push into you while you held on to one of the pillows.

"It hurts," you cried out while Tommy watched as his thick length pushed past your pussy lips as he forced another inch into you.

"It's okay, Love. Breathe through it," he murmured, gripping your hips tightly. He knew that you were new to this, that it wouldn't come naturally to you. But you had to learn, you had to adapt.

You gritted your teeth, tears stinging your eyes, feeling the pain sear through your body.

"You are doing well. I am halfway in," Tommy told you as, eventually, he could feel your barrier. Your body tensed even more, but he kept pushing, gradually forcing your virgin walls to yield to his advance.

"This is your first time," he said, his voice full of admiration. "And I will be the one to claim your innocence, eh," Tommy groaned as, with a final forceful thrust, he was entirely sheathed within you, filling you completely.

"Fuck, you are tight," you then heard Tommy curse as you felt a warm kind of liquid tickle down your inner thighs, which you knew may have been blood as Alison had warned you to be the case.

Your body was on fire, and it was only now that you realized the true extent of the physical impact of what had just occurred.

"You are not so innocent anymore," Tommy groaned before slowly beginning to thrust in and out of you and you closed your eyes, trying to ignore the pain.

Your body ached everywhere, yet a strange kind of pleasure mixed with the pain coursed through you.

"Now tell me Love, who do you belong to?" Tommy asked, his voice gruff with desire. You couldn't believe you were really having this conversation, yet somehow, the heat of his body against yours and the ache inside you caused by his cock, made you believe it was real.

"I belong to you, Mr. Shelby," you replied, your voice shaking slightly. Despite the immense pain, your response was met with a smile of approval from Tommy.

He pulled out slightly, allowing you a moment to catch your breath, before plunging back in, harder this time.

"That's right Love. You belong to me," he groaned as he picked up the pace, thrusting into you harder and faster. Your body was starting to adjust to the intrusion, and despite the pain, a deep and powerful wave of pleasure washed over you with each thrust. The rhythmic slap of his hips against yours filled the room, drowning out everything else.

You bit your lip, trying to maintain composure as you clung desperately to the pillow, your nails digging into the fabric. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, but you weren't quite there yet.

Just as you were about to reach the peak, Tommy suddenly stopped, pulling out of you with a grunt.

"What are you doing?" you cried out, frustrated and disoriented by the sudden change.

"Shhh, Love," he whispered, placing a finger on your lips. "Just trust me." His intense gaze held yours, making it difficult for you to resist him. You nodded hesitantly, unsure of what he had planned.

Without warning, Tommy scooped you up in his arms, carrying you effortlessly across the room.

You gasped in surprise, wondering what was happening.

"Where are we going?" you asked nervously, unable to hide your apprehension.

"Trust me, Love," Tommy reassured you with a gentle smile. "You'll see."

As he reached the window, he carefully lowered you onto the ledge, standing close enough to support you if needed. Together, you looked out over the land surrounding Arrow House, the moonlight casting a silver glow upon the landscape below as well as the streets of Birmingham, far in the distance.

"Do you see this?" he asked, gesturing toward the breathtaking view. "This is mine. All of it. Everything you see here, belongs to me." He paused, turning to face you with a look of determination in his eyes. "You too, belong to me. You are my fucking property and I want you to remember that every time you look at these streets, these buildings, everything that makes up this empire."

A cold chill ran down your spine, understanding the weight of his words. You were nothing more than a possession, belonging to him like any other material thing he owned.

The thought of being considered as valuable as the buildings below filled you with both anger and shame. You wanted to argue, to protest, but you couldn't deny the truth in his words.

"Now bend down, Love. I want to fuck you some more," Tommy growled, his voice low and commanding. Feeling the power in his words, you bent over the ledge, presenting yourself to him once again. He grabbed your hips firmly, positioning you perfectly. The wind gently brushed against your skin, chilling you to the core, but it didn't stop you from obeying him.

"That's it, good girl," he cooed as he lined himself up with your sore entrance again.

You felt the familiar burning sensation as he entered you once more, your muscles struggling to relax around his sizeable member.

"Remember, you belong to me, and I can do whatever I want with you," Tommy reminded you as he started to thrust into you.

Your cheeks flushed red as you felt a mixture of humiliation and arousal at his words.

You bit your lip hard, trying to focus on anything but the sensation of him sliding in and out of you.

With every thrust, you could feel him claiming you, marking you as his own. The intensity of his grip on your hips left no doubt about the strength of his dominance over you. It was as though he was branding you with his touch, leaving an indelible mark that would forever be a part of you.

"Come on, Love," he urged, his voice rough with passion.

"Take me deeper." You obeyed instinctively, burying your nails into his shoulders, holding onto him for dear life. The pleasure-pain combination was reaching new heights, making you realize how unprepared you were for this intense experience.

As the tempo increased, the wind howled, matching the frenzy of your own cries. The air turned colder, sending shivers through your body, only making you crave more of his touch.

"You are making a mess all over the floor Love," Tommy groaned playfully, his grip on your hips tightening.

"I am sorry," you managed to utter, barely able to form the words due to the intensity of the sensations coursing through you.

"No apologies," he snapped, a dark gleam in his eye. "You enjoy it, don't you? Letting yourself go, feeling the sensations washing over you."

"Yes," you moaned, finding yourself helplessly lost in the moment.

