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strang3lov3 · 1 month

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Dirty Laundry

Joel's best kept secret is the washer and dryer he's not supposed to have. Your best kept secret is that you've been using that washer to get yourself off.

Tags - 18+, smut, fingering, cunnilingus, masturbation on a washing machine, dirty boxer sniffing (you fucking freak), fantasizing about a dirty old man, unprotected piv, creampie, curmudgeon joel talks you through knife safety, washing machine repairs, and overstim. 8k words, idk what the fuck happened. Thank you to @noxturnalpascal , @beefrobeefcal , and @papipascalispunk for helping me edit this monstrosity and @joelsgreys for letting me scream about washers and dryers for days <3 A/N - i have worked harder on this than my finals, but that should surprise no one. i only have one more left and then you should be seeing more of me this summer <3 i have a lot a lot a lot planned and I've been so excited to share new shit with you. Roman girlies, I haven't forgotten about you. He's up next. Anyway, you maniacs know what you’re here for, so please enjoy.

Joel’s best kept secret is his Whirlpool brand washer and dryer set, which is hidden deep in his basement. You stand before it now, loading your dirty laundry into it, using what is definitely too much of Joel’s detergent.

Perhaps it’s more accurate to say his washer and dryer set was his best kept secret, until you came along and forced his hand. Everything was fine, and then you showed up, both yourself and your basket of laundry soaking wet, leaving Joel with no choice but to lend you a hand. Biggest mistake of his life.

As great as Jackson is, it still comes up short sometimes. Not with everything; you’re beyond blessed to live in the safety of its walls. Just technologically, sometimes it can leave you missing the finer things. It's not Jackson’s fault society is twenty years into an apocalypse, thus running on twenty-plus year old appliances. The older ovens, refrigerators, and other appliances that were built in the seventies to the nineties or so are surprisingly doing alright, but the ones built when manufacturing began to take a turn for the worse around the later nineties and 2000s are beginning to crap out, especially the washers. God, you hate laundry day. The washers at the laundromat in Jackson always give you a hard time. Week after week, your chosen washer won’t start, or it’ll stop mid-cycle. The laundry attendant, Patti, often helps you wash your clothes by hand which is nice, but still frustrating for you both.

On a busy and gloomy Sunday a couple months back, you were lucky enough to pick one of the less temperamental washers and hardly had to fight or beg and plead with it to get it to wash your clothes. However, your luck ran out when it came time to dry, your dryer wouldn’t run. Refused to start, even with Patti’s help. Worse yet, every other dryer was in use at the moment. You were shit out of luck. Patti offered you a sympathetic smile and sent you home with a baggy full of clothes pins and a wagon to carry your basket of sopping wet clothes. The clothespins were a nice gesture, but didn’t help much as you didn’t have a clothesline. And - you had to laugh - most of them were broken. Oh dear, sweet Patti.

Once at home, you did your best to hang up your clothes on your porch, laying them out over the thick wooden railing, securing them with rocks. The wind was blowing something fierce that day, and then you felt it – a raindrop. And then another, and another. Before you knew it, you were caught in a torrential downpour, with your clothes blowing every which way. Working to gather your clothes as quickly as possible, you haphazardly chucked the rocks that were keeping them still in every direction, your neighbor Joel interrupting the task when he came outside and started to shout at you. Joel’s a man that can only be described as crotchety. A curmudgeon, even.

“The fuck are you throwing rocks at my window for?” he shouted, but you couldn’t hear him over the sound of the wind and the rain smacking your porch.

“What?” you yelled back, “Joel, I can’t hear you.”

“ROCKS,” he shouted again, “Why are you throwi–” Joel realized it was a lost cause then. He could see in your face that you couldn’t hear him, you looked puzzled and annoyed for a moment before you returned to throwing rocks and gathering clothes. “Fuck it,” he mumbled to himself. Through the pouring rain, he marched across both his and your lawns and right up the steps of your porch. “What are you doing?”

“I was at the laundromat and the dryer stopped working so Patti gave me clothespins but I don’t have a clothesline so I tried to lay them out on my porch with rocks so they could dry but then it started to ra–” Getting the picture, Joel had stopped listening to you and joined you in gathering your clothes tossing stones back into the rock edging surrounding your house. “What are you doing?” you asked.

“Nothin’, just– come on. Let’s go – we’re goin’ to my house,” he answered, dumping the last of your clothes into your basket.

“Why?”

Lightning shoots from a nearby cloud, with booming thunder following suit. Joel’s soaking wet, as are you. His hair was dark and stuck to his forehead, his thin t-shirt clung to his body, outlining his soft, pillowy tummy and belly button and his thick, muscular biceps. “Go, go, go,” Joel shouted, waving you away. “Just go. Move.” he grunted as he lifted up your laundry basket and hauled it across the grass in quick strides. He held the basket on his hip as he opened his door for you, guiding you inside with a push to your lower waist.

Your shoes squeaked as you followed Joel through his house. He took your basket down his basement stairs, “Be careful for me, stairs are steep,” he warned you, “Don’t need you crackin’ your skull open. Got enough shit to deal with.” It was sweet, knowing that he was looking out for you – even with the irritation lacing his tone.

You couldn’t believe your eyes as you saw what Joel had led you to. A washer and a dryer, olive green in color. He opened the door of the dryer and shoved your wet clothes inside it, then took off his own soaked shirt and pants and tossed them in too. “They’re clean,” he told you.

In another lifetime where the world doesn’t go to shit and fungus is the least of your problems, the mundane appliances in front of you would be the very last thing on your mind. You’d be focused on Joel, watching rivulets of water slide down his jaw, past his Adam’s apple and pool in the hollow of his throat. You’d be tracing the outline of his body with your eyes, following that thin line of hair that spreads down his lower stomach, disappearing under his boxers. You’d be eyeing his thick bulge and the way that if you squint, you could see the outline of his cock. But in this life, in this moment – where the world went to shit a long time ago – you’re more amazed by the washer and dryer he stands next to. “This is why I never see you at the laundromat? The whole time, you’ve had a washer and dryer?” you asked, astonished.

“M’not supposed to, but yeah,” Joel answered, shutting the dryer door before turning to you with his chin tilted down, eyebrows raised. Don’t you go tellin’ anyone, now.”

“I’m gonna tell Patti.”

Joel looked betrayed and puzzled. “I’m doin’ you a favor,” he reminded you.

“I know.”

“You want me to dry your clothes or not?” You crossed your arms and bit the inside of your cheek as you shrugged. “Oh, Christ,” Joel grumbled under his breath. “Why the hell would you go and rat me out?”

“Because, Joel, ” you began explaining, “All of the washers and dryers are breaking and you’re hoarding your own? I don’t think so – if everyone else has to share the washers, then you do too,” you scolded. “It’s selfish.”

“Life ain’t fair, sweetheart.” You stared at Joel for a moment before turning on your heel to go tattle on him, just like you swore you would. “Wait–” Joel grabbed your arm, stopping you. Despite being long gone from Boston QZ, Joel couldn’t quite shake those smuggling and bargaining habits of his. You were serious about this threat, and he knew it. You’d march your ass through the pouring rain to go snitch on him to Patti. And really, the worst that would’ve happened to Joel would be a scolding from Maria and the washer and dryer removed from his home and placed in the laundromat. It’s not like he’d be placed in a pillory and have rotten tomatoes thrown at him. But still. Joel liked his washer and dryer. He sighed. “What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything, Joel. I just want to better our community.”

Give me a break. “What do you want,” he repeated, his voice lower.

You pressed your lips in a thin line, eyeing those pretty olive green appliances of his. It’s not a far walk to Joel’s house… And you wouldn’t have to wait in line to wash your clothes behind twenty other people. You did want to better your community, that much was true. But you weren’t opposed to bettering your own life. “Let me use your washer and dryer. Whenever I want.”

Joel was quick to counter in a stern voice, “Twice a week, tops.”

“Three times,” you tried.

“Once,” Joel lowered his offer and then looked at you with his eyes squinted, his head cocked to the side. “Who does laundry three times a week?”

It was a fair point. Even with your very own washer and dryer, you wouldn’t do that much laundry. “Fine. Twice,” you agreed, and Joel held out his hand for you to take and you shook on it. His palm was warm and calloused, his grip firm. In that moment you met his eyes, taking in the beauty of his face. Those sparkling, big brown eyes and the beautiful curve of his aquiline nose. Your eyes traveled lower still, and it hit you both at that moment - the realization that Joel was wearing nothing but his boxers, and that you were still shivering in your cold, wet clothes. Joel dropped your hand quickly and grabbed a clean t-shirt from one of his own laundry baskets on top of the dryer. “Here. You can change into this and toss your clothes in there too, f’ya want.”

“Thanks,” you said quietly, taking the shirt from his hand. “Do you have something to wear?”

“I’m a little behind on laundry, actually…” Joel trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. You scoffed and chuckled at that. The luxury of his very own washer and dryer, right in the comfort of his home, and Joel had the audacity to be behind on laundry. “Uhh, anyway. You just turn the knob on the dryer to ‘high’ and press the start button. I’ll give ya some privacy to change, you can meet me upstairs when you’re done,” he said, and then shuffled past you.

Once Joel was up the stairs, you took off your clothes and put them in with the rest of the clothing in the dryer. You changed into Joel’s t-shirt, the fabric was soft with time and many wearings, and it smelled like him despite being washed. It was a muted teal in color, littered with a couple of bleach stains here and there. You liked it.

Upstairs, Joel made a couple of mugs of hot tea to warm you both up. “Honey?”

“Yeah, Joel?”

“N- no, like…Was askin’ f’ya wanted honey in your tea.”

“Oh.” Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. “Y– yes please. Thank you.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks. What a stupid thing to say. You watched as Joel stirred a bit of honey into your cup of tea, smirking as he then handed you the mug. Asshole. “Thought you were a coffee drinker,” you mused awkwardly, attempting to change the subject after taking a sip of the hot liquid, “You like tea?”

Joel grimaced in disgust as he took a sip of his own tea. “No. Just tryin’ to be polite for ya.”

“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it, you know,” you smiled into your mug.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Aaand there it is. Curmudgeon Joel was back, Neighborly Joel never lasted long anyway.

You sat on Joel’s couch, warming up with your cup of tea. Joel had noticed goosebumps on your thighs and pulled a blanket over your lap. He sat next to you with his mug steaming in his hands and just stared at you, not even realizing how deeply he was admiring the way his shirt hugged your curves just right, highlighting all the right parts of you. He jolted when he felt his cock thicken in his boxers, spilling his scalding hot tea all over his bare thighs. “God bless it,” he swore. Without thinking, he pulled the blanket from your legs and covered his own lap to hide his growing erection from you.

“Joel, what the fuck?”

“Nothin’. Just– m’cold,” he lied. “Jesus fuckin’- just - c’mere,” Joel huffed as he patted the spot next to him and urged you closer, then laid the blanket back over your legs. You sat shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh as you sipped your tea and Joel’s went cold. Dork.

Moments passed. You sat in silence, the only sound was the rain pounding against Joel’s windows as your heart fluttered in anxiety, or maybe excitement. You might’ve even called it butterflies in your tummy. But you knew better. It was just the close proximity to Joel. And the fact that you were wearing his shirt, and he was practically naked. All of it pretty insignificant, honestly. It was basically nothing.

Joel finally spoke first, “Was thinkin’ it’d be best if you’d come by at night, when I’m on patrol or somethin’. Nobody’ll see you with your laundry and it’ll stay our lil’ secret, yeah?” You nodded, still a little bashful with everything that had happened. You aren’t often like that. It’s cute, Joel thought. “An’ you can use my detergent and whatnot. Whatever you need, s’yours.”

“Thank–” an especially bright flash of lightning followed by nearly deafening thunder interrupted you. You startled and sort of hurled yourself closer to Joel, grabbed his forearm and held it tight. It was just a reflex, probably. Basically nothing.

“It’s just a storm, sweetheart. Ain’t gonna bite ya,” Joel teases with a grin.

“Oh, shut up,” you let go of his arm and missed the warmth of his skin beneath your palm almost immediately, but your longing for his touch was quickly soothed. Joel wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his side as you listened to the sounds of the storm together. You stayed like that, inhaling the sweet scent of him, masculine and heady. He smelled like the rain, too, and the hair on his underarms tickled your skin but you didn’t mind. When your laundry dried, he carried your basket home for you. You thanked him and moved to shut the door, but Joel stopped it with his hand, “Washer can be sorta delicate sometimes, so just be careful with it.”

“Noted,” you replied. “See ya, Joel.”

“See ya, hon.”

A few nights later, you returned to his home with your basket of laundry. Joel was gone, on patrol as he often is at night. Doing the laundry was uneventful , even though you probably used too much detergent, but whatever. Joel didn’t have to know. The next time you did laundry, Joel was at home. He told you not to worry about whichever nights you come by, that he’d always leave the washer and dryer empty in the evenings for you to use. He was even generous enough to make you dinner that night.

It all worked out. Joel’s washer and dryer stayed unknown to the rest of Jackson, and your laundry was cleaned in a much more efficient way. There really weren’t any flaws in your and Joel’s system, as long as you didn’t include the one laundry night where Joel was gone on patrol again, but had come home just as you were leaving. You bumped into him accidentally, causing a lacy pair of your panties to fall right out of your basket and onto his shoe. He bent down and picked them up for you, not even realizing what he was holding. “Oh. My bad,” he blushed, once he recognized the garment. “I’ll just…” and put them back in your basket. From that point forward, he was always careful to stay out of your way. Aside from that it really did all work out.

