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nctstar · 10 months

Note

hi! i just read "one, two..." with djj × female pairing and i was wondering if you could maybe do a jeno, haechan and mark/jaemin version? i love your works!

your wish is my command bsf <3 also thank you so much! means a lot :)

don't let us kinkshame you!

“Don’t talk back to me. If you want to stop, we’ll stop. But don’t stop because you’re shy. Tell us what you want, baby.”

“Yeah, _. Don’t let us kinkshame you.”

pairing: markhyuckno x fem!reader, stylist!reader

other members: chenle (poor dude has no idea)

word count: 7.2k

genre: smut

warnings: this is purely a graphic smut so minors please dni!! foursome, everything is consensual (safeword is established + mentioned), dom!marhyuckno (hard dom!jeno), sub!reader, fanfiction smut is a main theme in this, wet dreams, alpha/omega/beta kink, alpha!jeno, sir kink, sort of muscle/size kink (i'm sorry but bulging biceps make me go insane), unprotected sex (wrap your willy before you get silly folks), rough sex (reader is manhandled/held down), degradation (liberal use of the words slut, whore, brat + other degrading terms), everyone has a ginormous dick, slight praise kink, sort of pain play (not really) intense orgasms, squirting, fingering (fem receiving), humiliation, oral (male receiving), nipple play, riding, crying during sex, spanking, begging, punishing reader sexually, profanity

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic.

a/n: thank you anon and sorry this is definitely the nastiest thing to ever come out of my imagination and onto my laptop. i think i'm on some sort of watchlist for sure

“Have you read it, _?”

“Read what?” The sound of the hairdryer muffled most sounds in the room, including Mark’s voice as you watched his mouth open and close with his answer. Running your hands through Haechan’s semi-dry locks, you noticed a lit-up phone in front of your face. Squinting, you read while your hands worked.

poison | alpha! jeno x reader | 18+

You swallowed thickly, but quickly composed yourself. Swiping the hairbrush off the dresser, you glanced at Haechan in the mirror, setting his hair at the same time. “Sounds like more action than you two would ever get in a week…combined.”

Haechan rolled his tongue inside his cheek, playfully annoyed while Mark remained undeterred, his eyes still glued to his phone. His eyes suddenly widen, and he looks away, a mix of morbid curiosity and shock in his eyes. “Damn...”

Haechan sneered. “Got a boner there, Mr Lee?”

An empty can of hairspray bounced off Haechan’s forehead with a dull thump, Mark’s chair now swivelled around to face him. “Guys! Let me do my job! We only have, like, 2 minutes to go, and Haechan, your damn hair isn’t setting.”

“I have to dye it every 2 minutes because I have a comeback that often, remember?”

“Have you been using the treatment I gave you last session?”

“Why? Would you give me a reward if I did?” His deep brown irises glistened under the harsh white lights as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. Smacking his shoulder in response, you tried to hide the way your heart was fluttering inside your chest, like a million butterflies trapped in a glass jar. “Lee Donghyuck!”

“It’s okay baby, it’ll be better next time.”

“Gross.” Embarrassingly, you felt your core twitch at the mere thought of those words being taken out of context. “Such a dirty mind. You sure you didn’t write that alpha fic?”

You were getting brave, but something inside of you forced you to keep going. Haechan scoffed, rolling his eyes and swinging one leg over the other. “Yeah, I don’t have the hots for Jeno. Mark might, though.”

“Say it one more time, Donghyuck, I’m warning you.” Mark was shrugging the salon cape off himself, brushing lint off the stage jacket. He towered over his hairstylist, on her tiptoes as she fixed the strands of hair that spiked strategically on his forehead. His undercut teased you from the side, and you swallowed deeply, thinking about last night. As if on cue, Mark turned to look at you, as quick as you would glance at the barista for your morning coffee. “See you later.”

That was code for see you later with my cock down your throat.

∞

“Nghhh, Mark.”

“You’re doing so well, baby. Think you can go a few more times?”

You nodded slowly, the swollen bulb of his cock sticking onto the remnants of your lipgloss.

“Fuck, such a perfect slut. How did we get so lucky, hmm?” Your hair tangled in his long fingers, he pierced you on his thick length, tapping your cheek with his other hand when you gagged loudly. “Shhh, quieter. Don’t want anyone else to hear, yeah?”

