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joelsgreys · 1 year

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weakness

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: An afternoon at Bill and Frank’s place takes one hell of an unexpected turn for you and Joel when hidden feelings start coming to the surface.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA JOEL. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is in his early 50’s). mentions of reader having longer hair/her hair gets brushed, reader wears a dress, no specific mention of reader’s size, but there is a brief mention of the dress fitting loose on her, Frank is sweet and makes her feel pretty, Bill is a grump, Joel is kind of soft, hidden feelings. dashes of angst, fluff, and an abundance of Frank being an absolute angel.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY. NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 5.7k

“Can you stop fidgeting for just one second, please?” Frank scolds you lightly, bringing down the palm of his hand onto your shoulder in a small, quick slap in an attempt to get you to stop squirming. He then moves his hands back up to your hair, which is out of its usual braid and towel dried after a much, much needed wash. The sickeningly sweet scent of the floral shampoo you’d used in the shower earlier that afternoon lingers deliciously in the air around you, a refreshing and welcome change from what your hair normally smells like—grime and smoke from hours of work detail in the Boston QZ. After coming out all of the stubborn tangles that he can find, Frank then picks up a boar hairbrush and he carefully begins to run it through your locks. He starts from the roots of your hair and brings the natural bristles down, all the way through to your ends. He chuckles and says, “You know, I would be done a hell of a lot quicker if you would just sit still.”

You sigh softly, but impatiently, allowing yourself one final, uncomfortable little shuffle in the white wicker chair he has you perched on before finally giving into his request. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” you mumble You bring your knees up against your chest and exhale another small sigh. You can’t see his face, but you can picture the smug, satisfied smile on Franke’s face as he continues brushing your hair. “So, tell me again why we’re even doing this?” you question him just a minute later, as if he hasn’t already explained it to you about a hundred times—he wants to do something special for you. “It kind of seems like a complete waste of time, don’t you think so?”

“We’re doing this because you deserve to get dolled up for once in your adult life,” Frank states in a matter of fact tone. The world had ended when you’d been about seven years old, and he’d imagined that since then, you’d never done a single damn thing for your appearance—besides the occasional at home haircut you would give yourself every few months with an old pair of rusted shears. He’d have been absolutely right about that. “And besides, it’s something of a special occasion today,” he adds. “It’s the first day of spring. The weather outside is stunning, our flowers are finally in full bloom, and we have a nice outdoor lunch planned to celebrate the new season.”

You can’t help the way the corners of your mount turn upwards into a small smile. One might think it was all rather silly, given it was the end of the world and all, but you have to admit, you admire the way Frank manages to find genuine happiness and joy in the little things, like warm sunshine on the first day of spring. Or showing a friend what a proper hairbrush looks like. He has such a beautiful soul, something that very, very few people in this new world possess.

“Your hair is so healthy,” Frank observes a few minutes later, setting the hairbrush aside. Taking two handfuls of your hair from the front, he twists them gently and brings them around to the back of your head. He then secures them with a clear, elastic band and runs his fingers through your soft locks, maneuvering your hair until it cascades perfectly around your shoulders. Frank walks around your chair to face you, fussing until he makes sure that every stand is neatly in place. He smiles. “You should wear your hair down more often, you know. It really suits you.”

“Long, loose hair and work detail are a recipe for disaster,” you laugh, shaking your head at him. “Most of the work sites in the zone require anyone who has longer hair to keep it tied back, anyway.” You push your legs out away from your chest and plant your feet firmly on the floor. “Listen, Frank. I really do appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. I really do,” you swear. “It’s incredibly sweet, but there’s really no point. In just a few hours, Joel and I are going to have to head back into Boston where my hair goes back into its braid and I have to change back into my normal clothes.”

“Exactly. So how about you just zip it and enjoy this while it lasts?” he suggests with a tiny, cheeky grin.

“But Frank—”

“Honey, this is a fight you simply aren’t going to win, so hush. Now, come with me.” He takes your hand, pulling you out of the chair and up to your feet. “Close your eyes,” he instructs, and with a reluctant sigh, you do as you’re told. Frank leads you over towards the full length mirror in the far corner of his and Bill’s bedroom. “Okay. One, two, three—open your eyes.”

Your eyes flutter open and your mouth parts slightly in surprise.

“What the fuck,” you murmur underneath your breath, taken aback by the reflection in the mirror. The young woman staring back at you, she looks absolutely nothing like you. The hair, the hint of blush on your cheekbones—the color he’d found was one one that flatters the tone of your skin—and the thin coat of decades old mascara that he’d applied to your eyelashes; the tube had been bone fucking dry, but Frank used a few drops of water to bring it back to life, swearing up and down it was fine to put near your eyes. And then there was the dress, the goddamn dressed he’d force you into. His favorite part of the makeover and your least favorite.

“Wait until you see what I found for you to wear,” he’d told you, giddy as if it were him who would be donning a new outfit. “You’re going to love it!”

Skeptical, you had asked, “Am I though?”

Frank had gone to the boutique and found you a dress to wear, and while it was just a tad loose on your frame, he insisted that it would look just fine on you with the help of a safety pin hidden at the back of it, pulling the fabric taut. It was simple enough, white with a subtle sweetheart neckline and thin straps that tied together at your shoulders. The delicate lace fell down in a flowing skirt to just a few inches above your knees and it itched like hell, especially at your sides. Wanting to add a finishing touch to the outfit, Frank had brought you a pair of brown, strappy sandals and he’d let you know that he had a couple of different color options for a cardigan in the event it became too chilly outside.

“You look perfect,” he gushes. “Like a daydream!”

You look different. But that isn’t what brought on the shock. More than anything, you’re completely taken aback by how fucking normal you look.

Sure, coming over to Bill and Frank’s always gave you a temporary sense of normalcy. They always allowed you to take a hot shower, gave you the opportunity to properly wash your hair and change out of your dirty shirt into a new clean one. They always provided you with a warm meal presented on porcelain dishware that wasn’t stained or chipped like the shit you had back home in your crumbling apartment in Boston. You’d had several tastes of normal thanks to those two, but this drastic change to your appearance was overwhelming. Too overwhelming.

You’d never thought that you could look like this, not in this fucking lifetime.

Frank immediately picks up on your emotions, senses how you’re feeling. Standing behind you, he places his two hands on your shoulders and leans his head forward, pressing his cheek against yours as his kind eyes meet your tearful gaze in the mirror. “You look absolutely beautiful,” he whispers, giving your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I really hope you feel beautiful. You deserve it. You deserve so much more, but if I can at least give you this much, then my mission is accomplished.”

You open your mouth to speak, but words fall short. Afraid that you might burst into tears on the spot, you clamp your mouth shut and give him the tiniest little nod of your head accompanied by a quivering smile of gratitude.

Frank smiles back. “Good. Now, come on, let’s go out front and have lunch.” His hands fall from your shoulders and he ushers you out into the hallway and towards the staircase. Looking over his shoulder, he gives you a wink. “I’m really eager to see what your man thinks of your new look.”

“What?” you sputter, almost tripping over your own two feet. “Who—you mean, Joel?”

Shit. You’d almost forgotten about Joel.

What the hell is he going to say when he sees you like this?

What’s he going to think?

Probably that you look utterly fucking ridiculous, that’s what.

“Who else would I be talking about? Bill?” Frank snorts. “Yes, I’m talking about Joel.”

You glare at his back. This isn’t the first time Frank has teased you about Joel Miller, and despite the countless times you’ve sworn to him that there was nothing going on between the two of you, he insists on believing otherwise, adamant that there has to be something more there. “Don’t start with this shit again. He is not my man, and you damn well know that.”

“He might as well be,” Frank shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he leads you down the staircase.

“Frank, I’m being serious,” you say. Normally, weren’t so uptight about it all, but today, you’re not finding his antics amusing in the slightest, not while you’re wearing goop on your face and sporting a fucking dress. “I’ve told you a million times that there is nothing going on between me and Joel. He’s my partner.” You pause briefly, realizing how that must have sounded, and add in emphasis, “He’s my work partner. We work together, Frank. We smuggle shit together. That’s it.”

Frank stops at the bottom of the staircase and turns to you, letting out a curious hum. “Hmm. And if I remember correctly, you two also live together, you sleep in the same bed together, you spend every waking moment from sunrise to fucking sunset together—I have never heard of two work partners being that close, sweetheart.”

Stubborn, you shake your head. “He’s like fifty!”

“The world ended and that’s your concern? An age gap?” he questions. “Really?”

“Frank,” you plead his name, groaning. “I swear it. We’re nothing to each other. Joel is—well, he’s Joel. He’s not exactly the type of man who does that. You know, feelings and shit.”

He throws his head back slightly, letting out a loud laugh that echoes through the foyer of his home. “Oh, trust me. I know that much. Between you and me, I have to say that he reminds me a whole lot of Bill,” he muses. He notices the horrified expression that crosses your face and laughs again, holding up his hands in defense. “Wait a minute, just hear me out. They’re polar opposites in some ways, but in most ways, they’re almost the same fucking person. Joel is just like Bill. Cranky. Grumpy. He hates everyone and everything. Kind of man who’ll stab someone if they so much as look at him the wrong way. Would you say that’s pretty accurate?”

“Yeah, sounds like Joel Miller,” you have to admit. As much as you did not want to think of Joel being the same person as Bill, Frank had a pretty good point.

“But Joel also reminds me of Bill because he’s the kind of man who means well when it comes to the people that he cares about. The kind of man who will do whatever it takes to protect what is his,” he further explains. He pauses and then asks, “Let me ask you something. You trust him, right?”

You don’t even miss a beat, answering, “Of course. With my life.”

He ticks his index finger at you. “Aha! Exactly!” he exclaims. “You know that Joel would never let anyone lay so much as a finger on you. He’d never let anything bad happen to you. And why is that?”

You stare at him blankly, unsure of how to respond. “Is this a trick question?”

Huffing, Frank rolls his eyes and lets out a disappointed sigh, as if you’d missed the obvious. “It’s because you mean something to him, sweetheart. Whether you choose to let yourself believe it or not, you mean something to Joel Miller.”

For a moment, it feels like all the wind’s been knocked out of you.

Could Frank actually be right?

Do you actually mean something to Joel?

No, that was impossible. Joel Miller doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything—all he cares about is surviving long enough to find Tommy again one day, and even then, he never speaks of his younger brother too kindly. He’s been hardened by this world, closed himself off, put up a barrier around himself that nothing can permeate. Not even you.

“Under that tough, rugged exterior, there’s a soft spot. It’s there, for you and only for you.” Frank’s eyes glimmer, speaking a truth he’s been wanting to tell you for the better part of the last several months. “You might need to do some digging to find it, but it’s there.”

“I just don’t understand why you would think that,” you confess, shaking your head. “Joel has never said anything to me to indicate that I mean something to him. More often than not, I find myself wondering if even considering us to be friends is too generous.” You cross your arms over your chest, growing uncomfortable under his knowing stare. “Yes, Joel looks out for me, but that’s only because we work together so well. I know my way around. He needs me, especially if he plans on getting to Tommy.”

Frank bites his bottom lip, stifling another laugh.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Oh, sweetheart. You don’t even realize it, do you?”

Your eyebrows knit together, confused. “What? Realize what?”

“You are his weakness.”

He’d said it so simply, and yet there goes the rest of your air leaving your lungs, an invisible first driving itself right into your gut.

“Of course Joel isn’t going to tell you how he feels about you. He’s afraid,” Frank remarks, sounding so sure as if he had been told that by Joel Miller himself.

“You’re wrong. Joel isn’t afraid of anything,” you counter in the steadiest voice you can muster. “You’re wrong, Frank.”

“He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.” Any trace of teasing or playfulness had disappeared from Frank’s expression. He speaks gently, but with purpose, with such seriousness that it makes your heart sink further and further down into the pits of your stomach.

When you speak again, your voice is strained, thick with emotions you’re trying so desperately to shove down. “Frank, you really need to put down the fucking romance novels.” Before he can say another word to you about it, you place a hand lightly on your stomach. “I’m really hungry. Can we go eat now? Please?”

Thankfully, he gets the hint to drop the subject.

“Of course. Come on” Frank takes your hand. He opens the front door and leads you outside and onto the freshly landscaped front lawn. He had been right, the flowers were in full bloom—the small, round table he’d set was positioned in a perfect spot so that no matter where anyone sat, they would have a view of the colorful roses and azaleas he and Bill had planted around the perimeter of the yard.

As soon as he sees you two approaching, Bill throws up his hands in a dramatic fashion. “It’s about goddamn time!” He grouches loudly. “Jesus Christ, Frank. I’m fucking starving!”

“Sorry, got caught up inside.” Frank tosses his partner a sweet smile as he releases your hand. “But look, I found myself something pretty!”

Heat floods your cheeks. You should have known better than to think he wasn’t going to make a fuss about your new appearance. “Frank, please. Don’t.”

“Oh come now, you know I have to show you off!”

Joel, whose back had been turned towards you, furrows his eyebrows and he glances over his shoulder, looking to see what Frank was referring to. His dark brown eyes widen just ever so slightly, the grip around his glass of red wine tightening in complete surprise at the sight of you. Frank had failed, quite miserably, to convince him to dress up for the occasion, but at the very least, he’d talked him into wearing one of the nicer shirts he'd found at the boutique, a neatly pressed, sage green button up with long sleeves that, much to Frank’s chagrin, Joel had rolled up to his elbows. His graying, dark brown curls might have even had a comb run through them, but it;s difficult to tell if the way his thick locks were effortlessly disheveled was natural or the result of his efforts to tame them.

“What do you think, Joel?” Frank beams proudly, as if presenting the man with one of his painted art pieces.

Joel doesn’t respond. His eyes remain glued on you, following as you walk around the table and take your usual place beside him.

“Way to put me on the spot, Frank,” you mutter, your face growing warmer and warmer with every second that ticks by. You silently urge yourself to get a grip as you reach for the crisp, white cloth napkin next to your plate and drape it over your lap. The smoked, wild rabbit Bill had cooked up for lunch smells heavenly—Frank knows it’s your absolute favorite dish, and so he had made sure Bill put it on today’s menu, bless his heart.

Joel still hasn’t uttered a single word. Part of you hopes he wouldn’t.

“Joel?” Frank prompts as he picks up his own cloth napkin. “Doesn’t she look pretty?”

You glare daggers at him from across the table and hiss, “Frank!”

Finally, Joel sets down his glass of wine and turns slowly, angling his body towards yours. When he speaks, his voice is low, but clear as day as he looks at you, “Yeah. She looks very pretty.”

His eyes flicker up to meet yours, causing your heart to skip a beat inside of your chest and a strange warmth to bloom in your belly.

Had he actually meant that?

“You look real nice,” he adds, giving you a subtle nod of his head. He lets his sights linger on you for another moment before tearing his gaze away. He then turns back to the table, picking up his glass of wine once again, chugging what’s left of it before reaching for the bottle to pour himself another.

Bill clears his throat roughly. “Well, if everyone’s done playing dress up, I’d really like to fucking eat now.”

Meals with Bill and Frank were always pleasant.

Well, meals with Frank were always pleasant.

Although Bill had gotten used to having you and Joel over as guests and didn’t see either of you as a threat anymore, he still preferred to keep you both at arm’s length, a choice you two respected. He hardly ever said much and often chose to let his partner do all the talking unless the conversation had anything to do with trading supplies. Only then would he step in.

As you’d tucked into your meal of wild rabbit and garden vegetables, you could feel Joel throwing subtle glances your way every so often. It was half expected that he would, seeing as he’d never seen you like this before. He was so used to seeing you in tattered, dirty old clothes with dirt and grime caked onto your skin and in your hair.

Surely, he must have felt like he was sitting next to a complete stranger, not his smuggling partner.

About an hour later, once everyone has finished eating, you offer to help Frank clear and clean up the table and wash the dishes. He settles for letting you help him bring everything inside, but shoos you away before you can even think about lifting another finger. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he says, waving you away from the kitchen sink with his hands. “You and Joel are taking off in just a couple hours, so go on and get some rest,” he suggests. “Oh, by the way, we found some new books to add to the collection. Might find something you like. Go ahead and check them out.”

“But I forgot my library card at home,” you joke lamely, although it earns you a sincere laugh from your friend. You pad out of the kitchen and into the living room, straight over towards a grand oak bookshelf that is packed tightly to the brim with dozens and dozens of books of various genres. You hadn’t been all that much of a reader before, but thanks to Frank, who always sent you home with at least two or three works in your pack, reading had become one of your favorite hobbies over the last few months, a sweet little escape that took you out of your shoddy apartment in the zone and into another world. You start searching the titles for the new finds he’d mentioned. Spotting one of them, you pluck it from the shelf, a paperback titled, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Opening it up, you begin thumbing through the pages, quickly realizing that it’s play—you’ve never read a play before. Still not convinced if it’s one you would like to take home with you, you flip back to the first page and start reading with a curious little hum.

You had been so preoccupied with it that you hadn’t noticed Joel standing behind you, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest until he clears his throat, and asks, “Find somethin’ good?”

Startled, you whirl around, nearly dropping the book in your hands. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” you breathe out, clutching it tightly against your chest as your heart rate slows. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Not my fuckin’ fault you were too busy with your nose buried in a book,” he states, trying his hardest to fight the small smirk threatening to cross his lips. He uncrosses his arms and pushes himself away from the doorframe.

A chuckle escapes you, almost nervously, as he slowly starts walking over towards you, his brown boots heavy on the hardwood floor. He takes the book from your hands, humming as he reads the cover. “Shakespeare, huh?”

“You know Shakespeare?” you toss him a teeny, lopsided smile as you tease, “He from your time?”

Joel lightly smacks your arm with the worn paperback. “Yeah, I know Shakespeare and he was about four hundred fuckin’ years before my time, thank you very much.” He flips it over, eyes skimming the text on the back. “Had the world not gone to shit, you would’ve grown up and spent your entire middle school career being forced by English teachers to read all his shit and write essays tryin’ to interpret it all.” He hands it back over to you. “Here.”

“Sounds like a real fucking dream,” you deadpan. You glance down, running your index finger down the spine of the book. You’re trying, almost painfully, to ignore how Joel’s eyes glaze over you from head to toe.

“Y’know, it’s kinda nice,” he remarks quietly, breaking the brief moment of silence that had fallen over the two of you. “Seein’ you like this.”

You keep your eyes fixed on the book and scoff. “What? In a dress?”

“When we’re here, you let your guard down. Ain’t always lookin’ over your shoulder. You smile a hell of a lot more.” He pauses, then adds, “You look happy here. Sure, this dress looks nice on you. Your smile looks even fuckin’ better, though.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. More than his words, it’s the genuine tone in which he had said them—you’d never even realized Joel noticed things like that. Whether you were happy or not, how often you smiled. Or didn’t smile.

You force a small chuckle. “It’s the only sense of normalcy that we get. Of course I look happy when we’re here. Because I am happy when we’re here.” Still refusing to meet his gaze, you turn around and walk over to the couch towards your pack. Opening the top, you quickly shove the book inside.

When you hear Joel’s footsteps coming up behind you, you stiffen slightly.

“Frank, he adores the hell outta you,” Joel says. He seems to hesitate, but then continues, “You ever think of askin’ him to stay here?”

“You kidding?” You snort in response. “Bill wouldn’t allow that. Never.”

Joel’s hands go to his hips, knowing you had a point. “But you know Frank can convince him of almost anythin’, don’t you? And besides, believe it or not, Bill actually likes you. He loves Frank more than anythin’ and you make Frank happy.”

You finally turn around to face and find yourself caught off guard by how close he’s standing to you. “Joel, what exactly are you getting at?” You raise an eyebrow before playfully asking, “Are you trying to get rid of me or something, Miller?”

Joel quickly shakes his head. “Of course not. All I’m sayin’ is that—” He stops and lowers his voice, just in case Bill or Frank happen to be wandering nearby. “I like seein’ this side of you. The happy side. The normal side.” He shrugs his shoulders, the lean muscles of his upper body flexing with the movement against the smooth fabric of his shirt. “Seein’ you all cleaned up, well fed and content—” He trails off once again. “Shouldn’t be a rare occurrence, y’know? You’d clearly be better off here with them and you know that with Frank’s help, we could probably talk Bill into letting you stay.”

The second you realize he’s being serious, your smile fades.

“What? But what about you?”

“Darlin’, Frank’s good, but he’s not a goddamn miracle worker. Even if he tried, that’s not somethin’ Bill would ever go for,” Joel admits, lifting a hand and raking his fingers through his hair. “And even if he did, we’d fuckin’ kill each other by the end of the first week.”

Bill and Joel being neighbors?

Talk about a different kind of apocalypse, you think to yourself.

“I know that much,” you reply with a tiny eye roll. “What I mean is, do you honestly think that I would leave my life in Boston?”

“That ain’t no fuckin’ life—”

You hold up a hand, stopping him. “I know it’s not. But it’s my life with you, Joel.”

The rough creases on his forehead suddenly soften. That was the first time you’d ever seen that happen.

The scowl on his face wasn’t permanent after all.

“Yes, this is nice. This patch of town, this house, the running water, the food, the clothes—this is a decent life. More than decent. In this world that we’re living in, this place is heaven. But without you, all of it would mean absolutely nothing to me. I wouldn’t be happy here, not without you.”

Joel tilts his head back, shaking it lightly. “Think about what you’re sayin’ here.”

“I know what I’m saying.” Before your brain and your body can even make the connection, you find yourself taking a step towards him, shrinking the gap between your bodies even further. You glance up at him, somehow finally finding the courage to have your eyes meet his. “I refuse to leave your side, Joel. That’s never going to happen. Not if I can fucking help it. Do you understand that?”

Joel exhales the breath he’d been holding, his warm breath tickling your face.

“I mean it, Joel. We’re in this shitty ass fucking world, together. No little slice of heaven could ever get me to leave you behind, no matter how good it is,” you declare, silently wondering to yourself where the hell you were even finding the balls to confess all of this to him. “Okay?”

“You’d be safer here than in the QZ, with all that shit’s that been goin’ down—”

“I’m the safest when I’m with you, Joel. I know I am.”

You lift your hand to his face. At first, there’s minor hesitation on your part, but you will yourself to place it on his cheek. Although your touch is gentle, Joel can’t help but wince. Not because he doesn’t want you to touch him, but because it had been so fucking long since anyone had ever touched him like that.

Since he’d let anyone touch him like that.

He closes his eyes and after a second or two of resisting, he finally allows himself to relax his tense muscles and he sinks into your touch.

Joel lets himself savor the feeling of your hand on his face. His bottom lip gives a subtle tremble when you softly start to graze your thumb down along his jawline. His beard, which you often playfully tease him about now that it’s beginning to gray just like his hair, feels rough and scratchy, and yet somehow still soft underneath your fingertips.