After loading your clothes into Joel’s washer, you shut the washer door and turn it on. You make your way upstairs and there’s a note on Joel’s table – Leftovers in the fridge are yours if you wanna heat them up.

Opening the fridge, you see a neatly packed container of what looks to be chicken and vegetables. Yum. God, you’ll miss these vegetables when it gets cold again. You take advantage of the offer and heat up the food in a pan on the stovetop, humming to yourself as you stir the food to keep it from burning. A light flickers above you. Weird. It flickers again, and then finally goes out. But it’s no big deal, you’ve seen in Joel’s basement that above the washer and dryer is a shelf full of supplies and you know there’s a couple of bulbs there. You go back downstairs where the washer hums, working its way through the cycle.

“Hmm,” you hum to yourself. You’d never quite realized just how high up that supply shelf is. And the bulbs are in the middle of the shelf, so there’s no good way to get them without climbing on top of the washer, which Joel would probably kill you for doing. He did ask that you be careful with his fragile washer, after all. Whatever. It’ll take like six seconds, tops. You hoist yourself on the washer and first try kneeling on it to see if you can reach one of the bulbs. No luck. You stand on your feet then, raising yourself up carefully, slowly, feeling the washer shake slightly beneath your feet. Joel would be absolutely irate if he saw you like this now. When you finally grab one of those light bulbs, you carefully lower yourself to a seated position on the washer to catch your breath. You’re not usually prone to vertigo, but Joel’s wobbly washer brought the dizziness on. You know better than to try and move right now, so you just settle yourself down to avoid fainting.

The washer vibrates under the flesh of your thighs. It’s a gentle sensation, lessened by the angle you’re sitting at. But if you focus really hard, you can feel it in your core. Curious, you spread your legs and turn to the corner of the washer, tilting your hips to the floor, and oh, this is it. You’re not even thinking about potential consequences when you shimmy your shorts and panties off, then find that sweet spot once more. The metal of the washer is cool against you as it vibrates, sending sweet little buzzes through your hot core. You’re not quite wet yet, just enjoying the sensation. Letting it build and build, seeing where it can get you. You let your mind wander, not really thinking about much in particular. The low hum of the washer fades away in your mind and you’re starting to become wet. Shifting your position, you extend your arm to find something to grab onto when you feel fabric. Joel’s clothes. He’s still a slacker with keeping up on his dirty laundry. Usually it would irritate you. It does irritate you, this exorbitant waste of an advantage he has. You look at the shirt in your hand, the same shirt Joel had lent you. You think back to that first time you did laundry here at Joel’s, how he sat next to you nearly naked. The feel of his skin and the smell of him - sweat and rain and musk. And Joel being the beautiful, incognizant man he is, probably had zero clue of how sexy he looked. Or smelled, for that matter.

With Joel now on your mind and his shirt in your hand, you decide to experiment, create a better ambiance. You keep those images of him in your mind, those feelings too. You remember the low timbre of his voice, the rain splashing against the windows, the weight of his arm wrapped around your shoulders. And with his dirty t-shirt clutched in your fist and its armpit pressed against your nose you remember his scent. Smell is a powerful sense, closely linked to memory and emotion, his shirt and what it’s doing to you is a testament to that fact. Legs spread wide, your hips angled down with your clit pressed to the corner of Joel’s washer, the machine vibrating under you as you inhale his scent deeply - you’re back in that memory. And then some.

In your mind, your back on Joel’s couch. You can smell him, feel him, and if you really concentrate, you can even taste him. You’re on your knees and he’s drawing lazy patterns on your back as you suck his cock and fondle his balls, and he’s moaning, grunting and whimpering your name. He tastes like he smells, heady and all masculine. He grips the back of your neck and lifts you up, guides you to straddle his hips. His forehead pressed against yours, he notches the tip of his cock inside you and pulls you down slowly, careful so as not to hurt you but it does, of course it does. Not that you mind, you love the stretch and the ache of his thickness splitting you in two. You rock yourself, grind your clit against that unruly patch of hair at the base of his cock. You’re coming, you’re coming, you’re coming.

You’re coming. Loudly, whimpering Joel’s name as you rut against the vibrating machine. As you finish, so does the washer. It sings you a little chiming song indicating the load is done washing. You can’t help but giggle at that as you bask in the discovery of this fortuitous delight. You’ve got private access to a washer and dryer and a vibrator now too? Lucky, lucky, lucky.

God, Joel’s shirt smells good. You inhale it deeply, wondering if he wears cologne. It smells almost woodsy…smokey, even.

Fuck. You’re smelling smoke.

You pull on your pants and sprint up the steps, racing to Joel’s kitchen only to find that the chicken and veggies you were heating up are no more. They’re black and shriveled, cemented to the stainless steel pan, and there’s no salvaging that. No amount of scrubbing can erase your masturbatory mistake. Fuck, Joel’s gonna kill you. Your only choice is to conceal the evidence. Surreptitiously, you take the pan and hide it under a bush outside Joel’s backdoor.

You’ll be more responsible next time - yes, there absolutely will be a next time. Gas off before you get off.

The next time came and went. And the time after that, and the one after that. Laundry was always your least favorite chore, but with access to Joel’s washer and dryer and this new trick up your sleeve, it’s not so bad. Getting off on Joel’s washer has become a weekly thing and it’s been lovely, relieving, dirty, and exciting, but you’d be lying if you were to say it’s been perfectly fine the whole time.

You’ve been abusing the poor machine. It’s no secret. You get every bang for your buck out of the washer, taking full advantage of Joel’s twice a week offer and then some. Some nights you’ll sneak over and do an extra load, wash a blanket or something just to make the washer run for your masturbatory purposes. And so, the vibrating sensation the machine produces has begun to weaken. In order to compensate, you’ve been rocking yourself harder on it, which probably isn’t helping. But it’s still washing your clothes, right?

…Yes. Mostly. It still washes, but it’s become sort of finicky. And the door doesn’t quite shut the way it used to, and it makes an odd noise now that it never made before.

Tonight you’re at Joel’s doing a double load of laundry. There were no ulterior motives on your part when you came over, honestly and truly. Your first load is drying, the second load is in the washer. Joel’s home tonight, he’s gonna cook you dinner like he always does when he’s around. For such a grouch, he wears his heart on his sleeve.

It would be more accurate to say you’re cooking dinner together. Joel came home with a basket full of fresh vegetables from the market and actually put you to work, his reasoning being that he was starving and wanted dinner ready yesterday, and that having your help cutting up the vegetables for the meal he was making would have dinner ready that much sooner. He places a cutting board in front of you and hands you a knife, “Chop chop,” he says, then laughs at his own pun as he rifles through some cabinets. “Missin’ a saucepan…” he mumbles to himself. Oops.

You start by peeling the carrots. As you begin to chop them, you realize he didn’t give you any sort of instruction. “Joel?”

“Yeah, hon.”

“How small do you need me to cut the carrots?”

“Uhhhh,” he thinks. “Lemme see.” Joel turns around and watches you with a look of disappointment and repulsion painting his features. “What’s the matter with you?”

“What?” you ask defensively.

“Why are you tryin’ to cut off your fingers?”

You look down at your hand holding the carrot and your other hand holding the knife, then up at Joel. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I’m not trying to cut off my fingers.”

“Sure looks like it to me. Is that always how you handle a knife?”

“Yeah,” you reply, “Why?”

“‘Cause you’re gonna cut off your damn fingers, dammit, that’s why. C’mere,” Joel stands behind you where you stand at the island, then lifts up your left hand and curls your fingers underneath themselves. “Keep your fingers like this,” he instructs. “Holdin’ your fingers out flat like that are a sure fire way to cut ‘em off. Now show me how you chop.”

With your fingers in the proper position now, you begin to cut the carrots. They wobble beneath you, you hate the way Joel has you holding them. “This is uncomfortable,” you tell him.

“You know what’s more uncomfortable? Missin’ fingers. Keep goin’.” You groan but keep chopping per his demand. He’s pressed against your back, one of his palms lays flat against the countertop, semi caging you in as he watches you work. “Okay, okay, stop. You’re makin’ me nervous. Gimme this.” Joel wraps his hand around yours on the handle of the knife. He moves the knife for you, cutting the carrot slowly, your hand securely in his. “You’re liftin’ the knife too much, sweetheart. Just rock it back and forth for me. Just like this,” he whispers, showing you how he rocks the knife in a fluid motion to cut the carrots. His hands are warm, his grip on your hands is firm. His breath is hot and tickles your ear, sending goosebumps erupting down the back of your neck. He chops the carrots quietly, and you feel him against you - the rise and fall of his chest and tummy with each inhale and exhale he takes, his wiry scruff kissing the side of your face. “That’s it,” he praises, “Good girl.”

Fuck. His words go right to your core. As if him holding your hands and caging you in to teach you how to cut vegetables wasn’t enough, he had to call you ‘good girl’ as well. That had to be deliberate on his part, you’re almost certain of it. And now you’ve got to pay his washer another visit. His fault, honestly. “Laundry,” you blurt out, pushing his hands off of yours and shrinking away from his hold. “Sorry. Gotta check the laundry.”

“Oh. Alright, then.” Joel watches you pace down the basement stairs and listens to you pretend to check on your clothes, opening and shutting the washer and dryer doors. He’s waiting for you to come upstairs, but you never do. “You comin’ upstairs?”

“Yeah, just a minute,” you call back.

“There’s spiders down there, you know. Big an’ fuzzy too.”

“I’ll be fine,” you yell as you unbutton your shorts and pull them down your legs. “I don’t mind them.”

Your reply immediately has Joel feeling suspicious of you. Even a mention of a mere ant should have sent you running into his arms and pleading with him to get rid of it. On more than one occasion, Joel’s woken up to you pounding on his door in the middle of the night begging him to come kill a spider that’s in your bedroom. And he always does, of course, even when the spider is miniscule and simply minding its business in a corner somewhere. He’ll scoop it into the palm of his hand and set it outside in a bed of flowers, call you a wimp and be on his merry way, grumbling the entire walk home. He wonders why the hell you’re so brave all of a sudden.

A loud, clunking noise interrupts the silence. “Oh, fuck,” you swear. And Joel’s deaf, but not deaf enough to not hear you. “What was that?” he calls from up the stairs.

“Nothing!”

Joel knows it wasn’t nothing, it certainly didn’t sound like nothing. You quickly pull your shorts and panties back on when you hear him stomping down the stairs to investigate. Wracking your brain to think of a lie to tell Joel, you realize you’re fucked, utterly and completely. It would’ve been more appropriate to think of one before now, probably around the time the washer started to make weird noises. Now you’re faced with god knows what consequences.

Joel greets you with a puzzled and angered expression. “What the hell happened?”

“I d– I don’t know. Just something… Happened, I guess,” you stutter. Subtly, you stuff the used pair of his boxers you were smelling down the back of your shorts to hide the evidence of your even dirtier secret. Joel sees that you’re avoiding eye contact, looking up and away, scratching your head. The silence hangs heavily in the air and Joel sees the guilt on your face and that your shorts are undone for some reason. “You have ten seconds to tell me the truth before this becomes a much worse day for us both.”

“Nothing happened–”

“Nine, eight…”

You fold instantly. “I sit on it,” you confess, Joel exhales in frustration. “Sit? As in… this is a regular occurrence, you’ve been sittin’ on my washer,” Joel asserts. You nod in confirmation. “Why.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, another lie.

“Well, how much have you been sittin’ on it?”

“Just like…a lot, I guess.” You look down at your feet, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“Why?” he asks again.

“It…uhh…sort of…” you mumble, picking at your fingernails.

“Sort of what?”

“Vibrates.”

Joel’s face falls at the admission. “You’re not serious,” he says, but he knows you are. “Oh my god.”

“Stranger things have happened, right?” Your voice wavers as you try to soften the blow with a joke.

“Unbelievable,” Joel pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “No. Stranger things than you have not happened, sweetheart.” After taking a few deep breaths, he pushes you to the side and reaches for the shelf above the washer for a toolbox. He takes out a putty knife and wriggles the front of the washer off, then drops to his knees to inspect the washer. “Did I not ask you to be careful with it?” It’s a rhetorical question. Joel groans when he sees what’s broken inside of the washer.

“What is it?”

“Belt’s broken,” he answers. “You’re lucky s’fixable.”

“Oh,” you say. “Well, it’s good you can fix it, right?”

“Oh, no. You are fixin’ it, my darlin’. You broke it.”

Joel’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re putting his washer back together. “I don’t know how,” you tell him. You’ll make it up to him in any other way than this, but there’s no way he’s serious. Besides, he’s now the first to know that your track record with washers isn’t to be trusted.

“I’ll walk you through it,” Joel replies plainly. “Get down there. On your knees, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes at him. “Now,” he says, unimpressed with your defiance.

You drop to your knees in front of the washer, looking for the broken belt that Joel speaks of. You find one of the big and fuzzy spiders he was talking about instead. “Jesus!” you yelp, launching backwards and nearly knocking Joel over in the process “There’s a spider, Joel - kill it, kill it, kill it, Joel - kill it, please,” you beg.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, it’s harmless.”

“Joel!”

Joel nudges you out of the way to find the spider sitting right at the bottom of the washer. He scoops it into his hand, then holds it in front of you, “I thought you said you didn’t mind ‘em,” he taunts.