You whimpered softly, desperately trying to open wider to accommodate him. He pushed you deep until your nose grazed his pubic bone, your hands immediately coming to his thighs as a reflex. “Good fucking girl. God, I’m so close. All for you, baby.” You pushed on his thighs when you felt your throat restrict uncomfortably, coughing up saliva as you soon as his cock left your mouth.

Mark tipped your head up to face him, your watery eyes staring back at him. “Gonna make you feel so good after this, yeah?” His thumb pressed down on your tongue hard, forcing drool to slide down your chin. “Use your words, slut. Tell me how much you need my cock.”

Mark was usually mean, but today he was mean mean, and, though you were taken aback, you couldn’t say you hated it.

Garbled sounds left your mouth as Mark slipped his other fingers inside your mouth, forcing you to babble nonsense at him. He laughed darkly. “So pathetic.”

“Mark, please.” You gasped as he released your mouth, fingers now grabbing your chin tightly. “Wanna make you feel so good, s-sir.”

“Wanna make your alpha feel good, baby?” You froze immediately, the word alpha stunning you into place like a deer caught in headlights.

You and Mark stared at each other for much longer than would normally be considered sexy, the energy in the air quickly changing into something painstakingly awkward. Not wanting to lose the momentum you both had gathered or, worse, discuss what just happened, you grabbed at his cock and shoved your mouth onto him, making him stumble backwards and groan. The air was filled with sounds of sloppy head, all caution thrown out the window as you bobbed your head through his orgasm, not stopping until you felt hot spurts of cum shooting down your throat.

∞

“Mark, I will never let you forget this.”

“Haechan, be serious here.” Mark unbuttoned the top of his jeans, breathing out in relief as the seams on the size-too-small pants released its iron-clad grip on his body. The inside of the car was dark, the only light being that coming from Haechan’s phone, illuminating the bottom of his face and lips, now curled into a teasing smirk.

Haechan leant forward, seemingly trying to hide the impending conversation from the poor staff member tasked on driving them back to their dorm. “You used the word alpha unironically while you were making _ suck your dick? I’m actually fucking dying right now.”

“Oh my god, yes, we get it, I tried something new and it failed miserably.” Mark hissed under his break, sneaking one glance behind him. “But what was weirder is…well, you should have seen the look on her face. It’s like she got caught or something.”

Haechan chuckled lowly. “Or maybe she was just weirded the hell out, Mark.”

“Well,” Mark scratched at his head, the hair gel residue now itching at his scalp. “We usually…do more. But today, she just ran out after that and didn’t say anything else.”

“Good job, Milk. You just ruined your chances at sex with her forever, you freak.”

Mark sighed, pretending not to have heard him and frowning as if deep in thought. Haechan raised one eyebrow. “You don’t mean to say…”

“What?”

“That’s not what you’re insinuating, is it?” The car began to slow, and both men became wary of the newfound quiet inside the car as they cruised down a near-empty suburb, the odd man or woman dimly lit by passing streetlights as the walked by. “What are you talking about right now?” As Haechan reshuffled himself on his seat to get closer to Mark, one leg brushed past his, and he cleared his throat, trying to be as unsuspecting as possible.

“You think she’s into that kinda stuff?”

“Well, why would she run away then?”

“Think about what we were doing before this.” The words felt unsure even as they left his mouth, hanging in the air with uncertainty. It was too ridiculous no matter how he looked at it. But just he had to say it.

The elephant in the room.

“Wait, wait. That’s her story?”

“Woah.” Haechan put down his phone officially, the car now shrouded in a new darkness, both men squinting to make out the other’s face. “I meant that she might have read it. Not that she…well.” He was visibly puzzled now, his voice faint but quick like a flurry of feathers. “I mean, there’s that possibility. But maybe she was into it, and you reminding her of it made her embarrassed.”

“But why would she be embarrassed? We do worse things, for sure.”

“Okay, first of all, gross. Second, she probably hasn’t accepted it herself. I mean, that fic…” He leant back, his jacket crinkling loud in the almost silent car. “There’s stuff in there that goes way beyond your regular wild kinks and shit.”

“She doesn’t strike me as that kind of girl.” Both men sit in silence for a while, letting that sink in. “I mean…she would be confident enough to be bolder about that kind of thing, you know? She’s the kinda girl that knows what she wants, when she wants it, exactly how she wants it.”

