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netherese-blorb · 2 months

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Fun Facts

Chapter 1: “Good Morning to You, Too.” (full version on ao3)

NSFW “Did you know that spiders operate on a sort of hydraulics system?’’ - Gale and Cerela’s first morning in Waterdeep. Gale has somehow found himself affianced to someone who's an even bigger nerd than he is.

The sun is already high by the time Gale Deakrios is ready to greet the morning. He sits up lazily, letting the sheets fall and bare his chest. He takes in the familiar comfort of his bed chamber before his eyes settle on the rumpled bedding beside him.

The sight of an empty mattress, wrinkled from the previous night’s frivolities, is not new to him. He’s a grown man with many a story to tell. But this wasn’t left by a one-night tryst that had snuck out at first light. Beside the bed was a half-open trunk from which stout dwarven robes had been unpacked and hung next to his own.

After taking one last moment to relish the first glimpses of a new shared life together, he stands, recovers his trousers from where they were hastily thrown last night, and sets off to locate his fiancé.

Cerela is lounging on an ornate sofa in his study when he finds her. Surrounding her are piles of books she had pulled from the shelves that line the walls and arranged into an inscrutable system of her own making. In her lap at present is a particularly dusty copy of “Arachnids and Related Fauna” , a textbook Gale had forgotten he owned.

She was wearing one of his wrap linen undershirts that tied on the sides, but the rest of her was hidden beneath a quilted throw blanket. With her side facing him, he could clearly see the swirling cerulean marks emanating from her mismatched eye, reaching up into her hair, and dissipating into scattered waves of brown and blue and brown again. Her brows were furrowed together in focus, and she slowly worried at her bottom lip.

Silently, he leaned against the door frame, too endeared by the sight to disturb her. He remembered teasing her for that expression, in his first clumsy attempts at flirtation.

“Those books of yours must have hearts of stone.” he had told her one of their first nights at camp. “On the receiving end of a pout like that, there’d be no request any mortal could deny you. Yet they still demand you work for their knowledge. How cruel of them!”

Had he known then what he knew now, he would have said anything else. If only he had known how ashamed her family had made her of her gentleness, or how even amongst her fellow academics, years of ridicule had made her skittish to observation.

But he didn’t know. And so Cerla had given him a startled expression and quickly gathered up her things. “My request to you, then,” she spat back indignantly, “Would be that you keep your judgments of my face to yourself.” and walked off to her tent in a huff.

It had taken many nights of soothing words and soul-bearing confessions before she could be convinced that his attentions weren’t hiding any secret malice; that to him, her sweet nature and unpolished charm during their downtime only drew her prowess as a leader into sharper relief.

In the current moment, she once again startles to realize she’s the subject of his gaze. However now, her only response is a large, warm smile that scrunches the corners of her eyes.

“Did you know that spiders operate on a sort of hydraulics system?’’ She asked without preamble.

Gale chuckles and lifts himself off the door frame to continue into the room. “Good morning to you, too.”

“It says here that they have muscles to contract their legs inwards but use a compressed-fluid apparatus inside their thorax to extend them back out. Did you know that?”

“I did not,” He reaches her lounging spot and greets her with a kiss at the top of her head. “Or if I ever did, I’d forgotten.”

With books taking up the only unoccupied place on the sofa, he motions for her to tuck in her legs to make room for him, and then places them back down on his lap once he’s settled. “Seems rather inefficient to me.”

Cerela narrows her eyes at his blatant dismissal of the mysterious wonders of nature. “And here I thought you would appreciate my fun facts.”

Gale puts on a look of dramatic thoughtfulness, making a show of considering her words. “Well, I suppose such prolific beasts as they are, they must be doing something right. Does your tome offer a reason for this seeming redundancy?”

His question only spurs her to return to the page more intently. “Not yet, but I’ve still got aways to read.” The last bits trail off as her thoughts drift away from the conversation.

He sends her a fawning glance, which she does not notice. There were many traits that had led Gale to fall for her, but her pure, incorruptible enthusiasm for learning was certainly one of his favorites. To Gale, amassing knowledge had always been a means to an end. There were things he wanted to do, and so things he had to know in order to do them. But Cerela saw every tidbit of new information as a gift in its own right. While his mind was a tool to keep honed and calibrated, hers was an endless gallery; room after room of brilliant, ever-expanding displays, lovingly preserved and ready to be shared, each one presented as a masterwork.

Once his thoughts had passed, he gave her blanketed calf a playful squeeze to recapture her attention.

“Did you know, love of my life, that you are the most beautiful woman that has ever existed?”

She puts on a cartoonish deep voice and imitates his earlier dismissive tone “ Statistically unlikely, and entirely too subjective for empirical measurement. ” However, when she lowers her book enough for him to see her mocking eyes, the light blush across her cheeks also comes into view. “Besides,” she pokes into his side with her heel, “You’ve made similar claims before. Not really fun, as facts go.”

“Hmm, forgive me. I find such thoughts are often on my mind.” Gale responds dreamily as he reaches to find her legs under the quilt. To his thrill, she seems to be dressed in nothing but his shirt and her smallclothes. “Give me another, then. Perhaps I can learn by your example.” He runs lazy circles over her bare skin with his fingers.

Goosebumps rise where his hands touch, despite both of them now sharing the warmth of the blanket. She meets his eyes and instantly knows the game they’re playing. She looks to the couple of books she had set to her side, assumedly the ones she had already worked through in the hours before Gale woke up.

“Did you know that there’s a city called Sharn in Khorvaire, where they have mile-high towers constructed entirely of metal?” her excitement begins to bubble up, and any plans she had to fuel the growing tension are already deteriorating. “And their ‘upper district’ is a magically-infused sky barge that floats-” Feeling her mind beginning to wander too far, Gale runs a hand up and teases the outline of lace at her hip, giving the flesh there a gentle squeeze. Cerela exhales and continues, trying very hard to sound unphased. “-Floats above the rest of the city?”

“That one I did know, actually.” He responded, his voice lowering into a deep murmur as he could feel her shifting and tensing beneath his touch. “Could never resist the thrilling tales that came out of Eberron.”

She could see the corners of his mouth curl wickedly as he continued, “I’ve thought of something for my turn, if you’ll permit me to try again.” and finished with a courteous bow of his head.

Cerela hummed her assent and he began leaning slowly in towards her, “Did you know that the highest concentration of nerve endings in the body…” he stopped when his face was barely a hair’s breadth away from hers, where he knew she could feel the scratch of his beard and the vibrations of his whispers against her mouth.

“Is at the lips,” He stole a kiss.

“The fingertips,” He kept a feather-light touch as he guided his remaining hand up her thigh towards the burning heat between her legs.

“And here ” He pressed the hand against her, over the thin, damp layer of silk that remained the only thing between them. He curled his middle finger, feeling her through the fabric; slowly up between her folds until he reached the small nub at their peak.

Cerela gave a breathy gasp at the sensation. She tried to crane herself up to recapture his lips but found her movement restricted by Arachnids and Related Fauna, which was now pinned between them. She wrenched it free and placed it to the side as hastily as she dared without damaging it. Now unburdened, she tried yet again to reach up to him, but he pulled his face away with a teasing smile.

“I was quite enjoying learning about what you’re reading,” He said in mock disappointment. He lifted himself back up to a mostly upright position as the fingers on her core began to make achingly slow movements that offered little relief. “Come now, my love, it’s your turn. I’m eager to hear what you have to say.”

The simultaneous loss and gain of his touch made Cerela’s head spin. She gave a frustrated whine as she desperately searched the room for anything to jog her memory; anything that could give her something to say so he’d further his ministrations. But before long her eyes settled back on the maddeningly beautiful face looking back at her.

“Did you- , umm,” She squidges her eyes closed. “Did you know-…? fuck, Gale I want you so badly.”

The smugness of his voice would have been infuriating if it wasn’t so tinged with desire. “Is that so? A fun fact indeed. You always know how to pique my interest.” The movements of his hand pick up speed, but are still muffled by fabric and still not where she needs it most.

He continues. “Tell me more. I’m utterly desperate to know. What is it that you want of me, In particular?”

“I want you to touch me,” she opens her eyes to him, hoping that the need he sees there will move him to action.

But instead, she receives only mock concern. “I live to please you, my love, truly I do. But I confess myself befuddled by your words. Is this ,” his finger places a particularly heavy pet against her center, “not touching?”

This was always how it went. One would think she’d have learned by now, but it would seem that a part of her welcomed his gentle torment. They both loved to tease, but once the tension reached a certain height, Cerela would fold and Gale would double down. The moment a new unspoken game was set, he would poke and prod and bend the rules until she was pleading for surrender. The only small victories she could claim were in cracking his control wherever she could.

Point being, the time for coyness has passed.

She crossed a forearm over her eyes so she wouldn’t lose her nerve. “ Gods I want you to take those hands and that infuriating mouth of yours and make me come right here on this fucking couch.” She felt the confident rhythm of his hand start to stumble. “I want you to take me and tell me how it feels like to be inside me. I want us to find our pleasure together and I want us to do that every day for the rest of our lives.”

Before she could look at him again, his mouth was on her, hungry and passionate. He repositioned the two of them so he was fully kneeling above her, their quilt immediately fallen away and forgotten. One of his knees slid between hers, opening her legs to him. She gasped at the crash of books falling as he freed up room for himself on the sofa. Though he only seemed to notice in so far as he used the opportunity to lace his tongue with hers. When he finally pulls away, he looks victorious.

“I am yours to command.”

#gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale/tav #fluff #smut-adjacent #fics #me #my writing #Cerela #gale #gale x cerela #my tav

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toxicanonymity · 2 months

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beach walks

7k, Joel x f!reader; surf instructor Billy x f!reader (Billy gifs)

night walks au A/N: Picks up right after beach walks prequel.

SUMMARY: Paths cross, and Joel can't let you go. WARNINGS: I8+ angst, infidelity adjacent if you squint, drugs, dubcon (drugs/location) p in v, somewhat possessive!joel, exhibitionism, homoerotic tension if you squint. cuck!billy but you also sit on his face.

Joel can't sleep. He stares at the ceiling and keeps drifting back to what he shouldn't have seen - you in the pool with Billy. Plus, he evisions you fucking on the beach, in the hotel, in that stupid shack. He's not happy about it, but you’re so damn hot. He can't help the way his body reacts. He keeps hearing that moan, fuck.

He figures out what helps him get back to sleep, and by the end of the night, he's used all the lotion in that little bottle.

He wakes up for the last time around five. He showers and packs his bag. It's still dark when he goes for a walk on the beach. As the sky hints at sunrise, he stands with his fingers interlaced on the crown of his head and listens to the birds. He’s been doing his best, and it turns out his best sucks. On a sandbar, he finds a live starfish missing an arm and gently tosses it like a Frisbee back into the ocean.

What is he doing? He could've left it all alone.

He walks back to the hotel and gets a cup of coffee and a newspaper. He goes out on the cafe porch to read. There's a yoga class in view on the beach, and he looks to see if you're in it. Yeah, there you are. His stomach drops and his nostrils flare with a deep breath. You look great, but he can't see your ass. Right behind you, there's Billy.

Why Billy? He's impossible to hate. At least he's also impossible to tame. No way it goes beyond this vacation. But if anyone can make him wanna change, it might be you. Joel used to think Billy had it made, but he's a lonely guy underneath it all.

—---you------

Four of you are eating breakfast at a table for six in the dining hall. You're sitting across from Billy.