“Hey,” you murmur, and he forces his eyes to snap open. “We’re in this together. That’s how it’s been and that’s how it’s going to stay,” you assure him. “My place is with you, Joel.”

Joel manages to speak through tight lips, his voice strained. “You really fuckin’ gotta stop talkin’ to me like that, darlin’.”

You carefully move your hand away from his face, letting it drop back down to your side. “Why?”

“‘Cause. Shit like that is dangerous.”

“Dangerous,” you repeat, almost laughing. “Of all the things—”

Then, Frank’s words from earlier come to mind.

He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.

Joel’s dark eyes flicker to the strap of your dress, noticing it had started sliding off your shoulder. Before he can even think to stop himself, he reaches out and pulls it up back into place, his rough, calloused fingers brushing against your smooth skin. “You’re so soft,” he murmurs under his breath. All those fucking years of working with you, even sharing a bed together, and he had no idea of what it was like to touch you.

“Joel…”

Your heart had all but climbed up into your throat.

“Everythin’ you just said a minute ago, ‘bout not wanting to stay here without me,” he starts to say, “I know that it’s fuckin’ selfish of me, but I’m real glad you said it. ‘Cause no way in hell do I want a life without you. I know it’s wrong but—”

Placing your hands delicately on his shoulders, you lift yourself up on your toes and cut him off mid-sentence by pressing your lips softly against his. The clean scent of the soap Frank had given him to shower with fills your senses and you yearn to have more of him, you nearly ache to get a real taste of him—but your courage only went so far. Thankfully, Joel knows to take over from here. One of his arms snakes its way around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest while the other reaches up, the warm palm of his hand pressing against your cheek. His tongue swipes lightly across your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore your mouth just a little bit further.

You eagerly grant him access, half expecting his mouth to ravage yours.

Much to your surprise, Joel remains gentle.

The way that he kisses you, the way he holds your body against his, the way his large hand—the same hand that slits throats and breaks bones—delicately cradles the side of your face like you’re made of porcelain.

“Joel,” you nearly whimper his name when he breaks away.

His face remains just inches from yours.

“Fuck,” he mutters, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting to catch his breath. “We’ll need to get goin’ soon.”

“I know.” You nod, hoping you don’t sound as disappointed as you feel. You can sense that Joel, much like yourself, is at war with himself over what had just happened. Not that either of you regretted it, at least you certainly don’t, but the realization that you two have just crossed a line you’ll never come back from was daunting.

Joel lifts his head, lightly pressing his lips against your forehead. He then forces himself to release you from his arms and steps back, dropping them back down at his sides. “I need to, uh, I need to go get some things from Bill. Y’know, get my pack ready before we take off.”

You nod again. “I’ll start changing and get another pack of supplies ready as well.” You pause, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Joel, about what just happened—”

He silently shakes his head before leaning down, capturing your mouth with his.

This kiss is short and quick, and when he pulls away, he says nothing. He turns on the heel of his boot and disappears, heading out to meet Bill in the garage.

Your hand flies to your mouth, your fingers lightly touching your lips.

“Well, well, well.”

Looking over your shoulder, your throat goes dry when you see Frank standing there, hands on his hips and a knowing, smug expression on his face.

“How long have you been standing back there?”

“Long enough.” Even from a distance, you catch the amused twinkle in his eye. “What did I tell you?”

You turn away from him, biting your lower lip.

So maybe he’d been right after all.

Maybe you were Joel’s weakness.

But he was yours too.

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gentlyweeps-world · 6 months

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The “It Girl”

summary: Being a rookie in the world of Formula One comes with challenges, added on with the fact you’re a girl, American and racing for Red Bull doesn’t help. While you do have your “guard dogs” and “it girl” tendencies, it doesn’t help that you’re also trying to figure out romance.

pairing: 2021 grid x fem! driver, romantic interest tbd

warnings: sexism, alcohol consumption, toxic environments, uncomfortable situations

LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO

Many had said the 2021 grid was the best, the most exciting grid yet. While that was true, it wasn’t fun as a rookie in Red Bull, better yet, a female rookie in Red Bull. But that wasn’t the end of it, an American female rookie racing for Red Bull.

Least to say PR had a field day when they announced you would be replacing Checo after his retirement in 2020.

At only 21 years old you were making history, and you were once again today. Finishing P1 on home soil at the circuit of Americas.

Now here you were, alongside Max Verstappen, your teammate, and Lewis Hamilton, the break in between the two Red Bulls.

“Y/n how do you look so good after a race?”

“Y/n what makeup do you use?”

Only ten minutes ago did the end of race press conference start, and only five minutes did the most sexist and offensive questions start. And only seconds ago is when you were put out of your daze from the most infuriating question you had received.

“Y/n? How do you race while menstruating?”

Suddenly knocked out of your daze, your face contorts into one of shock and annoyance from the question.

“E-excuse me?”, You ask out shocked, not sure if you had heard the question right. I mean after all this was a post race conference, and not one question was about racing.

You glance over to Lewis and Max, who both look equally upset and disgusted.

The interviewer looks at you and smiles while he asks once more, “Can you tell us about how racing while having to deal with menstruation affects race strategy in your car?”

Max and Lewis still have a confused look, while Max looks at the interviewer like he will rip the guy’s head off.

The interviewer smiles and says, “Don’t be offended L/n, but girls and women on their period don’t think as fast or as clearly.” He then pauses for a moment to think about what he’s just said, and he adds, “Of course, it doesn’t matter anyway, women don’t belong in F1.”

You can feel your face contort to bewilderment, taking a moment to realize this interviewer was from DTS. Then you hear Max slap his hand on the table.

“She just got fucking P1 and you expect her to answer these ridiculous questions? Treat her with some respect, she’s done more than you have!”, Max says sternly, his eyes shooting daggers at the interviewer.

The interviewer grows visibly intimidated by Maxs reaction. He swallows twice and his tone visibly changes

“I-I’m sorry, I just had to ask.”

Lewis then speaks up and says to the interviewer, “I want you to listen to what you just said and think about what you just did. Women aren’t allowed to drive just because they are on their period, do you even hear yourself?” Lewis sounds genuinely sad.

Max remains silent, but his eyes are still angry. Instead of adding anything onto the conversation you just sit there, shock still on your face.

You let out an awkward cough, drinking some of you Red Bull, you clear your throat and look up towards the interviewers, annoyance clear in your eyes.

“Could we please move on now? Maybe ask a racing related question”, You say, showing no interest in being there.

For a few seconds, there is complete silence. Then a new interviewer finally manages to speak.

“Of course, a new question. So, Y/n, how do you feel about being the second woman to win a Grand Prix in Formula One?”

A faint smile appears on your face as you hear the question, “About time, a normal question”, You hear Max mumble out, a grin tugs at your lips, thankful Max has your back.

“It feels great, I’m super grateful for my team and engineers”, You say, “But very thankful to win, glad to have proved all of the doubters wrong”

Another reporter then pipes up and asks, “How did you feel about the backlash from a lot of people who didn’t want a woman in F1?”

You take a moment to think on how to respond, taking a moment to consider how much trouble you could get in if you answered honestly, but that was PR jobs right?

“Uh..well I think they’re fucking stupid, and they clearly don’t know who Desiré Wilson is”, You state, a small smirk on your face as you answer, knowing DTS will eat that up.

For a moment everyone is silent, until Lewis breaks out laughing, “I think this would be a great way to end this conference”, He says with a grin, getting up from his seat and moving out of the room. Max soon follows behind, and you’re quick to follow Max, not sure what to do afterwards.

As Max and you make your way back to the garage you hear chants and jeers thrown out, but it wasn’t enough to wipe off the smile on your face.

Finally reaching the Red Bull garage, Max and you get there and are immediately bombarded with cheers, laughter and applause from the Red Bull team.

After a good hour of celebrating with the team, you feel your phone vibrate in your hand, “Who is it?”, Max asks, curious to see who texted you.

Checking the notification it’s from an unknown number, asking if you wanted to go and celebrate with them, you look up at Max with confusion, but his face shows the opposite.

“Didn’t know he would be asking you so soon..”, Max says with a look of shock.

———————————————————————

radio: Hope this was a good one, im quite excited to work on this series!! I’m leaving it up to you guys to pick a love interest in the comments, keep in mind the grid is 2021 not 2023 💙💙 (send in any requests and leave any comments)

next part

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letoasai · 1 year

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dp x dc Chronos

An idea that’s probably been touched on before but well.. once more!

It had begun with a meltdown. Being a fifteen year old was tough. High school was the time in your life where you were picking up life skills without even knowing it. Social skills, study habits, responsibilities stacked on responsibilities. It all seemed rather unfair when their brains weren’t done developing yet or… whatever Jazz had been telling him one afternoon.

The point was, being a teenager wasn’t all making memories and messing around. It was hard. Add on dying to that work load and things got complicated. Add on a ghost portal that allowed ghosts to come and go as they pleased when you were the only one that could safely stop them and things got stressful.

Parents that were trying to kill you…went without saying.

Become a king of a realm by fifteen, and see how you handle the sudden workload. Danny had been holding up fine, until he wasn’t. Until a particularly loud boom in his parents lab from whatever their latest torture invention was cause a tremor of fear to shoot up his spine. In an instant, panic was sparked. He wanted to leave, he thought about it often, but how could he just leave Amity Park behind? Would it be better outside of his parents house? Could he live alone?

The fear latched onto his core, and not being able to relax in his own haunt was apparently counterproductive to a healthy, happy halfa.

Before dying, Danny hadn’t been familiar with panic attacks, now, they weren’t entirely uncommon. One moment he would be overthinking in his bedroom, the next he’d be on his bed or the floor curled up in a ball. Tears flowing and throat clogged, he would sob under the weight of his responsibilities in silence. He doubted his parents would notice, but he hated to worry his sister. Being quiet was a must.

It was one of these episodes that had led to Clockwork appearing in his room, lifting Danny up into his arms like a child without even a weak protest. A post-it was left for Jazz so she wouldn’t worry and the king was returned to the Infinite Realm for a night.

That was the start of Danny spending time in Clockwork’s citadel any time he was feeling overwhelmed. Being outside of time, he was given the time to relax, sleep, or study. It lessened the burdens of trying to be a normal high school student, hero, and king all at once, or at least gave him a safe place to crash.

At least once a week, Danny made his way into Clockwork’s lair, long since allowed to enter on a whim unless expressly told otherwise for a day or two. For all Danny was king, he did his best not to interrupt Clockwork’s work and he knew beings from other dimensions popped in from time to time.

If Clockwork didn’t want him meeting them, he was going to take his opinion to heart and make himself scarce.

Danny wasn’t sure why he got the privilege to hide behind the ghost of time but he didn’t shun the offer. Any chance to get some sleep was a good one when he had ghosts like Skulker or Johnny waking him up at three in the morning with their bullshit.

Danny floated over a sofa, backpack forgotten on the floor and books hovering around him. The crown that hovered above his head kept going back and forth between being covered by ice or green flame. It seemed to do what it wanted like a living creature.

Danny had his own room in the citadel now but he was positive the sofa was put in Clockwork’s viewing room just for him.

He slept there more often than not.

“Hey Clockwork.” Danny called. He’d be ignored if Clockwork was deep into peering into the past for future, but would otherwise get an answer. “Can i ask you a question?”

In the time it took Clockwork to turn to face Danny, his age had altered subtly, five or ten years younger than middle aged.

Danny had always thought Clockwork had three ages he shifted between. His child form, middle aged adult, and old man. The longer Danny stayed in the citadel though, he learned that wasn’t the case.

He’d seen Clockwork go from an old man, to a man about twenty. He’d slowly shift younger and younger through his teens until he stopped in his child form. Danny had seen the opposite too. Clockwork as a young preteen growing into an adult in the span of a breath. Dark circles would appear under his eyes and laugh lines etched into his face of a much older man but Danny wouldn’t have called that form elderly.

It was fascinating.

“What can i do for you, Majesty?” Clockwork asked, a hint of a smile already curing his lips. He likely already had the conversation they were about to have memorized.

Danny groaned. “Can’t you just call me Danny? Majesty is so… so…”

“Accurate?”

“Bleh…” Danny muttered, slowly floating until he was upside, but his book turned with him so he could continue to look at it.

Clockwork only laughed at him, that soft noise that said he was amused at Danny’s plight, but Danny was far from offended by it.

“You’re the master of time, right, but were you the god of time too?” He pointed at his textbook, crown on top of his head doing slow flips. “Chronos?”

“Ah,” Clockwork chuckled, arms crossing over his chest. His de-aging had abruptly stopped and he instead started growing older again. “Indeed. We are the same.”

“Really?” Danny perked up and went back to skimming his book while rotating in the air. The edges of his wispy hair were looking like smoke. “So you were an ancient Greek god? That’s cool.”

“Yes and no.” Clockwork said with a shrug. “Time is a funny thing. I was there, of course but more in the capacity of their stories. I predate the Greeks.”

“Huh,” Danny hummed, growing quiet again as he read a little more but Clockwork didn’t return to his parade viewing. He instead waited for Danny to continue. “So wait, you were one of the first… titans.” he read. “Cool.”

“Yes.” Clockwork agreed, “That was a very long time ago now.”

Danny quirked a brow at a line in the book and glanced back at Clockwork. “‘Destructive and all-devouring’, huh?”

“I was young.” Clockwork agreed, not bothering to deny it. “We all have that phase.”

“Uh huh… How did this rule of yours coincide with Pariah Dark?”

Clockwork grew older still, his beard starting to grow. He also relaxed into a floating/sitting position. “They didn’t really. Much of what you are reading is a mortal human interpretation. If you think stories in your high school become exaggerated, you should hear the true origin stories of the ancients sometime.”

Danny was snickering. “I’d actually like that but none of them like talking about stuff like that. Did you really eat your kids?”

“Something to that effect. I’m afraid i was not a very good father. I was at a very different place in my life then.” Clockwork said. He didn’t sound particularly proud of it, but he didn’t look broken- hearted either.

Danny didn’t quite get it. Clockwork had basically been his ghost guardian long before he’d even known that was a thing. He probably would have just assumed Clockwork would make a good dad. Then again, being a ‘present’ dad was probably tough for the god of ‘time’.

“Hm,” Danny hummed and flipped the page while floating right side up again. He rubbed at his face, the constellation freckles across his cheeks twinkling. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” Danny muttered, clearly reading through a paragraph.

Clockwork’s shoulders were shaking with quiet laughter. It wasn’t usually this easy to coax Danny into doing his homework.

“You died. Zeus kills you. Did Zeus kill you? Your son?”

“Yes.”

There was a moment where Danny’s face warped into something like grief before it disappeared, suspicion forming in it’s place. “Did you know that was gonna happen? Did you let Zeus kill you to maintain a good time line? Did you know you’d just be the ghost master of time?”

Clockwork just smiled and shrugged.

“Ancients!” Danny cursed. “Are you serious? You were looking that far ahead already? Even then? That’s insane.”

“I have not confirmed or denied anything. On the other hand, we all have our talents.” Clockwork mused. “Does this knowledge entertain you?”

“I mean, it’s cool.” Danny muttered again. Clockwork wasn’t usually so chatty but he was more likely to tell him past things opposed to future things.

He went back to reading and Clockwork went back to his viewing clocks. It was only a few minutes before Danny spoke again.

“The Elysian Islands. Are those in the Infinity Realm?” Danny asked, “They sound familiar.”

“Yes.” Clockwork mused. “And before you ask, Zeus didn’t actually have anything to do with them and Pandora would get huffy at the mere mention of it.”

“Are other gods in the infinite Realm?”

“Some, but not many of the ones in your book there.” Clockwork said, twirling the staff in his hand. Danny could tell he was doing something along the time stream but Danny had no idea what and he didn’t ask. He was not looking to get sent on another timeline errand. “There are other places where they reside. Some even living. Those in the realm however, are your subjects.”

“Oh.” Danny muttered, getting the same sour look he got when he was reminded he was king.

Clockwork lowered his staff, done with his chore. He hovered closer to Danny now, ruffling his hair and dislodging his crown which spun around of its own accord on top of Danny’s head. The sentient accessory very much attached to its new wearer. “If there are any in the Infinite Realm who find you lacking, you need not pay them any mind. Pandora, Fright Knight, or Frostbite would be more than happy to deal with them. You have every right to be here.”

Danny just grunted. Peer pressure was hard enough at school. It was worse in the Infinite Realm. “I’m not looking for fights.”

“You do not need to prove yourself. You’ve done that enough. You must merely be you to succeed. You are balance, and balance in life will find you soon enough.”

“Awe, you haven’t said anything cryptic to me all day. I was starting to get worried.” Danny muttered, a smile tugging.

“I would never make you go without.” Clockwork said with a fond roll of his eyes. He was so old now that his beard nearly touched the floor.

“Ancients forbid.” Danny muttered, snagging his book out of the air. “Wait, did you say there were some living? Wait.” His mind whirled to a previous school assignment. “Isn’t Wonder Woman’s dad supposed to be Zeus. Is Wonder Woman your granddaughter?”

Clockwork just smiled and ruffled his hair again. “Don’t you have homework to finish?”

“Oh Ancients! She is. Classic deflecting. Holy crap.”

He let himself drop onto the sofa, over dramatic with his realization. “You have ties to the Justice League!”

Clockwork did sigh that time. “A charming notion, i suppose.”

“You’ve as good as admitted it!” Danny grinned, pleased to have learned something new. Had it been anyone else, he might have thought he learned something Clockwork didn’t want him to know. Clockwork knew everything though and only let slip what he wanted to.

“You are a hero yourself, Danny. No need to be enamored with the League.” Clockwork turned to go back to work, eyes scanning screens before him.

“Yeah but they’re real heroes.” Danny grumbled, opening his book again. Clockwork’s lack of response meant he wasn’t going to answer that line of thinking. “Fine…”

The two of them were left in a comfortable silence for a few minutes more until Danny broke it himself. Even though Clockwork knew it was coming, he still jumped when Danny gasped harshly from excitement.

“Saturn! You’re Saturn! Saturn is like, one of my top three favorite planets!” It was the pure joy on Danny’s face that had Clockwork laughing this time.

“You would have a top three.”

“Of course i do!”

The door had been flung open for him to now talk about space and precisely why he had so many favorite planets specifically. Clockwork let him, happy to let one of his obsessions take its course. Talks about space banished all thoughts of the Justice League and ‘real heroes’.

Danny knew he’d have to take his history books with a grain of salt. Eaten children or no...Clockwork had always been a good guardian to him. ~~ I might add on to this... It’s almost like Danny was reading the same wiki page on Chronos that i was... lol

Part 2 and Part 3

#Danny Phantom #clockwork #Clockwork has basically adopted Danny #dpxdc #or at least it will be when i continue this #Clockwork is Chronos

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bigfatbimbo · 2 months

Note

Please do continue about girldick Charlie! I want to see your thoughts!

girldick charlie x reader general headcanons —

summary — Vague, horny and self indulgent rambles about girldick Charlie… obviously

a/n — I love her so much. My problem is that no one ever requests her! Anyways, i’m eating this prompt up.

warning — smut, charlie is a switch and so is the reader in this scenario, girldick, oral, degradation and praise, NOT ENTIRELY PROOFREAD!!!

***QUICK BACKUP INFO IF YOU DIDN’T SEE THE POST!!! Basically, we see that Lucifer has the ability to shapeshift, and since i’ve already written boycunt Lucifer… and Charlie is his daughter… maybe that ability would be… passed on. No because like you would just ask her like, “Dick tonight, baby?” and she’d be like “Of course, sweetie. Anything for you!” as if it’s not a wild as fuck request. Like you’re literally asking ‘Hey, can you casually just switch up your body parts for a sec? I feel like getting fucked outta my mind.’ And Charlie is just down immediately. Anything to make you happy and feeling taken care of is okay with her. Stressful day? Feeling bad about yourself? Just horny as fuck? Your problems will be solved with Charlie’s dick and the best goddamn aftercare of your life. Because when Charlie leads, she’s absolutely a soft dom/service top. Everything she says and does is to make you have a good experience because to her, sex is not about how she feels! She is ensuring you’re having a great time at any cost. So maybe you had a super stressful day, you’re anxious about work you didn’t do or didn’t compete well enough, and it’s bugging you. She’s coaxing you into taking a break, telling you she’d take care of you. Her comforting words while rubbing your shoulder quickly turns into her on top of you, gently fucking into you with praising words. She’s rutting into you at a steady, but not rough pace, with her hands pining your wrists above the bed. And she’s going on and on, semi-coherently might I add because she’s very sensitive, about how proud of you she is, and how hard you worked, and how you’ve done everything to deserve this. And even though she’s not used to having a dick so she’s super touchy and hypersensitive, she would literally never cum until you have. Your pleasure comes first, always. But…. mean Charlie does something to me. Because she’s not easily upset, doesn’t have a temper, and is very nice. However, her demon form?? That ‘fuck you’ to Susan?? When she’s mad it’s a whole other story. Imagine the rare situation pissing her. Poking her and fucking with her, giving her kids of shit and attitude all day, and then finally she snaps. And she uncharacteristically aggressive. Her horns come out and she fuck you actually rough, with little to no mercy. But after one round she’d go back to her normal praising self, making up for her degrading words with loads of praise while she recedes into her normal gentle pace. Anyways, let’s talk about subby girldick Charlie, thank you very much. There are two roads you could take; very praising, or needlessly mean. Charlie and praise stick out to me so much. She’s always doing everything in other peoples favor. She solves other people’s problems, not her own. A little hypocritical, don’t you think. So she’s in her office overworking herself as usual, but you can’t stand that. Obviously, you go to put a stop to it. Giving her a long kiss, before whispering, “Dick today, please.” and she’d hesitate and be like “Honey… I have a lots of work to do and—“ but you’d emphasize your first point with a harsher, but not mean, strict tone, “Now, baby.” She’d reluctantly oblige, watching as you sink to your knees and pull her pants down, reading her hardening cock. “Oh, you think now is really the best time too— nngh!” she’d try to protest, being cut off with a moan as you drag your tongue across the length of your dick. After muttering about how ‘beautiful’ she is, you fully sink your mouth down onto her, taking her in. Your pace starts slow, getting used to her dick in your mouth, pulling out whimpers from Charlie as she leans back in her chair, and softly petting her thighs to comfort her. But then you speed up, and Charlie’s whimpers become loud and needy whines. She can’t help how fast she cums in your mouth. “I’m so sorry— I— Are you okay? Was that too much?” But then you fucking swallow and go back down for more. The only times you pull away are to tell her how pretty she is, how amazing she’s doing, and how beautiful she sounds

And let me tell you, she is reeling under all the praise. She’s squirming in her seat while you suck her cock dry, all while saying such nice things. She can barely contain herself, even when her eyes go red and her horns come out.