“I lied. Get it away from me,” You shove him away from you, and he clutches the spider more carefully in his hands, laughing.

“Yeah, I know you lied. You’re very bad at it,” Joel opens one of the basement’s egress windows and sends the spider on its way, then closes it and returns to you, first grabbing what looks to be a replacement belt for his washer from a nearby shelf. Leave it to Joel to have the most convenient yet obscure supplies right in his basement twenty years into an apocalypse. “Back to work.” You’re in front of the washer once more, and Joel takes his seat right behind you. “See that black belt at the bottom of the drum?”

“No.”

“This thing here,” he points at it with his finger. “Take it off,” You reach for the belt and tug on it a bit, “Gotta wiggle it a bit,” following his instruction, you wiggle the belt and it falls off the drum. “Attagirl. Now put this one on,” he hands you the new belt and takes the old one from you. “S’gonna be snug.”

You struggle to stretch the rubber over the drum and it snaps your hands when it slips. “Fuck.”

“Keep tryin’. Put some elbow grease into it, hon,” Joel hovers over your shoulder, just as he did earlier in the kitchen. “M’just checkin’ to make sure you got it lined up properly,” Joel tugs on the rubber belt, making sure it’s sitting where it needs to. “So tell me again how long you been doin it for,” he whispers. “Long time?”

You answer cautiously, “Uhhh…a while now, I guess.”

“Yeah, I figured. S’it feel good?”

The question throws you off, makes you nervous. But his voice is low and gravelly, and his tone isn’t pointed or accusatory. He seems curious, but for what reason, you’re not quite sure yet. “It does.”

“Better than your fingers?” Joel tightens the belt a bit and leans back. He’s watching you, but you can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes. You gasp when you feel his warm palm sliding underneath your shorts. “What the–” Oh, fuck. Joel found his pair of boxers. He holds the fabric in his hands, a knowing grin on his lips. “These are mine. What’re you doin’ with my dirty boxers?” he asks. He doesn’t allow you time to stutter out an excuse. “You’re a dirty lil’ bird, aren’t you?”

“Joel.”

He tosses his pair of boxers onto the dryer and whispers in your ear again, “I asked you somethin’. My washer feel better than your fingers?”

“Yeah,” you answer, “Better.”

Joel hums in amusement. He slides his hand down the front of your pants, still unbuttoned from earlier. “Saved me the trouble, didn’t ya, sweetheart?” he breathes. Your breath hitches when his fingers find your mound, as he toys with the curls there. He traces over your lips, then dips a finger between them, circling your hole, then circles your clit. “Better than mine?” he asks, dipping a finger into your center and you moan. He holds one hand on your hip as the other pumps in and out of your center, and you lean back into his chest, relaxing with his touch. You sigh deeply. “Don’t get all cozy on me, now. You ain’t done. Gotta put the front of the washer back on, should just click right into place.”

Joel pulls his hand away from you so you can lift the front piece of the washer. “It’s not–” you complain, struggling to click it into place the way Joel says it should. You push and push, but it doesn’t budge. “Joel, it’s not–”

“It will. Just try.”

“I am,” you argue, shoving it once more but to no avail. You’ve grown frustrated by his washer, by the task Joel bestowed upon you in fixing it, and his teasing, too. In a fit of anger, you stand up and kick it.

“Hey, easy,” Joel scolds. “Look, like this,” Magically, the front piece of the washer fits right into place, just like he said it would. He does nothing different than what you did, it just works out for him. Of course it does. “You’re impatient, huh?” he murmurs, moving behind you. You gasp when you feel his hands on your hips, tugging the fabric of both your shorts and your panties down to your ankles, he helps you out of the garments and tosses them elsewhere. His hands are on your hips again, this time guiding you, whispering, “Back, back,” as he positions you where he needs you, spreading your legs apart. You’re leaning on his washer and he’s on his knees behind you, using his nose to tease and part your slick folds. He inhales you deeply, taking in the sweet scent of your arousal before he tastes you. He traces your lips with a pointed tongue, up and down, before he dips his tongue into your heat, savoring you.

“How ‘bout my tongue?” he purrs, whispering against your skin. You don’t answer, and it’s not like you could anyway, with the way he devours you. His arms are wrapped around your legs, his fingertips are digging harshly into your thighs like he means to bruise you, tear the flesh off your bones even. It’s possessive in nature, but not abusive or aggressive. You know his actions aren’t borne of anything except pure pleasure and you indulge in it, in him. He moves slow like honey as he tastes you languidly, kissing you. He laps your velvety heat, his tongue teasing all of your sensitive, slick flesh. Now and then the wiry hairs of his beard will tease and scratch your inner thighs, a sensation that tickles you and rubs you raw all the same. “Oh my god,” you moan, reaching behind yourself to take hold of his head, fingers tangling in his graying curls and waves. “Joel, oh my god.”

Joel takes your lack of a real answer to his question as a no, his washer pales in comparison to his tongue. Good. He bets you’ve fantasized about him, all those times you’ve used his washer for those needs of yours besides washing your clothes. And he bets that you probably grind yourself on it, picturing it’s his warm flesh beneath you and not the cold metal of the machine. He’d be right. He sucks your clit, circling the sensitive bud with his tongue. He nips at your folds, sucking one, then the other between his plump lips, then focuses his attention back at your clit. You’re moaning his name, the only word you know anymore. Joel keeps you still, held tight in his arms so that you can’t push your ass back and grind against his mouth like he knows you’re fighting to do. All you can do is take it, feel his perfect aquiline nose tease between your cheeks. He’s buried himself face first in your most private place as he consumes you voraciously, his tongue flicking and swirling and painting you. You’re biting into your own arm, seeing stars as you come on his tongue. It’s an elusive sort of orgasm, the kind where you don’t exactly know where it begins and it ends. All you know is that you’re sensitive, so fucking sensitive and Joel is relentless. Your knees buckle as he toys with your clit, gives you a break for a moment before he’s right back there again, continuing to eat you. He keeps going and going, repeating the actions over and over again just to make you cry and beg, “Stop - please - I can’t, I can’t, Joel. T-too much.”

“Know it’s too much, sweetheart, s’why I’m doin it,” Joel coos. But he obliges, places one last kiss to your heat, soaked by his spit and your own arousal before he stands up behind you. He wraps one arm around your stomach, pulling himself close to you. You can feel his hard cock against your ass, separated only by his denim as he uses his other hand to turn your face to the side, meeting him beside you. He kisses you, tracing his tongue along the seam of your lips, licking into your mouth. You taste yourself on his tongue, then feel his hand leave your face to reach for his fly. You hear him unzip his jeans slowly, and then he’s pulling his cock out, still kissing you as he lines up with you, first parting your thighs with a gentle nudge of his knee before notching his tip at your entrance. He finally pulls his mouth away from yours and gently forces your chest down toward the washer. He pushes himself into you, careful so as not to hurt you but deliberately so that you still feel that ache, the stretch of his thick cock separating your insides. Joel continues holding your body close to his as he reaches for your hand with his free one, interlacing his fingers in between your own. “How about my cock, sweetheart? You like it better, worse?” he whispers, kissing, nipping at your ear in between words. He pulls out of you nearly all the way, then pushes back into your dripping cunt.

You try to answer, “Bet - oh, ahhh,”

Joel chuckles at the way he’s reduced you to nothing but broken syllables and moans. “Ohhh, listen to you. I think it’s better, huh? S’that what you’re tryin’ to tell me?” You nod frantically. “Yeah, I know, beautiful.”

His pace is slower to start, but it builds in quick time. You can feel he’s fighting with himself to be more gentle than he actually wants to be, his thrusts sloppier than he intends, like he’s losing himself in you. You’re lost in him, lost in the moment all the same. You take it all in, the lewd and obscene sounds of the pleasure he creates with you - his thighs slapping against yours and the gushing of your cunt on his cock. Your moans, your cries, all babbling nonsense. And Joel’s deep breaths in and out, shaky and stuttering as he does it. His grunts and his swearing, a whimper here and there if you listen closely. He fills you up perfectly, hits that sweet spot deep inside you over and over and over…

“You coulda had me like this the whole time,” he pants, “Didn’t have to go an’ break my washer f’ya needed somethin’ more than those fingers of yours, sweetheart. Know you been needin’ some lovin’.” He reaches for your breasts, squeezing and groping the flesh, twisting your nipples and smirking when you twitch and whine. “All you had to do was ask.” You don’t respond, but he doesn’t expect you to anyway. What he did expect, however, were your moans of displeasure as he pulls out of you. He knows, oh, he knows how empty you must feel, you poor thing. He’ll soothe that. He flips you around, seats you on his washer. “I’m gonna make you come again,” he promises, “I’m gonna watch.”

“Too much, Joel, I can’t,” you cry. You want to come again, really. But you don’t think you have it in you, still so worked up, overstimulated by the endless teasing of his tongue on your pussy.

“Oh, don’t cry. You can do it, hon. You can take it,” he says, “Open up those legs for me, darlin’.” Joel pushes your trembling legs wide so he can slot his hips between them, then wraps your legs around his waist before sliding his cock into you once more. He thrusts just once, rather harshly, before he’s met with another rather loud noise from the washer. Joel halts and scratches the back of his neck. God, he hopes he didn’t just do it in. “Probably shouldn’t…uh…”

“Yeah,” you agree.

“Did you use my dryer too?”

“Duh,” you answer. “How else would I dry my clothes?”

Joel rolls his eyes, “No, smartass. Were you usin’ it for your dirty work, is what I’m askin’.”

“No.”

Still inside you, Joel slides you over to his dryer. “Good girl. Poor washer’s been abused plenty by you already.”

“But I will,” You whisper defiantly under your breath, wrapping your arms around his neck as he adjusts.

“Wrong ear, sweetheart. My right one’s deaf. I heard that loud and clear.”

Joel’s back to fucking you in an instant. He wastes no time in making good on his promise, thumbing your clit as he rolls his hips into you. “See, look at you. Takin’ me just fine,” he praises.The way you squirm and take your shallow little breaths fills him with satisfaction and delight. He knows this isn’t easy, that you’re tired and sore and overstimulated. He’ll be done with you soon. “Come with me, wanna feel you come with me, sweetheart,” he says. “Focus here, eyes on me. You’re gonna come with me.”

It’s a few moments of Joel painting your clit with those tight, steadied circles as he fucks you hard and deep. There’s a push and pull to it, where you’re not sure who this is for - yourself or Joel. Just like before, you’re not sure where it starts and stops, but you’re there. God it’s intense, you’re gonna break and you know it. Joel’s got his palm on the back of your neck, squeezing you. His jaw clenches and he’s coming undone first, but he never loses focus on you. His thrusts stutter as he milks himself in you but doesn't yet stop - he’s making sure you’re gonna come. “C’mon baby, c’mon. Give it to me,” he says. “One more for me. Last one.”

His words are all it takes. You whimper and moan, cry his name as you find your climax. Release washes over you the way waves crash onto sand - it’s repeated, the way the tides push and pull. Deafening. Powerful.

But there’s a calmness yet. The rolling of his hips slows, slows, stops. He presses his damp forehead against yours, breathing deeply. “You’re okay,” he murmurs. “You’re okay?”

You nod and smile, “Yeah, I’m good.” He smiles with you and helps you off of the dryer. Joel finds your clothes and dresses you in them, steadying your shaky legs.

Joel tentatively restarts the washer. It chugs a bit, but makes all the right noises and he breathes a sigh of relief. You’re a bit startled when he takes you by the arm and marches you up the stairs. “New rule,” he says, “You stay with me when your clothes are washin’.”

You bite your lip to hide your guilty smirk. “Yes. Joel.”

“And I still need you to cut them veggies for me, too.”

I struggled heavily with this fic, comments and reblogs would be much appreciated if you were feeling so inclined🙏 they keep me motivated and I look back at your words when I’m writing to remember that I’m capable of pleasing you all

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller fanfic #joel the last of us #tlou joel #pedro pascal x reader

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darkbluekies · 5 months

Note

God i want a dark!dr.kry fic soo bad. I read your most recent silas fic and I thought it was so good i ATE IT UP

Things you shouldn't see

Doctor!yandere x reader Summary: you've finally realized what type of man Dr Kry is, and what he is capable of doing. Warnings: murder, bruises, yandere, poison etc. Word count: 2.3k

Your crying hurts him, it really does, but he can’t be soft. Not now. You had tried to escape again. If he hadn’t come back in time to catch you in the door, God knows what could have happened to you.

“Please, please don’t”, you sob as he cuffs your wrists to the bed’s railing with belt-looking leather. “Please, I’m sorry.”

“Spare your voice, Y/N”, he tells you sharply. “Begging and pleading won’t work — you're not a child. You put yourself in this situation, didn’t you? How about we take some adult consequences?” He fixes the last buckle. “Too tight?”

You don't answer, you only cry. Dr Kry grabs your chin softly to direct your attention back to him.

“Y/N, listen to me”, he says sternly. “Are the restraints too tight? Yes or no? Don’t lie.”

“No”, you sob.

“Good. You know why I’m doing this, right? I don’t think it’s funny.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Stop with the bullshit, Y/N. I caught you in the damn door, Y/N.” He sighs frustratedly and runs a hand through his blonde hair. “I can’t let this slip. You almost escaped from me once, remember? I’m not letting that happen again. I’m going to go get you dinner and you are going to get yourself together until I’m back, okay?”

You nod slightly. When he's exited the room, you break out into sobs again. Have to get them out of your system before he returns. You hate him. Hate him so much.