“Right.” Haechan bit his lip, trying to hold back the words that’s so fucking sexy for fear of being teased mercilessly for months. He knew you belonged to no one, yet there was a part of him that recognised that you would probably never choose him to have your way with. The way you looked at Mark, eyes glazing over in deep submission, a stark contrast to the way you looked at him, so many things hidden behind those playful, bratty eyes.

Mark hummed under his breath, phone now in hand. “She’s coming tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, I think it’s her shift tomorrow.” Haechan didn’t think, he knew. He knew you worked Mondays and Fridays and the occasional Wednesday, always arriving between 13 to 16 minutes early to go to the bathroom first, stepping into the dressing room just a minute before and no later. It was creepy, for sure, but he couldn’t help it. He felt the need to be ready whenever you were there. He needed you to see him only in the ways he wanted, layers of banter and smooth mannerisms hiding his true feelings underneath, the way his heart slammed against his ribcage and threatened to break free whenever you moved close.

“Well, we’ll see how she reacts then.” Mark slouched against his seat, his voice fading away as his attention shifted, and Haechan marvelled at how five second thoughts of you had rendered him completely amnesiac to what he was just talking about with Mark. He closed his eyes, letting his body naturally drift off into an exhausted slumber.

∞

“Hey boys.”

Your satin-clad hips swayed back and forth as you walked, one hand re-applying your gloss for what felt like the dozenth time. “Anyone need a touch up or are we all good here?”

Mark was surprised at your easy demeanour, as if nothing was ever going on between you guys, let alone the encounter you two had had only yesterday. He cleared his throat, sweat dripping down his forehead as another staff member helped him unzip his top from the back. “You look…nice.” He wondered if it was obvious that he was trying to keep his eyes locked on your face, not wanting his gaze to linger too much on your body.

“Yeah, I’m dressed for the event after this. That’s still happening, right?” Your heels clacked against the linoleum floor as you stepped forward. Haechan was only two steps ahead of you, his hair in the hands of another stylist. You whispered something to her and she let go, walking away with the gel stick still in her hand. “Look forward.”

“Didn’t really strike me as the party type, _.” Your last name drawled off his lips, lazy and nonchalant. “Always stroke me as weird book girl in the corner type.”

“And what if I am?” You started backcombing his stiff strands, grimacing at the residue the gel was leaving and the way it was inevitably mixing with his sweat. “I can be both, can’t I?”

“Sure. You could be a writer, couldn’t you, _?”

Haechan could have sworn that even for a split second, a moment so small, so blink and you’ll miss it, that you hesitated. Your hands shook with the energy of a tiny hummingbird flapping its wings, so swift it stopped as soon as it registered. “Nah.” You sounded different now, like you were feigning innocence to hide the fact that he had cornered you.

Mark and Haechan shared a knowing side-eye as Haechan felt firm pulls on his scalp. “You should probably get going, Mark.” His name fell solid in the air as it left your mouth, as certain as a command would be, and your peripheral vision caught the ends of his body as he packed up his things and left soundlessly.

It was only you and Haechan in the room now, the other stylists now long gone (a/n: how convenient!), leaving behind only the mess of a true makeup studio, products strewn haphazardly across the plastic dressers. You watched Haechan lick his lips on instinct in the mirror, only now noticing the various sticky notes adorned with Korean letters you weren’t too familiar with. “No, don’t. You’ll mess up the- oh, never mind.” You sighed, but it didn’t feel relieving at all, as if your muscles were constricting up again instead of letting go. Haechan talked at your reflection. “Sorry.”

A whirl of your arm sent his chair turning so he was now facing you, bending over to match his eye level. “Hold still.” As your breaths played out of sync, you were hyper aware of every sensation. The way your hairs stood on end. The smell of his musky cologne now filling your nostrils. Your bare legs suddenly burning hot, slightly brushing against the inside of his knees. Your eyes fighting to stay up at his face and not stray downwards. “That’s it.” You glazed his lips over with your applicator, gripping the tube and the arm of the chair in one hand.

You were used to these intimate positions, particularly with the job you had. But, as you realised you had just applied your own lipgloss onto him, a different feeling was dawning on you.

As you locked eyes, Haechan spoke, bold and ready. “It would be insane if you didn’t kiss me right now.”