“Can’t miss with Billy’s Bistro. Never burn the toast, never give ya salmonella . . .”

“Salmonella?” Your friend Kari asks. “Was there an outbreak here?”

Billy has a spoon in his mouth, but his eyes widen. He looks back and forth between all three of you as he slowly swallows his chia pudding, then says, “Explains the Groupon, doesn't it?”

“Gross,” Kari pushes her plate away.

Billy shrugs, then looks at you. “Billy’s bistro,” he mouths with a subtle sparkle in his eyes. His face softens, then comes to life when he looks behind you.

“There he is,” Billy announces.

You look back and do a double take. Your heart skips a beat, and your eyes widen. Joel gives you a nod of acknowledgement.

He’s wearing swim trunks, and his thighs look massive. All of him does. Did the memories fade, or did he manage to put on 10 lbs of muscle in what, two months? His hair is longer – only an inch or so, but enough to curl. You can’t stop staring. Your face is cold and tingly.

“Have a seat, mate.” Billy uses his foot to push out the chair to his right, at the head of the table. He puts his hand on Joel's hulking trapezius as he sits down.

“Joel Miller. This man is a legend,” Billy tells you.

You glance at your friends, and they're as shocked as you. They met Joel once, at the restaurant.

“Taught me how to roll my first joint,” Billy says. “Now I can't even get’m to take a bong rip.” He turns to Joel. “That was some good shit ya brought, mate.”

“Yeah,” Joel says barely above a whisper, glancing at you.

“Hey Joel,” your friend Nahlah says.

“Hey, Nahlah.”

You had barely let him sit down to say hello at that restaurant.

“So you know each other,” Billy concludes. “Brilliant! What a world.”

“Yeah, we know each other,” Joel subtly nods, looking at you. He looks tired.

“Do they know the new you?” Billy asks.

“The new you?” you ask Joel.

“Health nut.” Billy grabs Joel's arm, beaming. “Look at’m.” He turns his attention to Joel. “On the straight and narrow. Can't believe it.”

“Really?” you ask Joel.

Joel sighs and side-eyes Billy. “No. Just had to, kinda. . . get my life together for a minute.”

It’s a punch to the gut. Getting his life together meant dropping you? That’s where he went? Your face burns, and your nostrils flare.

“Excuse me,” you tell the rest of them, and stand up with heat in your chest, determined not to make a scene.

“Catch up later,” Billy says and reaches for you as you come around Joel’s chair. You lean in and he gives you a kiss on the cheek. You don't look back on your way out the door.

—

You get down to the beach, take off your sandals, and walk, heading nowhere in particular.

Soon enough, Joel is calling your name, jogging. You keep walking, but he catches up. He walks beside you in silence, between you and the ocean. You try to ignore the stride of his hulking form in your periphery.

“Guess I don’t fit in your new life,” you mutter, then swallow the knot in your throat and put your shades on, even though it’s not sunny. You keep walking.

“Yeah ya do, baby,” he reaches for your hand. The tenderness almost gets to you, but it’s out of nowhere. You just can’t. You cross your arms and slow your pace.

“Guess I never did,” you mumble.

“I’m sorry.” Joel looks at you. You keep looking down, taking slow, careful steps.

“For what?” you ask, looking at the sand for an answer.

“Bein’ a fuckin’ idiot. Wrapped up in my own shit.”

“What shit?” you ask.

“I’ll tell ya everything, but–”

“--But what?”

“We’re supposed to head out in like (he looks at his watch) fuck. Like ten minutes.”

You scoff. “Did something happen?”

“No—well, yeah.” He looks around then asks, “You okay?”

You don’t answer.

“You looked happy,” he says, gesturing over his shoulder toward the dining hall. It sounds more like a question than an observation. Yeah, you were finally having a good time without him until he showed up. Now you’re confused, and mad at him for confusing you.

You stop in your tracks and turn to face him and the water. “What happened? You couldn’t even text me?”

The sky gets darker as thicker cloud cover creeps over the sun. “I should’ve,” Joel nods.

You barely have the energy to walk. You sit down on the sand. He better tell you, right now, if there's any hope.

He swallows and looks down and away, then takes off his sunglasses and joins you on the sand. “Got in my head,” he mumbles. “So many times, I was gonna. . .even walked to your door one night.”

“.. .okay?” You wait for him to continue.

“Thought ya might think I was lame, cause I wasn’t the same, I was. . .”

“You were trying to get your life together,” you recite, genuinely trying to digest it for the first time. A tear falls out of your eye and you angrily wipe it away.

He shakes his head. “Never shoulda said it that way. I had somethin’ to take care of. Tell ya ‘bout it when we've got time”

The lump is back in your throat, full force. He’s really gonna swoop in just long enough to make you sad, then leave you as confused as ever.

He looks dejected. “I know, I’m an idiot.”

“So what do you want?” you ask.

He looks at the sea for a moment. “To start over.”

“Why?” you ask and wipe away more tears. Your voice becomes strained. “What do you regret?”

“Nothin’, pumpkin. . . shit, I’m so bad at this.” He groans in frustration at himself. “And I know it, that’s why I. . .” he trails off and shakes his head.

You glance at his eyes and curse yourself for a twinge of empathy.

He claws a handful of the dry sand between you into a little pile and mumbles, “You deserve better, always did.” He smoothes out the pile, then pivots to face more in your direction. “Look at me, pumpkin’. Please.” He reaches for your sunglasses. You pull back your head away and take them off yourself. You turn and face him. He wipes his hand off on his shirt before brushing tears off your cheek with his thumb. “Only thing I regret is bein’ such a dick.”

You begin to stand up, not wanting to feel him suddenly leave you again. Once you’re standing, you cross your arms again. You dig the toes of one foot into the sand. Joel’s hands gently engulf each of your elbows, and he gets as close as he can. You don’t pull away, but you don’t open up either. He hugs you anyway.

God, his arms are huge. He holds you tight and breathes into your hair. He mutters, “Think about you all the time.” You let out a held breath, then his scent fills your lungs. A wave of affection threatens to break down your walls.

Your arms uncross on their own, and he hugs you with his body fully against yours. It feels like a warm mistake. It’s too late now.

“Ya know, I would’ve done it with you,” you sniffle. “Whatever this lifestyle thing. . .”

He whispers your name and hugs you tighter. He holds you for a minute, and you dab your eyes on his hulking shoulder. The weight of his arms is as soothing as his scent. This isn’t fixed, you tell yourself. You’re not going to pick up where you left off. If he invited you back to his room right now, you wouldn’t go. But somehow, you feel for him. You’ve never seen him anxious or vulnerable. He’s always been so sure of himself. So full of himself, but in a charming way.

You begin to pull away, still determined not to be the one who gets left. “Guess you’ve gotta go,” you mutter.

He looks sad as he slowly drops his arms, running his hands down your back. “Talk when you’re home?”

You sigh and look at your feet. Your self-preservation instincts tell you to cut him off. Quit him while you can. While you have the upper hand. While he can’t hurt you worse than he has. “What can’t you say right now?”

“A lot,” he answers without missing a beat. He seems to glance at your neck, but you can’t be sure.

You shake your head no.

“Please. Then I’ll leave ya ‘lone if ya want.” His eyes shift away. Does he mean that? Your eyes cloud up again, and you put your glasses back on.

“I dunno.” You walk back to the main building in silence and slip on your sandals on the way in. Joel hugs you goodbye. It feels like he doesn’t want to let go, and you don’t want him to either. Your arms faintly itch as he walks away, and you brush off the sand.

—

After Joel leaves, your friends finish eating and emerge from the dining hall.

“Where’s Billy?” you ask.

“He has a lesson,” Nahlah says.

You go back to your room and take a shower, trying to wash it all away, but Joel’s presence lingers, even as you turn off the water. You lie on your bed looking at the ceiling. Nahlah and Kari are on the other bed, watching ghost hunters on the free cable.

“How was last night?” Kari asks.

You sigh and mutter, “I need a nap.”

“I bet you do,” Nahlah teases.

You drift off, hoping everything will sort itself out while you dream.

–

You sleep for hours and wake up alone, without the clarity you’d hoped for, except that you resent what Joel’s doing. You’re already falling under his spell again, and you don’t like it. It would be too easy for him to break your heart again. You know what could take your mind off it.

You walk down to the shore, and Billy is finishing up a lesson. He sees you and nods toward the shack. You let yourself in and wait on the sofa, emo and increasingly horny.

He comes through the door and takes off his long sleeves. He tousles his hair and stretches his neck with his hand on the tattoo. He takes a sip from a squeeze bottle, then asks, “You alright? What happened earlier?”

“Nothing,” you rest your head in your left hand, with your elbow on the arm of the loveseat.

“He’s a good guy,” Billy says, then looks at his watch and shifts gears. “Got fifteen minutes.”

He joins you on the loveseat, then leans over you, pressing a kiss into your lips and pulling you closer. The kiss is loaded. You welcome his tongue, soothed by his touch, but your energy is gone. You’re practically catatonic compared to before. He kisses you for a few more seconds, then breaks away and asks, “You alright?”

You nod and kiss him back, then reach for his shorts, cupping his semi-hard package.

He breaks away and reads your eyes. “‘S’alright, love.”

He pulls away entirely and slumps into the loveseat, using the opposite arm as a pillow. “C’mere,” he mumbles, and opens his arms. You lay face down on his warm, bare chest, beads of sea water transferring to your beach dress—through one of its crochet holes, a pierced nipple teases your skin.

Billy holds you. You lie there, relaxed, one leg over his. A tear rolls out of your eye and onto his hot skin. “Shh,” He rubs your back for a few minutes, his chest rising and falling under you. His cock twitches against your thigh between his legs, and a shock of desire zaps through you. His hips lift slightly, just once, and your eyes flutter open. He sucks back his chin to look down at you, then his fingers lift your chin to look at him. You’re no longer crying at all.

“There she is,” he murmurs, with his pupils widening before your eyes. He reads your eyes and glances at your lips. “Fucking gorgeous.” His face drifts toward yours, your neck extends, and his lips nudge your upper lip before your mouths come together. You prop yourself up with your forearm so neither of you has to strain your neck. The kiss starts languidly, then heats up and his hands come to your hips. As you kiss, his hips lift into you, and his cock hardens against your quad. As he licks into your mouth, you slowly grind on his thigh. He breaks away, searches your eyes, and whispers, “attagirl,” before claiming your lips again. With your limbs slotted together, you make out, grind, and quietly grunt.

For a while, your thoughts are gone, then Joel walks back into your head. You wonder how good he’d fuck you now, if he thinks it’s his last chance. Still moving on Billy’s thigh with your mouth half-connected with his, your breaths get heavy with desire. Would Joel be rough? Would he be tender? Would he be how he is so often–ravenous, but deliberate and appreciative of every inch of your body? You imagine his cock shoving into you and the way he’d sigh, yeah.

Now you’re gushing wet, already about to cum. You break the kiss to moan, and Billy breathes, “Yeah, good girl.” He grinds against you and his hands move you on his bare thigh, now coated with your slick. “Fuck, that wet for me.” Not just for him, but, yeah, that wet. His cock has hardened against your hip. “Mmm,” he moans into your mouth as his lips take yours again. Joel’s a good kisser too. A little more forceful, but still smooth. You’re thinking about Joel being under you. Imagining the first time you were in Joel’s basement, when he pulled you into his lap so decisively. You’re on the edge of bliss, sliding on Billy’s thigh. You bite your lip, then moan. “Yeah,” Billy encourages you.