He's back ten minutes later with two cardboard boxes filled with food. He looks somewhat pleased that you're not crying anymore. He stands by his desk.

“You don't understand that I want what's best for you”, Dr Kry says while opening the plastic lids. “If you did, you wouldn't try to do stupid stuff like this.”

“Turn it off”, you say through gritted teeth.

He glances at the air purifier, already knowing what you’re talking about.

“No, I will not”, he says simply.

“You're killing me!”

Dr Kry scoffs and dumps your foodbox on your legs.

“If I wanted you dead, Y/N, you'd already be in the mortuary”, he says and rolls over to you on his stool. “But as you can tell by your current status in your room, I don't.”

He picks up the fork and holds a bite of potato to your lips. You refuse to open your mouth.

“Are we doing this?” he asks with raised eyebrows. “Do I need to be mean?”

“Please don’t”, you whisper, scared.

“You don’t want me to be mean?”

You shake your head quickly.

“Good, me neither”, Dr Kry says. “Glad that we can agree on something. Open your mouth now.”

You open your mouth enough for him to put in the fork in your mouth. Dr Kry notices how you fight back the tears and sighs in defeat.

“If you really want to cry, then do it”, he says quietly.

It’s a trick. He actually doesn’t want you to cry, and you know that. But the tear that runs down your cheek can’t be brought back. You flinch when his hand brushes against your cheek to wipe it softly. He holds another fork of potato and meat to your mouth. You grimace slightly.

“Just eat and you’ll get to sleep”, Dr Kry promises you.

“Turn it off”, you whisper. “Please.”

Dr Kry sighs and walks over to the air purifier, turning it off. The soft buzzing finally, finally stopped. Dr Kry can tell that you relax in your restraints.

“Thank you”, you whisper without looking at him.

“I’ll have to turn it on again”, he says.

“Why?”

“Because it keeps you where I want you. It’s much easier than keeping you cuffed to the bed like this.”

You tug at the restraints, as if you suddenly remember that you’re wearing them. Dr Kry’s hand shoots out over your right wrist.

“Stop”, he says. “Don’t do that. I don’t like to see bruises on you. Just let it be. Give in, alright?”

You glance down at his large hand and grow cold. Could he break your wrist? Could he actually hurt you if he really wanted to? Without tools, without medicine and drugs?

“Open your mouth”, Dr Kry and removes his hand to give you the fork full of food.

This time, you open your mouth without fuss. He smiles, pleased.

“Have I fucked up for myself now?” you mumble without looking at him.

“Just a tad bit”, Dr Kry smiles and wipes some sauce of your lips with his thumb. “But it's nothing that we can't restore.”

She had seen it, and although she tried to convince herself that she was overthinking, she couldn't bring herself to admit that everything was okay with Dr Kry’s patient — or Dr Kry for that matter. There has always been something with him that has rubbed her the wrong way. He's always been polite and helpful, but she thinks that it's a facade. There is something he's hiding, she can tell that there's a certain darkness in his eyes. And the fact that they never see, hear or get any reports about his patient — despite being here for so long — worries her.

One day, she decides to sneak inside. You’re lying in the hospital bed, sleeping soundly. But other than that, the room is empty. The woman notices how your wrists are … cuffed to the side of the bed. She sneaks over to you and carefully shakes your shoulder. You open your eyes slowly, and then dart them open. In pure fear, you start to tug at the restraints.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” the woman shrieks. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“Who are you?!” you gasp. “Where’s Dr Kry?!”

“I don’t know, please be quiet, I’m not going to hurt you.”

You eventually start to calm down.

“Why are you cuffed to the bed?” the woman asks carefully, feeling a shiver run down her spine. “What has he done to you?”

“Please help me”, you beg.

“I saw that you tried to leave the room before … and that he snatched you back.”

“I-I will.”

“Please help me, I’m begging you, he’s killing me!” you nod at the air purifier. “He’s poisoned it! You have to help me!”

She is just about to unbuckle the leather strands keeping you to the bed when the door opens. You meet eyes with Dr Kry and feel how your entire body goes numb.

Shit.

His eyes glare at the woman as he slowly closes the door behind him, locking it shut.

“Can I help you?” he asks coldly. “What are you doing with my patient?”

The woman spins around and stutters in fear.

“Who allowed you to come in here?” Dr Kry asks, sounding suspicious — and extremely angry, although he tries to hide it. “Speak up!”

“I-I …”, the woman stutters.

Dr Kry walks closer. You’ve never seen his body language this … territorial before. It’s almost animalistic.

“What have they told you?” he asks the woman.

“Nothing!” the woman shrieks.

With one quick glance at you, he scoffs with a small, cold smile on his face.

“I wouldn’t believe anything they say, ma’am”, he says amusedly, although you’re sure that he’s angry like a bee. “They’re sick, they’re not thinking clearly. Seems like we have to talk after this.”

“Don’t be angry at them”, the woman says, finally collecting herself. “You are the one abusing your position. You should be the one who’s getting yelled at!”

“Oh, I’m not mad at my patient. How could I? If they don’t know what’s good for themselves, how could I ever expect them to know when to speak …” He gave you a warning look, “... and when to shut up?” He looked back at the woman. “They’re sick, after all.”

“Why are you keeping them prisoner?”

Dr Kry puts his hands into his pockets, shrugging. “I’m not keeping anyone prisoner. Did they tell you that?”

“You’ve poisoned the air purifier.”

“Why would I ever do that?” he laughs. “That’s absurd! You don’t think I have other things to do? A real job?” He takes a step closer. He’s almost reaching her by now. “Listen, my patient has been reading a lot of fantasy stories while being emitted here, and they must have spun their head out of control. Being in a hospital for as long as they have, all alone, must mess with ones head a bit. Don’t worry about it.”

He has slammed it over the nurse’s head, striking her to the floor. You fight against the restraints, but they’re as stuck as stone. Dr Kry continues to hit the poor nurse with the metal pipe, causing blood to splatter over the walls — and you. You can’t breathe when the red liquid lands on your face, too horrified to even move. The screams from the woman turns into moans of pain, then sobs, then silence. Dr Kry huffs and gets up from the ground, letting go of the metal pipe that clinks against the floor. His white coat and blue overalls are drenched in blood, and his face is covered in red. You’re shivering in your bed and meet his eyes with wide open eyes.

Dr Kry walks over to his desk. You can tell how he picks up a metal pipe used for the IV-stand you use every now and then.

“No!” you scream, but it’s too late.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t want you to see that”, he pants lowly.

Sobs start to exit your body. Dr Kry hurries over to you, sinking down on his knees by the bed, almost lying his upper body into yours.

“I’m sorry, little one”, he whispers and cups your cheeks.

“Don’t touch me!” you try to scream while doing your best to turn your head away, but his strong grip is forcing you to stay still, forces you to look at him.

“I didn’t want you to see that”, he repeats. “Why did she have to come and but into our business, hm? Oh, please don’t blame yourself for her death. It’s not your fault.”

He notices how you’re trying to rip your head away from him.

“I know that you’re afraid”, he says. “It was not your fault, okay? I don’t blame you, I could never blame you, you know that.” He wipes your tears. “Please, don’t cry. I’m not going to do it again.”

You’re unsure if you’ve ever sobbed this harshly before in your life. The cries ripple through your body, forcing your chest to lift with every sob. It hurts, like an unwelcomed workout. Dr Kry holds your face against his chest, hushing as he hugs your head close to him. You can feel how fast his heart is beating, and it makes you nauseous.

“Let’s get you cleaned up”, Dr Kry says and unbuckles you.

You hesitate getting out of bed, glancing careful down at the dead body bleeding out on the floor. Dr Kry hurries to pick you up in his arms and walk into the bathroom. He closes the door behind him and places you down in the tub. Carefully, he removes your hospital gown and turns on the shower. You refuse to look his way.

“Listen, Y/N”, he says and sinks down outside the tub. “There are things you shouldn’t see … and this was one of them. I don’t want you to think of me as a monster. I’m a realist, okay?”

“Is that what you’re going to do to me if I try to leave again?” you cry.

“No! Don’t even say such nonsense. That’s absurd. How could you ever think that?”

You find it ironic that he grows offended. He starts to wash off the blood from your face with the gentle stream of the shower.

He takes one of your wrists in hand and lets his thumb run over the deep mark from the leather.

“I told you not to fight against it”, he whispers with a sigh. “We’ll have to put bandage on that.”

Dr Kry continues to wash the blood off of you and his own hands. You follow the red water down the drain.

He puts the shower head back on the hanger and tells you to wait there until he comes back. You hug your knees close to your chest and watch how he disappears out of the bathroom. You can hear how he starts to clean up the body outside the closed door. This is what happens to the people who believe you. Those that trust Dr Kry’s words about you being too sick to function, and start to hallucinate, are no help … but those that are never get far enough.

You shiver from cold air hitting your wet, naked body and bring your knees even closer to you. There’s a new form of silence in the room, a silence that eats you up from the inside … and yet, silence had never been this loud before. You would be able to hear a needle drop to the floor on the other side of the hospital.

It had taken wells to gather the courage to try to run away again, and it had been shattered in the moment of two seconds. Your hope had been sparked again when you saw the nurse, and knew that she was one of the few that actually believed you.

You turn your face down into your knees and cry in realization that you’ll never get to leave the hospital as long as Dr Kry is around. In time, the poisoned air purifier will have killed you … but you’re unsure that you’ll get to leave the hospital even then.

I’m going to die.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere mafia #yandere fics #yandere oc x reader #yandere stories #yandere female #female yandere

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thankyouivy · 6 months

Note

Hiii! I am reading allllll your blurbs and ffs and god I adore your writing!!!!!

Could you write about Spencer Reid and reader (no sub! Or dom! dynamic If it’s ok) in their early stages of their relationship (at this point they’ve already had sex and he found out he’s totally obsessed with eating her out), and pleads for her to sit on his face but she doesn’t wanna do it at first cause she’s a bit worried she might hurt him? But he begs her so much he convinces her and well… the rest I’ll leave it to you! ;)

If it’s alright with you of course💘💓💕💖💗

i got you babycakes!!!

warnings: oral sex [f rec], face sitting, begging, hair pulling, cumming untouched, this is just pure smut.

———

Need - Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

“Please, sugar,” Spencer whispers into your ear.

He’s been asking you the same thing for the past few weeks, a fantasy of his that just won’t go away; he wants you to sit on his face.

Spencer is very into oral, specifically, eating you out for as long as you’ll let him. When you asked him about this, he explained thats it’s something called an oral fixation, he literally can’t get enough of it, which would add up, because you can count how many times the two of you have had sex without him giving you head on one hand.

(Evidently, all of those times had just been when you were too tired to go for an entire hour and just needed him inside you immediately, to which he had given you a little pout and then fulfilled your request.)

Whatever his reasoning is, eating you out gets both you and him off, and he wants more.

“Spencer, im just not sure about it, what if I hurt you?” You tell him. You’re straddling his hips while he’s laid out on his couch, you in a loose shirt and panties, and him in his work clothes, minus the tie.

“It’s completely safe if done properly, I did my research.” He reassures you, planting a kiss on your lips as he runs his hand up your back under your shirt.

“Research, huh?” You giggle at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “mhmm,” he hums and smiles into another kiss.

As you pull apart, he whispers, “please baby, I want to make you feel so good… wanna taste you,” his voice is breathy and his pupils are blown wide with lust.

You whimper and grind down slightly in his lap, desperate for a little bit of friction as his words shoot straight to your core. He groans at your ministrations and you can feel him getting hard beneath you through your panties. “I want you to take what you need from me… grind that pretty little pussy on my tongue until you cum in my mouth…”

You moan at his words, bite your lip, and nod your head frantically. Who knew Spencer could be so persuasive?

Ecstatic that he finally got a yes out of you, Spencer lifts you off his lap momentarily and helps you pull your panties down and off your legs, biting his lip when he sees you’re soaked.

You start unbuttoning his shirt but only get to about half before he gets to impatient and pulls your own shirt over your head, exposing your bare chest. He bites his lip and places a hot, open-mouthed kiss on your lips, and you can feel him, rock hard through his suit pants.

He flops back down onto the couch, pulling you with him, as he shuffles down a bit more, giving room for your knees to sit on either side of his head.

Slowly, you crawl up his body, until you’re hovering above his face. His hair is messy and splayed out across the leather of his couch, his shirt is half off one shoulder, and he is visibly salivating as he stares directly at your core.

Noticing you still look a little unsure, he gives you a little smile. “if I need you to get off, which is extremely unlikely, I will tap your hip twice, alright, sugar?” He asks, and you nod. “You’re in control here, if you want to stop, we will stop.” He assures you, and you can’t help but blush. Could he get any sweeter?

Feeling more confident in the situation and a little less nervous, you slowly lower your hips onto his face, putting as little weight onto him as possible.

Immediately he licks into you, grabbing your hips and guiding them further onto him. You let out a gasp and your hips stutter away from the pleasure momentarily before he pulls you right back into his mouth.

His tongue runs through your folds, lapping up your wetness, and you moan loudly. His tongue flicks over your hardened clit, humming in delight when he feels you become wetter. You whine, letting more weight settle onto him and grinding into the teasing, hands searching for something to grab onto, eventually grabbing his hair with one and the armrest of the couch with the other.

You were reduced to soft moans, little uh’s and ah’s leave your mouth as your hips stutter and your eyes roll back into your skull.