But, imagine being mean to her about it. Like practically demanding her dick, but this time, in a mean way. Shoving her down on the mattress and riding her dick so fast and rough she can barely take it.

And when her eyes full with tears because of the overstimulation, degrading her for being such a crybaby. “Oh please, Charlie. You can’t even handle this? Is the poor princess crying over how good her dicks being rode? Pathetic.”

And she cries even harder because she didn’t even do anything to warrant that!! But she finds it harder and harder to be upset when you’re humping her rougher after every orgasm.

It’s fogging up her brain so bad, she can’t even ask you to stop being mean anymore, she just whines and arches off the mattress as you slam your pussy against her achey, used up dick. Now, would she call you mommy while you ride her dick in oblivion? Well with the absence of her own… no yeah. The answer is yeah. Oh, and imagine making her have a dick JUST to peg her and not give any stimulation or attention to it at all. Hearing her whine as her hands go to jerk herself off, but batting them away, telling her she needs to be patient.

a/n — Boy oh boy, do I love being mean to nice people, or what, folks? Anyways, send more Charlie requests. We as a society need more of her.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #dom reader #inbox open #charlie morningstar #charlie morningstar x reader #charlie morningstar x you #charlie morningstar smut #charlie hazbin hotel

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mpileons · 4 months

Text

behind the goal posts | alexia putellas x reader

> chapter two

A/N: this is the first fic ive written in a while so bare w/ me as i get back into the motion of writing :) also construction criticism & suggestions are always welcome <3

+ this going to be a multi chapter story, please patient w me and ill try to make it worth your while :,)

—

Summary: Everyone knows Alexia Putellas. Star football player and the face of Barcelona. However, what they don’t know is that she is been in a secret relationship for years, and that relationship is slowly slipping out of her hands.

Word Count: 1.9K

Chapter 1

A Year Ago —

It all started on a regular Wednesday, I was getting ready for my morning shift at Lever & Bloom. It was all very normal, I woke up extremely late as per usual, and had to rush out of my apartment complex without doing my hair or my makeup which was once again, per usual.

As 10am hit, I was getting into the motion of making drinks and chatting with customers. Although being a barista is quite a mundane job, I thoroughly enjoy every part of it, especially talking with the regulars and forming those relationships that never fail to bring a smile to my face. As I went to take my break, I saw a distinct blonde head of hair enter the cafe premises. Everytime she enters the cafe (which is very often) my intrigue seems to rise more and more. She seems to always come in at 11 on the dot, every weekday. Not that I’m keeping track or anything. Definitely not. Conveniently, as she goes to the counter I decide to save my break for later. Definitely not anything to do with her.

"One large ic-" The tall blonde starts to speak, but I'm quick to interrupt her. "A large iced americano with an extra shot of espresso, I know, it's coming right up," I say, a small smile creeping onto my face. I turn to see the same expression reflected on her face, a shared moment of understanding passing between us.

For some reason, I feel an impulse I can't ignore. With nervous yet hopeful determination, I grab a napkin and hastily scrawl down my number along with her order. With trembling hands, I slide the napkin across the counter, our fingers brushing for a fleeting moment, sending a jolt of electricity through me.

"Thanks," she murmurs, her voice soft and tinged with warmth as she takes the napkin. I watch her as she takes a seat by the window, her eyes fixed on her phone as she waits for her drink.

My heart starts to pound in my chest, anticipation mingling with apprehension. What if she doesn't text? What if I completely misread everything?

I push all the thoughts out of my head as I prepare her iced americano, my hands tremble slightly, betraying the calm facade I try to maintain around her. When it's ready, I take a deep breath and walk over to her table, setting the drink down with a shaky hand.

"Here you go," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, hoping she can't hear the rapid thumping of my heart that I'm sure is about to explode.

"Thanks again," she replies, flashing me a dazzling smile that sets my heart aflutter. And then, to my surprise and delight, she adds, "By the way, I'm Alexia."

The sound of her name sends a shiver down my spine, and I can't help but return the gesture. "Nice to meet you, Alexia. I'm Y/N," I say, hoping she can't hear the increasingly rapid thumping of my heart.

We exchange a few more words before I have to return to my duties behind the counter, but her presence lingers in my mind long after she leaves. And as the days turn into weeks and then months, we start to form somewhat of a routine that consists of Alexia coming to get coffee every weekday morning, some light-hearted flirting, then I constantly think about her until I see her the next day.

Present Day –

The soft chime of the café's door announces Alexia's arrival, as it does every weekday morning. My heart skips a beat at the sight of her, as it usually does, alongside a familiar pang of longing mixed with resentment tightening in my chest. I watch as Alexia approaches the counter, a radiant smile gracing her lips.

"Hey, Y/N," Alexia greets, her voice warm and inviting.

"Hey," my tone lacking its usual warmth. I start to busy myself with preparing Alexia's usual order, my movements stiff and mechanical. Whether Alexia is paying attention to these details or not is completely lost on me.

As I hand Alexia the cup, our fingers almost touch but Alexia pulls away quickly, further spiralling my conflicting emotions.

"Thanks," Alexia says with a tight smile.

I somehow manage to force a smile in return, but it feels hollow, fake. As Alexia takes her usual seat by the window, her attention is focused on her phone. The sight stirs a flicker of jealousy within me, a bitter unwanted reminder of the countless admirers vying for Alexia's attention.

The minutes tick by, each one stretching out into what seems like an eternity as I try to manage my emotions. I want to reach out to Alexia, to tell her how I am truly feeling, but the words stay stuck in my throat, still suffocated by the weight of the secret I have no choice but to keep.

As Alexia finishes her drink and prepares to leave, my resolve quickly crumbles. "Alexia, wait," I blurted out, cringing at how my voice is tinged with obvious desperation.

Alexia turns to me, concern flashing in her eyes. "Is everything okay babe?"

I start to hesitate, my heart pounding like an alarm in my chest. I try to open my mouth to speak, but the words elude me.

"Never mind," I murmur, forcing a weak smile. "Just... take care, okay?"

Alexia's brow furrows in confusion, but she nods, concern etched into her features. "You too, Y/N."

As Alexia leaves the café, I am left alone with my thoughts, the weight of secrecy pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket. I begin to wonder how much longer I can keep up the charade, how much longer I can pretend that everything is okay when it's anything but.

I return back to the counter with my heart pounding like a drum inside my chest and my thoughts racing. As the day drags on and my return back to Alexia and I’s shared apartment is approaching, I know something has to change. The weight of secrecy was slowly crushing me and if this goes on any longer, I do not know how much there will be left of our relationship to salvage, or if there will be anything left to salvage. Whether I had the courage to confront this and risk the comfort we had built is another story.

10 Months Ago —

My phone flashes with a message as I am sitting at my desk pouring over textbooks.

Alexia: Be ready at 6, dress comfortably.

As I went to respond, I couldn't hide the bright grin growing on my face. Ever since that day two months ago, Alexia and I had been texting nonstop, talking about anything, everything and all that's in between. I couldn't help but feel as if the universe had dropped a gift into my lap. Alexia was unbelievably attentive and rather charming, further adding to my ever growing feelings for her. As we kept talking nonstop, we found that we were completely different. She's a professional footballer, I do not know a singular thing about football. I study film with a minor in astronomy, she is not very well versed in either of those. However, we are similar in every aspect that matters. Although I couldn't shake the feeling that this was all too good to be true, she is undeniably attractive, charming, funny, the list goes on and on. Why would she settle for an overworked university student with a mundane part time job?

I push all those thoughts away for later as I start to get ready, considering this will be our first date, if it even is a date. I needed to be prepared, but not too prepared.

Hours pass and I am now in Alexia's car as music softly plays from the console and her hand is lightly resting on my thigh, as if it was always meant to be there.

“Pretty pleasee just tell me where we’re going” I turn to her with the biggest puppy dog eyes, which seem to not work as she just chuckles and shakes her head. “We’re almost there, just a little patience baby” She murmurs and kisses my hand as a way of apologising.

Alexia starts to put the car into park and quickly leaves the car to open my door, ever the gentlewoman. She intertwines her hand with mine as she leads me into a very familiar building. “Uhm Alexia, why are we at the astronomy club?” I look to her with a very confused frown as she looks to me with the softest smile that completely melts my heart, “I got us tickets to a private rooftop stargazing event hosted by a local astronomy club” She speaks with excitement lacing every word, she couldn't even get the words out before I jump into her arms and squeeze her into the tightest hug known to man as a way to try show a glimmer of the feelings taking over my heart due to her unexpected attentiveness. She just smiles at me and gently kisses my forehead as if I am the softest thing in the world, I think I will just melt into a puddle of gush right then and there because of all her actions.

She once again takes my hand as we ascend the stairs to the rooftop, my heart races with excitement and anticipation. The night sky stretches out above creating a vast canvas of twinkling stars and constellations.

Upon reaching the rooftop, we’re greeted by a cosy setup complete with blankets, pillows, and telescopes. Soft music plays in the background, a realisation hits me suddenly. This is the song that was playing when I gave Alexia my number two months ago. The pure amount of consideration, care and thought that Alexia put into this date is making my eyes water, Alexia takes notice of this and immediately comes to engulf me with a hug as she lightly peppers kisses on my head. How did I get so lucky?

She starts to lead me, according to her, to the prime stargazing spot. She snakes her hands around my waist as her chin rests in the crook between my shoulder and neck while I peer through the telescope. “Alexia, you need to see this!” I excitedly tell her but to my surprise she shakes her head “I’d rather stay here with you” I turn to her with the biggest grin as I kiss her cheek and tell her various stories about all the constellations.

As the night wears on, we find ourselves lost in each other's company, our laughter mingling with the soft strains of music and the rustle of the night. With each passing moment, my heart swells more and more with a sense of warmth and belonging, a feeling I had never imagined I could find in another person.

And as the night starts to draw to a close, Alexia leans in, her movements slow and deliberate, as if savouring every moment leading up to the kiss. As I was thinking that the anticipation was going to be the death of me, I felt the warmth of Alexia's breath against my skin as our lips meet in a tender embrace, the world falling away, leaving only the sensation of Alexia's lips against mine, incredibly soft and inviting. My fingers instinctively tangle in Alexia's hair, pulling her as close to me as humanly possible. In that fleeting moment, everything feels right in the world.

#woso x reader #woso fic #woso imagine #barca femeni x reader #woso community #fcb femeni #alexia putellas #alexia x reader #Alexia putellas x reader #Spotify #woso #woso fanfic #woso fanfics #alexia putellas x you #alexia putellas x y/n #woso blurbs #woso couples #barcelona femeni #fc barcelona

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kaisfruit · 6 months

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Hello love! I love your posts so much and I was wondering if I could request a Cole smut one shot? I mean, I saw your head canons and you said you could go on for longer, girl please do!??

Starved | Cole x Fem!Reader

A/N; I DONT KNOW U TWO, BUT U TWO ANONS MWAH !!! I LOVE U GUYS! i wanted to go so in depth w cole cuz i am unbelievably attrracted to that man i aint afraid to admit it. also, neither of yall specified BUT! im going w fem!reader since u both came from the fem!reader hcs <3

warnings; nsfw under the cut <3, cunnilingus, size kink, pussy drunk cole, unprotected p in v (pls wrap it b4 u tap it yall), probably some typos/grammar mistakes cuz i am way too scared to ask anyone to read this beforehand, and uhh i think that's it!

word count; 4.4k (i may have gotten a bit carried away im sorry yall)

Dinner was a favorite time amongst the ninja. It was time to unwind, to have fun, and enjoy each other's company. You had been chatting idly to Lloyd, who sat to your right, for a majority of the time. He was a bit quieter compared to some of the others (full shade to Jay, Kai, Cole, and Nya) and it seemed as if the mundane practice of just a normal conversation was a great relaxer for the green ninja, so he was definitely one of your preferred dinner companions. That didn’t mean there wasn’t chaos going on around you guys. Jay, who was to your left, seemed to be in a full shouting argument with Kai who sat directly across from the blue ninja. The topic of their angry musings was unknown to you, but Lloyd kept making commentary on it every now and again which you would happily add onto.

Across from you sat Cole, then to his left was Nya, and the head of the table was occupied by Zane while opposite him on the other end sat Pixal. Zane seemed content to exist in the company of all of you, only chiming in when he felt like it was needed, but he and Nya were definitely whispering jokes to each other every now again between bites of their food. Pixal, you noticed, was actually jokingly joining in on Kai and Jay’s argument. She would add in one point that was completely absurd and it would cause the other two to blow up again. That robot could be devious when she really wanted to be.

Then there was Cole. You were surprised that he wasn’t also a part of the argument, but you suppose the topic of…maybe devil worship? You weren’t sure, but still, whatever it was didn’t seem to interest the earth ninja. To be fair, you knew the other was prone to getting entranced into whatever he was eating at the moment and Zane had done wonderfully with tonight’s dinner (as he always did) so it was understandable really.

“And, yeah, I don’t know. I just don’t really understand why I’ve always got to be doing something.” Lloyd finished his story up and you nodded along, having listened intently the entire time.

“I don’t know either man,” you shrugged as you took a sip of your water, “your shit is always getting rocked one way or another.” That caused a slight snort of amusement to exit the green ninja. “I mean, I would’ve already changed my government name and gone into hiding if I were in your shoes.”

Lloyd let out a sigh. “That’s the dream. I don’t know if I could do all of that. Couldn’t leave you guys behind at all. That’d suck big time. Ninjago should just get its shit together so we can have some slice of life anime lives.” You nodded enthusiastically at that idea.

“Ooo yeah. And then we could have like fun drama like…what outfit am I going to wear tomorrow or oh no my hair is so bad!”

“Yes! You’re getting it.” Lloyd grinned. “I think I should get a cat.” His mind wandered constantly, so you were only slightly jarred by the sudden conversation change. “I’ve heard that their purrs do some sort of healing and I could for sure use some of that.”

“I think we’d all like having a cat around.” You added on. “They’re sort of independent, so it would be a good pet for our lifestyle.”

Lloyd was about to respond to you, y’know how conversations work, when all of a sudden Jay slammed his palms onto the table as the “argument” had escalated. It caused the table to shake and before you could stop it your water glass had fallen down and drenched your shirt. You let out a loud gasp which quickly caught the attention of everyone.

“Oh my God, [name], I’m so sorry!” Jay began profusely apologizing, scrambling about the table to find some napkins. Kai was howling with laughter just happy to not be the one who fucked something up. Lloyd was a bit in shock, Zane and Nya had both gotten up to grab some towels from the kitchen with Pixal not far behind, and Cole seemed to be frozen. You were too caught up in the water seeping through your clothes to notice, but the ninja sat opposite you seemed to have his eyes locked onto you, his body tense.

“Jay, it’s fine.” You quickly reassured as you stood up, Cole’s eyes following the movement carefully, “I’ll just go get changed. It’s no big deal.” You tried giving the blue ninja a comforting smile, but you could tell the guilt was already eating him alive and it’d be hard to get him out of that state for a while. You’d try again later, you decided.

Letting those who had left to the kitchen know where you were going, you made your way to your room with your arms held awkwardly in the air so that the weird feeling of the wet fabric wouldn’t be sticking to your skin too bad. Before you could forget, you made a quick stop by the bathroom in order to grab a towel from the cabinet.

Finally having made it to your room, you were quick to tug your shirt off and throw it somewhere on the floor. A sigh of relief left your lips as you began to dry off your top half with the previously acquired towel. With a frown, you removed your bra as well since the water had made it to that garment too and once you were sure your skin felt dry you dropped the towel onto your bed and you made your way to your closet.

You were bent over getting into your dresser looking for a new bra when you heard a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” You called over your shoulder, still digging around in the dresser.

“Uhhh Cole! Is it okay if I come in?”

“I’m sort of changing right now!”

“I won’t look!”

You huffed out a laugh at that. It was sort of indecent to let him in when you were like that, but he did promise not to look. But what if he did? That thought caused your cheeks to heat up a bit. To be completely honest, you were almost entirely head over heels for the earth ninja. The only reason you didn’t choose to spend every dinner chatting to him is because you knew part of you would slip up and embarrass yourself in one way or another. Not to say he didn’t do his fair share of embarrassing himself, but you found that endearing. He’d probably think you were weird and off putting if you were to just slip up randomly.

“Fiiinneeee!” You agreed against your better judgment. “No peeking!”

You could hear a chuckle rumble from the man as the faint sound of the door clicking open hit your ears. Chancing a glance behind you, you smiled fondly at the sight of Cole with his hands over his eyes as he shut the door behind him. He stood completely still after that too scared to make his way to a place to sit with him completely blind like that.

“Soooo, what’s up?” You finally asked, trying to not get irritated at the fact that you couldn’t seem to find another bra in your dresser.

“I just wanted to check in on you.” Cole answered, his voice strained. “I’ll gladly beat Jay up for you. Swear.” That had you giggling.

“You’d beat Jay up over anything.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re just looking for an excuse to.”

“Nuh uh.”

“You can take a seat, y’know.” You changed the topic, about damn near close to giving up and just going braless (you wouldn’t actually. It sounded comfortable, but you didn’t want to expose yourself like that.)

Cole cleared his throat slightly. “No way! I’d totally bump into like a shelf or something!! All of your shit would be broken and then I’d have to beat myself up after beating up Jay!”

Another laugh escaped you at that. Was all of it made funnier by the fact that it was Cole? Maybe. Afterwards, you went silent as your mind began racing. This could be your chance? Would he think it’s weird?

“Hey, I,” you bit your lip in a pause, “I don’t mind if you open your eyes…” You finally spoke, getting ready to just laugh it off like it was just a joke. What a prankster you are!

Cole seemed to go oddly silent after you said that and you were sweating bullets. The tension that filled the room was suffocating. Quickly, you snapped up with your back still to Cole. That action was followed by the sound of footsteps almost as if the other ninja had begun walking closer.

You were about ready to apologize profusely when Cole’s low voice broke the silence, “can I ask you something, [name]?”

“Anything…” You murmured, still facing the other way.

“Can I…” There was a pause, an eerily similar pause to the one you had earlier. He was hesitant as he seemed to be fighting some inner battle.

Without thinking, you quickly turned around not caring about your current topless situation and you pulled Cole down in order to plant a fierce kiss to his lips. You were about to apologize for your impulsivity and how you should’ve asked first and not assumed, but Cole’s hands came to rest on your waist and he let out a low groan as he melted into the kiss.

You weren’t small by any means, but it was making your knees weak at the feeling of his hands just absolutely dwarfing your waist. Those hands pulled you closer to where your chest was pressed against him and the feeling of the bulge in his pants against your hips caused you to gasp which he took advantage of and slipped his tongue into your mouth. You let out a small whine at the action, but quickly reciprocated even if you let him have control of the kiss.

Eventually, the need for air arose and you reluctantly parted with him, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. His eyes searched yours, as if something in your gaze held the answer to every question he had ever asked, as his hands slowly wandered to the area beneath your ass. After a bit of panting between the two of you, the kiss quickly resumed and he lifted you up easily causing your stomach to do flips. You wrapped both of your legs around his back and took appreciation in the new angle as it was much easier than having him lean down as much as he was.

The kiss broke as his lips began trailing downward. A shiver ran down your spine at the sensation of his lips on your neck and your breath hitched as he lightly nipped and sucked at the skin there.

“You’re gorgeous…” He breathed against your neck.

Between your harsh intakes of breath, you eventually got out, “Cole, I need you.” Which caused another low groan to escape him.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about hearing that come from your lips.” Cole had begun walking over to your bed and gently sat you down atop it as he crawled on top of you. He had barely even done anything, but you already felt like your brain was turning into mush. The sight of his body hovering over yours is something you’ve only ever dreamed about and you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together. That movement caught his attention, but he had to pace himself. Make sure everything was alright with you. You were operating at hyperspeed, however, and began reaching to the hem of his shirt. That didn’t go unnoticed by him either and he was quick to yank the material up and over his head. He flung the shirt onto the floor of your room as you laid there, stunned, at the sight of his body.

Cole was, well you knew he was big, but he was beefy. Clearly, he was muscular, but he had some chubbiness going for him as well and, God, you don’t know if you’ve ever needed anyone more. He was perfect. You started to sit up so that you could absolutely just feel him up, but he didn’t let you get up. Instead, he ran his hands down your stomach towards your shorts. You looked at him confused and he just leaned in close, his breath fanning across your ear.

“I want to make this about you.” His hands had successfully unbuttoned and zipped down your shorts. “Call me selfish, but I need to make you feel good. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t treat you like the finest piece of cake in the damn bakery?” To many, that’d be a cause for laughter, but knowing Cole, that meant everything. He slowly pulled away from your ear and you couldn’t help but look at him with the purest look of adoration after that. Even in a situation as intimate as this, he still managed to get the butterflies in your stomach to go haywire.

Cole slowly slid your shorts down your legs and off of your body. They probably ended up somewhere near where his shirt did. His eyes were transfixed at the wet spot that had formed on your underwear and he found himself subconsciously licking his lips. You, on the other hand, were staring at him with anticipation wondering what his next move would be. Gingerly, his hands came to rest on your waist and you shivered. His thumbs hooked into the last garment you had on, but he paused to look up at you. His eyes were searching yours once more.

“Is this okay?” He finally asked, his voice soft. Your enthusiastic nod put him into action and he quickly slid your panties off of your legs.

Cole could’ve sworn he was fucking salivating at the sight of your core fully exposed to him. He placed his hands underneath your knees and used that position to spread your legs open for ease of access. Knowing he still had his pants on, you were curious to what his current plan was until your eyes widened as you watched his head lower to rest between your thighs. Your face was flushed red and you could feel yourself trembling slightly. What he was about to do was just so…intimate? It felt more like a once the relationship has officially started activity, but it seems he wasn’t even kidding when he said he’d treat you like cake. Was he trying to ruin you for anyone else? (As if you’d want anyone else.)

The breath was knocked out of you as he took one small lick of you. You could’ve sworn you heard a noise escape him as well, but you weren’t given time to even think as he instantly dove back in. He had started eating you out like a man starved. His tongue moved along your pussy masterfully, making careful movements along your clit which caused punctuated whines to escape your mouth. You couldn’t help but reach a hand down to rest on the back of his head which he seemed to enjoy. Cole then made his tongue flatten out in order to lap up as much of your juices as possible. As if this wasn’t enough to get his fill, his tongue finally plunged into your hole and a gasp left your lips that slowly morphed into a low moan. This man was eating you up and you’re pretty sure your mind was completely gone by this point. What was your name? Who cares? Cole was giving you pleasure you had never experienced before and that’s literally all that mattered at this point. If your head wasn’t so far up in the clouds, you probably would’ve noticed that Cole was grinding up against the bed as he ate you out.

Your grip tightened in Cole’s hair and a moan left his lips which seemed to vibrate along your cunt.