"Good girl," he praised, his thrusts becoming even more forceful.

"Keep looking out, let it remind you whose property you truly are." You obeyed, feeling your resolve waver under the intensity of his touch. The cold wind whipped against your skin, adding another layer of discomfort to your situation. Yet, the pain seemed to amplify the exquisite pleasure coursing through your body.

His grip on your hips tightened as he continued to move in and out of you, the rhythm matching the beat of your heart.

Your cries became louder, mingling with the wind and echoing through the silent corridors of Arrow House. As your body trembled from the intense sensations, you tried to suppress the growing fear that overwhelmed you. How could you possibly give yourself fully to such a man without losing yourself in the process?

With each thrust, you felt your connection to Thomas deepen, your vulnerability exposed, and your independence diminished. You found yourself struggling to reconcile the reality of your situation with the idealized image of love and devotion you had envisioned for yourself.

"Do you want to cum?" Tommy eventually asked, seeing that you could not take too much more of this.

You nodded vigorously, eager to release the pent-up tension coursing through your body.

He continued to thrust into you at a faster pace, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. You felt a building pressure within you, an uncontrollable need to explode.

"Cum for me, Love," he commanded, his grip on your hips tightening further.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, engulfing you in a wave of pleasure unlike anything you had ever experienced before.

Your entire body shook with the intensity of it, your grip on the ledge tightening almost painfully.

"So good, isn't it?" Tommy asked, his eyes burning with pride. You couldn't find the words to answer him, still reeling from the aftershocks of your climax as he sped up again, finding his very own release.

Sweat dripped down your forehead, mingling with the tears that stained your cheeks. The cold wind whipped against your heated skin, adding another layer of discomfort to your situation. Yet, the pain seemed to amplify the exquisite pleasure coursing through your body.

"Almost there Love. I am going to cum in this virgin cunt of yours, eh" Tommy groaned loudly, the sound filling the quietness of the night as your orgasm subsided and you felt increasingly sore.

"You better learn to love this feeling because it's going to become the norm. I will fill your holes with my cum every fucking day from now on," Tommy howled as he thrusted into you harder and you tried to catch your breath as you struggled to understand the extent of your submission to him.

His harsh, possessive tone only served to make you tremble in fear and arousal simultaneously. You knew then that there was no escape from this life, no way to break free from his grasp.

"Y/N," he growled, pounding into you with renewed ferocity. "Your body belongs to me. Your pleasures are mine to control. Do you understand?"

Swallowing thickly, you nodded reluctantly, your throat raw from earlier cries. "Yes," you whispered, barely audible even to yourself.

"Good girl," he praised, his thrusts becoming even more forceful as your cries became louder, mingling with the wind and echoing through the silent corridors of Arrow House.

"Now, hold nice and still for me, eh" Tommy groaned, pulsating inside of you, and filling you with his warm seed.

"Fuck," Tommy groaned, pumping himself into you until he finally shot his entire load into you.

His body convulsed in ecstasy, and you felt the hot stickiness of his semen pouring into you, mixing with your very own wetness and the blood from your torn innocence until, eventually, he pulled out of your sore pussy.

"Look at that Love. Look at you leaking my cum," Tommy cooed, forcing you to turn around and making you look down at your soiled body, stained with his seed and the evidence of your lost virginity.

"It's going to happen a lot more often now, eh?" Tommy smirked while your body was still trembling from the force of your orgasm.

"Yes Mr. Shelby. I will be at your service whenever you need," you said, your voice wavering slightly as you regained your composure. You looked away, unable to meet his gaze as you processed the implications of his last statement.

"Good girl," he said, the praise laced with his characteristic blend of authority and desire. He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, causing you to flinch involuntarily. His eyes flashed with a mix of tenderness and menace, his expression conveying the complexity of his feelings towards you.

You took a deep breath, trying to regain your bearings after the intense encounter.

You stared at the mess you had made on the floor, feeling a strange mixture of shame and excitement. You glanced back at Thomas, who stood proudly watching you with a satisfied grin on his face. Your heart raced as you began to comprehend the true extent of your predicament – you were now owned by him, bound to fulfill his desires whenever he wished.

As you stood there, the wind whipping around you, you realized just how far you had come from the innocent young woman you once were.

"Now, you should get cleaned up Love. I am sure Alison explained the procedure to you?" Tommy asked casually, breaking the silence that had fallen upon you both.

"Yes, she did. She said it is to avoid pregnancy," you answered, feeling a sudden surge of panic at the thought of getting pregnant.

"Correct, so I will leave you to it, eh?" Tommy smiled, his fingers brushing against your cheek affectionately.

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby," you replied, attempting to mask your anxiety behind a veil of gratitude.

He gave you a slight nod before turning and walking towards the door, leaving you alone to process the events of the evening.

Standing there, you found yourself surrounded by the evidence of your defilement - the sweaty sheets tangled around your legs, the faint scent of sex in the air, and the knowledge that your innocence was irreparably shattered. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you thought about the future that lay ahead of you.

Even though you had been warned about what might happen, experiencing it firsthand left you reeling.

Your entire body ached from the intense physical exertion, yet your mind still buzzed with the aftermath of your loss of innocence. The cold draft of the night seeped through the open window, chilling your naked skin and reminding you of the vulnerability you felt.

This was your life now and, for some twisted reason, you already enjoyed it.

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