He begins licking into your opening while his nose ruts against your clit and you throw your head back and shut your eyes tightly, moaning so loud the neighbours can probably hear everything that’s going on, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“F- uck! oh my god, Spencer-” You cry out, and that just spurs him on. His own hips are twitching, arching off the couch as he eats you out.

Heat is coiling in your stomach, Spencers name is the only thing reverberating in your head. Why were you ever against this idea again?

“Oh- Ah- god Spencer- you’re gonna make me- holy- sh- it!” You cry

Spencer moans against you as you chant his name, frantically humping his face as he sucks on your clit.

“FUCK! I’m cumming!” You scream as your orgasm hits you like a freight train. You yank Spencer’s hair and your hips spasm on his face as Spencer lets out his own whimpers and cries. His hips thrust upwards as his own orgasm reaches him and his eyes roll back into his head.

Your back is arched and you’re leaning over him as you catch your breath. For a second you black out and completely forget you’re sitting on his face, but once you remember you quickly lift your hips up and look down at him with a worried expression.

Spencer looks completely blissed out. He gently rubs his large hands up and down your sides as you breathe heavily, and licks your slick off his lips. He grins at you, lust still evident in his eyes.

“We are so doing that again.”

More of my stuff can be found here.

~Ivy 🪴

#criminal minds #munch!spencer #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x reader

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fairlyang · 5 months

Text

Easy money I 🕷️

in which your roomie needs your help for a shoot

w/c: 3.1K

pairing: pornstaroomie!miguel x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut. tension, recording, groping, fingering, squirting

notes: all my readers loved this series and might’ve been peer pressured for a part 3 but I’m kinda excited to write it :D gonna post this rn and maybe part 2 tmrw, finish up all my part 3’s soon hopefully

part two

I heard a knock on my door so I lowered my music from my airpods. "Come in!" I yell and turn to look at my laptop.

I hear the door open and Miguel clears his throat, I turn around to look at him and raise an eyebrow, "what's up?"

"I need something from you...." He says and takes a step inside.

"Like what?" I ask and he takes another step forward.

"You're gonna have to hear me out alright?" He says and I narrow my eyes at him.

"Okay..." I say and take my airpods off leaving them on my desk before turning back to look at him, giving him my full attention.

"I need you to step in for tonight's shoot..." he says and I burst out laughing.

"Are you fucking joking?" I say and shake my head. Is this man serious?

"I need your help Y/n..." he says nearing the edge of my bed and I groan.

"Why me?"

"The girl I was gonna shoot with canceled on me last minute and all the girls I usually shoot with are unavailable." He explains and I blink.

"Andddd you are already here...." He adds and i scoff.

"Not really sure I'd wanna expose myself like that Miguel." I say and stand up, walking over to my bed and plop down on it.

He sighs and sits on the edge of it and looks at me with pleading eyes. "Please? For me?"

"And the camera would hide your face, so unless you have any noticeable tattoos on your lower body then I think you'd be in the clear." He says and I bite my lip. Well there lies the problem...

I blink looking at him in silence making him scoff as he widens his eyes slightly then his lips tug into a smirk. "Where do you have it?" he asks and I feel my face heat up.

"Uh that one spot that's like lower, inner hip..." I say quietly and turn my gaze to my window.

There was really no reason for me to be acting like this- but that tattoo wasn't exactly somewhere that most people in my life know.... So maybe... just maybe...

"No face?" I ask and he nods.

"You know I don't even show my face-" he says with a small smile.

"I know but I don't know if it's different for the girls you record with." I say and shrug.

"It depends on them mainly, I'm not gonna force anyone I work with to show their face if they don't want to." He says softly and I nod slowly.

"And you wanna do this like right now?" I ask and he nods again.

"Jesus-" I mutter and run a hand over my hair.

"Up to you but you know I have a lot of loyal subscribers and make decent money off this..." he says and I chuckle.

"Because the girls love your voice and body." I say and he smirks making me regret my choice of words. And queue to him being obnoxious about it...

"I-"

"Think so huh?" he teases in a cocky tone making me groan.

"Fuck off." I say and grab a random stuffed animal from my bed and throw it at his face.

He laughs and holds it, it was so small compared to his hands. Oh god-

I mean of fucking course I've noticed how fine he is- it was the first thing I noticed when I was interviewing people to be my roommate, he was the hottest man that came in needing a place to stay.

I didn't just decide on him because he was hot but because he seemed chill and not like someone that would murder me in my sleep.

But I never made a move on him, neither did he. We've just always had some type of tension that neither of us ever paid attention to... I guess until now..

"So what exactly did you plan to shoot?" I ask and let out a sigh.

He grins and scoots closer now sitting by my legs as they were stretched out. "I was thinking fingering."

I nod and bite my lip, "hmm.."

"Up to you I won't force you but just think of the fact that you'd be getting paid to get fingered." He says and I snicker.

Sounds like easy money...

And I'd get an orgasm out of it...

"50% of whatever the video makes will go to you." He says and I bite my lip.

"You're really laying it on thick there Miguel... you that desperate?" I tease and he playfully rolls his eyes.

"Yeah actually, so just let me know within the next hour before I just decide to do a solo vid." He says and stands up.

I sigh and nod, "I'll... think about it...." He smirks and gives me a wink before opening the door and walking out, closing it behind him.

I sigh and lay down on my bed, should I?

I mean there's no denying the fact that I always listen in when he has someone over to record... or even checked out a few of his videos on pornhub...

maybe even possibly masturbated to a few of his audios... or the ones where he fucks himself with a fleshlight...

Letting out those incredible moans for everyone's very own pleasure, how selfless.

But he wanted to record for onlyfans which was for the ones who specifically pay to view his content, which apparently was a lot and the thought alone was a little nerve wrecking.

What if someone I've been with before recognized my tattoo and tells people I know? I'd be fucking done for and I'd just die on the spot of pure embarrassment.

But the money- how could I say no to that kind of money? Especially when seeing the views just his previews on pornhub get-

I'd be so fucking stupid to pass this opportunity...

Fuck it.

I get up from my bed and walk to my door quickly opening it before stepping out onto the hallway. I then do the walk of shame and walk to Miguel's room.

I made my mind up a little too fast god I'm not gonna hear the end of this from him-

I step in front of his door and knock twice before hearing a laugh. I groan and cross my arms across my chest, patiently waiting for him.

He opens the door with a wide smile but before I could even say a word my eyes trailed down his chest then to his abdomen. A small happy trail going down caught my eye as a pair of grey sweatpants hugged his hips perfectly.

God he looked so good...

Wait- how the fuck did he change so fast?

"Did you just assume I was going to say yes?" I ask, quickly looking up at him.

He shrugs and opens his door wide, motioning for me to step inside. I roll my eyes but walk in nonetheless, seeing that he was indeed very desperate for this. And apparently eager.

"I knew it'd be something hard for you to say no to." He says and shrugs, closing the door behind him.

"And I had an idea for more anonymity..." he says and walks past me.

He walks over to his desk and picks up two masks, robber masks. "We could put these on." He says and throws me a pink one.

I catch it and look down at it, cute.

"Just casually had these huh?" I mutter and play with it between my fingertips.

It only had three holes, obviously for the eyes and mouth. It honestly didn't shock me too much that he had these especially considering he didn't make content showing his face at all.

"Alright ready?"

"Where are we doing this? Should I change? Should I put makeup on-"

"Calm down-" he says and laughs, shaking his head at my sudden worries.

"We're doing this in my bathroom, I already set the camera and lights up." He explains and I nod.

"As for your clothes if you want I can give you one of my shirts and you can just leave your panties on." He says looking me up and down.

I wearing a SZA shirt with Cookie Monster pajama pants.... Yeah I definitely could've changed but maybe got a tiny bit excited..

He walked over to his dresser and picked the first one of top and then tossed it over to me. I caught it and unfold it to reveal a Nirvana tee. I shrug and walk over to his bathroom with him right on my tail.

I walk in then stop and quickly turn around to point a finger at him, "you're waiting- you can wait a few more minutes there O'Hara." He chuckles and backs up letting me close the door.

I quickly take off my tee shirt and put the one he gave me on. I leave my shirt on the sink then I slip out of my pj pants and realize it wasn't a big deal if he watched because he was going to see it all right now anyway.....

I look in the mirror and take a deep breath, I was really going to do this.... We were really going to do this...

I then take notice of the ring light and tripod that were right in front me. This was getting so real so fast and it was making me more nervous than I expected.

I breathe in then breathe out. I do it a couple more times and feel some nerves leave my body but some still lingering around.

I turn around and walk towards the door, I open it wide and Miguel stands up from his bed and walks over. "Finally." He teased and I chuckle.

"My bad." I mutter, turning back around and walk to the sink, leaning against it as Miguel walks in.

"You're good, don't worry it'll be fine." He reassured and gives me a small smile.

He walks over to his tripod and sets his phone on it and goes to the camera. He turns to me and motions for me to stand in front of the camera. I nod and do so, leaning against the seat with my nerves growing every second.

"Alright we're gonna start, if you need me to stop at any given moment just tap my thigh or anywhere twice okay?" He says and I nod.

"Audibly please?" He says and I chuckle.

"Yes I understand."

"Okay good." He says and throws me the pink robber mask.

I move all my hair to my back then slip it on. I fix the holes to align to my mouth and eyes then see Miguel doing the same. "This'll be fun." He mutters with a slight smirk on his face then he presses the button to record.

He walks over to me and gently puts his hands on my cheeks then leans in. I lean up and he leans down removing the last amount of space between us and crashes his lips onto mine. I kiss back and put a hand to his jaw and the other on his neck.

I then feel his hands slide down my body, at first staying at my waist, gripping my skin softly through the shirt until his hands go lower and his fingertips are playing with the hem of his shirt, near my ass.

He slid his tongue in my mouth and continues toying w his shirt, bringing it up slowly as our tongues fight for dominance but I stood no chance. Suddenly I feel a hard smack against my ass making me moan in his mouth.

He smiles and pulls away just to go down and start leaving open mouthed kisses on my neck. I sigh and tilt my head to the side as he slightly moves the mask to leave a mark where he wanted. He sucked on my skin then licked it softly before leaving a kiss on it.

I smile and grab his head, making sure he stayed in place as he kept playing with the skirt. He pulls away again and this time bringing the hem of the shirt up, slowly. He turns me around slowly so my behind is what the camera will see and lifts the shirt completely over my ass.

Another smack.

Then to the other cheek.

Another smack on each one, definitely already making them red and it seemed like he wanted to keep going because of the noises that were leaving his mouth. Such delicious groans.

He keeps pulling it up, exposing my entire bare back to the camera but my tits to him. He quickly brings it up and over my head, throwing it on the floor then quickly cups my tits and squeezes.

I gasp when he pinches both nipples then quickly turns me around so my ass was on his already hard bulge. His hands continue squeezing and I felt purely at bliss, heaven on earth even.

I lay my head back against his chest which makes him lean down and leave a kiss on my neck then suck gently on the skin as his hands continued kneading my tits.

His right hand then lets go of my boob and slowly trails down my stomach, as if easing me in, making me feel comfortable first. I grab on to his left arm and try to stand still, I already felt like I was going to go crazy and maybe fall over.

My fucking roommate was doing this- and he had such a good hand for these things so this was gonna be perfect.

His hand goes between my legs, gently rubbing my pussy through my panties. I spread my legs to help him out when he starts rubbing circles on my clit. I moan and buck my hips forward, already wanting more.

And he gives me just that, he starts going faster and I could feel my wetness seeping through the fabric of my little panties. "Miguel-"

He hums then rubs along my slit, my arousal already able to soak his fingers. How embarrassing.

He then removed his fingers making me whine until he pulls my panties down and lets them slide off my legs. I step out of them and kick them farther out, out of shot.

I spread my legs again and he doesn't hesitate to immediately start rubbing my clit again, not caring to ease me in anymore. He moans into my ear and dips his fingers on to my folds, my wetness enveloping them as he teases my hole making me grip harder onto his arm.

He moved that arm to grip on to my waist while I still held on to it for dear life. I couldn't trust myself to stand I knew I'd just end up falling and he was a big boy, he could handle me.

He then slid a finger in, slow at first until he slammed it in without warning. I gasped and clung on to his arm. He then started pumping in and out, deep and slow.

He started going faster, hitting deeper now until he fully stopped and added a second finger in. He started moving again, going faster and harder, making me a moaning mess as I looked down to watch in awe.

"Look how easy you're taking me baby." He murmurs in my ear and I couldn't help the whimper that came out of me.

"Feels so good-" I moan and he hums, pumping them even faster.

I felt myself clench against his fingers and listen to how fucking soaked I am, he barely even touched me..

"Rub your clit for me." He whispers and I nod, immediately bringing my right hand down to rub my clit in fast circles.

I moan out for him and he coos dirty little nothings into my ear as he starts curling his fingers up and hitting that sweet spot every time.

I was starting to feel my orgasm creep in already which had me shocked but then realized who was the one doing this to me...

"Fuck- Miguel-" I moan and lay my head back against him, he leans down to kiss my cheek oh so sweetly.

He then brings his open hand and starts pinching my left nipple, I felt my legs shake as he continued and I was slowly down because I was feeling so fucking close.

"Don't stop baby, be a good girl and keep rubbing that clit until you cum for me sweet girl." He murmurs and I whimper, clenching against his fingers as I rub my clit faster feeling that knot in my stomach about to burst.