“C-Cole–” His name was but a mere whimper along your lips and it only encouraged him to move his mouth against you faster. You felt the knot in your stomach twist up as your peak approached. You were practically grinding up against his tongue which Cole enjoyed immensely. He could not get enough and it rewarded him as you practically exploded all over his tongue. He was licking up as much of your climax as he could as you were still shaking in post-orgasmic bliss. Your vision felt blurry at the continued stimulation that carried you down from your high and you were faintly aware of the moans and whimpers making their way out of your throat.

Honestly, you had expected him to stop, but even one orgasm wasn’t enough to satisfy him. Cole was still lost in the taste of your pussy. You felt a bit of pain flare up at the overstimulation and you were trying to gently pull at his hair.

“Cole,” you whimpered, “h…hurts.” That fell on deaf ears as he just continued on. You thought he hadn’t heard you, but a shit eating look was sent your way and you knew he was trying to work you up.

“Just one more.” He growled along your folds as he moved up to suck on your clit which caused a jolt to travel through your body. It seems as if he had enough of your trembles as his arms came up to rest on your thighs. The position still keeping your legs spread, but his strength kept your lower half still as he continued his ‘feast’. Your moans and whines had definitely picked up in pace at this moment as the pain began to border on pleasure.

Your second orgasm came much faster.

He licked it up just as enthusiastically as he did the first time. You think he probably would’ve tried to keep going for a third time if you didn’t forcefully pull him up this time. There was a sheen of your slick that shined around Cole’s mouth and you looked away slightly in embarrassment. Cole, meanwhile, was licking around his mouth trying to get whatever he had missed.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you attempted to catch your breath after all of that. The shifting of Cole’s body was what finally caught your attention. The ninja was moving himself from above your body to your side and it looked as if he was moving to lay down next to you. All signs of lethargy left your body as you quickly sat up and rested a hand on his chest. Cole stared at you with a tilt of his head, the confusion bubbling within him evident.

“What about you?” You asked, still breathing a bit heavy.

“What about me?” Cole replied a bit dumbly.

“You know…” You muttered, a tad bit embarrassed, but you rested a hand over his painfully hard bulge in his pants. The feeling caused him to shiver and he looked down, realization dawning on him.

“Oh, it’s okay.” He said, picking your hand up and removing it from his crotch. “I said I just wanted to take care of you, right?”

“Yeah you did,” you started, “but I said I need you, didn’t I?” Cole nodded slowly, but a small frown was still on his face.

“Aren’t you tired?”

A sigh left your mouth. “A little, BUT.” You emphasized, noticing how he had opened his mouth to speak after you said that. “God damnit Cole. No way am I going to finally get you into my bed just to have you not dick me down. I don’t care how sensitive I am, I need you to fuck me.” You could barely believe what you had just said, but it got the job done. Albeit a bit slowly.

“...Are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt you…”

“I have never been more fucking sure in my life.”

Seeing as he wasn’t moving, you lunged over to him to begin slipping his basketball shorts down. Noticing your haste, Cole finally started taking initiative. If it’s what you wanted then he just had to give it. With a better method, Cole slipped off his shorts and boxers off together in one swift motion. And, boy, did he not disappoint. EVERY part of him was big, you had just found out. Saliva pooled up in your mouth at the sight of his cock as you couldn’t take your size off of it. If you weren’t so needy, you probably would’ve taken him into your mouth right then and there, but Cole already had a hand on your shoulder forcing you to lay back down as he positioned himself right above you again.

Your pussy was definitely still slick from the mix of your own arousal and Cole’s saliva and he ran a finger between your folds before shoving it into you. His tongue hadn’t been as thick as his finger, but it still wasn’t much to adjust to. The second finger proved to be more filling and your breath was once again escaping in huffs.

It took a bit until Cole had either thought you ready or just gotten impatient, but he pulled his fingers out of you and lined his dick up with your entrance. A pause. You were about ready to complain until the breath was taken swiftly from your lungs as he slowly pushed in. As he slid in further and further, the more your breaths turned into short moans. It felt as if he filled absolutely every part of you and it was addicting. The stretch hurt, but it was so deliciously overpowered by the pleasure of him finally being inside you. Though, Cole still didn’t even attempt to move until you gave him the go ahead.

From there, he started at a slow but deep pace. It was a sensual experience. Above you, Cole was letting out little huffs and groans at the feeling of your walls around his member. He could explode right then and there if he wanted to. But, he continued at this pace of almost completely removing himself from your hole before pushing balls deep back in. It was excruciating.

“F..fa…faster.” You panted at him. And who would he be if he denied you this request?

The sound of skin slapping skin echoed around the room as Cole slowly began picking up the pace. His hips were pistoning in and out of you at a rapid pace, and you think you finally understood the phrasing of “being fucked stupid.”

Every push in had you moaning loudly. It was either moans or a broken moan of Cole’s name which made him go in a bit harder every time you did that. His head hung low until it was resting in the crook of your neck. The groans and low moans that were leaving the man only turned you on more and you about screamed his name when he bit into your neck. There were no thoughts of anyone here at the monastery hearing you two, as far as you cared, you and Cole were the only people in Ninjago at this point. All of your senses seemed to be completely filled by the man anyways.

The feeling of his licking, sucking, and biting along your neck combined with his rough abuse of your pussy brought you close to your third climax of the night which might be a record for you.

“C-Cole, I’m-I’m close.” You whined, your voice barely audible over the sound of him fucking you.

“God, me too.” He moaned against your neck. Cole was determined to not let go until you had, so he reached a hand down to start playing with your clit as he continued fucking into you. That absolutely sent you over the edge and you screamed as you came all over Cole’s cock. He continued thrusting into you throughout your orgasm which only made it feel that much better. His hips began stuttering in their movements and he was quick to pull himself out of the vice grip your pussy had on him. Cole wrapped a hand around his cock and jerked himself off the rest of the way until his cum started landing on your stomach. He let out tiny grunts as he fucked into his hand a bit before letting go.

You made sure he was looking at you when you scooped up some of his release and licked it off your fingers. He really had to save that image for the next time he masterbated.

Before he even allowed himself to lay down next to you, Cole carefully got up and reached for the towel you had used earlier to dry yourself off and used it to wipe his release off of your stomach, a small ‘sorry’ leaving his mouth as he did so. He was cute.

Finally, his body dropped harshly at your side and you giggled tiredly at him. Cole rolled over to look at you and you held your arms open, a silent question for him to come cuddle you.

His strong arms wrapped around your body and you rested your head on his chest, listening to his calming heartbeat. Cole found where your covers started and threw them over the both of you which only made you snuggle in even closer to him.

You two sat there in silence for so long, just catching your breaths, that you nearly fell asleep.

“Hey, [name].” You startled at the sound of his voice. A non-committal ‘hm?’ is what you hummed in response and he just rested his nose on the top of your head in your hair. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

A content sigh left your lips and you sleepily looked up, causing him to remove his head from its place. “Of course, Cole.” One of your hands slipped out from under the covers and cradled one of his cheeks. You leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on the other cheek.

“Now, let’s get some sleep. We can talk about the details later.” You said through a yawn and he just smiled at you fondly. You both returned to your previous positions and slowly drifted off, and for once, neither of you felt fear or dread for what was to come in the future.

#ninjago #ninjago x reader #ninjago fanfiction #cole x reader #cole brookstone #cole brookstone x reader

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theragethatisdesire · 20 days

Text

perzītsos - bakugou katsuki x afab!reader, 18+!!

uh....surprise! i really love asoiaf, and i've seen so many posts about barbarian!katsuki, but i wasn't really successful in writing him, so here's my take on a fantasy au with katsuki. this takes place pre-fire and blood, really in the "medieval" days of the targaryen dynasty, with a targaryen heir!reader. i took some creative liberties with targaryen marriage customs, but i think they're sorta fun.

this is a beast of a one-shot, but there's lots of lore preceding this (do i smell a prequel?), including that reader asked for katsuki's hand in marriage, and neither of them were really expecting to wind up in a marriage bed together. i normally don't write virginity loss, but i made an exception for these two, i really do love them!!! fair warning, there's lots of high valyrian in here, which i don't speak fluently either, so i'm going to add some translations at the end :)

"perzītsos" - "little flame"

enjoy <3

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

wc: 13.5k (told ya it's a beast)

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut. bakugou is roughly twenty-eight in this fic.

cws: virginity loss, aged-up characters, fingering, oral sex (fem!receiving, male!receiving mentioned), reader has female anatomy, smut, pretentious amounts of high valyrian pet names

𖤓

Leaving the raucous merriment of the great hall behind, its stone walls bursting at the seams with the raunchy, jeering calls of Bakugou’s soldiers and the titters of the ladies of the court, only seems to emphasize the echoing silence of your chambers. The servants had completed the arduous job of transferring your things into your new apartments today; you recognize the tapestries that had decorated your walls since you were a child, now dwarfed by the massive dimensions of your new quarters, and the candelabra you’d been gifted by a nobleman at your seventh name day sits upon a newly constructed ebony desk.

Nearly every hard surface in the room—desks, tables, even small areas of the floor—has been covered in the fat, yellow beeswax candles crafted in the kitchens many stories below your feet, flames dancing and casting shadows this way and that over the stone walls. Many a night have you forgone sleep in favor of losing yourself in the waltz of a small fire on a wick, the sometimes-frantic, sometimes-untroubled rhythm of the flame in the breeze of an open window. Tonight, though, not even the hundreds of flames, these little extensions of the hot, ancient blood that flows through your veins, can distract you from your fate.

“I remember these rooms,” you say offhandedly, bringing one hand to the fine curtains that hang around the tapestry bed, “they were my mother’s.”

Bakugou stays stock still where he stands, letting you examine the marriage bed. The wood was brought into these chambers several weeks ago, alongside a handful of master carpenters. The bed is enormous, easily large enough for three people to get a full night’s sleep without touching each other. It had been built inside of the room so that the intended dimensions could be fulfilled without the worry of actually fitting it through the door, which it would not. The sight of it makes an apprehensive shiver rock through your frame.

“You were born here,” Bakugou says gruffly, catching you by surprise. “I remember.”

You turn to face him, eyebrows raised cautiously at his decision to speak. Considering what lies before you both, the breach in his silence is appreciated, if unexpected. He’s hardly said two words to you all night; two words besides the lengthy wedding vows you’d exchanged before gods and men alike, speaking them practically into each other’s mouths in the purring, labyrinthine cadence of the Old Tongue. The metallic taste of his blood, brushed onto your tongue by his own thumb, is still nestled between your teeth, worryingly permanent.

“You remember?”

“Hardly.” Bakugou diverts his gaze from you to where your marriage bed lies, squinting his eyes as if he’s trying to remember what it had looked like more than twenty years past. “I was three.”

It shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it is, given that you’d practically been raised alongside Bakugou, taken your first steps, tasted your first victories, had your first stumbles under his watchful crimson gaze. The required distance had been there, as you’d always been more of an heir than a little girl, and Bakugou had been busy with his training anyhow, but he was a steadfast part of your memories, even if he had been mostly in the blurry peripherals until the most recent years. This confession, that he had stood in the same room as your howling, bloodied form had been brought into the world, makes you feel more exposed than you already do in your thin gown.

Bakugou must take notice of how your shoulders unintentionally tense up, because his lips pull into a small frown, not one of anger, but seemingly guilt. You sigh, rolling your shoulders back and squaring yourself to face him, trying not to let your cheeks burn hot as your nipples peak under the singular layer of fabric hiding the finer details of your body from him. He’s intimidating, and both of you know it, but considering that you’re the reason you two find yourselves in this room, you think that maybe you should be the one to guide him along.

Bakugou approaches you slowly, making a noticeable effort to dull down the soldier’s swagger he normally walks with, holding your gaze with what you surmise is his best attempt to look open and mild-tempered. You notice how he pointedly avoids looking at your body, how it’s silhouetted by the candlelight and showing itself as a dark, shapely shadow in the white fabric of your gown. He’s close enough to touch now, toes only inches from yours. You’re reminded of how close you stood during the ceremony, how he had sworn to give his life for you, to you. Ānogar ānograro.

“They’re waiting,” you say quietly, eyes darting to the four servants in each corner of the room. Bakugou follows your gaze, and his frown grows deeper.

“May I speak freely?” It’s a laughable question coming from him, but it’s a kindhearted gesture, so you bite into your lip and nod your acquiesce.

“You’re my husband,” you say, trying not to feel discouraged at the pink tinge that rises to his cheeks, “I always want you to speak freely.”

Through a stiff nod of understanding, Bakugou lets a deep breath exhale through his nose before pinning you in place with a scrutinizing gaze. “Have you been…kissed, before?”

“Of course I have, Bakugou.” You can’t hide the breathless chuckle that comes fluttering from your lips, the dangerous hint of a relieved smile that begins to carve into your cheeks.

“Katsuki,” he says, the corner of his own mouth curling when his simple request for familiarity wipes the glimmer of smugness straight away from your face. “Your husband, remember?”

“Katsuki,” you repeat, letting the letters make a home for themselves on your tongue. Something flashes in his eyes, and he clears his throat. You can’t make out the shape of what’s flickered across his face, but you can feel the heat thrumming from his eyes to yours.

“What else?”

“What do you mean?” Your nose wrinkles in confusion, entirely lost on what point he’s trying to make. Katsuki narrows his eyes, clears his throat uncomfortably.

“What else do you have…experience with?”

Oh. He wants to know if you’ve been touched, where you’ve been touched, possibly even by whom. It’s your turn to shuffle your bare feet on the cold stone floor, to look solidly ahead at the v in the collar of his loose tunic, the slope of his neck, anywhere but his eyes. Your stomach begins to roil at the implication of this, of baring yourself to him wholly. It won’t be the first time you do it tonight, and certainly not the last.

“I’ve– um, done most things.” You somehow summon the courage to meet his gaze again, staring up defiantly. “I hope that’s not a disappointment to you.”

“You had no obligation to me before today.” Katsuki shakes his head, as if to dispel the very notion that you even have something to refuse to apologize for. It brings a spark of warmth to your heart, a hum of satisfaction pulsing through you that you’d chosen your husband well, at least in this regard. “But you are a virgin?”

You can’t control the way your eyes go wide, blinking hurriedly at him when he asks the question. Your fingertips grow hot, and you aren’t sure which potential answer would be the least mortifying, so you opt to stick with the truth.

“Yes,” you say, so lowly it’s near a whisper, “I’m a virgin.”

Katsuki swears quietly in the Old Tongue, and though you’re more focused on your feet than his face, you can see the awkward repositioning of his feet, how his hands clench and unclench at your confession. He’s your husband, you scold yourself, you have no need for fear. You jerk your head up to look unflinchingly at his face, unapologetic in your stance. Despite the way he had voiced his indifference to your prior experiences, you can see some strange mixture of relief, nerves, and that same undefinable heat rising to his face, coloring his features and darkening his eyes.

His eyes run over your consummation gown, long, loose, and traditional as they come, lovingly hand-stitched by your longest serving lady-in-waiting. Your handmaidens had taken the liberty of freshening you up after the feast, scrubbing most of the heavy, ash-black ceremony makeup from the bridge of your nose, wiping the kohl from your eyes until you were bare. Your elaborate wedding hairstyle had been let down and reworked into a long, singular braid down your back, loosely secured by a knot of cowhide. That, amongst other things, is for him, and only him.

“After this,” Katsuki wets his lips with his tongue, “we won’t share a bed again–”

“Katsuki–”

“Not until you’re ready,” he amends. His fingers twitch by his sides, a boyish gesture for a man of his massive stature.

“I’m your wife,” you say, puzzled and looking up at him, “I may be a virgin now, but I’m no stranger to what that entails.”

A heavy breath shakes through Katsuki’s frame, and his brows knit together in an expression of comfortingly familiar exasperation. You almost want to smile back at him.

“I expected as much,” he says, one hand reaching forward ever so slowly to brush tentatively through your fingers dangling at your side, to pinch at the thin fabric of your gown and rub it between his fingers, “but that’s a matter for the morning.”

You catch the implication in his tone, in the way he’s holding the sheet separating you from him. There’s something to be taken care of. Your palms turn clammy, fingers beginning to tremble by your sides. It takes everything in you to set your jaw and look up at him, shoulders rolled back and expression carefully schooled into something that you can only pray approaches a warm neutrality.

“Would you like to take it off?” Your eyes flit from your gown to his face.

Katsuki considers you, dragging his eyes over your frame at an agonizingly slow rate, still maddeningly rubbing that fabric between his fingers. Suddenly, his face crumples into a scowl.

“You’re shaking,” he says matter-of-factly. Your cheeks warm, wishing he wouldn’t have brought it up. “Are you nervous?”

“Not of you,” you answer him truthfully, willing the tension in your spine to melt into pleasurable anticipation. Katsuki catches your meaning instantly, the concern in his eyes glittering into something more akin to the anger that settles so comfortably into the frown lines on his face, that strikes his sharp features so suddenly and beautifully you almost gasp.

“Turn around,” he barks suddenly, his posture straightening into that of the formidable general you’ve known him as all your life, not the surprisingly gentle husband he’s shown himself to be in the last few minutes. You start in his arms, beginning to spin on your heels to follow his command when his hands catch you by the shoulders, an apology writing its way into the fine features of his face.

“But you said–”

“Them.” Katsuki jerks his head towards the servants posted in each corner who are, miraculously, turned away from the two of you, heads down and poised towards the corner. You look up to Katsuki in amazement, and his eyes soften. “I wouldn’t speak to you that way.”

“Oh.” It’s light and not enough when it falls from your mouth, and you want to apologize, but Katsuki’s already loosening his grip on your shoulders, urging you to spin.

“Now you,” he says gently, “turn around.”

Too stunned by the duality of him to argue, the whetted and wartorn angles of him contrasting with this unbearable softness, you turn your back to him, urging yourself to relax under the weight of his hands. Katsuki’s hands subtly squeeze your shoulders, as if to warn you of their departure, and the next time you feel his touch, it’s on the end of your long braid, his scarred fingers fumbling with the cowhide tie.

You hold your breath as you feel the tension along your scalp go slack; he’s gotten the tie off of your braid. Katsuki’s fingers begin to methodically comb through your long hair, starting at the bottom and working his way up, deftly avoiding knots and keeping the lightly-oiled strands from tangling themselves as he undoes your braid. He’s surprisingly good at it, and an unexpected pang of pain accompanies your curious thought as to whether he’s had much practice undoing a woman’s hair, something so sacred. Before you can ruminate on the hurt beginning to come to a simmer in your chest, Katsuki’s spinning you back around, causing the calming perfume of your hair oil to cloud around your head as your hair fans out. It centers you, gives you the wherewithal to look up into his eyes.

Katsuki’s face is candid, beautifully so, in the way he regards you. Crimson eyes dart over every feature you have to offer him, now so wild and unbidden compared to your usual state of being, and he reaches a tentative hand towards your hair, before flinching and pulling back. You shake your head, bringing a hand out to catch his and pull it back towards the part of you he so clearly wants to touch before you can think better of it. Katsuki’s eyes widen, only momentarily, before his face settles into an expression of quiet approval, and he runs his fingers through your hair again, less purposeful this time and more for the simple pleasure of memorizing the feel of you under his hands. You blink up at him, waiting.

“Gevie,” he mumbles under his breath, watching how his fingers card through your unruly hair. He mistakenly brushes your nipple, still peaked under your consummation gown, and realizes what he’s done when you gasp lightly.

“It’s okay,” you say hurriedly, surprising yourself when you realize that you mean it. Your back has already begun to arch unwittingly towards him, as if your body has accepted him as your husband while your mind is still trying to wrap itself around the idea. “Touch me.”

You can see the thought cross Katsuki’s face before he even reaches for your gown, pinching it at the hips on either side of you.

“Do you want to take it off, or would you like me to?” Katsuki says, hardly louder than a whisper. You blink, still trying to marry this man with the outspoken, ruthless general you’d invited to the altar with you.

“Traditionally, the man–”

“I know,” Katsuki says, a bit of an agonized bite behind his words. You bite your lip, worried that you’ve finally overstepped, but he sighs, heavy and surrendered. “I know what happens traditionally. I don’t care. We’re doing this on your terms.”

“My terms,” you repeat slowly, trying to gather his meaning.

“Yes,” Katsuki affirms, “your terms. Now, do you want to take your gown off, or do you want me to?”

You want to run to the washroom to realign your expectations, is what you want to do. This is supposed to be quick, you remember your handmaidens preparing you with monstrous stories of being unceremoniously bent over the bed, gown ripped to shreds or simply shoved above your hips instead of carefully pulled between a considerate thumb and finger. You study him, study that freshly sincere affection on his face, his willingness to bring you through this unscathed and…dare you say it, satisfied. Your hand, which, so lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed drifting, comes up to cup his sharp jaw, plush palm giving against the angle of his face.

“I want you to,” you say, nodding when his eyebrows raise in surprise. “I want you to take it off of me, please.”

Katsuki only answers you with a curt nod of his own, schooling his momentarily bewildered expression back into one of careful concentration, more for your benefit than his, you think. You can feel a slight tremor in his hands when he brings them to the strings that suffice for your gown’s sleeves, little more than strips of fabric tied in loose bows over your shoulder. Despite the painstakingly beautiful embroidery in the stiff linen, curling flames and stars rising from the hem of your gown, everything else about the design of the garment reveals its purpose: to be removed.

You hold your breath while he works at the tied strings, partly because you feel like you should and partly because the slightest brush of his fingers over your skin feels so climactic that you feel that it should make a sound, maybe that of pottery breaking or lightning clapping across a dark sky. It’s silent, the slip of the linen through itself, three cautious pulls and your gown is sagging on one side, the collar falling until your nipple is almost exposed. You gulp and try to look up to Katsuki, but his jaw is set, even grinding a bit in concentration as he keeps his gaze centered firmly on the bow he’s set upon on your right shoulder. You study him, looking for any indication that he’s anxious, or pleased, or disinterested, but he’s an unreadable mask of focus as his large fingers tug on the bow. It slides loose as easily as the first one had, and your gown slips from your body and crumples around your feet on the floor.

Katsuki sucks in a sharp inhale, forced to take in the sight of your naked body now that he’s finished his task. You watch intently as his eyes drag over every part of you, slow and savory, nostrils flaring and pupils dilating. You’re so exhilarated by his wild eyes taking you in, you almost forget to be insecure, to be nervous. This is something you might grow to enjoy, you think; Katsuki’s carefully concealed appetite.

“Am I alright?” You feel your mouth form the words, hear them float into the charged air. You don’t think you meant to ask, but once it’s out, you’re glad you did. It may be a politically-made marriage bed, but as fate would have it, your crown sits upon the head of a young woman, a young woman looking into the eyes of the man that would have her for his own, wanting to be thought of as a thing to be admired. Katsuki’s eyes flicker back to yours, and his brows knit together.