The first noticeable sensation was the sticky mess that threatened to spread over the edges of both of your lips, lewd sucking noises now filling the air as you both dived deeper. Your tongue flitted over his lips and he groaned. “Fuck.” Readjusting in his chair, he slapped his thigh. “Sit, sit.”

“No.” Pulling away, you turned his chair once again to face the mirror and patted his shoulder. “Stand up.”

“W-wh…” Confused, he stumbled off anyway, wheels turning and the seat rolling away from the impact of his stand. He turned to face you.

“Good boy.” You smirked, lips now grazing the supple skin of his Adam’s apple, hands travelling down to his pants. “Is this what you wanted all along, baby?”

He stared, eyes slightly glassy, rimmed with smudged black kohl. Tilting his head back, he breathed soft moans onto your skin as you sucked on his neck, red blooming onto his olive skin. “A-ah.” Squeezing his eyes shut, he gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, I need you right now, Hyuck.” Something about using his real name felt too intimate, affectionate even, and he kissed you as you unbuckled him, semi-stiff cock hitting your clothed pelvis. Pushing him back onto the vanity, you angled yourself, him eventually helping you by giving you a small lift once he realised what was happening. Up on your toes, one leg slightly elevated, you let your walls suck him in all at once. “O-oh, fuck.”

He thrusted upwards, iron grip on your hips unchanging as you clawed at his back, the studs on his jacket rough underneath the pads of your fingers. The pleasure was spreading to your chest, rendering you speechless. “Oh my god, oh, fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop.” You begged, feeling your thighs slip against each other as your own arousal dripped down your legs.

“_? You sleeping right now?”

You awoke with a gasp, your phone clattering onto the tiles as you sat up. “Woah, take it easy. You alright?” He leant over to pick up your thankfully intact phone, shuffling closer with one arm outstretched and eyebrows gently raised.

Before you was Lee Jeno, blonde hair grazing the top edges of his round eyes, body bulging against the thin fabric of the white shirt. His waist accentuated by a thick leather belt, you noticed the outskirts of his toned stomach peeking out from under his top. Gulping, you nodded. “Y-yeah. Thanks, um…” His name died on your lips, as if some sort of curse prevented you from ever uttering it.

“Here. You sure you’re okay? You were sleeping pretty deeply, even in this noise. Sorry, I didn’t know if I should wake you…”

“No, no, it’s fine. I mean, I’m the crazy one, right? Sleeping at a party!” You tried to laugh it off, but a snort came out instead, and you blushed intensely. Oh my god. This is so embarrassing.

Unfazed, Jeno smiled, eyes turning into semicircles as he did. “It would be fine if you went home, you know.” He tilted his head, blonde hairs perfectly aligning to one side. The charisma radiating off him froze you in place, and you had to unglue your eyes from his face. “Ah, yeah.” Truthfully, your body felt like it had been through a dryer, and your joints were cracking like popcorn. You needed sleep for sure.

He jumped from the couch, letting you bounce slightly. Looking up, he extended his arm. “Come. I’ll drop you off.”

∞

You felt exposed. Not only because you were in the skimpiest outfit you owned, but because halfway through you and Jeno’s exit from the party, he had decided it was too cold and had changed into a hoodie and sweats, making him look less and less like a colleague or client or even friend and more like an idol sugar daddy. Nevertheless, you didn’t oppose his company, and you both rode back in silence, his knees knocking into yours occasionally, making your heart flip each time.

It’s not that he made you nervous, typically, despite your tiny little crush on him. But it was the way he woke you up right in the middle of your wet dream with another man, mere hours after his bandmate had you on your knees sucking him off. Every time he leaned over, your name leaving his lips so effortlessly as you stumbled over yours, your hands shook with the thoughts than ran wild in your brain. Did he know? You wondered, as he droned over some tiktok video, whether he knew about your sexual rendezvous with his bandmates, some real and some imagined, and the uneasiness in the pit of your stomach only grew as time passed.

It didn’t change as you had reached in your apartment, him somehow still on the topic he was on in the car, now manspreading onto your couch as you sat quietly across from him.

“But like, do you get it, _?” He sipped on the coffee you had made for him, marvelling at how quickly he drank something that usually took you an hour to finish. “Not bad. But why would he even do that, you know? Maybe she didn’t realise that he knew, but oh boy, he definitely knew.”