When it’s clear you’re not quite there, Billy breathes, “Sit on me. C’mere.”

His mouth hangs slightly open, and his eyes are black with lust. You carefully lift your knee off the cushion between his legs, and the light touch of his hand helps you on top of him as he watches, spellbound. You lower yourself at just the right angle and moan at the first direct contact with the stiff shape in his shorts. Your eyelids are heavy.

He lifts up the hem of your beach dress, and you take it off. He moans at the sight of your body.

His lips remain slightly parted as his hips lift, grinding against you. He palms a breast, and you massage your other one. He begins to reach between you, fingertips sliding into his waistband, then looks behind you at the clock. “Sit on my face.”

He scoots down to put his head flat on the cushion, and you rise off his shorts. He takes his cock out with a sigh and spits on his fingers as you knee walk forward. He spreads the spit on his cock and breathes vocally, eyes on your tits. You could swear you smell his precum.

He unties your swimsuit bottom and lets half of it fall, leaving your slippery cunt bare. His palms on your ass bring you down, and his scruff drags against your inner thigh. His warm, humid breath envelopes your most sensitive place, then his lips make contact.

One hand leaves you to attend to his raging erection, and he grunts a short “mm” into your cunt at the relief. He laps at your entrance, licking upward, then latches onto the space just above that. He licks your clit, then sucks. He moans into the bundle of nerves, and your thighs tremble. He breaks away for short moments, breathing hot against your folds as he strokes his cock behind you. He eats you voraciously, and you whimper. He’s at just the right spot, doing just the right thing, and he keeps at it.

You brace your hands on the arm of the sofa and think about Joel looking up at you from between your legs. You take a deep breath and see stars. Your body twitches and you moan, riding your waves, with Billy moaning into your cunt. He gently laps at your entrance and strokes himself faster. As your climax wanes, you rise off his mouth, with Billy still stroking himself, not finished. He gathers slick from your folds, brings it to his cock, then pants pants, “How ‘bout another?” He begins to pull you back down.

“No,” you whisper, “that was perfect.” You allow him to keep you there, hovering over him.

“Wanna ride?” His voice is shaky as he keeps pumping his cock behind you.

“Not now,” you answer.

He turns his head slightly, seals his lips on your thigh, and sucks. You reach down between your legs and grab hold of his damp, salty hair to pry him off.

“Mmm,” he responds,“Yeah.” His strokes are heavier and so are his breaths. You experimentally tug at his hair again. He shudders, then paints his stomach in cum, with a warm squirt reaching your ass.

He scoots out from under you and asks for the third time, “you alright?”

You tie your swimsuit again and settle into the loveseat, face and chest still heated from your peak. “Yeah,” you nod.

He fixes his swim trunks then prowls toward you to give you a gentle kiss and you taste yourself on his lips. “You’re tasty, love,” he murmurs, then pulls away.

He puts on his rash guard, then points at you, “Aqua tonight.” Right, his DJ thing. He gets off the loveseat and looks at the clock. “Before I forget,” He grabs his bag and unzips a front pocket that looks to be full of condoms and pill baggies. He turns his head to ask, “How many of ya?”

“Three, I guess.”

He rummages around, then holds up a little baggie with three pills. “Just a little X.”

“Oh, I dunno if we’ll–”

He shrugs. “Might try it.” He looks at the clock and mutters, “shit.”

He presses the baggie into your palm and closes your hand. He holds up a few condoms and asks, “just in case?”.

---Joel----

On the road, Tommy and Maria talk and listen to music. In the back seat, Joel looks out the window, or he wants to look out the window, but he looks at his reflection. He can’t shake the feeling of your warm tears wetting his shirt, or the image of you kissing Billy, or the glance at what he’s pretty sure was a hickey on your neck. He’d be surprised if it wasn’t after what he saw the night before.

The further they get from the resort, the more Joel’s chest tightens. He takes out his phone to text you. He types, “I can’t leave you with him,” stares at it for a few seconds, then erases it.

Who even is he anymore?

Something clicks.

At a stoplight, he says, “Stop at that gas station.” Tommy parks at a pump. They need gas anyway., “Open the hatch,” Joel says. Tommy pops the trunk and gets out of the car to pump gas. Joel grabs his bag from the back and Tommy does a double take.

“You goin’ back?” Tommy asks, not shocked.

“Yeah.” Joel pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ll find my way home.”

“We can take ya back,” Tommy offers, nodding in the direction of the resort.

“Nah,” Joel scratches the back of his neck. “Need the fresh air.”

He and Tommy share a brief, manly hug and pat on the back, then Joel walks off with his bag on one shoulder.

Joel’s coming for you. He might not have the right words, but he doesn’t need them. Never did. None of this was built on words. It was something unspoken under something physical and fierce. He pockets his phone and puts on his shades, walking with new resolve. There are things he wants to tell you, and some of them need words, but not all of them. The words can wait. They’ll come easier when you’re back where you belong.

Two hours later, he’s back at the hotel. He smells his own sweat soaking through his shirt, and his phone’s about to overheat.

“Long time no see,” the receptionist says.

“Yeah,” Joel mumbles without humor, then forces a smile. He gets a room, puts his things away, then heads out to find you.

You’re not at the pool. You’re not in any of the common areas.

He goes down to the beach, toward the surf lessons.

Billy’s showing off for a customer. Joel sits in the sand and waits. He admires the way Billy moves in the water, resenting him at the same time.

When Billy’s done, he walks up to Joel. Joel’s eyes fall on Billy’s swim trunks, then his mind goes to your hands, your mouth, your perfect cunt.

Billy extends his hand, and pulls Joel up. He pats Joel’s arm, then lets him go. “Got some time if ya wanna catch a wave.”

“Where is she?” Joel asks.

“I dunno, mate. Prob’ly with her friends?” He motions for Joel to follow him to the shack. Years ago, Billy more or less offered Joel a handjob in that shack. Joel declined, and that was that.

As they enter the shack, Billy unzips his quarter-zip long-sleeve top and pulls it off. He takes a sip of water, then wipes off his mouth. “So,” Billy starts. “What’s the story?” He turns up the water bottle again and it makes a high pitched sound as he sucks it. “Ex-lovers?” he asks with a smile.

Joel’s jaw clenches. He takes a breath through his nose and calms himself. “Not ex.”

Billy chokes on his water, then wipes his mouth again. “Does she know that?”

Joel rakes his hand through his hair, at a loss. “That’s my girl,” he nods, heart pounding.

“I don’t think she is, mate. Women aren’t property-”

“-cut the crap, Billy.” Joel’s chest is heaving.

Billy’s eyes fall to Joel’s right hand, which is flexing into a fist.

“Hit me if it makes ya feel better,” Billy puts down the water bottle and braces himself in a welcoming stance.

This fucker. No, Joel isn’t going to hit him.

Joel forces himself to relax, puts his hands on his hips and shifts his weight, shaking his head at the floor.

Billy lunges toward him, light on his feet as if he’s gonna sucker punch Joel. It’s playful, but Joel drops his shoulder and tackles him to the floor before he can get in a jab.

On the floor, Billy fights back, eyes wild, but Joel’s too strong. He pins him with his left forearm on his chest, straddling him.

Billy grabs Joel’s left tricep. “Look at that,” he marvels. “Unbelievable.”

Joel looks into the blue eyes staring up at him and wonders if you’ve had this POV. For a brief moment, he’s tempted to slide his forearm up to his neck. Billy looks at Joel’s right hand which opens and shuts in the air, stretching.

“I can take it,” Billy urges. “C’mon, knock me around.”

Billy’s enthusiasm takes the wind out of Joel’s sails and brings him back to reality. He releases his forearm and sits back on his knees, still bracketing Billy’s hips. Joel slowly stands with a groan, then helps Billy to his feet.

—- Later at Aqua —--

Billy has given you the closest VIP table. You and your friends are sitting there with a drink. He points at you from his DJ booth, which is on a raised platform. All three of you hold up your drinks and smile at him.

Kari and Nahlah have had their eyes on a couple of guys who are finally approaching. It's a group of three. You decline to dance, so the third guy sits down to have a drink with you instead, shouting over the music, “HOW LONG ARE YOU IN TOWN?” You look past the man, and Billy is laughing, looking down at his mixer board. After indulging the man for another minute or so, you excuse yourself to the restroom, hoping the man will take the hint and disappear in your absence.

On the way to the restroom, you pass a couple of dark rooms with hall windows and suspect people might be fucking in there. The half-pill you’ve taken isn’t doing anything, but you know better than to double it just yet.

When you come out from the restroom, the guy is still at your table. You curse him under your breath and head outside for some fresh air.

You duck out a door that’s propped open. Smokers are milling about. A few partiers are comforting a crying friend. You walk just far enough to get some space from that scene and the artificial light. You lean against the brick wall to breathe. The tiniest droplets of sea water tingle merrily on your face. You open your mouth and can taste it in the air. You fill your lungs and savor the breath. A buzz hums from your skin.

Your dress has a slit on one side and is long enough that you can lift your knee and rest one foot on the wall behind you without exposing yourself—but that wouldn’t be the end of the world anyway. You watch palm leaves rustle in the ocean breeze and look at the sky. There are more stars here than at home. Maybe you should take a walk.

You’re still gazing into the sky when you notice someone in a colorful shirt approaching. They flick their cigarette away and it sparks. You smile, and as they come into focus, they turn into Joel.

Are you rolling that hard after half a pill? You’ve still got your wits about you, don’t you? You watched Joel leave this morning, and you’ve never seen him dressed like this. The colors vibe perfectly on his silk shirt, and a gold chain sparkles underneath. His curls are fluffier than earlier.

He slowly approaches and wets his lips when he’s a few feet away. His eyes rove your body. When he’s close enough, he rests his hand on the brick wall to lean over you. He smells like cloves. He looks tired. He leans a little closer, and you look him in the eyes.

“Thought you left,” you mutter.

He shakes his head, and continues to gaze into your eyes. “Couldn’t do it.”

You run a hand up his chest, palm gliding across his shirt. His chest is strong, and the fabric is like cool shaving cream under your fingers. In the back of your mind, you still have so many questions, but you don’t ask them. Not now.

“You can be mad at me,” his brows knit and he nods twice. ”I deserve that.” His eyes lock on yours. “But I'm not gonna let ya go.”

Your nipples harden with a chill, and your lips part.

His gaze falls from your eyes to your lips, and you tilt your chin up. His eyes fall further, to your neck, and he inhales sharply through his nose. You turn your head the other way. Still braced on the wall, he nudges your chin so he can look at the bruising. You feel his heart rate quicken under your hand, and you slide your hand up to the cold sweat beading on his neck.

His thumb brushes over the bruising. He brings his mouth and nose to the other side and grazes your sensitive skin with his nose. His tongue teases you and you shiver, then he plants his lips. He grunts softly as he marks you. His breath hits your wet skin as he lingers there to murmur, “Missed how ya taste.”

He returns to the bruised side of your neck and licks the mark, tenderly, then harder. It’s sore, but you don’t react. For a moment, his lips lay plush and soft against your damaged skin. Then he opens his mouth wide. He scrapes his teeth, then plants his lips and sucks, and you try not to flinch but let out a little gasp. He tongues and sucks at it for almost five seconds before releasing you.