“Alright?” Katsuki’s eyes leave yours once more, and he meets his own gaze with a bold hand on your hip, thumb rubbing circles over your hipbone. “You’re more than alright, but you already know that.”

You feel so small, so silly when you tell him: “I was hoping you’d be the one to remind me.”

Katsuki understands then, meets your fixed look upon his face and lets that molten desire cool into something more digestible, easier to hold, and then he speaks. “Iksā gevie, ñuha ābrazȳrys.”

When you’d learned the Old Tongue as a child, you’d been taught to purr the sounds, to run them together like the slow, controlled flow of ink from the end of a feather. You learned to curl the consonants behind your teeth and let them breathe the same air for a beat, to birth the sounds into the world off of your tongue instead of simply pushing the air out. But when Katsuki speaks the Old Tongue it’s…a growl, forceful and quaking with restrained power. Raw and godlike, the words sound like they were written with his low rasp in mind.

Wife. His beautiful wife. Your breath hitches in your throat at the same time as a vicious swell of desire rips through you, mouth beginning to hang ajar. Katsuki frowns slightly, tilts his head.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Take me, then,” you say, breathless from your own courage. Katsuki’s eyes widen, and if you could see clearly through your own sudden lust, you’d see the corner of his mouth twitching. “Make me your wife.”

“I will,” Katsuki comes closer, speaking not smugly, but matter-of-factly. He slides one hand around your waist, thumbs at your chin with the other. “But there’s an order to these things.”

No sooner have you opened your mouth to protest Katsuki’s condescension than he’s closing the wide gap between his height and your plush, open lips, pressing his mouth to yours, and your mind goes quiet. You’ve been kissed upwards of a dozen times at this point, something you were proud to remind your ladies-in-waiting of this morning while they giggled and squealed about your big night with the general. A few princes, a handful of noblemen’s sons, the expected suspects. All your ladies had said in return was “Those are boys. The general is a man. You’ll see the difference.”

There’s nothing demanding or unkind in the way his fingers are pressing into the plush curve of your hip, but it’s firm, steady in a way you’ve never dreamed about being held. His hand spreads across your jawline, keeping you tilted up and open for him to move his mouth against. There’s none of the hurried pecking, no errant tongue forcing its way between your teeth before you can even offer– Katsuki’s a man. You understand now, understand your handmaidens’ flushed cheeks and the way they fanned themselves theorizing about whether your new husband was as ruthless in bed as he was on the battlefield. Katsuki makes a fire catch behind your ribs, a desperate urge to impress, to keep your now horrifyingly-apparent lack of experience under wraps.

You bring a hand to the back of his neck, willing yourself not to tremble, and card your fingers through the close-cropped hair, smiling when Katsuki’s lips stutter against your own. His grip on you tightens, one big hand slipping to the nape of your neck and pulling you flush against him. His tongue slips into your mouth, tasting like ceremonial wine and something mannish and mature; you’re hardly able to swallow the gasp that threatens to reveal how the pit of your stomach is beginning to curl in on itself. Your breasts are pressed tight against his chest, only separated from his skin by his linen tunic. The fabric kisses your sensitive nipples, brushing against the untouched skin, and despite yourself, you whimper pathetically into his waiting mouth, cheeks warming.

Katsuki pulls back, to your disappointment, and you begin to chew at your lip, frantically thinking through the last several minutes to wonder what you’ve done wrong. Had you been too forward, touching him back so quickly? Your fretting dies down quickly when you see that Katsuki’s only stepped back to finger the hem of his tunic, ripping it over his head. You only have a moment to catch a blurry flash of honed muscle and scarred skin before he’s back on you, calloused hands wrapping around your hips. It only takes a few moments of him kissing you, of your fingers dragging absentmindedly up his veiny forearm, before you ask him for what you want, palms pressed flat against his chest and pushing lightly.

His brows knit together, and his eyes flicker over your face, searching for any sign of discomfort. You take a deep inhale, hoping to hide how rapidly you’ve lost your breath to him, steeling yourself to look him in the eye.

“I want to see you.”

Katsuki’s face screws up almost comically, and he tilts his head.

“See me?”

“See you.”

You take a step back, keeping your hands on his arms, holding him just where you want him and– is it a sight. He’s sharper than you would have imagined, deep grooves carving into his skin where his muscles bulge beneath it. You suck in a sharp breath as you let your eyes move slowly from his hardened stomach to his broad chest, little nicks dotting his skin where a stray swordtip had punctured armor, and a particularly nasty gash cutting across his front, stretching from his shoulder to his ribcage. It looks like it should have been fatal. Katsuki crosses his arms over his chest, maybe in an attempt to stop you from ogling him like you are, but it’s counterproductive; all he’s done is give you a golden opportunity to watch the skin of his arms stretch to accommodate the way his biceps swell and shrink with the movement, the twitching and flexing of each individual muscle laid bare for you to see clearly.

When your gaze finally returns to his face, you almost want to snort at his expression: pink cheeks, a scrunched nose, and eyebrows lifted to indicate just how entirely unimpressed he is with your drooling.

“Done ‘seeing’ me?” Katsuki asks, mouth lifting in just the smallest hint at a smile. Your heart flutters lightly in your chest; it’s the first attempt either of you have made at humor since your betrothal, and it’s hugely relieving to have something to smile about.

“It was only fair that I take my turn,” you say, gesturing down at your bare skin. Katsuki’s lips lift a little more until his gaze lowers; his eyes darken as he lets himself take you in. You can see the same thought crossing his mind just as it occurs to you: you belong to each other now, every bit of skin, muscle, heart that you’re bearing to each other isn’t just your own anymore. That scrunch in his nose, the scar across his chest, the way he narrows his eyes to study you. It all belongs to you now.

Katsuki steps forward, letting his hand interlace with yours, fingers hanging in the spaces between your own.

“Are you ready?” His question is no more than a puff of air against your forehead, both of you mercifully standing so close that you aren’t forced to look in his eyes when he asks.

“Yes.” Your voice shakes despite your attempt to be resolute in your answer, and you tighten your fingers around his in apology. It’s all new.

Katsuki kisses you again, slower and warmer than last time. It’s not desperate or hurried, but it is sensual, a promise of what awaits you when he lays you down on your bed. You sigh into his mouth, growing comfortable now with the feel of him on you; so comfortable, even, that you don’t notice he’s been backing you up until your back hits the poster of the bed, effectively pinning you between the hard, ebony wood, and Katsuki’s strong chest.

Your confinement does something to him. It’s immeasurably minute, the way his breath seems to puff out a bit heavier, the sudden jerk of his fingers into your hips, but it’s there.

“When you said you had experience…” Katsuki says, voice gravelly and dangerously close to a pant, “what did you mean by that?”

“I–” you pause, swallowing thickly around the growing lump in your throat, “I’ve been kissed, and I’ve…been touched.” You settle on that, hoping he grasps what you’re suddenly too shy to say.

“Did he make you cum?” He asks it so quietly, you almost wonder if you’ve heard him correctly, but you do hear him, and your chest caves in on itself as the breath leaves your lungs. You’ve snickered over such things with trusted girl friends, your ladies in waiting, but to hear it so gruffly, from the lips of a man—your new husband, no less—is a shock to your system.

“I think so,” you murmur, hardly able to form the words. You can’t see him, his head hunched over your shoulder and his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, but you can practically feel him frown.

“If he had, you would know so.” Katsuki presses a soft kiss on the cartilage of your ear, travels down to bring your earlobe between his lips. He moves farther down, kissing gently down the slope of your neck, so slowly as if not to scare you.

“How would I know?” You can’t believe you’ve even dared to ask the question, not entirely sure you’ve prepared yourself well enough to hear his answer. Katsuki sucks in a sharp breath against your collarbone, pausing his ministrations where he’d begun to lick and suckle at the prominent angle of it. Your face warms as you realize how deeply his faint touches have begun to affect you, how your chest is beginning to swell and sink with heavy breaths, how your skin tingles and sparks in anticipation of the next absentminded swipe of his knuckles, of the light pressure of his mouth.

“I can show you,” he whispers, and the world stops turning for a moment, “if you’d like.”

“Yes,” you breathe out before you can think better of yourself. You trust his hands, the steady way that they graze the curve of your hip and splay out against the small of your back. He’s stable and unwavering, keeping you afloat.

Katsuki nods against your shoulder, almost imperceptibly, and brings one of those strong hands up between your shoulderblades. He spreads his fingers out, forcing your back to arch for him, and brings his free hand up to your chest, pausing when he’s only a hair’s breadth from your breast. His eyes meet yours, a concentrated divot appearing between his eyebrows as he searches your face for any signs of discomfort. You arch into his touch, surprising even yourself with your boldness, and your jaw drops a bit at the sensation of his rough palms on your soft, supple breast.

Your eagerness spurs him to action, and he bends at the waist, scattering a litter of kisses across the top of your chest. You hold your breath as he dips lower, but your attempt to remain silent fails entirely when he closes his lips around your peaked nipple. A horribly broken whimper slips from your lips, and you squirm, though whether your body’s trying to push you into or away from the wet heat of his mouth you can’t tell.

Katsuki’s mouth stretches into a ghost of a smile around your flesh, or so you think, until his teeth graze your nipple properly and a quiet cry bursts from you. He smiles fully with your breast still between his teeth. His hand holds your back firmly in its bowed position as he moves to your other breast, twisting his tongue around your nipple there and kissing gently along the fat curve of the underside. He continues his descent, grazing his lips over your stomach, and you don’t realize he’s on his knees until he’s suckling softly on your hipbone, one hand now sprawled over your stomach. Katsuki rubs his thumb over the top of the thatch of hair between your legs, almost reverently, and it makes you regain your bearings, gulping.

“W-what are you doing?” You nearly cringe at the sound of your own voice, words syrupy and thick on your tongue.

Katsuki raises a cautious eyebrow, pulling back from the slight bruise he’s begun to place upon your hipbone. He’s still moving carefully, ghosting over where he wants to touch you as a warning before pressing his skin fully to yours, unwilling to spook you just yet, but something’s quickly changing in him. His jaw ticks as he considers you, looking down on where he kneels between your legs with wide eyes.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Katsuki asks back, looking genuinely confused. Your cheeks are aflame.

“You’re on your knees.” It sounds too simple as it leaves your mouth, an insult to your own intelligence, and you scowl in frustration, looking off to the side. The quiet chuckle between your legs snaps your attention back to Katsuki.

“I’m on my knees,” Katsuki agrees, leaning in and brushing his lips against your inner thigh, sending a full-body shudder racking through you, “for you. Do you…not like it?”

Your mind, foggy in the places you’re accustomed to using and glaringly sharp in useless departments like, for example, the way Katsuki’s eyes are glinting dangerously in the low light, struggles to find an answer for his question. You do like it, seeing this hulking, powerful man kneeling before you, tucking his chin up to the supple flesh of your thigh and blinking up at you curiously, but not for any reason that you can put your finger on.

“I didn’t say that,” you say carefully, willing your senses to come back to you. “I just…you look like you’re planning something.”

Another cutting half-smirk flashes across his face, gone as soon as it appears. “You’ve never been tasted before, have you?”

“Tasted?” You try to keep your face from showing your shock and confusion; surely he’s not about to do what you think he is. Katsuki hums an affirmative, placing another kiss to the clammy crease of your thigh and your cunt, a gasp ripping from your throat before you can stop it.

“Do you not want me to?” Katsuki tilts his head, expressionless. You try to find the answer to his question on his face, but he’s blank, leaving the decision entirely up to you. “It’ll help with the pain.”

The pain, that’s right. Soon, he would be taking you for his own, stretching your body in a new way that you’d heard the whispers about: bloody bedsheets, sore between the legs, pleading for the end. You chew into your bottom lip, considering your options.

“Do you want to?”

“I do,” Katsuki says, eyes dark and unreadable, “I want to make you feel good. But we’re doing this on–”

“My terms,” you finish for him, nodding, “I remember.”

“Good.” Katsuki nods, and you try desperately to ignore the heat that thrums through you. “So, if you don’t want it, I won’t. Simple as that.”

You think for a brief moment. Katsuki’s admitted to wanting something of you, of your body, perhaps for the first time since you’d gotten him wrapped up with you. You repeat his words over and over in your head, trying to make sense of them. I want to make you feel good.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Katsuki knits his brows.

“I want to try it,” you say, and add with a shaky exhale, “being tasted.”

If you’re not mistaken, Katsuki’s shoulders shiver between your legs, his eyes glazing over a little at your words. You feel pride ringing in your chest, seeing him uncoil, even if it’s only the slightest bit. You’d chosen correctly. Much as he did when you asked him to undress you, Katsuki nods tensely, and he moves deeper between your legs, nudging your knees apart for himself.

“It’ll feel good,” he murmurs quietly, picking up one of your legs and draping it over his shoulder, “but if you want me to stop, tell me, alright?”

You nod down at him, knowing that every bit of your nerves at being so exposed is showing all over your face. Katsuki flits his gaze down to your cunt, glistening in the candlelight and humiliatingly wet from his touch, and you can see him bite into the inside of his cheek, see his eyes flutter closed. Despite your embarrassment, you’re keen on watching, learning from him. Katsuki leans in, and his tongue slides between your wet folds, but even over your choked noise of surprise, one thing rings clear in your mind at the startling new sensation.

Katsuki groans, louder than you’ve ever heard, languid and gratified, face pressed so firmly into your center that you can already feel his shadow of stubble scratching the insides of your thighs. His hand, wrapped around the thigh over his shoulder, suddenly tightens, fingers digging into the meat of your leg much harder than he’s touched you yet. You focus on the muscles of his jaw, tensing and straining on the side of his face, while he licks into you like a man starved.

The way he eats you is such a deviation from his feather-light touches that you almost can’t believe it’s the same man, lewd noises echoing throughout the room as he suckles on something between your legs that you hadn’t even discovered properly for yourself, only swiping at it blindly in the darkest hours in your chambers. Your back curves viciously, breathy moans spilling from your lips, fingernails clawing into the ornately-carved posts of your marriage bed. Katsuki holds you tight against him, eyes hooded in bliss and mouth moving ceaselessly against you.

You’ve snuck a hand down between your legs before, rubbed shyly at the growing wetness, at the swollen skin, and experienced maybe a glimmer of the feeling that’s now glowing hot in the pit of your stomach. You would almost feel panicked at the spiraling, swooping sensation; that is, if you weren’t so wholly consumed by the white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Katsuki– I, it’s so– oh,” you trail off, losing your words as Katsuki establishes a rhythm of flicking his tongue between your legs right on that damned spot that you wish you’d known about before, maybe you could have prepared– “Oh, Katsuki, it’s– so good.”

Katsuki elicits a sound that’s closer to a snarl than anything else you can think of, tightening his iron grip into your skin. One of your hands absentmindedly fists in his hair, and before you can find the presence of mind to rip it away, he moans, openly and unashamedly, eyes screwing shut. He likes it, your foggy mind realizes, and you dig your fingers in harder, anchoring what’s left of you to the earth using the straight, sandy locks.

The heat, the sparks that are flying around every nerve ending in your body, begins to pick up an overwhelming speed, and all of the sudden, you feel like you need to kick out, to curl in on yourself, to scream so loud the windows blow out.

“Katsuki,” you say desperately, making watery, scared eyes at him. Katsuki’s brow furrows, and he only holds his pace, red eyes glaring into yours. You’re trying to warn him, but no words will form, and you can’t catch your breath, panting and clawing at his hair and almost sobbing until–

Everything peaks. A broken cry comes shooting out of your throat, your standing leg threatening to give out under you, and you writhe and twitch on Katsuki’s face, shamelessly surrendering to the most intense tidal wave of pleasure you’ve experienced in your life. From the fuzzy peripherals of your consciousness, you can hear Katsuki groaning encouragingly into your wet cunt, still dutifully moving his tongue against you and smearing the evidence of your arousal all over his cheeks. When the world comes back into focus, it’s dazzlingly harsh, your muscles weakening as soon as Katsuki’s face clears into its typical arrangement of sharp angles and hard lines.

“Oh–” you gasp, your one good knee finally buckling underneath you. Luckily, Katsuki has already begun to stand, and one of his strong arms darts out, catching you around the waist. You wish he wouldn’t look so smug.

“How do you feel?” Katsuki asks innocently enough, but even in the aftermath of that, you don’t miss the twitching at the corner of his shining mouth, the expectant arch of his eyebrow.

“Good,” you pant, willing your cheeks to lose even a portion of their heat, “it was– fine.”

“Fine?” Katsuki’s eyebrow raises fully, disbelievingly.

“It was good,” you reaffirm, glaring at him. Katsuki grins brightly, the most light you think you’ve ever seen enter his face. It makes you blush almost as hard as the orgasm he dragged you through. Something wild and wicked flickers in your mind, and you look up at him curiously. “Do you…do you want me to do that to you?”

Katsuki’s smile drops as quickly as it came, and his cheekbones darken, a deep flush spreading over his face. You almost wonder if you’ve misstepped, upset him in some way, until you catch him palming over his pants. Your throat tightens.

“No,” he says, all the mirth drained from his face, “no, you don’t have to– no.”

“Alright,” you acquiesce, transferring your weight from Katsuki’s firm grip around your waist back to your feet, finding your legs weak and shaky beneath you. Your gaze floats over your shoulder, back to the plush sheets of your marriage bed, and Katsuki clears his throat, backing away a step so you have the room to climb into the bed, lay yourself down.

You’d expected to feel shyer, but there’s surprisingly no urge to curl in on yourself, not even Katsuki’s eyes take you in, darkening in the candlelight. The aftershocks of pleasure— white-hot, addictive pleasure he’d introduced you to— are still echoing through your limbs, and you’re just curious enough to bite back your initial trepidation. You want to know what else he has to teach you.

Katsuki begins tugging at the laces keeping his pants snug around his waist, loosening them and shooting you one final look, one last assurance. His eyebrow is cocked questioningly, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he looks a little nervous. You nod, holding a breath deep enough in your lungs that it aches, and his pants hit the floor.

You’ve seen naked men, here and there, over the course of your life, and your ladies had described enough of the act before you that you can’t find yourself shocked at the sight, but more so at the wanton aching that ricochets through your limbs, chill bumps erupting over your arms and shoulders rolling of their own accord. You don’t have much to go by, but you’re fairly sure he’s big comparatively, so hard that the tip is an angry shade of red. Katsuki climbs over you before you have much chance to look further, but the damage is done; a fresh wave of arousal courses through you, and you widen your knees to let him situate himself.

“I’m going to get you ready,” Katsuki says between chaste kisses to your lips. “Is that alright?”

“But you already–,” you feel frustrated at your own inexperience, knitting your brow at him, “I’m ready.”

“You’re not,” Katsuki assures you, and before you can bite back another retort, his battle-scarred fingers are rubbing softly through the mess between your legs, and your jaw falls slack. Katsuki’s monitoring you for any signs of unease, eyes bright and focused on your face. You’re wet enough that he’s sliding through your folds easily, meeting little resistance as he rubs tight, concentrated circles into that spot that he’d used to make you see stars earlier. “Do you trust me?”

“Mhm.” It’s all you can manage to hum an affirmative, biting back the breathy noises trying to break free of your throat. It’s a wonder, how so little effort from him has your blood molten in your veins, limbs pliant and muscles twitching.

Katsuki’s fierce gaze doesn’t let up, but you understand why when you feel it: a finger, presumably, stretching you in a new, uncomfortable way. You’re unable to contain the gasp that bleats out of you, eyes flying wide, and Katsuki’s hand stills, eyes squinting as he tries to determine the nuances of your reaction. It’s novel, and admittedly, makes you a bit restless, but it isn’t unpleasant, and embarrassingly, your hips cant up into his hand, answering for you. Katsuki works slowly, never ceasing the small circles he’s rubbing into you, letting the discomfort align with the deliberate, savory pleasure that’s now ever-present in your core. When he begins to move his finger in and out of you, working you open, you realize it feels good, more than good, even.

“Alright?” Katsuki asks, distrusting of the whimpers and shaky moans beginning to fall from your lips. “Talk to me.”

“It’s strange,” you admit, words fragile and breathy in the space between your lips, “but I like it, it feels good. Really good.”

Katsuki hums approvingly, teases your entrance with the rough pad of a second finger. He arches his eyebrow at you, the question hanging silent, but clear between you. The prospect is daunting, but you welcome it; he’s already shown you so much, made you feel so much. You trust him, nodding eagerly.

“Please.”

Katsuki works his second finger in, grinding his jaw when you choke on a moan, rolling your hips into his palm. He nods, letting you wriggle your hips around as you need to, to ease the stretch of him inside of you. You can feel the power behind the lightness of his touch, eyes flitting down to the strained, corded muscle of his forearm as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. He’s holding back, and when you think wildly of what might happen the day he doesn’t have to anymore, your body clenches around him.

Katsuki pulls a face at you, amused. “What is it?”

“What?” You pant, feeling that knot begin to tie in on itself tighter and tighter behind your bellybutton.

“Y’liked something, thought of something,” Katsuki studies you, mouth quirking up into a little half-smile, “I could feel it.”

If you were any more present, you’d be mortified, but all you can do is reach a hand to stroke along the bulge of his bicep, dig your teeth into your bottom lip.

“Was thinking about you,” you admit shyly, trying to force your words to come out a little less broken than you know you sound, “you’re strong.”

“I am strong,” Katsuki agrees, curling his fingers against something inside of you that makes you jerk, makes him smirk at you.

“You’re holding back on me.”

“I am,” he says, placing a kiss to your shoulder, “you’re not ready for it. Need to go slow this time.”

“One day you won’t,” you say, mustering all the strength your hazy mind has to offer to look him squarely in the eye, watch his reaction. Katsuki inhales sharply, eyes widening at your boldness, only to narrow at you, predatory and curious. His fingers have stilled momentarily, and you pull your stomach muscles, jerking your hips up against his hand, frustrated. Katsuki only glares down at you, jaw ticking.

“One day I won’t,” he finally answers you, pulling his fingers from where you’re throbbing and needy. You almost whine, but bite into your lip before the admission of desperation flies from you. “If that’s what you want.”

You don’t have the chance to answer before Katsuki’s sucking his own fingers into his mouth, sucking you off of them. Your jaw stutters, and you gape at him as his eyelids flutter, a low groan rumbling in his strong chest.

“Taste good,” Katsuki says, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world, “sweet.”

“Can I try?” The question flies from your lips before you can even think to contain it, and your eyes grow even larger, shocked at your own debauchery. You’re seconds away from stuttering out an apology when Katsuki’s massive hand appears in front of your face, fingers glistening in the candlelight.