“Right.” To be clear, you had lost the plot ages ago, shamelessly thinking more about how close in proximity your bodies were, how comfortable he suddenly was around you, and what it all meant. “Do you want, uh, something else.” Shyly gesturing at his empty mug, you tucked hair behind your right ear, the movement unsteady.

He stared directly at you now, letting your anxiety rise and fill the space between your bodies. Holding the gaze, he dropped the mug in front of himself on the table, only then dropping his head dramatically in between his collarbones. You frowned.

“Sorry.” He muttered. “I must be annoying, right.”

“No, no, not at all!” Your voice was much more high-pitched than a woman with any self-esteem, but you kept going. “I mean, that’s fine, Jeno, really. It’s nice to see you, like passionate, and um…” Your babbling continued, and he only smirked in response. Your stomach turned as you suddenly watched as his eyes change, darken around the edges. Suddenly the lights in your apartment felt harsh, exposing, like the lights on a fresh crime scene.

“_. I know about the fic.”

“What fic?” It was on instinct, but your ears starting ringing, blood running cold in your hands and feet. This isn’t real. This is another dream.

“Awww, don’t be embarrassed, baby. It’s okay to think those things about me.” He slumped backwards, one arm around the back of the couch, a subtle cocky smile starting to bloom across his face. “Markie told me how good you are anyway.”

“Jeno…” You fought the urge to gasp, your face burning from the inside out. “I, wait, um…”

“Shh, stop that.” He leaned forward with an almost-too-eager attitude, but he held himself back as he spread his knees wide, pointing at the ground. “Here.”

“Fuck, this isn’t happening.” Your hair whipped the sides of your face as you shook your head vigorously, slowly gazing up at his long frame as you did. You swore you heard him laugh quietly. “This is another dream, isn’t it.”

“So you dream about me?”

“No, it was about Hae-“ Jeno’s eyes widened before he guffawed loudly. “Fuck, _, you’re nastier than I thought. Was he good? Better than Mark?”

It was your turn to be shocked, eyes widening as he shook his head, letting his hair ride up his forehead. “Why, did you think it was a well-kept secret? Have you seen Mark? He glows with the radiance of a man who gets his dick sucked on the regular.”

“Jeno.” You wanted to be stern, but your voice came out kind of soft, almost like a whimper.

Jeno rolled his eyes. “Stop stalling, _. You heard me the first time.”

“But-“

“But what? If you want to stop, you can just say cherry. That’s what her Jeno told her to say, right?”

He had read the entire thing. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening.

As your body filled with an airy energy, you realised you were actually getting horny. He wanted you, maybe even needed you, and that filled your stomach with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. You slowly gulped, hearing the couch shuffle as you moved off it, walking over to him.

“Good girl. On your knees, baby.” You obeyed silently, eyes onto the floor as you waited.

“What are you waiting for, slut?” You felt Jeno’s rough hands grab the short strands of your hair, making you squeal like a tiny animal. “Do you wanna go home without tasting alpha’s big cock tonight, hmm?”

“Nnngh…n-no.” You eyes began to water at the force pulling on your scalp, hands fumbling around the waistband of his grey sweatpants. Your heart began to pound as you eyed the sizable bulge he was forming in his boxers.

“That’s it. Now hands behind your back.” As his length sprung out of the tight confines of his underwear, you cried out as it hit you square in the nose. “O-oh my god. Oh…fuck, wait, I don’t know.” Feeling Jeno’s unforgiving grip on your head keeping you dangerously close to him. you brought your palms to his knees, ready to push him away.

“What is it now?”

You shook your head, throat constricting already at the thought of his length inside your mouth. “It’s…well…fuck, it’s huge.”

As you looked up at him, you watched him give you a condescending smile. “Do you think alpha cares about you, baby, hmm? Why are you telling me all this? I don’t give a flying fuck. You either take all of me, or you leave. But you’ll leave a bad omega.”

Any other scenario where someone said something like this would have made you cringe, maybe even laugh, but today you felt your breath catch inside your lungs, as if someone was squeezing them extra tight. Word for word from the fic.

Whimpering, you folded both your palms around his girth, making him hiss. “Oh fuck, can’t even wrap my hands around it.” you whispered.

“You guys started without us?”

You jumped off your knees, your brain already forming the myriad of excuses before the initial shock settled and the words finally registered. “What the hell are you two doing in my apartment?” You glared at Mark, and now Haechan, who was slowly starting to come out of the shadows like a creepy stalker.