He soothes the spot with the light touch of his lips, then kisses up your jaw, to your ear, where he murmurs, “What are you on, and how much?”

You tell him.

“Should be fine,” he mutters to himself as he pulls his head back.

“Why?”

He looks back and forth between your eyes. “Wanna make sure you remember.”

You wet your lips and swallow.

He’s close enough that his body heat enhances yours. His whole presence is a warm embrace. You half-heartedly try to conjure what you went through earlier—the hurt, the resolve not to let it happen again. You can’t find it under your affection, wonder, and empathy. Something tells you it’s going to be okay.

He looks at your neck again.

You open your mouth to apologize, but he cuts you off, “Shh.” He takes your hand and leads you back inside.

It’s dark, minus the red and pink lights washing over the dance floor, which is crowded but not quite packed. He gets two soda waters from the bar, and you sit down in the VIP booth. He has his arm around you, caressing your shoulder. Soon, you have your legs in his lap, just happy to have him close. You reach into your dress for the small plastic baggie. Joel is watching the dance floor and idly stroking your leg as you pour the other piece of the pill into your hand. Some of it is powder by now. Joel’s eyes return just in time to see you put it on your tongue.

He squeezes your chin to open your mouth, then, with the same hand, sticks two massive fingers between your lips to retrieve the pill. “You don’t need this,” he mutters, then sticks what remains of the pill in his mouth and takes a sip of water. “What else ya got in there?” Joel feels you up through the fabric on and around your tits, and his eyebrows shoot up when his hand catches on something.

He shoves his hand down your dress and finds it tucked under your arm: a small, foil square. He turns it over and the clear backing reveals a glow-in-the-dark condom. He tosses it onto the table, then pulls you tighter against him. Your hip brushes a warm bulge in his soft black pants, and it twitches. These pants would be so easy to slip your hand into, you just know it. But before you can try, he brings his mouth to your ear. “C’mon, let’s dance.”

On the dance floor, Joel stands behind you, and his heavy arms snake around your torso. He moves with you, with the music, and runs his palms over your dress. His dick hardens, and those silky pants leave nothing to the imagination as the vivid outline grinds against you. You lose yourself in his touch, in the soft rub of his cock, until you sense someone watching and glance toward the DJ booth. Billy smiles to himself and goes back to his mixing board. Joel shamelessly grabs your tit again. You’re already so wet for him. In the corner of your eye, you see Billy still watching but pretend you don’t notice.

“You’re so damn hot,” Joel growls right against your ear as he massages your breast and grinds against you with his arm crossing your body and one hand on your hip. “Uggh,” he groans in arousal. He jostles behind you, adjusting his pants, then gathers the long skirt of your dress. He covers your ass with himself before the air has a chance to hit you. Then his hard, naked cock slides between your thighs. You gasp and look back. He kisses the side of your neck. You’re gushing all over him. Your thong is soaked through, and he’s sliding along your folds, hot and hard. He moans in your ear. His tip pushes the front of your dress out with every thrust through that warm, wet sleeve of your thighs against your cunt.

Each pass of his tip makes you need him so bad. You turn your head back to say, “Let’s go somewhere.”

“You want it?” he asks and slides out from your thighs, reaching down between you to put his dick away before letting your skirt down.

You nod and begin to lead him to the restroom, but he firmly holds your elbow. You turn around and put your arms around his neck to plead, “Let’s go,” nodding toward the bathrooms. He grabs your ass and grinds against your front, raging hard. He holds you close and you give up for the moment.

He dips his head and noses your chin up. His lips brush a sore area, and you twitch. You slot your fingers into his curly locks, making him growl silently into your skin. "Joel," you sigh. "Let's go."

Either he doesn't hear you or pretends not to. "Mmm," his hum vibrates into your skin. He pries his lips off your neck only to plant them on your mouth. Your tongues meet, and you need him, you really need him. Now.

After a few seconds of bliss, you break the kiss to plead, "Let’s go." He reads your face and shakes his head no as a dim red light falls over you in passing. Your mouth falls open in protest. He grinds against you, letting his answer sink in. And in case there's any doubt, he brings his lips to your ear. "Gonna take it right here."

He gathers the front of your dress. You swallow, stunned and throbbing in anticipation.

He takes his cock out under your dress, then lifts one of your thighs, and you hook it around him. He keeps your raised knee against him. Your shoes are just the right height. He pulls your thong to the side and there’s no mistaking how wet and ready you are. Right away, he notches at your entrance. You tilt your hips. His fingers dig into your thigh and the plush of your ass. He plunges in with a grunt, pushing a gasp out of you as he divides your walls in what feels like slow motion. Your eyes flutter closed and your head falls back as his cock makes its place inside you. He holds you against himself, and your leg stays hiked up as he retreats, then begins to slide into you to the beat of the music. He brings his lips to your ear. “Ohh–good girl.”

You’d envisioned this every day since the last time and somehow forgot it was this good. He holds you close, his body flexing, expertly moving inside yours. You’ve missed this, you’ve really missed it. He grunts and moans into your hair, unrestrained. The music is loud enough.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” he practically shouts, holding you by the ass and thigh as he fucks up into you. It’s a thrill being full of his cock in a sea of people. The song changes and you glance toward the DJ booth. Billy is looking right at you. Joel’s pace slows to match the new tempo. You melt into his arms with the perfect shape of his length dragging between your walls. Billy’s eyes smile, and he slowly nods. You catch him adjusting himself just below the DJ table which makes your walls twitch. You bite your lip.

The grip of Joel’s fingers tightens, pressing firmly into your flesh. Billy’s hand is still below the mixing table when Joel turns your face back toward him and kisses you. Everything else fades away except his mouth on yours and his cock thrusting into you. The smooth slide of his tongue makes you twitch. His thrusts become sharper, deeper with the aid of his bruising grip, and your mouths break apart with labored breaths and moans. God, you’re wet, and only getting wetter.

Joel searches your eyes as he thrusts into you. The lights wash over you again, and his pupils are wide. You gaze at each other, and you hold the back of his head, fingers tangling in his long curls as he slowly fucks you on the dance floor. There’s a glance from one or two dancers, but no one cares.

You steal another glance at Billy, and he looks to be in a trance with his mouth hanging slightly open. He wets his lip and he closes his mouth, then runs his hand through his hair. You bury your face in Joel’s neck, and his familiar scent enhances everything. Pleasure is building more with each thrust of his cock making you whole. Nothing compares to this.

Joel grunts and sighs, and twitches. “Ohh, fuck,” he sighs. Is he going to come like this? God, he’s sexy. He tilts his head down and noses your nose so your chin tilts up and he finds your lips again. He kisses you sloppily, loosely, breathing and grunting, and the way he fills you up— shit, he feels good. Are you going to come like this?

“Don’t let me fall,” you plead.

He stares at your lips and his mouth draws yours in. He bottoms out and stays deep, moving in short pulses, holding you so your front grinds against his.

You break the kiss to sigh, “Fuck.” You whimper against his lips as it overtakes you in slow motion. You don’t hold back. The moan rips out of your chest as your body clenches around his. You pulse, and your body spasms. He holds you tighter. “Ohh,” you moan.

“Oh, baby,” He pants. Each thrust is sharp. “Oh, fuck,” he bottoms out and groans as he pulses powerfully. “Ohhh.” He holds you still as you milk his cock. “Ohh, gg–unghhh.” When he’s nearly spent, an air horn sounds. Joel groans, and you both look toward Billy. He nods and gives a low thumbs up as the last of Joel’s cum dribbles into you. Joel laughs into your hair, “I’m gonna kill’m.”

Joel dips his knees to let his cock slide out. He lets your leg down, then your dress, and fixes his pants. He holds you for a whole song. His cum dribbles down your thigh, and you don't even wipe it with your dress.

“Let's get outta here.”

You look for your friends, and they're still with the guys from earlier. Joel waits as you go over and say goodbye. When you return, he puts his arm around you as you walk outside.

Outside, he hugs you as you wait for an uber. The night has dulled your anxiety, but it’s still there somewhere, and it reveals itself as you think about spending the night with him.

“I still don’t understand,” you whisper.

“I know, baby. Ya will. Promise.”

“Can you just answer one thing?” He waits for your question. “Who drives a black Mercedes?”

You pull back to watch him react.

“Black Mercedes. . .” His brow furrows and he searches the pavement for an answer.

“The SUV you were in.”

“Oh, pumpkin’,” his face softens. “Just my lawyer, baby.” He kisses you on the forehead, which pauses your thoughts and weakens your eyes.

Your phone buzzes with a call from Kari, but the call cuts off. Kari hasn’t texted, but in your messaging app, there’s a new group thread with three unread:

“come over to mine,” Billy had texted minutes ago. Then, “key’s under the cactus.”

Joel had already responded, “not tonight.”

---

if you want the lore about the surf shack in didn't years ago here it is

I'm watching the comments and rbs for what people are excited about and what people want to see 👀

Thank you so much for reading. I really appreciate your patience and support. Your love of night walks Joel and investment in these two makes me really happy. Love you guys 🖤

@silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading @rainstorms-library

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itiswormtimebaby · 10 months

Text

Here’s what I’m thinking about:

Biker!Bucky (who also happens to be your brother’s best friend) comforting you when you accidentally get way too high and think you’re going to die.

TW: Recreational drug use (weed), talks of death (reader feels like they’re dying), virgin reader, suggestive

The illicit baked goods were handed over with very clear instructions, only eat HALF. But you were so hungry, and the brownie was surprisingly good, and what would really be the harm in eating a whole instead of a half? Death. Inevitable death would be the harm.

There’d been a very pleasant twenty-five minutes where it felt as if you were dancing on air, now you could barely get any- breathing shallow, chest tight, head heavy. This was it. Goodbye, cruel world. You knew there was little to be done so you decided to embrace the inevitable, if you acted quickly maybe you could go in your sleep. So you filled your cats food bowl, pressed a quick kiss to her head, and crawled into your hammock to await the end- but wait, wait you couldn’t go with regrets, that was a sure fire way to come back as a ghost and you did not want to haunt your crappy walk up forever. No, no regrets.

So you called James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky, your brother’s Bucky. Bucky who lived only a few blocks away, Bucky who could send you off without regret. He picked up on the third ring, and didn’t get much in edgewise after a hesitant “Hello?”

“Bucky! Bucky I’m dying and I need you to come over right now. The doors unlocked.” You’d hung up before he could ask any questions, best to save your breath, you reasoned. For his part Bucky had politely but firmly asked the girl currently occupying his bed to leave, and made for the door, tugging on gray sweats as he went. While he was positive your dumb ass wasn’t dying he wasn’t willing to leave you in a distressed state.

When he kicked off his bike and made it inside he’d found you curled up in your hammock, clinging to your cat, eyes squeezed shut; he’d grabbed your attention with a gruff “Bug?” You’d shot up, furry feline friend taking off with a displeased hiss at the sudden rocking motion; “Thank God, Bucky! Get over here, I don’t have much time.” He’d crouched down next to your hammock, bringing his cool metal hand to your cheek, brushing away some stray hairs and taking note of your blown out pupils; “What the fuck are you on?”

“It- it was supposed to only be half the brownie, but I ate it all, I’m such an idiot and now-” He bit back a laugh realizing you were just stoned off your ass, not wanting to add insult to injury as your eyes welled with tears “-now I’m dying but I can’t go yet, Buck, I can’t, because if I die full of regrets I’ll have to haunt this stupid place forever.”