“Here.” Katsuki offers his fingers to you, eyes dark and hungry. You only stare at him for a moment, trying to discern if you’ve done something horribly wrong, but he’s completely sincere, brushing his wet fingers along your bottom lip. You open your mouth, suck him in. It’s more viscous than you would have imagined, sticky and thick on your tongue, but it’s pleasantly gamey; a little bitter, a little sweet. You don’t realize that you’re suckling on Katsuki’s fingers until he groans again, deep in his throat, gritting his teeth.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, pulling his hand free from your lips.

“What’d you think?” Katsuki regains his composure quickly, tilting his head at you with something impish sparkling in his eye.

You’d chosen your new husband due to his unwavering dedication to the kingdom that he’d sworn his life to protect, his kingly attributes that had set him so far apart from your other, softer suitors. You hadn’t even thought to consider what other sides to him might be lurking beneath the formidable exterior of decorated general; could it be so that the red-cheeked, boyish creature above you, so intent on helping you explore your body, was the fierce warrior that had supposedly cut down over a hundred enemy soldiers entirely on his own?

“I liked it,” you say, biting into the smile starting to grow on your face. The way his eyes light up makes you feel like a vixen, like somehow, you can be a woman after all. “Everything is…it feels good.”

Something virile glints in Katsuki’s eyes, but you don’t shy away, holding his gaze. “Good.”

“I want to…I want you to have me. I want to have you.” You’re not even sure if you’re making sense, tongue heavy and useless in your mouth. Katsuki’s hand has wandered back down between your legs, rubbing lazily at the wetness there, and it’s got that steady heat creeping back through your limbs, setting your nerves on fire.

“You’re sure?” Katsuki asks, raising his eyebrow at you. All the mischief has drained from his face as he examines you, and while you appreciate his caution, the craving for something more is growing uncomfortable.

“Please,” you say, tilting your chin up to press your lips gently to his in reassurance. Katsuki is finally convinced, it seems, because he rolls off of you and settles his back against the headboard, reaching an errant arm over to tug you on top of him.

You hadn’t anticipated this; Katsuki’s set you right on top of his hips, your dripping cunt placed firmly against his hard cock, back ramrod straight from the sudden exposure, nipples peaked in the charged air. The feel of him pressing insistently against where your body needs him most makes your head spin; you hadn’t expected it to be so distinct, hard and thick beneath you.

“What are you–”

“It’ll be easier this way,” Katsuki says, looking very much like he’s putting all his effort into appearing unaffected, but only a moment ago, you felt his hips twitch upwards into yours, “you can control it.”

“I don’t– I don’t know how to do it. Not the right way, I mean.” You’re burning in your humiliation, hot in so many different ways now you aren’t sure if you could even count them, but you’re bared completely to him, and you figure your dignity was left somewhere crumpled on the floor with your consummation gown.

“Don’t worry about that,” Katsuki says sternly, looking so unbelievably flustered that if you were any less preoccupied, it would make you giggle, “not yet. You need to get used to having something inside you, first.”

Something inside you; him, thick and hard and drooling wetness onto his bellybutton. That’s right. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, doing everything in your power to ride the wave of exhilaration going through you. You roll your hips experimentally, once, twice, swallowing the gasp that aches to leave your jaw.

“Just like that,” Katsuki mumbles, so quietly you almost think you hadn’t heard him, “take your time.”

You take his advice, bracing your clammy hands on his neck. You grind down on him again, feeling sparks of pleasure shoot up your body. With each swipe of your hips, you can feel your cunt grow wetter, feel that bottomless want in your stomach open a little more. The growing hunger in you is primordial, some hidden part of your mind directing you. The urge to have something inside of you, to feel full in a way you can’t begin to imagine, is causing you to grow restless, fingers drumming anxiously on Katsuki’s shoulders. When you meet his eyes, a muscle feathers in his jaw, but he stays silent, hands placed gently on your hips as he watches you grow accustomed to his girth, the weight of him between your legs.

“I think I’m ready. Can I?”

Katsuki stays silent, only nods sagely in assent. His grip on your hips grows tighter as you lift yourself up, reaching down blindly to grip him. He sucks in a breath when your fingers wrap around the length of him, and your eyes flit to his in alarm, but he only shakes his head, brow furrowing.

“Go ahead.”

You nod back, wincing at the anticipatory trembling of your thighs on either side of his hips, pulling his cock up from his stomach. You rather like the smooth feel of the skin in your hands, and you think briefly that maybe this will be something to revisit later, having him needy and in the palm of your hand. The swollen head catches, and you almost gasp at the surprise of it, how a dull thud of satisfaction rings through your body. You inhale deeply, and begin to sink down.

Katsuki’s fingers dig into your hips even harder, but you hardly feel it over the incomparable stretch between your legs. You’re sure now that he’s big; he has to be, the way it feels like your very insides are moving to accommodate him. You’re trying not to huff at the feeling, but a whine escapes you, and Katsuki’s tight grip stops you just as you’re nearing the halfway point.

“Okay?” He’s tense, coiled like a snake, all the muscles in his strong body locked, but his eyes are concerned.

“Uh huh,” you manage, wiggling your hips around and dropping yourself down a couple more inches, making you both gasp, “s’just big.”

“Fuck,” Katsuki hisses, throwing his head back. You pause, body contracting around him in your attempt to take him wholly, only a short distance from the blonde hair at the base of his cock.

“Is everything alright?”

“Can’t say shit like that,” Katsuki grits out, voice hoarse. You realize with a slow, muggy blink that you haven’t yet heard him swear, not in the Common Tongue, haven’t yet seen him become so unraveled and yet, at the same time, so rigid. It’s affecting him, that instinctual part of your brain supplies, it feels good for him.

If you were any less dazed, you’d smile. Katsuki Bakugou, High Commander of the fiercest army the world has seen in over a century, famed warrior an ocean over, is practically twitching trying to bite back his own pleasure as you take him inside of you. The rush of adrenaline that thought sends through you gives you the motivation to let yourself go, nestling the entirety of him deep inside yourself and meeting his hips. You choke on a moan, eyes prickling with tears.

“Oh,” you pant, lifting yourself just a bit, trying to squirm away from the discomfort.

“Does it hurt?” Katsuki grunts, eyes running over every bit of your body.

“No, it’s just,” you keen again, interrupting yourself with breathy, whiny little noises, “full.”

Katuski makes a noise that you think was meant to be a hum of agreement, but only comes out as a growl. If the white in his knuckles and the sharp, tense bone of his jaw is anything to go by, his arousal is only barely being held back, restricted to a tight leash. You’re not his first, not the only wet warmth he’s buried himself in, and this isn’t at all the first time he’s experienced this white-hot, carnal pleasure that’s licking up your veins. You find the strength to blink back the budding tears in your eyes, to really look at him.

He’s holding it together well, fingers grounded where they dig into your fleshy hips, crimson eyes looking you up and down, taking you in, but like the quiet snap of embers in the background, ruining the illusion of the room’s heat emanating from you and Katsuki, his body betrays him. His muscles are jumping under his skin, twitching involuntarily like the hide of one of the cavalry’s prize stallions, ready to run. Katsuki’s fucking a princess in his mind, you think, a future queen, and he’s proceeding accordingly, trying to keep his caresses light and his infamous temper in check.

You blink at him, vision watery, and realize suddenly that, for the first time in your life, you want to be a hot-blooded, wild, mortal. You want only to be a woman with a man inside of her, and you want to be regarded as such.

“Still doin’ alri–” Katsuki cuts himself off with a grunt when you roll your hips, biting back a wince at the unfathomable pressure in your stomach, the depth of him snug inside you. “Wait–”

“I’m fine,” you say, surprising even yourself at your sharpness. Confidence swells in your chest as he squirms under you, kissing away the burn of how he’s worked you open.

“But–”

“Eminna skoros iksis ñuhon,” you say down to him, looking upon your new husband with hooded eyes as you grind your hips down into him, adjusting to the strange stretch that accompanies his body inside of yours. Each movement of your hips into his makes it easier, soothes the slow throb of your body trying to make room for him. Pleasure begins to ignite again along your fingertips, and when you scoot forward a bit, pushing your hips back, his cock nudges something inside of you that makes your jaw drop.

Katsuki’s eyes widen momentarily, but you can see the moment he loosens the leash, succumbs to his baser instincts. His grip on your hips loosens, shoulders slackening, and his eyes darken, lids dropping a bit just to cover the tops of those crimson irises. He’s beautiful, godlike even, planes of hardened muscle at your command, the flames from the candles reflected in his eyes. Katsuki drags his gaze over you, nostrils flaring, bringing one hand up to the back of your neck and pulling you to him, pressing your foreheads together. The shift in him makes you gasp; the calm force with which he chooses to exert his strength.

“Lo emilā nyke, emagon nyke,” Katsuki says against your lips, all trepidation gone. You shudder in his arms, letting pleasure wrack down your spine like fire catching. “Yn eminna ao, hae sȳrī, dārilaros.”

Your blood sings at the low purr of the Old Tongue, poured into your mouth like a fine wine, but you curdle at Dārilaros. Princess. “Eman daor pāletilla skori iksā iemnȳ yno. Iksan iā ābra, iksan aōha ābrazȳrys.”

Katsuki nearly snarls, swears under his breath. “What did I tell you about saying shit like that?”

“You call me your wife,” you say, thoroughly pleased with yourself at his rapid unraveling. It’s never been like you not to have the upper hand. “Treat me as your wife.”

Even a hair’s breadth away from his face, you can see Katsuki’s last shreds of honor, that warrior’s heart, dying out. His eyes flicker over your face as you fruitlessly roll your hips, not able to get to the full extent of your pleasure with him gripping you so tightly. For the first time, you can feel his hands tremble against your skin. He’s only steps away from joining you in your damning mortality, finding the raw, primal humanity deep down inside of him. You rut your hips at him again, useless against his resolute grasp.

“Please,” you sigh against him, not even thinking to be ashamed of the breathy, needy plea you let out, not even wholly sure of what you’re begging him for, “make me feel good again.”

Katsuki groans, low in his chest, and nods, a covenant you’re building in the hot air between your mouths. His hands grab into your hips more fully, and he lifts you, only part of the way, before sliding you back down the length of him. You gasp into his mouth, caught off guard by the punch of him back up into the space he’s carved out for himself. It feels like he’s in your lungs, your breath coming out labored and pinched.

“Move,” Katsuki commands, settling back a bit and forcing you to sit up straight, hands on your ribcage. You’re bared completely to him again, and it’s still horrible, but the arousal dims any humiliation that threatens to rise. “Move.”

You wiggle your hips again, moving shakily along his cock, but Katsuki’s not pleased, evidently, as he digs his hands back into your hips.

“Like this,” he says, using his iron grip on you to correct your movements. Katsuki drags you up and down his cock in smooth, fluid motions, and despite the slowly-easing discomfort, your nerve endings come alight, the molten want finding a new peak as he rips a moan out of your throat.

“Oh–”

“Better?” Katsuki huffs, a vicious grin cutting across his face. Your arms flail a bit as he moves you, rolling you along his length as if you’re nothing more than a doll to him. Katsuki notices your awkwardness, takes one of your hands and places it firmly on your breast. You follow his lead, thumbing gently over one hard nipple, and, at the jolt of pleasure, you quickly bring your free hand to match on the other side, letting your head fall back.

“Katsuki,” you pant, quickly losing your composure and falling victim to the sensations devouring you, “it’s– that’s so good.”

“I know,” Katsuki breathes, still pulling you this way and that, “you’re perfect, so soft around me.”

You’ve never gotten to be soft; iron princess on the iron throne, made of embers and scalding steam, but for him? You bloom, pretty as a petal, letting your body meld into his like it was always supposed to be here. You’re not soft like silk, you let yourself be soft like candlelight, like magma, like the crashing of the ocean when you’re far enough away that the waves won’t get you, drag you under. Soft like doom.

“I feel– fuck, I think I– I need more.”

Katsuki’s lips twist at the breathless curse that flies from your lips, so foreign and funny-sounding in your regal mouth. You want to tease him right back, but he slides you off of him, and the loss is so devastating, your bottom lip nearly juts out as it did when you were a child. Before you can protest too much, Katsuki’s laying you on your back, hands sliding along your thighs, and you follow your instincts and bring your legs up to wrap around his waist.

“If it’s too much…” Katsuki trails off, losing his words when he goes to brush your bottom lip with his thumb and you suck him in voraciously, nibbling on his finger.

“I’ll tell you,” you promise, spitting him out and letting your own hand flutter across his cheekbone. He’s almost glaring down at you; so intense is the desire in his eyes that a small part of you wants to shy away, but you don’t. You wiggle your legs that much wider, arch your back, lean into the burn of him. You were born for the heat.

Katuski’s mouth quirks up in a little smile, already so fond it makes your chest ache, and he slides back into you, groaning when your cunt sucks him in greedily. You try to embrace the novelty of it, the dull throb of his cock splitting you wide, digging your nails into his arm by mistake. Katsuki swears in surprise, and you jerk your hand away, until he looks down at you admonishingly.

“Go ahead, perzītsos,” he hums, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your hairline, “I won’t break.”

He pulls back and thrusts back into you, harder than you’d expected, and your nails return to his wrist beside your head, digging half-moons into the pale skin. He’s different from this angle, not so agonizingly deep in you, but nudging against something inside you that renders you incapacitated, fuzzy-minded and pliant in his arms. Katsuki’s not faring any better than you, eyes hooded and little grunts slipping from his lips each time his hips connect with yours.

“What does it feel like?” Katsuki asks, beginning to look out of his mind with need. “Ivestragon nyke.”

“Deep,” you choke out, letting your jaw drop when he leans down to lick into your mouth, “full, I feel– full.”

“Good,” Katsuki mumbles, “good. Doesn’t hurt?”

“No.”

In answer, Katsuki moves his hips faster, snapping them against you with brute force. He’s keeping that ever-cognizant eye on you, monitoring you for any indication of pain or panic, but even through the haze of the tightening knot in the pit of your stomach, you can see him tumbling over the same edge that you have, lost to your baser instincts. You’re soft to him, your warm walls hugging him snug as he chases an end for you both, but sharp in the way your fingers claw into his skin, your teeth nip into his shoulder. Mine. Mine. Ñuhon.

“Katsuki,” you warn him, the balloon of pressure welling in your belly, growing so large you feel as though you might choke on it.

“I know,” he says, leaning down to press his forehead to yours. His voice is broken and ragged and tastes like hot coals, like copper and bronze and prophecy. You drink him down eagerly, so out of your mind with want that you’ve transformed. You’d entered the room as a blushing virgin of the highest, most noble bloodline, and here you are, twisting and keening under him, all molten limbs and whorish pants. Sweat dapples your forehead, drool smeared over your chin, and you’ve never felt more beautiful.

“I’m so– it’s the, the same,” you gasp, familiar words devolving into nonsense, “but it’s not enough, I don’t, I–”

“Here,” Katsuki growls, closing one strong fist around your wrist and sliding your arm between your writhing bodies, “just like I did it, remember?”

You find the same sensitive spot that Katsuki had shown you quickly, swollen and raw with pleasure, and try rubbing shaky circles over it, try to maintain some semblance of a rhythm and imitate his earlier movements. It’s uneven and inconsistent, but the added stimulation rockets through you, and your back pulls taut as a bow, arching off the featherbed.

“Close?”

“Yes,” you gasp, still not grasping what you’re close to, but feeling very much as though you’re teetering on the edge of a cliff, that same rushing building in your ears. You somehow had the presence of mind to register that what’s building inside of you now is different than it was with his mouth between your legs; it’s faster, wetter, fuller, and it feels like it’s choking you.

“Come on,” Katsuki urges you, bordering on a snarl as he pants desperately into your mouth, “want to feel you cum around me, feel this little cunt milkin’ my cock.”

“Kat–” you try to call out for him, so overwhelmed the edges of your vision are going dark. He’s grinding his hips into you forcefully, pinning your fingers to the apex of your cunt, forcing you to rub yourself harder.

“You can do it, raqiarzy, come on–”

You cut him off with a loud sob of his name, thighs caging him in and the innermost walls of your body clamping down on him. Light bursts behind your eyelids, the white-hot flames of dragonfire and the embers of a burning forest exploding as your body is racked with wave after wave of bliss. Katsuki’s skin breaks under your fingernails, the slight dampness of tearing flesh familiar even in the haze of your orgasm. He works you through it, driving his hips into you despite the vicious tightening of your cunt around him, whispering affirmations into the pallid skin of your shoulder. Every muscle in your body contracts painfully, and you’d feel ashamed of the sounds escaping you if you could find enough wherewithal to care.

“Close,” Katsuki grits out, rolling his hips into your still-contracting cunt as your high begins to dwindle, “you ready for me?”

“Uh-huh, please, I– yes,” you babble nonsensically, interlocked ankles bouncing at the small of his back. As your orgasm drains from your veins, your muscles go lax, zapped of the fervent energy that had overtaken you. You find your body to be pliant and receptive, but your mind solely focused on watching that same ethereal pleasure that had possessed you wash over Katsuki. “Yes, I w-want you to cum.”

“Fuck,” Katsuki swears, hips stuttering, “take it, take it all–”

A guttural groan accompanies a sticky warmth flooding your insides; you squirm in his tight grip and moan at the sensation of being filled, feeling a fresh rush of arousal flow through you as you feel his cock twitching inside of you. You bite deep into his shoulder to muffle the pathetic mewls slipping from you at the feel of both his and your cum leaking out of your body, pooling in a little puddle underneath you. Everything is so earthy and musky; Katsuki’s salty skin between your teeth, his bruising grip into your hips, the stink of sex and sweat permeating the bedsheets.

Katsuki’s chest heaves against yours as his hips rock into you one last time, the thatch of blond hair at the base of him pressing against where you’re swollen and achy hard enough to make you whimper. When you wriggle around underneath him, he seems to snap back into himself, propping his upper body up on his elbows and bringing a hand to your face, thumbing over the arch of your cheekbone.

“Y’alright?” His carmine eyes are still glazed over, words gummy between his teeth, but the tenderness of his hand as he strokes your cheek lets you know he’s there.

“I’m alright,” you say, and you mean it. Something so deep in you that you don’t even have a name for is throbbing, and your body is still clenching and fluttering around where he’s softening inside of you, but your limbs are heavy and your head is in the clouds.

He’s a sight to see, a sight you commit to memory; sweat glistens on his pale skin, his eyes are hooded and sleepy, and a contented, lazy grin is starting to tug at the corner of his mouth. Katsuki pulls his hips back, pressing his lips to your temple in apology when you murmur something unintelligible, but hinting at discontent. You feel empty in a way you had never known you were supposed to, not until you’d learned what it meant to be fulfilled.

“Anything hurt?”

You shake your head, not sure how to verbalize that you’re not feeling any pain, but a deep-seated satiation that hints to the fact that you might never be able to lift yourself from the bed again. Katsuki’s still caging you in, heavy body crushing yours, when a jarringly unwelcome sound floats over his shoulder.

“Ah, um– Princess? I need to confirm–”

“I know,” Katsuki, sliding back into the skin of a general with ease, growls over his shoulder, “that you’re not daring to speak to my wife while she’s naked underneath me.”

Even given everything, your cheeks flare, and you shove at Katsuki weakly, making apologetic eyes at the attendant despite your humiliation. “It’s his job, Katsuki–”

“They can’t send a woman for this shit?” Katsuki cages you in even further, glaring at the servant who’s nearly shaking in his slippers. “Well?”

“I–I can fetch a female servant to confirm the consummation of the–”

“Do that, then.” The attendant’s soft footsteps as he scuttles away are hardly overshadowed by your breathy, tired giggles.

“You didn’t have to terrorize the poor man,” you swat lightly at Katsuki’s chest, “it’s his duty to confirm that the marriage has been consummated. The priests won’t have it any other way.”

“I’m sure he heard enough,” Katsuki grumbles, flopping onto his back beside you. He opens one eye, notices the sheet dragging dangerously close to your nipple, and tugs it up to your chin, closing his eye again and humming contentedly. His arm pauses for a moment, like he wants to stretch it over your shoulders, but he pulls it back by his own side, thinking better of it. You aren’t sure if you want to be held, if the intimacy outside of your duty as his new wife will be too grating against your already-raw nerves.

“My ladies will be here soon,” you say quietly, “to bathe me and help me prepare for bed.”

“Figured,” Katsuki grumbles, sounding entirely displeased at more people disrupting your peace. Something about it warms your heart, some small part of your mind hoping that his displeasure is rooted in a desire to keep you all to himself, hidden beneath the sheets.

“Your own attendants shouldn’t be far behind.”

“My what?” Katsuki sits up on one elbow again, looks down at you disbelievingly. “I don’t need any…ladies.”

“You’ll get used to them,” you tell him offhandedly, wondering if you’re being truthful. You’re just beginning to get acquainted with the intricacies of the man behind the title, but the general seems fiercely independent to you, and the image of him getting his hair scrubbed by a flock of servants is enough to make you chuckle to yourself.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you assure him, “I’m sure you’ll be a perfect royal specimen.”

Katsuki’s eyes narrow in irritation. “You didn’t inform me that ladies would be a part of my duties.”

“We can get men!”

“That’s worse.” Katsuki’s face screws up in an ugly scowl that makes you laugh outright. The lightness of your laughter makes his face fall a little, the hardened exterior giving way to the same man that had kissed reverently up the inside of your thigh, had been so achingly gentle with you when you weren’t sure what you would need to get through the night. A man you think you could love.

You look into each other’s eyes, something like starlight, like candlelight, like true, gods-given warmth buzzing between you, when the door creaks open, a gaggle of ladies and one priestess entering the room. Katsuki groans, tugs the blankets even further up your chests, the moment broken.

Ignoring his grumbles of protest, you pull yourself from the blankets with ease, baring your nude body to your ladies. There’s no shame in front of these women who have raised you, much to Katsuki’s astonishment. You don’t miss the way their eyes catch on the purple blooms on your hipbones, the way they squeal with excitement when you lay back and spread your legs for the priestess, displaying the thin trickle of Katsuki’s seed still steadily leaking from you. The priestess nods solemnly and leaves in the same manner; at least that’s done.

Your ladies do an absolutely dismal job of trying to appear subtle as they stare at Katsuki’s still-heaving chest, his narrowed eyes darting around the room suspiciously, his round biceps– your closest lady, Alanna, whisper-squeals in your ear about how huge your new husband’s arms are, and you have to pinch her cheek harshly to get her to stop, sensing Katsuki’s tangible discomfort from across the room. He behaves well as they bathe you, sitting up in bed and watching silently as you’re preened and fawned over, as your tangled hair has a brush torn through it and is twisted neatly into your nighttime braid.

A group of women hovering silently by the door, eyeing Katsuki nervously, appear to be his newly-appointed handmaids. You do both Katsuki and the women the favor of dismissing them for the night, unsure of how Katsuki, who is still gripping the sheets to his chest like a young, blushing maiden, will react to being pampered and scrubbed by foreign hands.