“Spare key.” The metal glinted as he hung the keychain off his fingers before grabbing it in midair. The same key you had handed Mark a few weeks ago, back when your little sessions were becoming daily (or multiple times a day) and you were sick of having to do the whole thing where he would have to come to your place an hour after you had arrived in case people were following him, or worse, taking pictures. He would have to wait into ungodly hours into the night on days you worked the night shift, which would let the spontaneous lust you had both gathered over the course of the day fizzle out by the time your tired body came home. You couldn’t be seen together outside of the workplace for various reasons, so having him come first carefully and you after had been working pretty well so far.

Except, well, for times like this.

“Mark!” You exclaimed, now fully facing him and closer to his lean frame, the waft of cologne hitting you as you trodded towards him. “Are you serious? You came here without my permission? And let someone else come too, at that!” Haechan acted insulted at this, mouth parting in mock surprise.

“I’m sorry, baby. But come on, Jeno had a great idea that we just couldn’t miss.” He brought one hand to stroke the side of your face, making you wince slightly. The ends of his fingers were like electricity, having more power over you than you liked to admit. You made eye contact with Haechan, and it was like you were back inside your dream. This. Wasn’t. Happening.

“I-wait…are you guys…seriously, what, you’re not saying-“

“Alright, talk over. Get over here, _. You’ve kept me waiting long enough.” Jeno let one arm hang lazily across the arm of your couch, another one stroking his length at an agonising pace. Your eyes felt like they were bulging out of your sockets, and your stomach churned nervously.

“Stop drooling and suck me off like a good omega. Come on, don’t be shy.”

You were on your knees again, Jeno’s cock at eye level, trying to ignore your newfound audience with a very telling tremble of your legs. Opening your mouth, you began to suck around his tip, the salty precum exploding on your tongue. You felt a hand on the back of your head, and you jerked away immediately. “Stop teasing. Come on, show your alpha and these dumb little betas what you’re good at.” You whined. “Fuck, fuck.” Choked cries filled the air as Jeno impaled you on his cock with one hand, his tip hitting the sensitive part of your throat and making you gag loudly.

As he pulled you off, strings of saliva attached him to your lips, embarrassingly making your core clench around nothing as you marvelled at how filthy this entire situation was. “So big.” Your voice was raspy, juices slathered over your chin as if he’d been fucking your mouth for hours. Jeno let you engulf him whole again, the sloppy sounds becoming more rhythmic as he bounced your face back and forth on him. “Hands off me and behind your back.” You balled your fists as you listened to him, closing your eyes as he groaned in pleasure. “So warm and tight. All for me, yeah?” You shook your head up and down as you hummed in response, looking up and him with your watery eyes.

You watched Jeno’s eyes drift away from you to something behind. “Ah, wait, let me get her off me first.” His voice changed now, you barely comprehended what was happening as you gasped for air post pull-off, before feeling a resounding slap on the back of your bare thighs. “Ah!”

“You think you can just leave me after sucking me off, baby? After all that we’ve been through.” You felt your skirt be pulled up, making you sit back on your heels. “Nuh-uh. Get up, let me see you.”

“Fuck, Mark, I didn’t me-oh!” This time he hit your ass, hard, jolting you onto Jeno’s thigh, his cock still grazing the side of your cheek. “Oh, fuck. Mmm.” You tried to shuffle forward but Jeno grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them on his thigh on one side. “Take it like a good girl.” The sting was immediately compounded by the feeling of our own arousal dripping down your thighs, the nasty realisation dawning on you that these assholes were recreating every scene that was written in that damn fic.

“Oh my god, I just wrote it, I didn’t…ah, Mark,” You whined as he squeeze a sensitive part of the plush on your backside. Between hits, you managed to sound out, “I, oh…ah, I didn’t write it for me – oh fuck! Nngh, didn’t mean it, oh my god.” Tears threatening to spill, you resorted to begging. “Mark, M- sir, please!”

“You called, baby?” Trying to turn your head uncomfortably back, you coughed. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean it?”

“What was that, hmm?” Two fingers in your sopping core and you gasped. “Ah, mmm, sorry, sir, ah…”

“So fucking wet. All from me punishing you like that. Is this what you liked all along, you dirty girl? To be our little sadist fucktoy.” One hand around your shoulders and another still knuckle deep inside you, he pulled you up so that your back hit his clothed chest, grip tight and unfaltering. You moaned, feeling the pads of his fingers curl up towards your g-spot. “S-sir, fuck, so good, so good, please…”

“Please what?”