"Miguel please- so cl-"

I dig my nails into his arms making him groan but he didn't say to stop. I felt my eyes growing hazier by the second and my thighs were trembling more and more by the second.

Suddenly I see white, I cry out and feel my climax crash and take over my body. I closed my eyes and almost fell to my knees, had Miguel strong arm not held me. My legs were trembling and Miguel's fingers were still inside, slowly fucking me through my orgasm.

I held onto him for dear life and start to calm my breathing down as I open my eyes, then quickly widening in pure shock, I had squirted all over the place.

I gasp and move my hand away from my clit, I stood silent, still in Miguel's arms in pure embarrassment. Squirting always felt so embarrassing, especially now because I didn't even mean to-

"That was probably the most perfect shoot I've done thus far." Miguel says making me scoff.

"I'm being so serious." He says finally taking his fingers out of me slowly and brings it up to his lips.

I tilt my head and look up, watching as he sucks on his fingers covered in my juices. Holy fuck.

I blink watching him as if in a trance, then he looks me directly in my eyes making me subconsciously squeeze my thighs together.

He takes them out with a plop and gives me a wide grin, "sorry but we have to do that again in the future...."

I laugh and look down embarrassed, I shrug and straighten up, "I guess we'll have to see if the people liked it..."

"I'm sure they will." He says and laughs.

"Let's get ya cleaned up then maybe we can watch a movie, if you'd like." He suggests and I look up at him and nod.

"That'd be perfect."

#miguel ohara smut #Miguel ohara #miguel 2099 #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel o hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara imagine #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #Miguel O’Hara smut #miguel spiderman #Spider-Man #across the spiderverse #easy money

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rayraelleaizawa · 3 months

Note

There better be a part 2 of "they say something hurtful in an argument" where they realized they fucked up. I swear on God's name I will not stop crying if you don't.

P.s: very good writing keep it up! ❤️

Side Note: I didnt think that there would be so many requests on part 2, so thank you all for the requests and the support! It helps staying motivated to keep writing :) I hope you'll like this!

Making up after an argument

Part 1: They say something hurtful in an argument

Tags: hurt/comfort, slight angst, making up

Characters: Shanks, Benn Beckman, Dracule Mihawk

Shanks

He feels bad about what he said right after he saw that flash of hurt on your face, the sadness in your eyes and your quiet apology. Shanks immediately wanted to go after you when you left the room, but he was so wrung up in his blanket that he first had to untangle himself before he could go after you. He didnt care how he looked like, his shirt was all the way open, his pants were pulled up above his knee on one leg and on the other it hung down normally and his hair was a mess too. His shoes were completly forgotten somewhere in the room.

When he opened the door from his cabin with a rush and walked outside into the hallway, you were long gone. He instantly went looking for you, starting on deck and working all the way down.

His crewmembers, especially his closest friends, gave him weird looks and concerned stares, but he ignored all of their questions and just ran around looking for you. When he finally finds you, crying on the floor in a dark storage room, he felt a pang go through his heart.

He slowly came closer to you, not wanting to startle you, and started talking quietly.

"Hey, sweet cheeks" he said, sitting down next to you. "Is it alright if i touch you?" he said as he carefully laid his hand on your ellbow.

Seeing you in this state made him want to just wrap his arms around you, pull you close and kiss you all over and apologize to you a thousand times, but he held himself back. This wasnt what you needed right now.

When you didnt react to his touch, he laid his other hand on your shoulder. Shanks tried to catch your eyes, but your face was burried in your legs and your hands were shielding your head from him.

"Darling please look at me" he pleaded, and slowly you raised your head. He laid his other hand on your cheek and his warmth immediately comforted you, but you didnt want to give into his warmth. When Shanks saw your tear struck face and this unbearable sadness in your eyes, he mentally cursed himself for saying those reckless words.

"I'm sorry for what I said. I had no right to let my hangover frustration out on you. Please, forgive me. I love you, my sweet little dove" he tried to apologize.

"Am I really the reason?" you quietly asked, hiccuping from all the crying.

"What?" Shanks looked at you confused.

"Am I the reason why you keep drinking so much? Am I that insufferable?" you cried out, your body shaking at the thought.

"No, no! That wasnt what I meant, please, listen to me! You are the best thing that ever happened to me, and I cant lose you. What I said was mean and a lie. Please believe me when I say I never wanted to hurt you. Please believe me that I didnt mean those words."

Shanks was on the verge of crying himself. The thought that he made his partner feel so bad made him hate himself, swearing to never get this drunk again that he would hurt his lover. He was scared you'd leave him. He wanted to make you feel better, but that was a difficult task when he himself was the reason why you were crying and shaking on the floor. He carefully put his arms around you and placed you on his lap and pressed a small kiss to your forehead.

"It's okay, cry how much you want. Be angry at me, hit me, let all your feelings out on me, I deserve it. But please" he swallowed hard "please dont be sad. Please dont leave me. Not because of my stupid mouth."

You looked up at him when he said that. You noticed his pained face and the fear in his eyes. A fear that he messed up for good. You still felt hurt, but you knew Shanks would never toy with your feelings like that. He was serious about this apology.

You pressed your head in his chest and your tears started to dry out. After a time of silence and him gently stroking your back, you murmered a "I love you, you drunk idiot" into his chest. Shanks felt a stone fall from his heart as he chuckled a bit, leaned down and kissed you on the head. "I love you too, so much pumpkin. I'll never hurt you again. I'll stop drinking so much. Pirate promise"

Benn Beckman

Beckman sighed for the seemingly hundreth time. He still stood on deck, leaning against the railing as he thought about what he had said. He didnt meant to hurt you, but he knew giving you a bit space for now was the right thing. When you calmed down he planned on talking to you, but right now he also needed to sort his own thoughts.

He regretted his words instantly after they left his mouth but the damage was done. He sighed again. Usually he would have smoked at least half a package of cigarettes by now, but he just couldnt bring himself to touch one. Those stupid things were the reason why he made his partner sad. No, bullshit. He couldnt blame anyone else than himself for this. He fucked up.

With one last sigh he left his place at the railing and went underdeck to find you. He had a guess where you were and what you'd be doing, so he went straight to your cabin. He calmed himself with a deep breath in and breath out before he knocked on your door and then slowly opened it.

He wasnt suprised at what he saw. You were at your desk, working away on whatever was laying on your table. Benn carefully stepped into your room and closed the door. You didnt give him any sign that you acknowledged his presence. He walked over to you and waited if you'd say something.

Benn wasnt sure how to approach, so he looked at the papers on your desk. When he saw how shaky your handwriting was and how the ink mixed with waterdrops at some places he sighed again, feeling helpess as he made his own partner cry.

"Hey, I'm sorry about what I said. It wasnt right of me. I let out my stress on you eventho you were only worried about me. I'm deeply sorry."

Benn apologized, but you didnt respond nor did you look at him. He got restless, the uneasy feeling in him became stronger with every second you didnt say anything. You were just writing away on your papers.

"Buttercup, please. I am really sorry. I didnt want to hurt your feelings. You know I love you deeply."

There was a begging undertone in Benns voice by now.

"You dont smell like smoke" was the only answere he got, and hearing your voice immediately eased his anxious feelings a bit.

"I just...couldnt bring myself to touch them" he admitted.

You turned to look at him.

"Maybe i should be upset because of you more often then?"

He breathed out as he sensed that you werent that upset at him anymore. There was a joking undertone in your words, but it was clear that you still were hurt. He laid his hand on yours and leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours.

"Please no. I cant handle this. I cant handle seeing you upset. I'm sorry, princess, i'll really try my best to smoke less. Please, I want to make things right again, I-"

He stopped when you laid your hand on his cheek, softly caressing it.

"I know that you're sincer when you start rambling, Benn Beckman."

Dracule Mihawk

Mihawk knew he fucked up big time when he wanted to go look for you but couldnt find you. He noticed your belongings were gone, and then saw footprints leaving away from the castle. Your footprints.

It was starting to become night so he immediately ran after you, following your steps through the woods. He prayed the whole time that you were safe, that nothing happened to you, that you didnt get injured because of his inability to deal with his emotions the right way.

It started raining and it got darker and darker. He hoped he'll find you in time. The nights are cold and the animals in the woods can be even more dangerous at night. Mihawk ran even faster as raindrops hit him more frequently, and soon it was pouring down. His clothes were complety soaked, but he couldnt care less. All he could think of was to find you and bring you back to safety.

While Mihawk dashed throught the woods with experience, you on the other hand stumbled around without orientation. Now that the darkness started to rise, you couldnt see anything anymore. The trees were so close to each other that you couldnt orientate yourself on the stars, and barely any moonlight came through either.

You couldnt count anymore how often you tripped or fell down a slope. Your arms, legs and face were covered in small scratches as you continued to push trough. You werent even entirely sure where you were going, but all you knew was that you wanted to put as much distance in between you and Hawkeye as possible.

Tears still welled up at the thought of him. Those soft moments between you two all seemed like a lie. You shook your head to get rid of those thoughts and carried on. You kept on walking, but a root stood out of the ground and made you trip again. You fell and slithered down another small slope and just as you cursed to yourself you heard a noise.

You stayed quietly on the ground as you listened, not sure if you misheared. No, there were definetely steps. But they were too heavy to be from a human. And Mihawk wouldnt come either. So what was that?

Then you heard a sniffing sound and a roar. And that's when you also got your answer. It was a bear. You tried to stay as calm as possible, but soon you realized why the bear roared so much. You fell in between the bear and it's cup. Which was the worst thing you could do - get in between a mother bear and her child.

You slowly started to crawl backwards, but the mother bear roared again and you heard her coming closer. You tried to hold your breath as you saw her shadowy figure infront of you, and the moment the bear roared almost into your face, you tried to stand up and run away, but of course that didnt work with a bear in front of you. You fell on your butt and tried to ready yourself for the heavy impact with the bears paw which she had raised, when a tall figure was infront of you suddenly, holding a big sword you'd recognise everyhwere. Mihawk. He wielded his sword and cut the ground, and the bear mother and her cup both ran away.

When he turned to face you, you couldnt decipher what his facial expression meant. You sat there, on the ground, cuts all over you and wet from the rain as he suddenly quickly walked up to you. You wanted to stand up, to talk with him, but before you could even say his name he was on the ground with you, kissing you feverishly.

You were confused about what was going on suddenly, but Mihawk pressed you against him in a way you couldnt escape. Not that you really wanted to, cause you felt so many emotions in this one kiss. Fear, anger, sadness, relieve... it seemed like all of those pent up emotions he couldnt let out came through in this kiss.

After what seemed like eternity did he break the kiss, panting as he looked at you.

"I'm so glad you're okay. I'm so glad you're alive. I- I love you."

Was all he said and you looked at him in shock. It was a rare treat to hear those words from him, and you didnt expect to ever hear them again. But here he was, saving you in the middle of the night, telling you his feelings.

"I-I know that you're always worried when I leave. I just didnt know how to break it to you when i had to leave for so long. I not only see the disappointment and worry in your face, I also see fear and sadness whenever i leave. I just...I didnt know how I should tell you that I had to leave for months, fighting some idiots without seeing you all sad about the fact that I might not come back? That's why i left without saying anything. I know i hurt you, my love. I know I said something cruel back in the castle. But this castle is not my home when you arent in it. I'm sorry for hurting you. I didnt know how to express myself. Please, forgive me. I'll work on it."

You only stared in shock as Mihawk talked about his feelings so much. But then a small smile broke out on your lips.

"You're an idiot. But you're my idiot."

He didnt respond, he only blushed which you didnt see in the dark nights, but then he picked you up and started carrying you back to your home.

#akagami no shanks #benn beckman #red hair shanks #shanks #shanks x reader #beckman #benn beckman x reader #dracule mihawk #mihawk #mihawk x reader #one piece #one piece shanks #beckman x reader #hawkeye

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sanaexus · 7 days

Text

pass pass- oh smash.

the inarazaki volleyball team was nothing short of chaos. be it the twins bickering, suna recording every fight, aran cheering them on, omimi's loud sighs of disappointment, kita's scolding and the manager's threat was something that happened on a daily basis, it was normal.

but despite all that nothing changed the fact that they were all extremely close, specially with the manager. in the past all most all the managers quit because of how patient you needed to be dealing with the havoc they created. but you were different. dealing with their bullshit every day, helping them with whatever they needed and just being a friend they really needed.

while to anyone outside it may have seemed like you have romantic feelings for one of them and that's why you chose to become the manager, so you could be closer to them. but that really wasn't the case. the last thing you'd like was one of those hooligans.

it was supposed to be a normal practice match with aoba johsai, but this was inarizaki they were talking about, of course it wasn't.

no one knew you were dating oikawa. no, everyone just automatically assumed you were with atsumu. they weren't exactly to blame, you were close to him but that's what happens when you know someone since your childhood.

to say you were tensed about the match was an understatement. not only about how this was going to end on the court but about how the teams would react if they somehow got to know you were with oikawa.

but it was as if luck decided to make a complete fool of me their entire team came barging in, the loud entrance made everyone flinch for a second as they stared at the door.

now you were panicking and omi being the actual saint he was asked you, "are you alright?"

"no, fuck shit no, do i look alright?" i was pacing back and forth trying to hide my face thinking about ways to hide myself from oikawa or at least let him no that he shouldn't approach me.

"are you alright you look like you just saw a ghost"

"that's because i saw someone worse than a ghost! oh my godd can i call in sick please?" you pleaded with him, trying to find any excuse that would get you out of here.