“You can dismiss those serving girls for good,” Katsuki says gruffly, clean and ambling over to a looking glass to swipe a brush through his hair. “‘M not a boy, I don’t need any help getting myself to bed.”

You conveniently slide past the omission on the tip of your tongue– before Katsuki’s anxious staff had left, you had requested them to bring a hot bath, all of Katsuki’s bathing things from his old chamber, a freshly-dried sponge from the Narrow Sea for him to wash himself with. It’s enough to keep it to yourself, seeing how content he is in his new living space now, that you could do something for him amongst the chaos you’ve now thrown his life into.

“We’ll see,” you hum, picking at a stray cuticle over the covers and trying not to ogle him too obviously.

He’s still blessedly nude, unabashed in his swagger around the room as he dries himself with the strips of soft, woven cloth your ladies had left behind per your request. When he approaches the bed you’re laying in, you stiffen, unaccustomed still to these small intimacies. Royalty has proven to be a lengthy and lonely existence in your experience, and sharing it with someone is foreign to your solitary nature. Your own parents had had their own separate chambers, as every monarch before them. It was Katsuki’s one condition to accepting your proposal; you were to share bedchambers, like a common husband and wife.

“Princess?” Katsuki is hesitant when he approaches you, as if he already senses your trepidation. You will yourself to unclench your muscles, to relax your shoulders. You have no right to make him feel unwelcome in his own bed– the bed you now share.

“I told you I don’t want you to call me that.” You try to offer him a playful smile, but it only glimmers across your face. This is yet another bridge you need his guidance over.

“You did,” Katsuki nods sagely, the corner of his mouth twitching as he remembers the circumstance of that particular conversation, “I’m sorry, perzītsos.”

“Come to bed.”

“Are you sure?” Katsuki cocks an eyebrow at you, looking down at the huge bed warily.

“It was what you wanted.”

“Only if you want it.” Katsuki sighs deeply at your look of not-quite-belief and sits on the bed a respectable distance away from you. He reaches for your hand, a question, not a demand, and you slide your fingers into his calloused palm, humming contentedly when he runs his large thumb over your knuckles. He stays like that for a moment, contemplative and looking at your hand, bare of all of its usual finery and rings. “What did I say earlier?”

“When?”

“Before.” Katsuki raises his eyebrows enough that you catch his meaning.

“That we were doing things on my terms.” Something in your chest, warm and wet and laden with flowers, swells big and tight enough to pop.

“That didn’t just apply to, ah, earlier,” Katsuki coughs uncomfortably, flicking his eyes up to you, “that’s for all of this. Our…our lives are…the same now, and I don’t want you to think I need you– seven hells, that’s not what I meant–”

“You’re not very good at this, are you?” You interrupt him suddenly, a saccharine smile curling the corner of your lips. Katsuki flushes a vicious red, frowns and shakes his head in confirmation. “Neither am I.”

“No?”

“I haven’t suddenly found myself married before, so no.” It feels silly, all of the sudden, to have guarded yourself at all. Katsuki is many things, but above all, he is steady, a resolute rock against an angry ocean. “But while I feel many things about our…unexpected union, one thing I do not feel is alone. We can do this on our terms, not just mine.”

Katsuki nods again, looks back down to your hand in his, and cracks a wry smile. “This is why you’re the politician.”

“I’m a princess,” you deadpan, “not a politician.”

“But I can’t call you that,” Katsuki scoffs, rolling his eyes. The lightheartedness lifts the atmosphere in your bedchamber, oppressive with marital expectations and the stuffy heat of candles left burning too long, and it gives you the needed weightlessness to have your eyes slowly blinking closed.

“Exactly,” you agree matter-of-factly, stifling a yawn. “Will you call someone in to dispose of the candles?”

Katsuki snorts, pushing himself off the bed without answer. Before you can protest or feel hurt by his sudden abandonment, he crosses the room and bends at the waist, blowing out one of over two dozen candles. You can only watch in growing fondness and amusement as he huffs at each little flame, the room growing darker by the moment. By the time he’s finished, your eyes are hardly open, drifting shut as you sink into the pillows. A satisfied throb echoes through your body as you wriggle down beneath the sheets, the lingering evidence of Katsuki’s presence on and in you bringing a warmth to your cheeks even in the now-dark room.

The last thing you register as you slip into the beginnings of a heavy sleep is the dip of the bed behind you, and a thick, muscled forearm creeping stealthily over your waist.

“This alright?”

All you can muster is a tired mumble of acquiesce, nuzzling into the firm chest behind you. Katsuki chuckles quietly into your hair, a dark, soothing sound that has your mind careening towards sleep, eager to melt into this world of warmth and comfort in his arms.

“Ēdrū sȳrī, ñuha perzītsos.”

───── ⋆⋅ 𖤓 ⋅⋆ ─────

as promised, high valyrian translations here :)

Ānogar ānograro = "Blood of my blood."

Gevie = "Beautiful"

Iksā gevie, ñuha ābrazȳrys. = "You are beautiful, my wife."

Eminna skoros iksis ñuhon. = "I will have what is mine."

Lo emilā nyke, emagon nyke, yn eminna ao, hae sȳrī, dārilaros. = "If you will have me, then have me, but I will have you as well, princess."

Eman daor pāletilla skori iksā iemnȳ yno. Iksan iā ābra, iksan aōha ābrazȳrys. = "I have no crown when you are inside me. I am a woman, I am your wife."

Perzītsos = "Little flame"

Ivestragon nyke. = "Tell me."

Raqiarzy = "Beloved"

Ēdrū sȳrī, ñuha perzītsos. = "Sleep tight, my little flame."

#this was a labor of love #truly took forever #but i LOVE it so i hope you guys do too #aged up character #aged up characters #bakugou katsuki #aged up katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou smut #katsuki smut #mha x reader

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curiositysavesthecat · 2 months

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admins' comment: we normally never ever add our own opinions onto polls submitted to us (keeping our personal thoughts out of polls is our number one rule), but we believe this is an important matter that needs to be talked about more; pit bulls are NOT an aggressive dog breed in any way. we have our own experiences with pit bulls, and we can personally guarantee that all of them are the most gentle, loving souls we've ever had an honor of spending our time with.

most pit bull attacks — just like any other animal attack casts — happen because the pit bull was 1.) abused, 2.) threatened, 3.) provoked, 4.) trained to be aggressive (aka abused) and so they believed they had to defend themself. unfortunately, due to their strength, their attack may be fatal, which leads to this harmful, out-of-reality stereotype that pit bulls are an aggressive dog breed, which then also leads to so many tragic casts of them being wrongfully and unfairly put down. it is heartbreaking and frustrating because most of pit bull attacks are human's fault, not the dog's; you (general you) abused a dog, you made them believe you were a threat and therefore you made them defend themself.

there is no bad, aggressive dogs. but there are bad and abusive people out there.

last but not least, pit bulls are one of the sweetest, most gentle dog breeds that are so gravely misunderstood. please, don't let the stereotype cloud your judgment. respect animals, and they will respect you.

*this poll was submitted to us and we simply posted it so people could vote and discuss their opinions on the matter. if you’d like for us to ask the internet a question for you, feel free to drop the poll of your choice in our inbox and we’ll post them anonymously (for more info, please check our pinned post)

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da-shrimping-station · 2 months

Note

I really liked your headcanons about the seraphim’s!

Please tell us if you have more, no need to rush, take your time answering this. You can reply once you get new ideas ☺️☺️

hiii! im glad you appreciate the headcanons 💕

you're in luck cuz i had a longer list and just posted some of it first cuz i wasn't sure if it will be well received

lemme post the rest of it here!

and i got some angst lmaoooo

more sleepy seraph cuddle pile headcanons:

at first they each had their individual mattresses and they pushed it all right beside each other but in the end they got one big mattress to accommodate everyone (especially Raphael's wiggling around)

at some point they all got tired of Raphael's moving around that they burrito'd him in blankets (he does not like it unless Lucifer is the one doing it)

if Lucifer catches Gabriel getting up to pray, he offers to have a quiet conversation instead until they both fall asleep (Gab would get carried away talking and not notice that Lucifer had already tapped out but he just smiles and goes to sleep)

there are times when those little angel mochis come up to add to the cuddle pile

RIP any angel mochi that end up in Michael's arms (most of them don't survive his death grip of a hug)

they've tried tying Michael's hair when he sleeps but it's too soft and silky that whatever scrunchie they use slips off during the night

Raphael rolling off the mattress is considered normal (honestly im glad they sleep on the floor cuz have y'all heard how a body drops from a bed onto the floor? that shit wakes me up in a panic no matter what)

since they can't always stop Gabriel from his nightly bullshit, Michael gave everyone sleeping masks (but it's still no match for Gab's halo especially when he makes it shine brighter on purpose because fuck you Michael)

whenever Lucifer is the last one to fall asleep, he goes around tucking everyone in properly (loosening Michael's grip, making sure Gabriel is fast asleep, untangling Raphael from the blankets and righting his limbs and wings) before going to sleep himself

HAVE SOME ANGST!

everyone had trouble sleeping after Lucifer fell

so much so it took a long while for the three of them to sleep in the same space together again

at that point, they swapped out the big mattress for the individual ones like before

they all get pissy and snappy towards each other (Michael especially) whenever the mood is particularly sour that night

they fall asleep out of exhaustion more than anything, barely acknowledging each other before going to bed and after waking up

their nightly habits didn't stop but they don't do it as much since they aren't that comfortable when sleeping anymore to the point it kinda mellowed out

in the end they slowly got used to Lucifer's absence

sometimes Michael drapes his wings over the others like how Lucifer used to (they notice but won't say anything and it's not like Michael will admit to it when confronted)

#shrimpy asks #what in “hell” is bad?#prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#what in hell is bad #whb #whb headcanons #whb lucifer #whb gabriel #whb michael #whb raphael

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simp4pedropascal75 · 10 months

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bad guy (Joel Miller x Reader)

summary: since joel came to jackson, you only had eyes for him. but he didn't had eyes for you.... well, he did. but he hid behind a facade of a cold, mean asshole.

trigger warnings: 18+, minors dni, mature content included, some angst, fluff, explicit language, mention of guns, smut (f!nger!ng, p in v, mention of daddy k!mk, praising, degrading), age gap (reader in his 20s, joel in his 50s)

words: 2k

a/n: hey guys, so, this is my first post after a long break now. this was my first time writing smut, i'm still learning yk, but I hope you like it! Please keep in my mind that english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry for spelling mistakes and stuff.

Also I wrote this while driving to Croatia and I'm still sitting in the car, so yeah. There'll be a part 2 of this ff:) now, I wish y'all a fun time reading<3

-------------------♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡--------------------

Why do girls always love the bad guy? Why can’t I just find normal people attractive? And especially men in my age, you think.

Obviously I can’t, because I love Joel fucking Miller.

Since he came with this girl Ellie to Jackson, you couldn’t get him out of your mind. You tried, you really tried. But no, Joel stayed in your mind. Every fucking time he walked past you, butterflies flew in your stomach like crazy. When he looked at you, your heartbeat speeded up. And god, when he talked to you, even for just 10 seconds, you needed to squeeze your legs together, because you couldn’t bear the ache between your legs.

But sadly, he didn’t talked to you often, he didn’t look at you, he just always walked past you. Sometimes you two had to go on patrol, but to be honest, he was an asshole. He didn’t talk much, and when he did, he was mean. He was so cold towards you. The only person where he softened up, was Ellie. You and her got along well, she is a smart girl, with a big mouth, but still smart.

But, what did you expect? He’s like doubled your age. But you always found men, who could be your dad, more attractive than boys in your age. Older men are more mature and… they have experience.

With every boy you slept in your age, has never made you cum, never.

Not to mention your daddy issues.

Actually, you’re on patrol with him right now. It was quiet, very quiet, while you walk through a abounded building with him. You’ve met some clickers on your way, but they were easy to kill. “So, was it already so quiet when Tommy was out on patrol?”, you ask him while you reload your gun. “‘haven’t talked to him”, he answers cold. You look at him confused, because they usually always exchange about their patrols.

“Why didn’t you?”, you ask curiously.

“Why would you care?”, he scoffs and doesn’t even look at you. He stands up and continues to walk.

Asshole.

“We have to move, come on”, he adds. You just roll your eyes at him, get up and follow him. “Well I care, because we have to know what we have to expect.”, you mumble pissed.

He turns around to look at you with a stern look. “If you would shut your fucking mouth, maybe we could hear what we have to expect”

Yeah, that’s it.

“You know what, I don’t fucking care. I understand that we’re definitely not friends, but that doesn’t mean you have to act like the arrogant bastard you are.”, you speak upset. “Guess what, I don’t like you either, but at least I try to be nice to you!”

“Shut up.”, he whispers harshly.

“You want me to shut up?! Did I hurt your ego because someone finally said how you really are, Joel Miller?! I swear I’ll soon kick you in your non-exciting balls-“ He suddenly slams you against the wall and covers your mouth with his hand. “I said, be. quiet.”, he growls quietly. You try to move and push him away, but he’s too strong.

As you give up and stare into his eyes, you hear it too, stalkers.

You feel how the speed of your heartbeat increases and feel the big ache between your legs again, but even stronger as the last time’s. His chest was pressed onto yours and you sense his hot breath on your neck. While Joel’s concentrated on the sound of the stalkers, you get a chance to admire his face closely. His hazel eyes, his lips… and his nose.

Fuck.

As the stalker noises get quiet and disappear, you gulp as he stares into your eyes. He releases your mouth from his hand and you take a deep breath. “s-so.. where was I-?”, he cuts you off.

“You really can’t shut up, can you?”, he raises an eyebrow at you as he asks.

“You fucking basta-“, suddenly he smashes his lips on yours. That’s when you get quiet. Your heart was beating out of your chest while you were melting under his touch. You can’t resist and wrap your arms around his neck while kissing him back.

Joel’s hands run up your curves while he’s pulling you even closer to his body. You feel how his dick begins to harden under the fabric of his jeans. He stops kissing your lips and continues to place kisses on your neck to leave you with his marks. You whimper softly as you feel how his hand glides down your stomach. As Joel slides his hand under your pants, he touches your already wet panties. “god, were you so desperate to be touched? you dirty little girl.”, he whispers in your ear and nibbles on it. “Fuck, Joel-“, you breathe. He pushes your panties aside and his thumb starts to rub your clit slightly.

“you need to be quiet, darling.”, he whispers again as you feel his hot breath on your neck again. As you nod and give him your permission he slides two of his fingers into your core. “Joel- I-“, you begin to breath heavy. You really tried to keep quiet, but as he starts to pump his fingers into you… “Joel, I can’t-“, you moan, that’s when he puts his hand over your mouth again.

“keep fucking quiet, you’re gonna’ get us killed..”, he growls as he stares into your eyes.

While he continues shoving his fingers inside you, your hands make your way to his belt. As you start to unbuckle it, he slaps your hands away. “not here.”, he whispers harshly.

“Please Joel-, I need you.”, you whine.

“No.”, he says with his deep voice, which even more aroused you. You start to feel your climax coming nearer, so does Joel as your inner walls squeeze his fingers gently. “Joel, I’m gonna-“, you cry out and he immediately covers your mouth again. “thats it, baby.. cum all over my fingers, darling…”, he whispers right into your ear and that’s when you reach your climax. He presses his hand onto your mouth to quiet down your moan and a slight smirk appears on his face. As your legs are still shaking, your hands try to unbuckle his belt again, but this time, he lets you do it.

“Fuck, y/n… you really want to get us killed, don’t you”, Joel groans quietly.

“Please Joel-, just-“, he cuts you off while slamming his lips onto yours again. He flicks his younger against yours and gasps as your hand touches his clothed dick. “Goddammit, y/n!”, he growls.

“Please Joel, I need you inside of me-“, that’s when he can’t resist your begging and he turns you around the wall and pushes you against it. “‘risking to get killed, just to be fucked by daddy’s cock”, he whispers and you hear how he pushes his pants down, which leaves a smile on your face. He takes his dick into his hand and rubs the tip at your wet pussy. His other hand glides to your mouth again, because he knows you definitely can’t keep quiet.

And he’s right.

You cry out loud as he pushes his shaft into your throbbing core.

God, he’s big.

“Fuck.”, he exhales. He begins to thrust into you while your moans get louder, he presses his hand harder on your mouth. “Such a good girl, taking my dick so fucking good”, Joel praises which makes you squirm under his grip. His other hand rests on your waist and his breath starts to get heavier. As he increases the speed, you feel how your legs begin to shake again. “how long have you been waiting for this, hm…?”, he breathes into your ear and wraps his arm around you to pull you closer. Joel begins to hit your g-spot and as your breath becomes heavier, your moans do too.

“Use your words, princess”, he groans into your ear.

“S-since you came here-“, you try to answer while he’s trying to muffle your moans again. You hear him chuckle. “‘never thought that you’re such a dirty girl”, he whispers. “‘squeezing my dick real good- you’re gonna’ cum?”. You nod.

“Words.”, he growls. “Y-yes, I’m gonna cum!”, you whine and you rech your climax. As your pussy tightens around his cock, you hear his groan and feel how he fills you up with his cum, leaving you two breathless.

As we walked back to Jackson, he was quiet, too quiet. “‘you’re okay?”, you ask concerned and also confused while he’s walking in front of you. “This was a mistake”, he growls and keeps walking. “What- I don’t understand-“, you mumble confused and grab after his hand so he stops walking. “What don’t you understand?”, he speaks louder and pulls his hand away. “This, was a mistake”, he points with his finger at you and himself. “A fucking big one.”, he growls and turns around to walk. “So, after you just fucked the shit out of me in a building full of zombies, you tell me that this was a mistake?!”, you almost shout and walk after him.

I can’t believe him, you think.

“yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”, he points out and it seems like he really doesn’t care. “Are you kidding me right now?! Don’t you notice how fucked up this is?! You fuck me and now tell me it was a mistake, and you don’t even feel bad!”, you shout after him upset and try not to tear up. “Exactly”, he just answers coldly.

“And now what huh?!”, you try to grab his hand again and finally get him stop walking. He turns around and just looks at you, his eyes were pitch black now. You don’t see any emotions in his face.

“Now, we’re going our separate ways”, he grumbles coldly.

Why do girls always love the bad guy?, you think.

It’s already been two months since it happens with Joel. And like he said, we’re going our separate ways. He didn’t look at you, he didn’t talked to you and he didn’t even went on patrols with you anymore. And you really tried to hate him, and did because of what he did, but you couldn’t get this night with him out of your mind anymore. Every time you close your eyes, you feel his lips on yours and his dick thrusting deep into you.

So, since he really didn’t felt bad and ignored you like you don’t exist, you tried to keep on with your life and tried dating again. You’ve met a really nice boy, Jack. He was two years older than you and he really was a gentleman. He was nice, kind and lovely. He made you laugh and feel safe. Since Joel didn’t go on patrols with you again, he did. And it was fun. Today you’ve had your third date already and as you walk into the bar, you see Joel sitting there.

Fuck.

And that’s when it hits your memory again. His hand pressed on your mouth, his hot breath on your neck and his dick pounding into you. You got pulled out of your mind, as you feel Jack’s hand on your waist. “Hey there, beautiful”, he says with his sweet smile. “Hey”, you smile back and go with him to your table. You thought Joel didn’t notice you, but he did. He saw you with this guy before, and god it has made him jealous. But Joel’s good at hiding his feelings, always hiding how he looks at you in secret.

You and Jack had a good time. Sometimes you took a glance at Joel, but his back was turned towards you. As you two finished eating, you stood up and wanted to look after Joel, but he wasn’t sitting there anymore. “I’ll pay real quick, you can wait outside”, Jack says and places a kiss on your cheek.

You nod and go outside. It’s already dark outside. A breeze of cold air flies against your body and you get goosebumps. That’s when you let your keys fall. “Fuck…”, you swear and try to see them in the dark. As you spot them, you bend down but suddenly someone else picks them up.

As you look up, you freeze:

“Joel.”

-> part 2

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ttoddii · 3 months

Text

bada taking you to take your shots + how she comfort you afterward headcanons

pairing(s): girlfriend!bada x f!reader

warnings: pure fluff, mention of needles, bada has a soft spot for reader and it shows, reader being spoiled, not proofread, lowercase intended, bad grammar.

a/n: this is my first time writing headcanons, it would not be perfect, but i hope you guys enjoy it just as much as my normal stories. (and i sincerely apologize for any mistake i might make)

special note: good job for being so brave yumi <3

taglist: @missminho; @taniio (comment under my posts to get add)

⊹₊ ⋆ you're not a scaredy cat, most definitely not, but you hate pain, and your sweet girlfriend take it into her own responsibility to help you deal with it.

⊹₊ ⋆ bada would drive you to the hospital to take your shots, giving you lots of assurance while you guys are in the car.

⊹₊ ⋆ her hand would be place on your thigh throughout the ride so you can have that extra safety feeling in your heart while your mind is a wreck :(

⊹₊ ⋆ you being bada's passenger princess let you have time to be a mess while thinking about how many shots you might get, and bada would take glances here and there to see how you're feeling.

⊹₊ ⋆ "don't worry baby i'll be with you the whole time"

⊹₊ ⋆ she would definitely bring your favorite stuffed animal so you can hold onto it while you take your shots.

⊹₊ ⋆ bada would do all the paperwork once you guys get to the hospital, she can't let her baby stress even more about anything when your mind is already wrapped around all the shots you might get :(

⊹₊ ⋆ you wouldn't even need to flip a finger, bada would do everything for you, all you need to do it mentally prepare yourself for the shots.

⊹₊ ⋆ would hold your free hand when you get your shots and talk to you so you wouldn't focus on the pain.

⊹₊ ⋆ "you're doing so great, so brave for me"

⊹₊ ⋆ if you wince, bada would glare at the doctor, staring at them to let them know she is not please, which work because they seem to be more gentle with you now.

⊹₊ ⋆ would occasionally bring your free hand up so she could give it small kisses of assurance.

⊹₊ ⋆ when you're finish she would give you lots of compliments, telling how brave you are, how well you behave, and she would smother you in kisses once you guys get in the car.

⊹₊ ⋆ "you did so good back there, now let's go get your favorite ice cream"

⊹₊ ⋆ definitely bought many snacks that you like beforehand so you can much on them when you get back. kind of like a reward for being so brave and overcome the fear.

⊹₊ ⋆ bada would make sure that you won't feel sick for the next few days, would check up on your temperature in the first few hours, ask you questions to make sure you're alright.

⊹₊ ⋆ "is your arm sore? are you feeling hot? do you need anything?"

⊹₊ ⋆ she would want you to watch your favorite show, listen to your favorite songs while she do all the house chores, she would not let you touch anything, scared that your arm is sore from all the shots you get. basically you are her baby :(

⊹₊ ⋆ if your arm is sore – because you took so many shots in one go – she would let you lay in bed and once she finish with everything she would cuddle in bed with you.