“For Christ’ sake, Bug, you’re not dying, you’re just stoned.”

With an adamant shake of your head you reached down and grabbed his flesh hand, pressing the palm of it flat to your chest as the tears in your eyes finally spilled over with a warbling hiccup; “I- I’m not, I am but I’m not- I know what death feels like.”

His mouth popped open in mock surprise; “Oh, you do? Because you’ve experienced it so many times?”

Your bottom lip quivered as you glowered pathetically at him, “D-don’t be mean to me. Not right now.” Torn between pushing the issue and humoring you he chose to go with the latter.

“Okay then, Bug, no regrets. How can I help?”

With a small watery smile you turned in the hammock to fully face his kneeling form; “We’ve got to have sex-”

“Jesus fuck!” Your sincere expression, tear stained cheeks, and glassy eyes awakened something dark within him, pleasure spiking within his groin and pulling him to half mass even as he adamantly shook his head no. Seeing his refusal you began teetering on the brink of tears again; “Please Bucky, please, you have to fuck me, it has to be you. I don’t want to die a virgin and I love y-”

Quicker than your sluggish brain could process the cool fingers of his left hand wrapped around your mouth, silencing you as his other hand smoothed across the top of your head and down to cup your cheek, thumb stroking it in small even passes. He took three steadying breaths, eyes clenched shut, before he met your gaze; “Shut up. We are not having this conversation right now.” You whined behind the gag of his hand, but he just shook his head firmly in return, so much for humoring you. “Bug, you are high as a fucking kite. So here’s what’s going to happen; I’m going to go get you a drink, and then you’re going to sleep. End of.”

He stood abruptly, moving towards the door of the bedroom as you pleaded with him to come back and take you, promising he could do whatever he wanted as long as he was inside you. You didn’t stop rambling until he stormed back in with a glass of water, towering over your prone form. “Listen to me,” he hissed “when I finally fuck you the only thing you’ll be high on is my cock, so do me a favor and shut the fuck up about it so I can take care of you until then.”

AN: In hindsight I’ve taken some liberties with the use of the word “comforting.”

#bucky barnes x reader #biker!bucky #bucky/reader #hwita #smut adjacent #bucky and bug #brother's best friend bucky

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weirdbrosinc · 4 months

Text

sam giving dean road head because he just can't wait until they get to the motel to taste his brother. dean's trying hard not to roll his head back, with a hand in sam's hair and the other shaking on the wheel. sam just keeps fucking his throat on his brother's cock because it feels like it's been so long since he's had this last, even though really it's just been a couple days... they're codependent your honor <3

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greenishghostey · 1 year

Note

Prompt lol

"Are you humping me?" "...maybe."

The good shit right here 👌

///

Most people would look at Eddie and assume that he was a slob. The town’s running theory about how he lived was close to that of a feral raccoon in a restaurant dumpster.

However, that could not be further from the truth. Eddie was messy - who wasn’t at the best of times. But he was never dirty. He always made sure to do the dishes, hang up laundry and vacuum when needed.

Eddie “domestic goddess” Munson. That’s what you liked to call him while he dashed around doing chores because you showed up to his trailer too early.

There was something oddly attractive, almost sexy, about watching Eddie clean. He usually changed into comfortable clothes that he didn’t mind getting wet. An old Slayer t-shirt and navy pyjama pants with one of the back pockets missing. The pyjamas hung low on his hips and shifted perfectly when he walked.

After a magnificent spaghetti and meatball dinner, Eddie insisted on doing the dishes because you were the guest. He always seemed to forget just how much time you actually spent at his.

With his back to you, Eddie hunched over the soap-filled sink. The muscles in his back moved as he scrubbed at the dried tomato sauce on the bowls. His hair was loosely tied back so he wouldn’t need to keep shaking it out of his face.

The guy was obscene. And he was doing the dishes. It amazed you just how effortlessly alluring he was. Even in the most mundane moments, there were little flecks of saccharine intimacy.

The sweetness of the situation was comforting, and calming too. But you had a much better method of expressing just how much you appreciated his domestic efforts.

“Babe, can you bring the glasses over too?” Eddie asked, gesturing behind his back at you and the dinner table. You were already silently on the prowl towards him. He wouldn’t suspect a thing.

“I’m gonna leave mine out. Need more lemonade.” You replied, keeping your voice quiet to imply distance as you closed in on your target.

“You've had two glasses already! I only got like half of one because you had to take a leak-" Eddie was just about to turn around to point a soapy finger at you, but it was too late. You had launched your attack.

Your arms snaked around his waist as you pulled yourself impossibly close to his back. You reeled your hips back and started humping Eddie like some feral animal in heat. Exaggerated moans and groans were also included - it added an element of dramatic flare that he would no doubt appreciate.

"Are you humping me?" Eddie laughed, standing still and peering over his shoulder at you. He was glad that you could be such a little weirdo with him.

"...maybe." You did your best to imitate his sex noises - groans and a wonderful amount of whimpering. "You're so wet, couldn't help it." It wasn't a lie, his hands were dripping, and some of the water had gotten on his t-shirt.

"Uh-huh, all for you," Eddie whined, trying his best to imitate your sex noises. Douchebag that he was. "You wanna feel how wet I am?" was he actually getting off on this? He couldn't be.

Eddie wasn't getting turned on - well, at least not entirely. He had about a half-boner going. The moment that you started to slow down in your thrusts against his ass was when he struck. A pile of dish soap bubbles were pressed into your chest as Eddie cackled like some mischievous gremlin thing.

"God, you bitch!" You shrieked, swatting at Eddie as he continued to basically massage your boobs. The ulterior motives were all too clear.

"Yeah, call me that again. Fuck, I'm gonna cuuuuuum." He moaned and giggled, now humping at your thigh with a firm grip around your waist - you weren't going anywhere.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson fic #this likely isn't even close to what that prompt is aiming for but I can't pass up writing silly stuff #eddie #fluff #smut adjacent #fic #my writing

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cambion-companion · 6 months

Note

My current tnoughts are imagins you're having a sex dream about Raphael, and Raphael is just sitting in a chair watching uou whilst it's happening.

This turned into an interesting exercise in narrating Raphael's POV. Definitely would like to try again in the future! Thank you for the prompt, enjoy the drabble :)

Dreams of desire came creeping to Tav’s resting mind, twisting their face as their fingers slid through warm bedsheets.

Raphael looked up from his contemplation of the ashen hearth, a flicker of firelight dancing between finger and thumb. He heard the sound of his mattress creaking and turned his attention slowly to the lover he’d left spent and exhausted upon his silken pillows.

Their prone body squirming weakly in slumber, half exposed to the hot breeze grating through the open window. A low sound of pleasure escaped Tav’s parted lips and Raphael saw their brow furrow slightly, a bead of perspiration marking the soft flesh of their cheek.

Raphael considered the mortal before him, erotic and vivid as though struck directly from a painter’s brush. A scene not unfamiliar to the cambion. The titillating musk of pain and pleasure still hanging in the thick air.

His tail swished back and forth languidly, scraping gently against the marble floor. He had felt desire, yes. Carnal and quick. Many lovers had warmed his bed, some had never garnered the good fortune of leaving alive.

This one mortal had stolen space within his thoughts much longer than even he had anticipated.

Raphael stretched his neck and wings, relishing the feeling of innate fiendish power. This would be fleeting, as all mortal dealings. He would gain the crown, his ultimate prize, and forget Tav and their many misadventures.

Tav rolled over and moaned softly once more. Raphael’s glowing eyes watched their chest rise and fall with shallow breaths, gaze sharpening when he heard his name tumble from lips made clumsy from sleep.

He crossed the room to the bedside, looking down upon them with an arch and bemused expression. This was not the first time Tav had been invited to his Boudoir, after he had exacted punishment for their initial trespass.

Instinct told him to push Tav away, to stop indulging their weak and pliant desires. They were a means to an end, as were all the fleeting mortal souls ever passing through Raphael’s hands.

He should spurn Tav’s obvious, though misguided, affections. He indulged them for the sake of gaining his ultimate prize, and yet…

And yet.

It was that hesitance, that chink in his carefully crafted armor which Raphael fervently yearned to burn out like an irksome weed.

Tav’s sweet dreams began to warp and fade around the edges of their vision as consciousness slunk into the lurid fantasy. Raphael’s hands skimmed along the side of their body, over their chest and rested against their throat.

Sleepy eyes slowly opened and looked up at the hellfire orbs set in a sharply angled crimson face. Any sane mortal would shrink in dread at the sight, but all Tav felt were butterflies.

They smiled and stretched, not minding Raphael’s clawed hand scraping against their flushed skin. “Good morning, my devil.”

Raphael’s hand flexed, torn between caressing and tearing asunder. He returned the smile, his tail moving with increased agitation. “Time to leave, little mouse.”

#raphael bg3 #raphael x reader #raphael x tav #raphael baldur's gate 3 #bg3 drabble #smut #adjacent at least #cambions gonna cambion #fanfic #18+ content

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drizztdohurtin · 1 month

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Is Rolan an Ass or Chest guy? or is he into something else?

(and please don't say personality...I know that is probably what he is the most into buy I want to image his claws digging into something. and I don't want that being my brain.)

Thank you, you are amazing!

*me typing out 'personality' then violently pressing backspace*

Tricky question! He'd be very into both, and he would love all of his partner's body, but based on my own writing I'd have to say he's more of a chest guy.

I don't think I've included this on any of the Rolan content I've posted thus far, but behind the scenes, I have a good amount of writing that involves him being quite... fixated... in more ways than one... on his partner's chest.

explicit NSFW thoughts below the break:

for an afab reader specifically, I imagine him always wanting to have his mouth and hands on your chest, and he reaaaallly likes your nipples. He could lick and suck at them for hours if you let him. But I say the same shit about how he loves to go down on his partner - so it's very possible I just think Rolan has an oral fixation. I could definitely see him leaving hickeys all over your chest, too.

Now that I think about it more: he's definitely a chest guy, final answer. He'd be more turned on seeing even just a little bit of your cleavage than if he saw your ass while you had tight pants on. If he was taking you from behind, he'd more likely reach around and hold onto your chest than anything else.

I also like to imagine taking a romantic bath with him, the water leaving a thin shine over your chest as you sit on his lap - Rolan would 100% be massaging them and running his thumbs over your nipples trying to get them to perk up. Literally, that alone is enough to get him hard as a rock. He'd love for you to ride him right then and there, especially if you leaned back to give his mouth better access to your chest.

And for anyone who likes breeding-kink-adjacent and NSFW pregnancy stuff:

His fixation with your chest would be kicked into overdrive from when he starts trying to get you pregnant all the way until you're no longer breastfeeding. He'd be beyond turned on by your growing breasts and the way they start to stretch the fabric of your clothes or even spill over the top. They'd be so round and full, it'd send him into a fuckin dizzy spell whenever he got his hands or mouth on them.

If he ever got to see some of your breastmilk leak out, he would be able to literally feel the blood in his blood rush to his groin, almost taking him by surprise.

#me throwing breeding-kink-adjacent material in there when literally no one asked for it is so real of me #also me stopping my calc homework to answer this ask - it was too important !!!!#baby boy #serena the yap-atron 3000 #my writing #my hcs #rolan #x reader #headcanons #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #smut #rolan posting

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chaos-monkeyy · 1 year

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okay okay but. what about. Modern Hob meeting up with Dream in a dream, the first time he knows exactly where they are and exactly who Dream is, but after they've banged in the waking world, like a couple good marathon sessions right.