"no. why would you want that, what happened?"

"i'm kinda maybe sorta might be dating someone from seijoh"

"what's the problem, he's in seijoh this is volley- wait you have boyf- WHAT?"

the yelling had caught the team's attention as they look at the both of you confused.

"WE'RE FINE, NOTHING HAPPENED" as you glare at omi "shhh are you trying to get me killed here? the problem is he is the volleyball team and is kinda the captain of the team. i'm just gonna pray he isn't stupid enough to approach me here with these creatures all around me"

"praying isn't going to be enough for what the twins might do to him if they find out."

cue the bad luck as kindaichi and kunimi wave at you, surprised you're standing at the other side of the court. your hands frantically making the cross sign across your chest mouthing "stay away, you don't know me"

"oh wait how about you text him or something to like not come up to you and you'll explain later"

"ohhh my god you're a genius i love you omi"

as you whip your phone out going to text iwaizumi with your hands shaking.

-IWAIZUMI HELP

why do you look like you're about to pass out? are you fine?

-it's because i might pass out any second. my team doesn't know i'm dating oikawa

-yeah tell him to not approach me please if they find out i'll be dead

i'll do it. good luck w this mess

-thank you i owe you big time

you look up from your phone to talk to omi- "i told his bestfriend to tell him to not approach me that should work right?"

"why didn't you tell him directly? what if he thinks he's just saying it so he stays focused"

"ohhh you're like SUPPER smart, i dont know what i'd do without you"

"probably have your little affair get caught"

you just mutter a little "rude" before going to text oikawa. but before you can, he comes in yelling.

"Y/NNN CHANN I MISSED YOUUU" his whiney voice can be heard to everyone as he jogs his over to you.

you sigh, knowing what's about to go down. "hi oikawa, i missed you too.." you whisper so only you can hear it. and before you can process the entire inarizaki volleyball team (and seijoh) is surrounding the two of you.

suna could careless about who you dated, if you were happy he didn't mind it. but this was something that was both surprising and funny, so of course he had to record it.

it was confusing to the team because up until now they were under the impression you were dating atsumu.

"wait wait wait what does he mean by he missed you? are you two friends?" osamu was curious, he knew you weren't dating his brother but he thought you liked him.

oikawa dramatically turned towards you "you haven't told them?"

"ladies, ladies there's enough of me to go around" which only brought you deadpan looks from both the volleyball teams "ok sorry, my bad for being funny"

"wait what does he mean you haven't told us??"

"we've been dating for a year, the last thing we could be is friends-"

"you're dating him? I thought you were with atsumu?"

"atsumu? i thought you were dating suna?"

"why me? i didn't even do anything keep me out of this?"

"NO WHY WOULD I BE DATING EITHER OF THEM?"

"what's wrong with us?" suna and atsumu asked offended.

"shut up i've seen you eating sand and you ask me what's wrong with the two of you?"

"y/n chan, what's going on?" kunimi asks curiously. the seijoh's team just stood there watching you, oikawa and the inarizaki members going back and forth.

"all of you shut up, we didn't even let y/n explain properly"

"oh my god thank you kita-"

"you don't like the twins?"

"KITA?! no oh lord i don't, i've been dating toruu for the past year, i never did and never will like any of these hooligans, no offense"

"HEY! that's rude-" before atsumu could whiney any further osamu smacked him in the back of his head, which shut him up immediately.

"what about the rumors of a girl making out with atsumu? that wasn't you?" suna finally asked, genuinely wanting to know more.

"Y/N-CHAN YOU MADE OUT WITH PISS HAIR? WHAT?"

"no oh my god toruu I didn't-"

"oh, that wasn't her that was just a junior i dated."

"yeah that wasn't me wait ew juniors? really atsumu?"

"she was cute! don't shift this on me"

"but guys seriously i never had have or will like anyone from the volleyball team. i'm sorry i hid it from you guys, but i was just scared of what you guys would think"

"are you happy? does he keep you happy?" aran asked borderline choking atsumu.

the question caught you off guard but instantly a small smile replaced the shock on your face "yes, he does, he's stupid but he really does make me happy"

"then that's all that matters"

"aww thank you-"

"nuh uh, i don't approve, what if he's a playboy?" atsumu disapprovingly shook his head praying aran's hands off him.

"oh god no one wants to hear that from you" suna shut atsumu up.

atsumu quietly huffed a "rude"

"well now that that's sorted, we should probably get back to warming up"

"yes thank you kindaichi, finally a normal person"

"y/n?" aran called out to you.

"yes?"

"just because your boyfriend's in that team doesn't mean we'll go easy on them, we'll just be rougher with them"

"if it makes you win, be my guest."

this was a bit awkward to write and I'm not proudest of this either but we'll js roll with it

@daisy-room here you go mam hope I did your idea justice

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goosita · 5 months

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hello I am thinking about one thing and one thing only, Billy being so overwhelmingly enamored and aroused by you one night he jerks off for the first time in a bit and then a couple days later he admits to you that he got off at the thought of you and you beg him to tell you what he thought of😁

oh my god he’d be sooooo

he mumbled it so softly, you weren’t sure you’d heard him right.

“say that again?” you urge him gently. you’re perched on his lap and his hands had been running through your hair, kissing you senseless until he’d muttered something against your lips in a haze.

“said i got off thinkin’ about you the other night…” he mumbles. his cheeks are flushed with more than just lust now, a little shy that he had blurted that to you in the heat of the moment and you’d made him repeat it. you let the silence simmer and smirked, watching him squirm a little.

“and how was it?” you asked, almost cheeky.

“w-what?”

“i said,” you purred, leaning down to nip at the spot below his ear. then, a whisper: “how. was. it?”

billy takes a slow, shaky breath in while his hands settle on your waist. you can feel the heat from his palms through your clothes, and it makes your belly flip in excitement.

“wasn’t as good as you,” he whispers. billy uses his grip on you to grind you down against him a little, pushing his hips up into yours so you can feel how hard he is right now. “nothin’s ever as good as you, darlin’.”

the friction of him grinding himself up against you has your eyes fluttering, but you hold in a moan at the pleasure it sends up your spine.

“what did you think about while you were touching yourself?”

“you,” he breathes, like it’s obvious. you suppose it probably is. “thought about your mouth. your hands on me. your tight little cunt around my c-cock, fuck, baby,” he gasps, stuttering when you rock your hips down against him again. his fingers are digging into your waist hard enough that you wonder if you’ll have 5 little bruises on each side.

“th-thought about pinning you down in my bed and making you say my name, all pretty and fucked out like you do,” he babbles, not even really thinking now. you move slightly so your hand can slip into his pants, wrapping around his cock and stroking slowly. his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head and he moans loudly, almost whorishly at your touch. it’s been a while since you two have been alone like this.

“billy,” you purr softly, making him growl and buck his hips up into your hand. you lick a stripe along the side of his throat, feeling him shiver.

“baby, please,” he pants, whining softly. he’s so hard, so worked up from your kiss and your touch that he feels like he might die if you don’t fuck him right now.

so you have mercy on him, if only because his crystal blue eyes are looking up at you so wide and pleading. they’re shiny with unshed, desperate tears from needing you so bad.

“alright, billy. take me to bed.”

he doesn’t need to be told twice.

let’s talk about billy, baby!

#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #tom blyth x you #tom blyth billy the kid #tom blyth x reader #billy the kid smut #billy the kid x you #william h bonney #tom blyth

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the-modern-typewriter · 1 month

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ive been obsessed with your work and i honestly just can't get enough of them! Could i make a request please please please! Supervillain captures hero and tortures them for months until they suddenly get bored of them and ask villain to get rid of them. Villain doesn't know that it's hero he was ordered to kill by supervillain and when he enters the cell where hero was he becomes shocked by what he sees and can't get himself to kill hero. Please continue this however you like im so excited!!

The villain stopped in the doorway of the cell.

It would be wrong to say he stopped dead, given being dead was supposed to be a relatively peaceful thing after the horror of it all.

(The hero, surely, wished that they were dead.)

The villain's mouth worked, but no sound would come out at first. He felt like he'd been punched in the windpipe. In the stomach. In all the vulnerable, gasping places.

(The hero, surely, would find that laughable given the state of them. They would love to only have the air knocked out of them.)

They lay in a broken heap in one corner of the otherwise pristine cell - no chance of infection or disease ending their suffering early, oh no. They were a blot of colour against the white of it all. Bruises yellow and purple and green. Blood red. The glint of bone where no bone should be visible.

Perfectly clean, glossy hair. Intricate, shiny restraints untouched by the violence around them. No clothes.

"Have you come to kill me?" the hero asked.

Their voice was raw, raspy, whether from disuse or screaming he couldn't be sure. It was impossible to miss the most tentative note of hope in the hero's tone.

The villain swallowed. Hard. "Yes," he said. Then, "I've been ordered to. I -" He swore. "I didn't know you were here. I didn't - oh god. How long have you been here?"

He willed down the nausea. What right did he have to be nauseous?

It was impossible to miss the hope and, abruptly, equally impossible to fulfill his task.

He crossed the room in one swift movement, kneeling at the hero's side, flailing to pull off his jacket. To cover the hero with something soft and kind against the bitter chill of the dungeons.

"I'm going to get you out of here, okay? It's going to be alright."

He didn't want to bring a blade down on the hero's ruined flesh, he wanted to offer soothing creams and bandages. He didn't want to invite the hero to drink poison, when he could give painkillers. How could he destroy? All he wanted was to fix.

The hero's gaze finally moved over to him, with seemingly great effort. There was very little behind their eyes. Everything except desperation had been carved out, leaving them some hollowed thing with their innards dumped like garbage on the side.

The villain was reminded of Halloween pumpkins and husked-out dolls, rabid dogs too exhausted to do more than froth and whine.

"Please," the hero said. "Don't."

Once upon a time, the hero had never pleaded. At least not without a glint in their eyes, a mocking twist of their bright mouth, like pleading was a favour, an inside joke that they were both in on.

"You don't want to get out of here?" the villain demanded.

"I don't want to wake up here again tomorrow."

"I won't let that happen."

"Like you didn't let this happen?"

The villain flinched. There was nothing he could say to that, was there? He could beg forgiveness, but the hero didn't even say it like accusation. It was just a matter of fact. Resigned.

"Finish it." The hero closed their eyes, apparently done with the conversation. "If you ever cared about me. Just...just finish it. You need to finish it. Please."

The villain pulled a knife obligingly from one of his many sheathes. He'd seen a lot of dead bodies. His hand wavered, utterly unable to imagine the hero as one of them.

"No," the villain said. His shoulders squared. "No. You're right, I let you down. God, I let you down. But I - I'm going to fix it. I'm going to fix this."

Maybe it was selfish. He'd never claimed to be an altruistic man.

He stepped out of the dungeons some twenty minutes later, gently cradling the hero's body in his arms.

He stopped a second time.

The supervillain lounged against the stairs leading up, eyes glittering, a delighted grin upon their face.

The villain's mouth dried. He glanced down at the hero, who tensed, but did not seem surprised.

They seemed...guilty.

The villain's stomach plunged icy.

"Oh, you failed," the supervillain crooned. They pushed to their feet. "I really wasn't sure which way it would go. We had to have a little bet."

"You-"

The supervillain attacked with monstrous swiftness. Both hero and villain cried out as they hit the floor; the sounds impossible to distinguish from each other. Everything rang sickening with pain.

The supervillain caught hold of the villain's hair, yanking their head back. In an instant, the villain felt their powers sweep over his body, locking every joint and muscle in place. Rigid. Rigor-mortis.

"Good job," the supervillain said, to the hero, in the tone of one promising a lollypop to a toddler. "As promised, you can go now. Crawl away if you can. The front gate locks in one hour! You know what happens if you don't make it."

The hero choked on a sob.

The villain and the supervillain both watched them, agonisingly, try to move. They managed a mere inch. Dragging themselves, with bloodied-nails, across the polished floor.

Then the supervillain turned their attention, dismissively, back to the villain. They tightened their grip, dragging the villain's body back towards the cell, the way they'd come.

"Ah well," they shrugged. "That's a them problem."

"No." It came out a wheeze, barely audible through the villain's frozen lips. "[Hero], please, what-"

"This," the supervillain declared, throwing him down where the hero had been. "Is going to be so much fun. Traitor."

#heroes and villains #angst #tw: violence #villains and heroes #I considered going sweet and then...well #villains #dark fiction #writing #darkfic #writing snippet

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arachine · 1 year

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u asked so I shall deliver :3

but imagine whiny n fucked out Dave Lizewski omfffhhhgggggg, his hair is a mess n his glasses are falling off, they're all dirty too bc he's handsy! Ik he is! and he tries to grab anything he can on u but u just tut him and tell him to keep his hands to himself, so nowwww he's whining even more, he's begging too atp, all glossy eyes and jutted out lips. I KNOW he's a pretty crier, so why shouldn't u mess with him a lil yk?

moral of the story, Dave. Just Dave.

nghhhhh rina i’m gonna scream SO loud.

warnings: unprotected sex, dacryphilia (i think? cba to check if i included it), whiny dave (like down bad, pussydrunk dave) + so rushed i’m sorry but i need to fr study lol :3

can just imagine him begging to touch you. at first, he tries to bargain with you. asks if he can just ‘hold your hips for a bit’, so you don’t ‘fall off’—as he puts it. but you’re ruthless. all bite and no bark.