⊹₊ ⋆ she would be extra careful not to touch the arm that got shots though, would definitely change her side of bed if the one she usually sleep on if the same side as the arm you got shots.

⊹₊ ⋆ would kiss you while you guys cuddle in bed, on your face, on your hands, at the crook of your neck.

⊹₊ ⋆ give you many many compliments so you could giggle and forget about all your pain and soreness.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ bonus:

"bada i'm scared, the needle look so big", you look up at bada, your eyes wide from how scared you are.

her right hand hold onto yours tightly as she give you a reassurance smile, her tall form crouch down to your level as she talk to you.

"baby you'll do so good, it will be quick, i promise"

and bada stand up again, her upper body low down so she could give you a light kiss on your forehead before she smile to you softly.

#bada lee x reader #bada lee #bada lee fluff #bada x reader #street woman fighter 2 #swf2 #⟢ tod's chaos

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misc-obeyme · 8 months

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Heart Trend Part 2

It's a surprise headcanon post!!

Okay so, way back in July, @obeymewanderer left a comment on the brothers doing the heart trend headcanons about wanting to see Barbatos. So I did the rest of the characters and then got distracted with events and forgot to post it. My bad!

Anyway, here it finally is. I figured since I'm not posting anything else right now, I can finally post this even though I wrote a while back.

This is also the first time I'm including Mephisto, Raphael, and Thirteen. I just felt like this was something simple enough that I could write their reactions without too much of an issue! But don't expect that to start being a thing... I'm really waiting for them to become dateable... but it's taking forever... I dunno, we'll see.

GN!MC does the heart trend with the dateables, Luke, and the side characters

Warnings: none!

Diavolo

Oh! He's seen this! You're making a heart, right? Hang on, he's got this. Completes the heart and he's totally thrilled about it. Grinning from ear to ear.

He probably saw the video you made of all the brothers and he's so happy to be included in the trend.

Please send him all the pictures, MC. He wants pictures of the two of you, but he also wants your pictures of Lucifer doing the trend. Don't worry, he won't show them to anyone else!

Takes it upon himself to do the trend with others, too. Lucifer is not pleased when Diavolo tries to do it with him, blaming you for turning him onto the trend. But secretly everybody finds it pretty adorable, especially considering how excited Diavolo is about it.

Barbatos

You are not expecting him to know the trend, but when you approach with your half heart, he smiles at you indulgently. He shifts into demon form and now you're worried you've offended him.

But no, he's completing your heart with his tail. You're so surprised since he doesn't normally allow anyone to touch his tail that you're immediately flustered by it.

He explains that due to his tail being forked, he felt it would complete the heart nicely. Would you prefer him to use his hand, MC?

No matter what you say, he does it anyway. Now you've got pictures of the completed heart with his tail and his hand. It's such a cute moment, you're almost hesitant to post the video. You do it anyway, but the pictures you keep to yourself.

Simeon

Does not know the trend at all. Looks at your hand in bafflement. Quietly tries to figure out what you're doing for a long moment of silence.

He ends up completing the heart anyway just because he copies what you're doing. You have to position your hand a little bit to make it, but as soon as you do, he gets it.

Laughs in delight and melts you with his smile. It's a heart! Of course, he sees it now, MC! That's so cute!

Explain to him about the trend, then send him the video and any pictures you take. He might try to take some pictures himself, but we all know how that tends to turn out.

Solomon

Knows exactly what you're doing. Completes the heart and can't resist using magic to add a little brightly colored flair to it. You gasp in delight because it looks so cool.

Enjoys making you happy, so waits patiently for you to finish your video and take all the pictures.

When it seems like you're done, he takes full advantage of your close proximity. Grabs the hand you were using to make the heart and pulls you close, planting a kiss on your cheek.

If you protest, he'll apologize. He's sorry, MC, but you're just so cute right now.

Luke

Thrilled. Of course he's seen all the videos you've posted with the others! He knows exactly what to do! Completes the heart with you.

He's so happy about it, he watches the video you took multiple times. Keeps any pictures you take, too. Maybe even has one printed so he can put it in a cute little frame.

Now he wants to do the trend with everybody else, too. Nobody can refuse and they all know what it is now, so he ends up with several videos. But yours is still his favorite.

Look, MC! Now he has pictures with everybody just like you! Suggests the two of you make scrapbooks of all the cute pictures you have of everyone.

Mephistopheles

Absolutely not. He knows what the trend is, but he refuses to do it with you. Why would he do something like that with a human like you?

Show him the video of you doing it with Lord Diavolo and he'll change his tune. Okay, fine, MC. If you insist.

Completes the heart, allows you to take a video and a couple of pictures. But in exchange, you need to send him those pictures of you doing the trend with Lord Diavolo.

Acts like this has been a harrowing experience for him, but you can't help but wonder if he secretly liked it.

Raphael

Complete confusion. Looks at your hand in concern. MC, your hand appears to be in some kind of claw like formation. Did you injure it?

Explain the trend to him, but he might just get more confused. What is the purpose of this, exactly? You do this for fun?

He won't mind completing the heart with you. Lets you take the video and take pictures if that's what you want. He doesn't really get it, but it seems to make you happy, so that's fine.

Show him the videos and pictures of Simeon and Luke doing it to make him smile. Okay, now that's pretty cute, he has to admit.

Thirteen

She's aware of the trend and normally she wouldn't bother to participate, but… it's you. And the fact that it's you, with your beautiful shiny soul, makes her giggle and complete the heart immediately.

Now she's flustered, but she acts like it's no big deal. Of course she knows the trend, MC! She lives in a cave, not under a rock!

You are thrilled when she lets you take a few pictures of the two of you doing it. Warns you to keep those pictures to yourself, though.

Makes sure you know that she's only doing it for you. Wouldn't do the trend with anybody else. But you already know she likes you. You just smile and nod.

part one with the brothers

masterlist | Thanks for reading!

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me headcanons #om swd #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me raphael #obey me mephistopheles #obey me thirteen #request #misc writes

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pimosworld · 1 year

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Company

Pairing -triple frontier boys x f!reader

Content warnings-18+,MDNI,NSFW, piv sex,oral sex, public sex,mentions of ptsd,light angst,fluff,smut. Explicit, this is an established poly relationship

Summary- sexually frustrated reader gets lost in thoughts about her boys.

wc-3.8k

Notes- this is my first fic ever so please feel free to comment with suggestions. I’ve been putting off writing for so long and I’m nervous to post but so excited. I hope you enjoy!

You’re not sure why the drive home is so quiet, Benny had won his fight after all. Even though it was off a technicality, he still won fair and square. Usually he’s buzzing with excitement after a win but right now, as you’re sandwiched between him and Santi in the backseat of the Jeep, you can tell he’s fuming. The heat radiating off his body should have long dissipated it’s been nearly an hour since he’d won.

Earlier in the locker room

“I know it’s not the way you wanted to win but we’re all still proud of you babe.”

It’s just him and you leaning against the wall inside the locker rooms. The rest of the boys are out grabbing beers, and are likely having the same conversation you’re having right now. He’s got a far away stare in his eyes that you’ve seen before, but not since your days in delta. That was years ago, and now you just want to kiss his face and tell him everything is okay. You won’t though because even though he won and he knows you always take care of him after a win, the only thing he’s said to you since you joined him in the locker room was that he didn’t want any company tonight.

It stings a little even though it shouldn’t. He’s entitled to want some space, and if you’re being honest with yourself, you are being a little selfish brat at the moment. It’s not entirely your fault when after a win he’s usually got you pressed against the lockers with your skirt bunched up around your torso, your legs wrapped around his waist and your hands on his bare shoulders. His strength after a fight is always surprising. Normally at this point, he’s holding you up with ease as he roughly fucks you against the lockers with your muffled cries of pleasure getting lost into the crook of his neck. His cock would be slammings into you over and over until you both reach your peak together. Jesus Christ you need to get a grip because you're having flashbacks about the man that is right next to you, and clearly upset.

Is your brain seriously letting you be this ridiculous? You live with 3 other men who are fully capable of keeping you company tonight. There’s just something about Benny after a fight that you can’t shake the feeling, the craving you have for him. That hungry look in his eyes when he has you laid out on the bench with his head between your thighs. He kisses your thighs and runs his tongue slowly up to your aching center,as if he’s forgotten he’s in a locker room and you most definitely can’t take your time. But he always does with you, he slowly licks your folds, his tongue feels hot compared to the cold bench on your back. The duael sensations are driving you mad. He nips at your clit and you look down at him almost in protest but those piercing blue eyes look back at you and he has this shit eating grin on his face. It’s the one you love and know when he’s being playful, he just wants to make sure you’re still here with him. He continues circling your clit with his tongue and you know you’re dripping down onto the bench beneath you. You’re desperately trying to be quiet but he adds a finger into you and you lose all train of thought as he fucks into you at a rapid pace, his tongue flicks your clit and a chill runs down your spine as you lose all sense of where you are. Your quiet whimpers have now turned into louder moans of his name.

Jesus fucking Christ you’re doing it again, get a grip. You can survive one night without Benny.

You will just have to torture one of the others with your frustrations, and how fun might that be?

As your thoughts drift back to the present, you’re in the car and you can see that Will has fallen asleep in the front seat. He’s been training Ben all week and is likely exhausted and a bit frustrated as well with the results. Will hates technicality wins because it messes with his overall record. Ben has been fighting for so long now it’s mostly knockouts across the board. Will is calculated and calm, he always has been. He’s the perfect trainer to juxtapose Benny’s fired up demeanor.

He was very calculated just two mornings ago when he fucked you in the kitchen. You both had a restless night sleep so you found yourselves bright and early in the kitchen enjoying your coffee together like a domestic couple in the suburbs. Except you weren’t a domestic couple by any means were you? No, both of you are in a full on relationship with 3 other people, both e your black coffee in your shared home at 5 am because you both had nightmares ( you all have nightmares) from your time in delta, and from your various other illegal activities after leaving the service.

You hate the restless nights but you love mornings like this, where the two of you, and sometimes all five of you,can enjoy your black coffee in silence, like the silent trained killers that you are (were?). That doesn’t matter, that’s just a joke between you and Santiago anyway.

“Are you done with your coffee?” Will asks with that sultry drawl of his voice still lazy with the lack of sleep.

You don’t answer but you slowly set your cup down on the granite countertop. He tilts his head and levels you with those blue eyes you’ve grown to love over the years. He’s let his hair grow out since leaving the service and his beard comes in nicely just slightly darker than his blonde hair that you love to pull when things get intimate. He stalks towards you in his gray sweatpants and crisp white, and too tight, t-shirt. You still haven’t answered him as he cages you against the cold counter top. You can feel the hard press of his cock against your abdomen in your thin oversized army T shirt. Is it yours? You’re not even sure anymore, it’s probably Frankie’s shirt but Will doesn’t care. He obviously doesn’t mind sharing.

He slowly grabs the hem of the shirt, his fingers dancing against your thighs. He raises his eyebrow at you asking for permission because of course it’s Will. You take his hands away from your shirt and quickly toss it over your head as it lands somewhere to your left to be found later. He stills in front of you taking in your naked form.

“ No panties or bra?” He asks you another question as if you’ve answered the first question.

What was the first question? He wastes no time lifting you onto the cold counter top. He kisses your neck and slowly drags his tongue down the line until he reaches your nipple, taking his time sucking and using his hand to grab the other breast and squeeze, brushing his thumb across your nipple. Your whole body is alight with goosebumps now, and pretty much anytime, Will ever touches you.

Before you can finish recanting your thoughts of the other morning you’re rudely interrupted by Santi poking you in the rib.

“Ouch what the fuck!”

“Calm down Honey I barely poked you!”

Even in the darkness of the car you can see his piercing gaze and his shit eating grin.

“Yeah, I’m trying to figure out why you poked me?” You say sassier than you wanted and return the grin in favor with slightly more of a smile than you wanted .

Frankie chimes in from the drive’rs seat

He asked you a question? When? You can’t even remember with your thoughts so caught up in fantasizing about the men you lived with.

“Hermosaaaaa, are you still with us?” Frankie’s eyes are somehow on you in the rear view mirror and paying attention to the road at the same time.

“We’ll I’ve got your attention now so I’ll ask again” Pope says in a bit of high pitched annoyance. “Which one of us is your favorite?”

You scoff at the idea that you would even answer let alone think that this stupid question is what pulled you from your thoughts of you and Will the other morning.

“ Do you actually think she would answer that?” Ben chimes in from beside you and you notice some of the heat and annoyance has dissipated from his demeanor.

He now seems more relaxed, shoulders less tense. You relax a little at the sight of your Benny returning to you. Still, you will give him his space tonight because he asked and you will always respect their space. That’s the only way this all works…respect.

“ You know I’m not answering that, and besides you all annoy me with equal vigor so I couldn’t possibly have a favorite.””.

Without turning to face Santi, you dart out your right hand to poke him in the ribs but he catches your wrist and stops you full force. You wouldn’t dare turn your head to see the fucking Cheshire Cat smiling back at you in the darkness of the car. You already know he’s proud of himself because his chuckling is reverberating through your hand that he still has clasped in his grip.

He leans in real close to your ear ( not helping your predicament) you can smell the musky cologne and the faint smell of beer.

“Ah ah ah, gotta be quicker than that,” he says playfully, still sensing your annoyance.

You rip your wrist out of his grasp and huff in frustration, as you glance back at the front seat and see Will still sound asleep. It warms your heart because sleep is hard to come by sometimes, and Will could certainly use some shut-eye.

So you’re obviously checking Will off your list of who will be your victim tonight. Between his long week and the way Frankie drives, anyone was bound to fall asleep.

Your thoughts perk up thinking of Frankie, as you watch him drive with such ease and control. The broadness of his shoulders as he lazily turns the wheel onto a familiar street. He always has such control when it comes to anything besides you. He would gladly lose control for you. Just the thought of the first time you saw him fly a helicopter can make you cum. That’s what attracted you to him in the first place. Although you couldn’t believe how you had managed to be placed in delta force with the four hottest men in the world. it wasn’t really fair. You supposed that Tom kept things equal, statistically speaking, being the least attractive of them all.

Frankie could definitely ease your frustrations tonight. He could never say no to you, it seemed there wasn’t a time when he didn’t want you. Once again you find your thoughts drifting off to the other day. It was a hot humid day in Florida. The kind you hated because everything stuck to you in all the wrong places. The sweat seems never ending on days like this and the bugs won’t leave you alone. Benny and Will were busy training at the gym and Santi was holed up in his office. You didn’t bother him on those days because you knew his mind would often take him to dark places. It had rained quite a bit the night before, and you knew the rain always brought thoughts of Columbia. He always took it the hardest and so you would leave him be for now.

That left you and Frankie to make what you could of this day and you knew he would do anything for you, and with you. The day had started off innocently enough, the two of you deciding to go to the beach.

Once you’ve arrived at the beach you quickly realize your mistake…everyone else in Florida had the same idea, and you and Frankie audibly groan at the sight of what feels likea thousand cars and a million people. Neither of you are in the mood for large crowds .

“What do you think Honey?”

You glance at Frankie in the driver’s seat and can’t help but smile. He tries so hard for you, you can see his smile lines have deepened over the years and his cap that perfectly frames his curls has faded slightly. You place your hand gently on his arm that’s gripping the steering wheel a little too tight and notice the blue shirt he’s wearing hugging his bicep.

“Let’s go home “ you try to say with conviction so that he thinks you’re not upset in the slightest.

“I feel bad we came all this way,” “ he says as he pulls onto the road and you notice his frown. You just want to pull him into a kiss so that he never makes that face again.

“ I really am enjoying watching you drive so it’s not a total waste.””. You throw a wink his way and see that smile return that you love so much. You decide to just enjoy the drive and the only breeze you’ll get all day with the windows down.

He keeps glancing over at you but you’re not sure he knows you can tell. You did wear his favorite sundress. It’s red with little blue flowers on it, t. Thin straps and a very low neckline that perfectly frames your breasts. The hem hits just above the knee, but with the way you’rer seated in the front, it’s slightly higher. He chances one more glance at you and you can’t help but tease a little.

“See something you like Morales?”

He doesn’t answer you but places his warm palm on your upper thigh. You’re both facing forward because you don’t dare look at him now, and of course he’s focused on the road. He inches his hand higher until his fingers dance across your aching center. Your breath hitches in your throat when he starts to rub circles on your clit with his calloused fingers.

“You’re so wet for me hermosa, just watching me drive get you like this?”

You don’t answer him but you slowly spread your thighs wider to give him room. He groans at the gesture and moves your panties to the side to drag a finger slowly up and down, your slick now coating his hand. He stills his movement at your slight whimper and chances a glance in your direction. Your breathing has become ragged and he watches your chest rise quickly trying to calm yourself. Reluctantly he pulls his hand away but you watch as he slowly brings his hand to his mouth and liocks his finger.

He looks back at the road and says in the most sultry tone you’ve ever heard grace his lips.

“If I don’t pull over I’m going to crash this fucking car.”

You smile to yourself, you don’t have much of an ego but it’s erotic to know how much you turn him on by just wearing a dress. They all can be very simple that way, and sometimes you find yourself drunk on the power that knowledge holds.

He drives for a while and you think maybe he was just talking but you start to not recognize your surroundings. The beach long in your rear view has now turned into long leaf pine trees, the smell is intoxicating. He’s definitely taking the long way home and you don’t mind at all. Before you can get caught up in scenery you notice he’s pulled off the main road, he nestled the Jeep between some trees. Just enough cover you think for what he has planned.

Between the nearly illegal tint on the Jeep and the trees you have plenty of privacy, although at the moment you don’t really care with how keyed up you are just from his fingers. Something about them being a vet lets them evade the tickets they would normally get for the darker than limo tint on the windows.

He carefully takes the keys out of the ignition, still not looking at you and carefully sets them in the cup holder. He slides his seat back to give you room (you assume). A comfortable silence falls between the two of you. Something you’re grateful for amongst all of them. They always make you feel comforted without speaking. Yyou can be yourself and just sit in the silence. Their presence is a blanket of protection that washes over you each and every day.

“Come here” he says in his low, husky tone. ,iIt’s not a question, but more of a command.

In less time than it takes you to blink you’re in his lap, your thighs on either side of his. You make quick work of his belt and he lifts you with him to slide his pants down. Each time you see his impressive length it takes your breath away. Frankie usually takes his time working you up but you’re already so wet you don’t want to waste anymore time, or risk getting caught. He gasps at the touch of your soft hand as you line yourself up to slide down his cock. The stretch has you both panting like you’ve run for miles. You rest your head against his broad chest, while he grips your waist as tight as he was holding the steering wheel just moments ago.

“Pleas-“ you both pant in unison. Which causes a chuckle from both of you. Neither of you know what you’re asking of the other. Is he asking you to move? Are you asking him to move?

Suddenly a sharp pain in your ribs has ripped you from your thoughts of Frankie and harshly thrust you back into reality, ( which you think you’re starting to lose your grip on).

“Earth to honey” Santi says in a sing-song tone.

You don’t normally mind that they call you by your call sign, it’s always sweet and endearing. Right now though, with the way Santi has interrupted your lewd thoughts not once but twice you want to break the finger that keeps poking you in the ribs.

Just as you’re about to give him a piece of your mind, you hear a loud groan from the driver’s seat.

“You good Fish?” Santi asks with concern for his best friend, the person he would do anything in the world for.

“Ya hermano it’s fine, it’s just my back is killing me and I’m ready to get home and lay out.”

You internally groan…well shit Frankie is off the list of victims. You would never disturb him on a night where he’s in pain. You all have been through the ringer between the service and your post service activities, and it’s definitely taken a toll on your bodies…some more than others.

You turn to look at Santi and resume your conversation about what his problem is with your ribs when suddenly it dawns on you.

He should’ve been your chosen victim from the start, he’s always so smug and you rarely get the chance to return the favor of him edging you for what can seem like hours. It usually doesn’t take much temptation from you to get him going.

You slowly start to slide your hand up his thigh, running your fingers along the seam of his tight jeans that always show off his great ass. You’re inching higher and without looking at you, you can tell he’s letting you as he slowly spreads his leg. You palm at his half hard cock through his jeans and you hear a low groan from somewhere deep in his throat.

You just want to tease him until you get home and then you can do with him what you want for as long as you deem necessary.

He adjusts his feet to give you more room and suddenly you hear a hiss come from him. You withdraw your hand immediately, fearing that you hurt him somehow.

“Did I hurt you?” You whisper into his ear so that the others can’t hear you.

“No carinño, it’s just my knees are killing me after last night,” he says apologetically.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” you say out loud accidentally instead of in your head, like you meant to.

The look of shock and horror is etched onto Santi’s face and you just want the car to swallow you whole. You glance at Frankie in the rear view mirror and he has a look of concern and shock as well. You look to your right at Benny and the look of amusement is spread wide across his face. At least something good has come out of your outburst . It seems that the Benny you know and love is back and is loving the predicament you’ve most certainly got yourself into.

He crosses his arms and levels you with a grin and he just knows somehow where your thoughts have been this entire trip home.

“Care to share your thoughts with the class hermosa?” Frankie says slightly less concerned, now that he can see the embarrassment written across your face.

“No,no it’s fine….I’m fine, I’ll be okay “ you’re trying to convince yourself. “I just need a really cold shower.””. You say as you let your head drop onto Benny’s shoulder.

“Well we’re almost home, do you think you can survive until then? He asks now completely amused with this whole situation that he’s clearly missed because he’s been safely trying to get you all home.

Probably not, you think to yourself this time instead of saying it out loud.

Who could survive being surrounded by these four men who on any occasion you could have your way with yet tonight, as if it’s some horrible joke, you can’t have any of them. You start to think that you’re being a bit of a brat again, but you’re too far gone to care.

You feel like a fairytale gone horribly wrong, instead of Snow White and the seven dwarves it’s Honey and the four mercenaries. Mopey, Sleepy, Achey, and Breaky.

You’re now audibly laughing and concern washes over the car again.

“What did I miss, what’s so funny?” Will chimes in from the front seat, now wide awake.

“Nothing, I just think we broke her.” Santi states from beside you, careful to watch your movements for any sudden jabs to the rib. He thinks your laughter is a distraction to sneak attack him but you’ve long forgotten all about him interrupting your thoughts.

As Frankie turns the last corner onto your street, you silently resign to yourself.

You’ll just have to keep your own company tonight.

@melodygatesauthor Thank you so much for proofreading and adding your lovely comments. It means so much to me 🥰

#triple frontier poly #triple frontier x fem reader #triple frontier fic #triple frontier smut #frankie morales x reader #santiago x reader #will miller x reader #benny miller x female reader #will miller smut #benny miller smut #santiago garcia smut #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier boys x reader #triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader

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