And Hob is clever enough to immediately catch on to a bit of how this works, and he's looking around the dream, experimentally tweaking some little details with his mind, and without even bothering to feign any kind of innocence or coyness whatsoever, pulls his not-a-stranger-any-longer into a kiss and asks "so what would happen if I imagined two of you in here?" with a filthy smirk.

Dream gives Hob that look of affronted dignity and informs him in a Lord Morpheus tone brooking no uncertainty that "There can only be one of me."

"Fair enough," Hob says, and his grin just gets even more cheeky. "Then what if there were two of me instead?"

And a second Hob Gadling appears-- maybe with his own favourite 'look' from a past era-- Dream kind of bluescreens because they're both giving him the same hungry look like he's a delectable snack and they haven't eaten in weeks (and I mean, let's be real, he IS a delectable snack), and Hob + his imaginary dream-double just absolutely go to town on him until everyone involved is completely Wrecked in the best possible way.

#dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #the sandman #(kink)#smut-adjacent #it's that kind of day i guess #oops #they're just #stuck in my head

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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 2 years

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Nights at the Circus: Part III

The teasing, flirting, and sexual confusion continues at Avenger Tower. Your feelings for Loki get more obvious as he makes a dangerous proposal that, of course, you’re going to accept whether you’d like to or not...

PART I, PART II, AO3, Masterlist

I want to thank everyone who loves this story! It’s your enthusiasm that keeps me going, my friends!

Content warning: 18+ ONLY. Female masturbation, sexual fantasy, Semi-Asshole Loki, dom!Loki (kinda), smut-adjacent

Word Count: 3.4k

You did eventually find sleep, and when it finally arrived, it hit hard. You slumbered soundly throughout most of the morning, barely even dreaming. By the time you finally awoke, it was nearly noon, and thus, too late to carry out the idea you’d had last night to thank Loki by making him breakfast.

“Damn,” you muttered to yourself, looking at the clock by your bed. “Well, too late now.”

Instead, you allowed yourself to take your time getting up. You went to the small study your suite had, where you kept your individually-sized coffee maker (you never liked sharing delicious bean water with anyone else), ready to spit out your morning (or, rather, noontime) elixir. Pressing the ‘on’ button, you then thought that hopping in and out of the shower while your coffee was brewing would be a good idea. After all, you never got to wash off the sweat you’d accumulated last night while working out.

Tony sure had a thing for ostentation, whether or not he liked to hide it behind a wall of necessity and invention. The bathroom was larger than the study, with a jacuzzi bathtub built into the corner, a shower stall separately placed in the adjacent corner. The shower had a glass door with white etchings of dragons around the edges. The spout had five different water pressure settings (voice activated), and built-in shampoo, conditioner, and shower gel dispensers (motion activated).

“Christ, am I bathing or fighting Goldfinger?” you muttered, stripping off your pajamas and balling them into one, tossing them back towards your bed, missing your target. “Eh, good thing I’m not one of the sharpshooters in the show.”

The show. You felt a little pang of sorrow for the days that now seemed to be behind you forever. Everyone in the circus had known about you, and they’d all rallied to protect you in any way they could. They looked horrified when you’d been taken away by Fury. Did they miss you as much as you missed them?

You decided to put those thoughts away, turning on the shower and commanding the temperature to your liking.

You always felt safe in the shower or the bath. There had always been something about running water that tranquilized you, almost hypnotizing you, making you feel safe enough with your thoughts that you could imagine anything without judgement. Your boss once theorized that it was like water putting out a fire. Water countered the emotions that came with your pyrokinetic gift, thus relieving you of its burden for as long as you were under the showerhead.

Loki was the only thing on your mind, of course, especially regarding the events that had transpired twelve hours ago.

The man made you crazy, there was no denying it. He was such an arrogant ass who thought that walking in with his Mr. Darcy attitude would get through to you. The audacity of that princely little shit to bully you when you were at your most vulnerable, then lord it over you that he wasn’t there of his own volition either, the hypocrite. The pampered palace brat. Ugh, what an oaf.

And yet, last night, after Loki had attended to your sprained ankle, that queasy spark deep in your core had been triggered again, as it had the night Loki cornered you outside your room. You replayed the memories in your mind like a filmstrip. There he was: Loki holding your foot in his hand, sending healing magic up your leg, telling you that he could take the pain away, him carrying you into the clinic without effort and setting your down in the chair so he could fix you…

There are others ways he could fix me in that chair, you thought, taking comfort in knowing said idea would never leave the confines of your skull….

You began painting the image in your mind: you were reclined back, while Loki was sitting between your parted legs and staring down at you, his black hair silhouetted against the lights. He looked hungry, snarling, and devilishly sexy. He grabbed your chin firmly and brought his head lower and lower, waiting until the last second before turning his lips loose on yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You almost wanted to swallow it as you felt the weight of his body settle onto yours, pushing you back into the chair until you were almost supine…

You were so encased in the fantasy you weren’t even aware that you’d reached down to your folds and begun to slowly stroke yourself.

Loki ripped open your shirt, exposing naked breasts. He pulled his tongue from your lips and traced it down your face, neck, and chest without it ever leaving your skin. Eventually, that tongue found your left nipple, which Loki then gently took between his teeth and tugged…

Your fingers picked up the pace, one pressing your clit like an elevator button and two more tracing your entrance.

He was grinding on you, his erection massive. He suddenly lifted himself up so that he was hovering above you again, looking into your eyes. “Are you ready to take me like a good girl, Fire Bird?” he purred…

A familiar guitar riff threw the fantasy into chaos and forced you to snap back into reality. The instant you became aware that you were actually touching yourself to idea of Loki Laufeyson getting ready to fuck you blind, you pulled your hand away and began scrubbing vigorously, as if it were impossible to clean.

“I’M OUT OF LUCK, OUT OF LOVE GOT A PHOTOGRAPH—"

It sounded like it was coming from the gym down the hall. Did something trigger it, or was Loki dicking around in there? He must’ve turned the volume all the way up. “Dammit,” you mumbled, swiftly turning off the shower, grabbing your bathrobe, and bolting out into the hallway in a matter of about thirty seconds.

Barefoot, you made a dash for the gym, where indeed, the rock stylings of Def Lepperd were pulsing from the sound system, Loki standing in the middle of the room, fiddling with a rope hanging down from the ceiling.

“I bet you’d look ravishing tangled up in this, hanging from the ceiling in one of those tight little costumes of yours,” he mused, looking up at you without a hint of surprise as you sprinted for the remote.

“ARE YOU DEAF????” you hollered, unable to hear what Loki had said. “FUCKING HELL!”

Loki laughed when he realized that you’d missed his attempt to flirt with you. As you turned the sound system off, he chuckled to himself. “Good morning, Fire B—”

“—I was in the shower, you dingus!” you groaned. “You have great timing, but I bet that comes with the whole ‘mischief’ territory, eh?” Your tone softened once your rage-induced blindness subsided and were able to look at him again. You particularly liked how his hair looked today, and you tried to push down the fantastic not-memory of it brushing against your face as he dominated you in your shower fantasy.

“Indeed, it does,” replied Loki. “My apologies. I was just concerned when you weren’t awake at your usual hour.”

“A likely story,” you scoffed.

Loki’s smile softened. “Your ankle? How is it?”

You looked down. You hadn’t even thought about checking your ankle to see if Loki’s repairs had held. You brought up your foot and rolled it twice in each direction. “It appears to be good as new.”

“Good. Now, how about a spot of lunch?” proposed Loki. “I have yet to eat today, as I am sure you have yet to as well.”

“I had some coffee going in my room,” you said. “I was, as I said, in the shower.”

“Clearly.” Loki’s smile grew back into its’ unsettling full length as he looked you up and down, and suddenly you became conscious of how close to naked you were in front of your aggressively flirtatious co-worker. “Well, shall we?”

“Wait until I get dressed, you skeevy creep,” you sassed, quickly turning on your heels and beginning to march away. “I’ll meet you down there in ten minutes.”

“I think you have enough on already,” Loki replied, smacking his lips and looking down again. “But, as the lady commands,” he insisted with a mock bow.

As you walked out of the room, you called behind you, “I still hate you!”

“Noted, darling,” Loki called back without missing a beat.

----

“So, tell me, pet, how does one come by such powers?” Loki asked before taking a sip of tea. “Did you make a wish upon a star?”

You were standing by the stove, flipping pancakes, having nearly gone through the batter. “It was shortly after my sixteenth birthday, so I’ve had my fire for twelve-ish years,” you began your tale. “I still hadn’t finished puberty, and I still hadn’t had my first period. My mom was beginning to think there was something wrong with me, but then I got it finally.”

“A basic human bodily function such as menses hardly sounds relevant to pyrokinesis, but do continue.”

“That afternoon, when I got home from school, my twin brothers were having a fight in the middle of the living room, and I yelled at them to stop so I could do homework. When they wouldn’t, I screamed, and a fireball shot out of my hand and nearly took off my brother Sal’s head,” you continued. “We were quick to cover it up, and I worked with my father on learning to control my flames, but we decided I couldn’t go to college after I graduated, and that’s when I got the idea to join the circus.”

To punctuate your story, you let your hair ignite, your flames a gentle orange.

Loki nodded for you to go on. “And you don’t know why this power was tied to your cycle? Or how it even happened?”

“No,” you admitted. “I guess Jesus or Buddha or Tom Cruise just smiled down on me.”

Loki shrugged and took another sip of coffee. “Maybe they’ll have some answers for you here. Stark could find the final digit of pi with everything he has in his arsenal. To tell you the truth, that JARVIS system he has is a little too omnipresent for my tastes.”

“You know, to tell you the truth, I don’t think I’d care to know,” you dismissed, turning off the stove and putting the skillet in the sink. “It is what it is, I just have to get used to it.”

“That’s rich, coming from The Human Fireball,” Loki chuckled. “How terrible it must feel to be a mortal with godlike powers.”

You smiled as you brought the platter of pancakes over to the counter where Loki sat. “Well, no power in the universe can give me what I really want right now, which is for you to be quiet for ten minutes.”

“Ha, the only way you’ll ever get me to be quiet is if you put a gag over my mouth, pet,” Loki replied. “And I think I would enjoy it more if it were you wearing it,” he added with a wink.

You sighed. “You must really need to beat one out if you’re resorting to trying to make me uncomfortable to get your kicks. I can leave you alone with yourself and take these upstairs,” you suggested, reaching for the plate you’d just set down.

“Will you show me your flames?” Loki suddenly asked.

You were caught off guard by the change in topic. “What?”

“I’d like to see them. Truly, I would,” Loki assured you. “Fire can be very destructive, but also very beautiful.”

You smirked. “Well, they are quite dangerous,” you answered. “I think for safety reasons, we should set some rules in place before I show anything to you. You may not be able to handle what you see, you know.”

Loki scoffed and finished his coffee and gave you that devious grin that had almost gotten you off in the shower an hour ago. “What makes you think I would follow any rules of yours?”

“What makes you think you shouldn’t?” You replied, waving your hand over the plate of pancakes in front of Loki, instantly setting them up in a yellow blaze that surprised Loki enough to throw him back in his chair. “They’re real, and they’re at my command, oh great Prince of Chaos!”

Loki looked from the fire in front of him, then back to you, then back to the fire again, biting his lip.