“good boys keep their hands to themselves,” you tsk, swatting away his wandering appendage. the admonishment forces a whine from his throat, and he retracts his hand quickly like a child scolded for getting into the cookie jar. “don’t you wanna be a good boy for me, baby?”

“yes—fuck—god, yes. j’st let me touch you, let me h-hold you,” he pleads, and it’s so cute. the knot between his brows, the erythro in his cheeks—the crystalline droplets cascading down his face. it doesn’t take much persuasion to get you to acquiesce; not when he’s beneath you like this. looking up at you like you just hung the stars in the sky. “ok, go ahead, baby. touch me.”

and as soon as you give him the okay, he’s flipping you over onto your back, all muscles and eagerness. grabs the weight of his cock and bullies it into your little hole, unconcerned by your protests and light-hearted pleas for him to slow down.

“easy, ‘m not going anywhere,” you giggle, but it falls on deaf ears because he’s concentrated. focused—on one thing and one thing only—or maybe two things—or a few things: your skin, the rivulets of sweat between your breasts, your eyes—the perfect little ‘o’ shape your mouth makes when he hits that spot just right. yeah, he’s focused.

“babybabybaby, i’m close,” he says in your ear, a mixture of a whine and cry, “please, lemme do it inside. can i? i’ll get you the pill, swear i will, s-swear it!”

and at the nod of your approval, he’s pistoning into you like a rabid thing. all mumbles and whimpers, expletives and grunts. telling you how sweet you are to him, and how lucky he is to have a girlfriend who let’s him finish inside her.

says he’ll, “never fuck another girl again,” while the weight of his hand rests firmly against your jaw, and his lithe fingers maneuver your head to meet his lips. and you know he’s telling the truth—because his eyes are all hazy and glossy. they get like that when he’s close; and they got like that when he declared his love for you some time ago. a tell-tale sign.

“so close, baby. use me, you can do it,” you caress his cheek, clenching once, twice, three times around him in an effort to get him to finish. and it works. he manages a few more lazy thrusts before he’s plopping down onto you with a strangled moan and a sigh.

“about that pill…” he starts, “i only have $10 in my account. don’t think we’re ready to be parents.”

gasping, you raise a hand to yank him back by the hair, “lizewski, get off of me right now.” the brunet chuckles but it only coaxes you to pull tighter at the scalp.

“ow, okay, okay. i was just kidding,” he admits, grabbing at the hand holding his hair by the root, “let me go and i’ll go pick it up.”

“alright, go,” you release him, “but seriously, get off of me. you’re heavy.”

#dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski x reader smut #dave lizewski #tangerine x reader #tangerine x reader smut #aaron taylor johnson #:: — rina bina fo fina 🎀 !#‹ ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭*♡‧₊˚𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐢𝐝𝐬 ᥫ᭡ .ᐟ ›#:: — LEXI WRITES !

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ohisms · 1 year

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↪ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 , 𝑰'𝑴 𝑨 𝑭𝑬𝑾 - ᶰᵒ ᶠᵃᵐᶤˡʸ ˒ ᵗᵒᵒ . 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑎𝑚 𝑖 ? ( a series of sentence starters from season 1 of “ orphan black ” . adjust phrasing as necessary . will be updated ! )

i wanna see [ name ] .

well , that's not fair , is it ?!

oh my god , you look like crap .

i didn't miss your birthday , did i ?

something really weird just happened at the train station .

what the hell is wrong with you ?

listen to me , [ name ] , i'm only gonna ask you this once .

oh , i'm fine by the way , thank you .

get in the car .

when you don't give a damn , i get pissed .

you'd better be ready . are you ready ?

you're sure as hell overdressed . what , were you out all night or something ?

this shit is as hard as it gets . but you've gotta stop making it worse .

i panicked , what do you want me to say ?

i'm kidding . where's your wit gone ?

you don't have to babysit me , dipshit .

i know this thing's got you all twisted up , but try to forgive yourself .

[ name ] , open the goddamn door !

yeah , the last thing i am is special .

[ name ] , where have you been ?

where have i been ? uh .. long story .

oh , jesus , are you alright ?

you have a few words , [ name ] ? anything you want to express ?

plead your mercy & your pity .

love is imperfection itself .

say it . go ahead , say it's my fault .

who the hell are you ?

of course not . you think we'd let that happen ?

i'm at home , you've got it all wrong .

you know what ? don't . i'm going to ignore that .

i'm worried you're losing the plot again .

sorry , i've got ... i've got a lot of work to do .

i mean , what am i supposed to do ?

you don't have to take this on .

i can't keep waking up every night , checking your breathing , worried you're mixing your meds , booze ... god knows what else .

i knew it was too good to be true .

why would you help such a stupid plan ?

i'm not going to play [ name ] in the middle .

i'm not dirty , i just freaked out .

if there is another version of this story ...

walk me through it again . so i know you won't crack under questioning .

you're making me nervous .

finally ! where have you been ?

who am i speaking to ?

how did you find me ?

idiot . do you even know who you're talking to ?

i don't care who you are .

nope , that is not my responsibility .

go , & wait for a call .

what i'm trying to do is move on .

we have known each other for awhile now , [ name ] .

i nailed it , man . every detail .

come on , [ name ] , give me a little love here !

you know , my skin just breaks out every time i leave downtown .

whoa , hey , [ name ] - you always do this to me !

i don't do backup , i don't even know what backup is !

i got stuck , i was running from my own shit .

i'm not giving you shit 'til you give me some answers .

don't ! do not shoot me , please !

seriously , it's life or death .

am i going insane ?

#doing an ob rewatch ..#thought i might as well ??#rp meme #rp inbox meme #rp inbox prompt #rp prompt

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rodolfoparras · 10 months

Text

Color Show

Spider Noir x Male reader

Synopsis: In which Noir wants to learn about colors and you’re more than happy to help

Content tags: 18+, MINORS DNI, Dom! Male reader, sub!noir, anal play, anal beads, size kink, pain kink (kind of?), edging, mirror sex

A/N: so basically I learned that noir isn’t capable of feeling pain and the thought of him having a pain kink along with a size kink made my head start spinning. As always excuse my mistakes and I hope you enjoy the read!

“How about this, if you get all the colors right I’ll let you cum?”

Your words echo in Noir’s head as he stares at his reflection in the mirror. He looks absolutely wrecked, down on all four, hair mussed, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace and cock hard and leaking as you circle his puckered hole with your newest toy.

You’ve been teasing him for a while, gotten him so worked up only to pull away every time he’d been seconds away from reaching his climax.

He had begged and pleaded, asked you to let him finish but you’d denied his request every time.

At some point though, you had made an offer and pulled something out of your closet. Desperate and in need he was ready to agree to whatever you had wanted of him, and that very thing happened to be-

“Alright doll, how about you tell me the color of the first one?” You say, voice sounding sickly sweet as nudge the lubed up bead against his puckered rim.

The sound of your voice brings his attention back to the present moment, gaze shifting from his own reflection onto the sphere reflected in the mirror.

It’s colorful and rather large in size and his dick twitches at the thought of having it inside.

“Noir,” you say sharply “answer the question, darling”

He takes a moment to think before he recognizes the color in front of him.

“Green, sir” he says and just as the words leave his lips you slowly push the bead inside of him.

“Hah- god!” he mewls out, brows pinched and mouth agape, as his hole accommodates to the stretch.

“Good job doll, doing so well” Noir hears you say, but he barely registers your words as he focuses on the intrusion inside his hole.

There’s no stinging feeling that comes with the stretch since he’s long lost the ability to feel pain but the way his muscle contours uncomfortably around the sphere sends delightful sparks of pleasure through his entire body.

“You good doll?” You ask once the first bead is completely inside of him and the second one is nudging at his rim.

By this point, the pleasurable sensation from the stretch had long subsided, leaving him feeling wet, almost cold and hole gaping for more, more, more and he makes his wishes known, words slurred and hips rocking into your touch. “Mm- Please- need - need more”

You just chuckle at his enthusiasm but don’t hesitate to move onto the next question.

“Alright, alright, doll how about you tell me the color of this one” you ask him, tone ever so calm and patient as you wait for him to answer.

The next bead was slightly larger than the three fingers that you had prepared him with, and much more duller in color than the one nestled inside of him.

Noir takes a moment to respond, mind still a bit distracted from the intrusion in his hole but he mulls over the answer as his gaze inspects the color.

“Purple sir” he whispers under a shaky breath and just as the words leave his lips, you slide the second bead into him,

“Oh - oh- oh yes” he cries out as the plastic tugs and taunts at his rim, hole once again stretching to accommodate to the size of the sphere. The pleasurable sensation from earlier returning once again as the bead drags along his walls and burrows inside of him.

“Right again, doll” you say, sounding pleased with him and he can’t help but let the words go straight to his head, Like the cat that got the cream, he thinks to himself as he catches your proud expression in the mirror.

Although he feels slightly more full with two beads inside of him, he can’t help but crave more more more and he once again makes his wishes known, needy noises escaping his parted mouth as he rocks into your touch.

“This one might be a bit harder, let’s see how well you’ll do” You say, referring to the third bead nudging at his rim. It’s larger than the previous two and sporting a rather bright hue.

He tries to remember where he’d seen the color before but quickly loses his train of thoughts when your free hand glides between his thighs, gently fondling his balls.“Please - ah- I cant!”

“I asked you something Noir and I expect a reply,” you say sharply as you tug at his balls in warning.

“Fuuuck!” Noir wails out as he clutches harder onto the mattress. The sudden tug at his most sensitive part sends pleasurable waves rippling through his body, almost derailing him completely from what he’s supposed to be doing but when you tug at them again he forces himself to regain his focus.

This color he’d seen many times before. Its the very same color that can be found on his lips, cheeks and his hard and weeping cock.

“That’s blue- no wait red” and just as he says that you slide the third bead into him, hearing the obscene squelching sound his hole makes as it takes the sphere.

“Nffh-please!” he squeaks out, head tipping back as his fingers dig further into the mattress. With three beads inside of him he finally feels the fullness he’d be craving. He’s now hyper aware of the hand you have on his lower back, the way his cock is hard and leaking between his thighs and the way the beads are stretching him almost in the same way your cock does. “please need to -ah need to-“ he says voice frantic as his mind starts to panic.

“Shhh it’s okay doll you can touch yourself” you say already knowing what he needs

“Thank you, sir” he says under a shaky breath, hand brushing over the fringe of curls and eager fingers wrapping around the base, before he slowly starts stroking himself .

“Feels- ah- feels so so good sir- oh god” he slurs out as he goes from languid strokes to harshly tugging at his cock.

You continue this little game of yours and at some point he loses counts of how many colors he’d recited. All he know is that the beads kept sliding and sliding and sliding inside of him until he was basically skewed onto the thing and was sure he could feel the beads all the way to his stomach. On top of that his cock is aching and leaking all over his fist as he keeps vigorously stroking it.

“What color is this?” Noir hears you say but at this point he’s barely registering your words as heat starts coiling in his groin.

“Noir” He hears you call out again as his vision starts to blur, pulse roaring in his ears, and the pleasurable sensations starts making its way through his entire body.

Through his hazy like state he hears your voice again, calm and collected, ever so patient as you clue him in on the answer to your question.

“Color of sunflowers?” He echos back in question, as his hazy mind scrambles for an answer. But all he can think about is how the room is turning into a blurry picture of shapes and blobs and how the blood roaring in his ears sounds very much like colors.

He knows the answer, has seen the color enough to know, can taste the word at the tip of his tongue but he can also taste the sweet, sweet, taste of his release and he loses focus easily.

His toes curl, fingers threating to rip at the sheets as he says the first color that comes to him “blue”

It takes him a second to register your words, too lost in pleasure to notice that he got it-

“ wrong” you say, voice dripping with disappointment. “We’ll have to stop here”

That’s when he finally snaps out his daze, the blurry image coming together and forming a clear picture of your disappointed face.

“No no no no no!" He shouts out in protest, sounding wrecked and desperate, body withering under your touch as you wrap your hand around his wrist to halt any and all movements on his cock. “Why did you stop?”

“You got it wrong, Noir. We have to do it again” you repeat in a much slower tone, giving him time to digest your words.

He goes to say something again but the look on your face has him halting any attempts to protest. “Yes sir” he says under a shaky breath as he prepares for you to pull the beads out of him.

“I hope I made it clear that you are not allowed to cum” you say sounding firm in your tone.

He tries to form a response, anything that won’t come out in the form of a wretched sob, but he can’t seem to find the words, too busy mourning the loss of his release and only manages to nod.

Don’t move, stay, take what he gives, something says inside of him.

“Good boy, Noir” you say as you tug at the end of the handle, watching the way the first bead slides out of him, evoking a deep groan out of him.

The second bead slides out of him and his vision starts to blur again.

By the time the third bead is sliding out of him he feels his knees almost buckle.

The onslaught of sensation keeps coming in waves - a pop-pop-popping sensation against his rim as you pulled the beads out of him, and despite everything in him begging to give in to his release he manages to hold out all the way to the last bead.

“Good there, Noir. Now, let’s try this again, yeah?”

#spider noir #spider noir x reader #spider noir x male reader #across the spider verse #dom male reader #sub male character #into the spiderverse #spider noir x you #Alec writes #man idk what tags y’all use for #him #I was little hesitant about posting this #mostly bc he isn’t very popular but also the whole idea isn’t popular either so #but I poured sm work into this and refuse to just throw it out

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