“Well now, that’s just a waste of pancakes, my dear,” he scolded you, feigning a lack of surprise as you quickly doused the fire with a snap, leaving a charred wad of matter that once resembled pancakes on the plate. “Though I will admit, they didn’t look too appetizing to begin with.”

“Fuck you, Loki! And now we’re out of batter,” you said, laughing. “Sometimes I can’t help it.”

Loki laughed with you, and his look softened as you smiled. “I will have to help you learn how to properly handle yourself.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And…what would that entail, exactly?” you said, biting your lip.

Loki rose from his chair and walked behind yours, leaning down and whispering in your ear the way he’d done before, the way that had heated your core and made your pussy twitch after just a few soft words. “Controlling magic is like controlling anything else, you just have to…well, you have to know your limits.”

You nodded, breathless as he took three of his incredible fingers and ran them up and down the side of your neck, where your most sensitive skin was. “You have to be able to stay in the moment, even when distracted.”

“Distracted? By a fight?” you asked.

“Maybe,” Loki purred, so close to your ear that you felt his hot breath against your skin. “Or distracted by something a bit more desirable.” That was when he nipped your earlobe. Gently, of course, and just for the briefest moment, but it was definitely deliberate.

“Loki!” you squealed. “What the fuck was that?”

You felt his fingers sweep your hair behind your ear, tucking it back. “Do you think I’ve just been teasing you to stave off boredom?”

You shrugged and regained your composure, sitting up straight in your chair. “Yes!”

“Okay, it certainly helps in that aspect, but I don’t just call anyone darling, you see.”

In one swift move, Loki grabbed the arms of your chair, spinning you to face him, where he leaned down to your level and made eye contact, running his tongue over his teeth as if he was considering how you’d taste.

“I think we both know how much we want to fuck each other,” you sheepishly admitted.

“Tell me directly,” Loki implored. “Do you want to fuck me?”

You pursed your lips, thinking of a witty come back that wouldn’t wholly reveal how much you needed him to dominate the hell out of you in that stupid dentist chair down in the infirmary.

The silence, however, was enough for Loki. “Ha! I knew it,” he replied. “From the minute you begged me to take your pain away, I knew then that I could ask for anything from you, and you’d part your legs for me like a little slu—”

“—Loki, sir, God of Mischief and Prince of Asgard,” you interjected, “I’m stopping you right there.”

You rose from your chair, wishing you and Loki were at least close to the same height (damn Asgardians and their big, sexy bodies) so you could make an intimidation check against him.

“I will admit, yes, I want you to fuck me. I want you to pound on my cunt without mercy, Loki, and I want you to order me to suck on your cock all night like a fucking popsicle. I want you to pin me to that dental chair downstairs and make me forget every other person I’ve ever nailed.”

You grinned. It was clear from Loki’s expression that your declaration had hooked him like a bass on a fishing pole. You let your own mischievous grin unroll, taking three seductive steps back from him, wagging a finger and scolding the horny bastard like a school teacher would scold an ornery student. “But sadly, you can’t just do that to me.”

Loki shook his head and widened his stance. “And pray, tell me why I can’t and shouldn’t just take you now on this table?”

“Because you have to earn me, you dense man,” you replied. “I’m not some cheap Asgardian whore who will fall at your feet every time you call. If you want me to be your whore, you’ll need to prove your worth to me, Loki.”

Loki looked at the ground and slowly followed your steps until you were once again toe-to-toe.

“Challenge accepted, my Fire Bird,” Loki whispered, once again taking one of his damned magic fingers, this time tracing it down your nose and the center of your face until it landed on your closed lips. Then, he took a thumb and gently brushed them for a moment, his icy eyes studying them with intensity. “I can’t wait to nibble on these. Oh, surely it won’t be too long! Tell me, what can I do to earn the prize of your naked body pressed against mine?”

You shrugged, trying to resist the urge to just start sucking on his thumb. “I guess you’ll need to figure that out for yourself.”

“Very well then, let the games begin!” Loki took his thumb off your mouth and backed away from you. “However, now that we have nothing to eat,” he mused, “And since I imagine our dear co-workers aren’t due back for a few more days, what say we go out on the town and take in dinner and a show?”

“Um, how about no? Neither of us are allowed to leave, and you don’t think anyone would recognize you on the street, considering your history with New York?”

Loki took the pile of ash cakes and went towards the garbage bin by the sink. “Funny thing about being a trickster: disguises are big part of my MO.”

You quickly shook your head. “You can’t use magic!”

“Oh, haven’t I already?” Loki smirked. “And not just on your ankle, dear Y/N, but every time you walked away from me, only to turn around and find I’d beaten you to your destination, did you not think that was seidr?”

“No, I just thought you were that much of a prick.”

Loki looked delighted at your quip. “You’ll see what kind of a ‘prick’ I am soon.”

“But why would you do all of that just to get a rise out of me?” you asked, folding your arms. “What happened to the terms of your probation? You’re risking death every time you make some kind of spell happen. Why would you do that?”

“Because seeing how flustered and aroused you get around me is worth it every time,” he replied matter-of-factly, slipping the mound of ash pancakes into the trash bin and putting the plate in the sink. “In case you haven’t noticed, I actually don’t give one damn about any rules.”

You nodded quietly, because you couldn’t help but agree. The God of Mischief would hardly be one to religiously obey the rules just to keep his head.

“But I do!” you replied. “How do you think I’d feel if you got put in a guillotine because of me?”

Loki answered, “First, they use a block and axe on Asgard. They’re a bit into the theatrics of a public beheading. Trust me, I’ve seen enough of them in my time. Second, that’s none of your concern what I choose to do and for whom I do so, is it? Third, you cannot tell me that, based on our rather rough discourse since your arrival, a small part of your wouldn’t take pleasure in seeing me lose my head.”

You couldn’t find the right words to reply. Instead, Loki sauntered back over to you, closing the gap until a pencil couldn’t fit in between you. “Learn your place, little fire girl, or will I have to teach your place to you?”

You knew the answer you wanted to give him, and you got the feeling he knew it too.

Loki spoke before you could muster a valid reply, raising a hand, showing off green seidr mist that burned not unlike a small fireball in your palm. “Now, darling, what would you like your hair color to be for our adventure? I must admit, I’m especially fond of redheads...”

----

@el-zef @lokisninerealms @mischief2sarawr @lokisgoodgirl @toozmanykids @michelleleewise

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ktwritesstuff · 1 year

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First Comes Love (a Last of Us fanfic)

Title: First Comes Love Fandom: The Last of Us (no-pocalypse AU) Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Joel Miller x plus size!Reader Word Count: ~1,600 Summary: A rare night alone with Joel. Beta-read by the incomparable @bs-fangirl. Additional content notes below the cut.

Part 2 posted 9/1

A/N: At last I have returned to my roots: all your faves want to fuck fat girls. It is, sadly, the early 2000s (no shroompocalypse) so the reader character having history of experiencing anti-fatness seemed unavoidable, so TW for a brief mention. Other than some light breeding kink we have mostly fluffy cuteness. Enjoy!

Austin, TX. 2004

Joel wanted to go out for dinner, but you convinced him to stay in. It was rare for you to have a night alone--Sarah was at a sleepover--and you didn't want to waste a minute. Some folks might have considered Sarah a complication. Dating a single father of a teenaged, mixed-race daughter wasn’t without its challenges (not the least of which was bending over backwards to arrange date night) but the truth was, Sarah was the only reason you had given him a chance.

Joel was a good looking guy–a real man’s man–so much so that at first you hadn’t trusted his interest in you. You thought, perhaps, he learned to set his sights a little lower as a single dad. That the caliber of women he was used to–women like Sarah’s mother, no doubt–wouldn’t give him a second look once they found out he was raising his little girl alone. You had spent a lifetime being told that you were undesirable because of your size, but Joel never made you feel undesired.

Joel picked you up after work. You grabbed burgers and shakes at the Creamery and ate in the truck on the way back to Joel’s. He kissed you playfully as you came through the front door, blowing raspberries on your throat and behind your ear until you screamed with laughter as you fell into bed together.

Joel unbuttoned your blouse slowly, one loop at a time, kissing his way down your breasts. Working his way down your body, he lingered longer to adore the rolls and folds of your stomach with his mouth and fingertips. It used to make you self-conscious, but you had since come to enjoy the loving attention he gave the largest part of your body. He opened your jeans and slipped one hand into your panties. Two fingers slid through your folds, stroking up and down against your clit.

“So good.” His breath felt warm against your skin. “So wet for me.”

You leaned back, pressing your head into his pillow with a content sigh. It smelled like Tide and Irish Spring and the clean sweat that was unmistakably Joel.

You whined a little as he paused his ministrations and rested his head on the soft pouch below your navel, his beard tickling the delicate skin.

“Watcha doing?” You grinned, running your fingers through his curls.

“Thinking,” Joel sighed as his fingers traced spirals on the lowest part of your belly.

“About what?”

“Putting a baby in here,” Joel’s chocolate-brown eyes glanced up at you. “Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

The answer spilled out of you before you even had time to think. You had assumed Joel didn’t want any more kids, he was so devoted to Sarah. It was one of the things you loved most about him. You never felt like you needed a child of your own to be a family. But the idea of Joel wanting another baby was so delightfully surprising; you relished the idea of raising little chunky-thighed peanuts with huge brown eyes and dark curls.

“Really?” Joel grinned.

You nodded.

“Good,” Joel said, snaking his way back up your body to kiss your throat. “Because I can’t wait to fuck my babies into you.”

You pulled the back of Joel’s t-shirt up over his head and he shucked it off in a hurry to slide his hand back down your pants, fingers stroking through your increasingly damp folds. He kissed you like he was swimming through your mouth, coming up for sips of air between long, confident strokes. You reached down to grope him through his pants.

“Gonna love watching your belly grow,” he whispered, low and husky with desire. “Knowing it’s my baby in there, warm and safe, enjoying that nice squishy water bed.”

You felt giddy at his sudden confession. Joel was far from an inattentive lover, but he wasn’t usually this talkative. You could tell he was enjoying the fantasy and frankly, so were you, spreading your legs a little wider as he stroked you lazily.

“Keep going.”

“I’ll read to the baby and sing to them, so they get to know daddy’s voice. Gonna take such good care of you, too.” Joel dipped two fingers inside you, curling them up around the curve of your pelvis. “Rub your feet when you’re tired and get you ice cream in the middle of the night.”

You ran your hands over Joel’s chest and back, feeling the hard muscles under a thin layer of padding. Not vanity muscles, Joel had the body of a man who worked with his hands–strong, useful.

“What else?”

“Your tits are gonna be fucking huge.” Joel drew both hands up to knead your breasts. “Getting ready to feed our baby. I’d suck them for you…If you wanted.”

You almost laughed out loud, but you would hate to embarrass him after he had opened up to you.

“You can,” you assured him.

Joel shifted his weight back, bowing his head to your breasts, sealing his mouth over one nipple, pressing down with the flat of his tongue.

You knew you had a good one, but hearing Joel’s secret fantasies spilling was so endearing, that what he wanted most were all the things he hadn’t gotten to experience with Sarah. You had never been desperate for children of your own, but now anything else was unthinkable.

“I want to have your babies, Joel.”

“Yeah?” Joel looked up at you, bright eyed and flushed.

“A whole gaggle of them,” you said, taking his face in your hands.

“Shit, that’s hot,” Joel chuckled, dipping his head to work the beginnings of a hickey into the crook of your neck. “You’re so fucking sexy right now.”

“Careful,” you warned. “We’re not teenagers anymore.”

You suspected Sarah was well-aware her father was no celebate monk, but there was no need to publicly embarrass the poor girl. You wanted desperately to stay on her good side–she and Joel had a special relationship.

“If we had met when we were teenagers, we’d have a whole damn baseball team by now,” Joel said.

You rolled your eyes at his attempt at flattery. You knew damn well the high school version of Joel would never have given your bespectacled and brace-faced younger self a second glance.

“Thank God for small mercies,” you teased.

“You ready for me?” Joel asked, sitting up to retrieve a condom and lube from the bedside table. You had barely touched him, and he was rock-hard, straining through his blue jeans.

You nodded, shimmying your pants down and kicking them off from around your ankles.

Joel rolled on the condom and moved over you, lining the tip of his cock up at your entrance before pressing in slow and careful, stretching you open a little at a time.

“How’s that?” he asked, bottoming out inside you.

“Feels good.” You hitched your knees up around his waist, letting him press in deeper as you traced the triangles of muscle in his shoulders.

Joel kept most of his weight in his hips as he rocked into you. A few short, quick thrusts followed by long, slow strokes. He reached one hand between your bodies to massage your clit, sending sparkles of pleasure through your belly.

“Shit, that’s good.” Your toes curled, muscles clenching and releasing as Joel fucked you through the climax. You tugged his hair and pressed your mouth over the exposed vein pulsing in his throat to keep from crying out.

“Don’t stop.” You grabbed his ass with your other hand, your nails leaving crescent-moon indents in the plump flesh.

“I’m fucking close,” Joel laughed, brushing one hand over your sweat-damp hair.

“Want you to come for me,” you panted between strokes. “Come inside me.”

“Fuck!” Joel shuddered, collapsing onto you.

You chuckled, still enjoying the ripples of your orgasm.

“Shit,” Joel rallied. “You need anything?”

“I’m golden,” you said with a smile as he kissed you.

Joel held the base of the condom as he withdrew from you. He rose from the bed and went to the bathroom to dispose of it. You almost felt sorry for the unlucky little swimmers—they must have been so confused. No egg today, but hopefully one day soon…

“You know,” you called to him, adjusting your pillows. “If you really want a baby, there’s only one thing you have to do.”

As Joel emerged from the bathroom, you held your left hand out to him, wiggling your fingers.

Joel chuckled, crossing the room. He opened his dresser drawer and returned to the bed with a small velvet box. You gasped, hand flying to your mouth.

You had suspected Joel was thinking about proposing for some time now, when Sarah had not so subtly asked to “borrow” one of your rings for her Spring Fling dance. You had dropped your fair share of hints as well, browsing bridal magazines in the grocery checkout line and remarking which of Country Radio’s Top 10 would make a good first dance.

Evidently Joel had reached the limit of his endurance.

"Sarah found it while she was snooping," he explained. "I was going to take you out for a nice dinner, get down on one knee–”

You opened the box, to find a perfect, tiny diamond on a simple gold band.

Joel cleared his throat as he sat down beside you in bed. “I know it’s small–”

“Shut up,” you snapped, slipping the ring on your finger. “It’s beautiful!”

You laid back in bed, holding out your hand to admire the ring, glittering in the sunset light. Joel draped his arm around you and you curled into his side.

“I’m assuming because you put it on, that’s a yes,” he joked.

“It’s a yes,” you agreed, kissing him.

“We can tell Sarah tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll pick her up before breakfast.”

“I’ll make pancakes,” you agreed.

“I don’t like pancakes,” Joel said.

You rubbed your nose against his playfully. “Sarah does.”

#the last of us fanfiction #last of us au #joel miller x reader #joel miller x plus size reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #pedro pascal #troy baker adjacent #tlou smut #joel miller smut

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toxicanonymity · 2 months

Text

The Worst

1.3k, Tom “Redfly” Davis x DARK f!Reader

SUMMARY: You make Tom pay for Frankie's death.

WARNINGS: I8+ DARK FIC, DEAD DOVE noncon or very dubcon p in v, implied murder, roofie, forced gun sucking, restraints, degradation, praise kink?, Dom reader. Tom survives / Frankie dies AU.

Dedicated to @romanarose who is hosting a write a thon for the @triplefrontier-anniversary.

Happy 5 years to Tom ruining everything. He's the worst, but I'm sorry to say he's also packing.

-------------

You pretended to take comfort in him during your grief. Your flirtations over the past weeks had all been a ruse, as were your advances tonight. You always had one goal – to get Tom tied up in your basement.

Finally, you had him sitting at your kitchen table drinking a night cap. You rubbed his thigh and he looked at you like he wanted to eat you alive, if only he could muster the energy. His eyelids were heavy with lust and a roofie.

“Maybe we could, uh, get more comfortable,” Tom slurred, nodding toward the living room.

You downed the rest of your drink, set the glass down, and lowered yourself onto his lap, side saddle.

“Ohh,” he muttered with his mouth barely open. “Hello.”

“I was thinking we could go downstairs,” you purred.

He swallowed, raised his eyebrows, and nodded, “Sure.”

“Frankie ever tell ya ‘bout our hobbies? Lotta fun stuff down there.”

His face gave him away. “Uhh,” he stalled, “Sounds-” You ran your hand through his hair. “-Sounds good,” Tom muttered at a horny pitch. His eyes lingered on your lips, then he cleared his throat.

“I'm gonna need ya to trust me though, Tom. Can ya do that?”

Tom nodded.

“Yes ma’am,” you whispered.

“Yes ma’am,” he confirmed, clearly enjoying this. Your dominance was a perfect fit for his being a lazy sack of shit.

“Good.”

—----------

In the basement–more of a sex dungeon, as it were–you sat Tom down in a metal chair. He let you tie him up and barely objected when you zip tied his hands behind his back.

“Mmm,” he hummed as you did it.

“Good boy,” you told him, making him blush. His eyes lazily danced across your face in bemusement. “Now I'm gonna go change,” you said.

You returned in a black lingerie set – a lacy top over a strappy, crotchless bottom. You had tucked Frankie’s old pistol into the back of the bottom piece. The cool metal made your skin tighten with goosebumps all over.

You slowly approached Tom and watched his eyes consume you. Without sitting down, you straddled him so you were standing with your tits in his face. You let him play. He nuzzled his head into your breasts, then nosed at a nipple.

“Fuck me,” he whispered, then took one into his mouth, through the lace.

“God, you worthless shit,” you laughed with faux affection.

“Heh,” Tom chuckled sadly against your tit.

He didn’t notice you reach for the gun. You used the barrel to massage yourself through your underwear. He glanced down, then his eyes snapped back up to you. “Whoa, careful with that,” he laughed nervously with the barrel pointing right at his dick as you slid the cool metal against the lace covering your mound.

“This is Frankie’s,” you said wistfully and raised the gun to admire it. You used the barrel to nudge his chin so he looked at you. He froze. “You’re gonna suck Frankie’s dick now,” you nodded and slid the barrel up his jaw, then nudged his lips with the muzzle.

His breathing was heavier and faster. His eyes were less sleepy.

He maneuvered to dodge the barrel. “Listen, sweetie,” he started. “Are you okay? Maybe we’ll just — maybe. . . watch a movie tonight,” his voice trailed off as your face made it clear you were not fucking around.

“Open.” You grabbed his jaw. “It’s the least you can do, Tom.”

Tom swallowed. “Okay,” he whispered. “You’re right.” He let the muzzle into his mouth.

“Good,” you whispered. “Go on.”

You pushed the barrel further into his mouth. “Suck it, Tom. Suck Frankie’s cock.”

His face whitened as he began to hesitantly bob his head.

“If it weren’t for you, I’d be sucking Frankie’s real cock right now,” you reminded him and watched dread fall over his face. He hardly moved at all.

“You can do better than that.” You pushed the gun further into his mouth and his teeth hit the metal. “Good,” you whispered as he took as much of the pistol as he could. You held the back of his head and fucked his mouth with the gun. He looked up at you pleadingly and whined incoherently. You mercifully let the barrel out of his mouth, a string of drool falling down his chin.

“Look,” his face was serious and his tone was more sober. “I know you’re devastated. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. We can–”

“Shut up.” You crossed your wrists behind his head and lowered yourself onto his lap. Your most sensitive area met his semi-hard bulge and you let out a moan.

“Oh, Tom,” you sighed, impressed.

As it turned out, there was one area where Tom didn't fall short, and your body wouldn't let you ignore it. “Fuck,” you whispered as he hardened beneath you. You were throbbing against him. The adrenaline already had your blood flowing, and now it was flowing south. His cock twitched against you. His breath was shallow.

He watched your face carefully. He was as quiet and still as a mouse.

“Got him killed, and now you wanna fuck his girl, don’t ya?”

Tom nodded hesitantly.

You scoffed. “With friends like you,” you started. “Pathetic.” A subtle lift of his hips took all your thoughts away as his warm, hard package rubbed against your front. You had never hate fucked someone before. . . With the gun still behind his head, you nudged the nape of his neck with the muzzle and he flinched. “You’re not gonna say a word,” you warned. Then you reached down between you and feverishly unbuttoned his cargo pants.

You reached into his boxers and gasped at the smooth heat of his naked girth against your palm. “Jesus,” you whispered as you took it out. A hint of cockiness tugged at the corner of his mouth before he appeared to remember his imminent doom.

With your gun hand, you braced yourself using the back of his neck for leverage. You took your thong to the side, then spit on your hand and wiped it on his dick. God how you hated this man. You lined yourself up, then sank down with a rush of pleasure to your chest as your cunt slowly swallowed his thick length. You closed your eyes and thought of Frankie as you began to roll your hips. Your heart was racing.

He moaned nearly silently as you fucked yourself on his massive cock. You got wetter and wetter. You could feel Frankie’s presence. You could practically smell his scent wafting off of Tom. You could feel the ghost of Frankie’s hands on your ass and practically hear his whispers in your ear. Should’ve ridden his face, he said in your head and you breathed out a laugh as you rode him.

You let out a sigh and Tom shuddered. You imagined Frankie’s brown eyes looking deep into yours, and your walls twitched around Tom’s cock. You whimpered as you came.

“Fuck,” Tom murmured through gritted teeth as you choked his cock.Then he erupted inside you. You groaned as his warm spend flooded your core.

When you were finished, you sat there on his cock and you both read each other’s faces. He knew his time was up. You took the safety off the gun.

“What a way to go,” Tom muttered in resignation. He winced as you squeezed him with an aftershock.

“You took him from me, Tom.”

“I know, honey,” he agreed. “It’s okay. Kid's better off with the life insurance.”

The next few seconds felt like minutes. Your heart raced and you could see Tom’s heartbeat in his neck.

Tom took a deep breath. “Just put it in my mouth.” He nodded. “And pull the trigger,” he whispered.

His gaze was apologetic as the muzzle once again nudged his lips. He closed his eyes with his softening cock still sheathed in your warmth. You didn’t feel a thing as the hammer clicked under your thumb.

-----

Thank you for reading!

my main masterlist

#triple frontier fanfiction #Tom Davis x reader #triple frontier smut #triple frontier write a thon #triple frontier anniversary #Tom “Redfly” Davis x reader #female reader #tw noncon #tw rape #tw violence #tw main character death #tw suicidal adjacent thinking #toxicanonymity ☠️#dark reader #triplefrontier #triplefrontier2019 #dark!reader

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