“Please, want more.” You began to bounce your hips on his fingers, head floaty. A sharp slap across your face brought you back to reality, head whacking against the bony part of Mark’s upper chest. “Fucking whore, moving without permission like that.” Jeno was now gripping the ends of your chin, groin facing you once more. “Finish the job, baby. Don’t fucking care what he’s doing.”

“Yes, alpha.” You could have sworn you heard Haechan sigh, a mixture of pleasure and awe, but the moment passed as you took Jeno’s monstrous length once more, your jaw aching already. Mark took this opportunity to start fucking his fingers into you faster and faster. His teeth grazed your earlobe. “You like this, baby? Or you too busy tasting alpha cock to care?”

Your body squirmed under his arm, feeling his muscles bulge against you. Your head felt like jelly as Jeno pounded into you, one hand pushing your forehead down into place. You felt like a little doll being passed around, a slave to your desires, and you screamed as you came, liquid squirting out of your hole and all over your tiled floor as you did.

Your head began feeling floaty, but Jeno wasn’t giving in, and neither was Mark. You tried to get away from his fingers, core already sensitive from your orgasm, but he began to stroke your pussy once more, making you shake your head. Too much. The words were muffled around Jeno’s length, but they seemed to get the idea. “Just a bit more, baby. Tap me if you want to stop.”

Your hands in place, you let Jeno finish inside your mouth, cum leaking from the edges of your lips even as you swallowed diligently. “What a good omega.” Jeno cooed as you fell forward onto your hands, Mark finally releasing you. “Fuck, that was so good.”

“We’re not done yet, honey.” Your head whipped up, looking at Jeno towering over you, cock now hanging limp. “You haven’t taken your pretty boy-toy yet.”

Meeting Haechan’s eyes, you suddenly felt self-conscious at the way you were – skirt half up your ass, wet thighs and chin, a true testament to how much you had been used. Your eyes travelled to the unmistakable tent in his pants, dawning on you that he wanted you too. “H-Haechan.”

“Should’ve just told me you wanted me, baby? Do you know how many times I wanted to just bend you over and fuck you until you begged me to stop? Now I know what a perfect slut you are…”

“Fuck, Hyuckie…”

“Oh, baby.” He began to unzip his pants, hazelnut skin illuminated in the dim lights as you looked up, crawling over shakily. “Tell me what you want, sweetie.”

“Want you so bad. So…s-so much…”

He stopped in his tracks, eyes rolling and crossing his arms across his chest, much to your dismay. “Seems like you don’t want me that bad.”

“No, fuck, I do, I do, I-“

You felt Jeno’s hand land on the skin of your bare ass, making you flinch and look behind in surprise. “Go beg for cock, baby. I know much you need it. Don’t care who’s it is, do you?”

“N-no, I care, I do.” You weren’t sure why, but you suddenly felt frustrated, feeling like you were being teased unfairly. “I need all of you, please, please.”

“Use your words.” Mark’s voice was stern, unwavering, making you squeeze your eyes shut. You felt blood rushing to your head, impairing your ability to think.

“I felt alpha’s cockhead tease my entrance, and I sunk onto his thick length, crying out as I did. I felt so fu-“

“Oh my god, no, stop. Stop.” You tried getting up, but your legs wobbled, making you stumble forward ironically onto Haechan, his hands now on the sides of your arms, steading you. “You alright? What is that?”

“It’s the fucking fic, oh my god.” In the heat of the embarrassment, you hadn’t noticed Haechan drag you onto his lap, letting you hang your head over one shoulder as you buried your face in your hands. “So embarrassing.��

“Another man’s cock, possibly a beta, pushed inside me with my alpha. Nails dragging against my alpha’s muscular back, I cried, saying it was too much, the stretch ripping me apart, but alpha held me down, shushing me. Pain turned to pleasure and I threw my head back, letting my release spray all over the two men, passing out as soon as I did.”

“Holy shit. I hadn’t seen that part.”

“Yeah, it’s part two. She wrote that last night. Probably too horny to go to sleep, were you, baby?” Your tear-streaked face now facing Jeno, you shook your head. “No. I wrote it-“

“Don’t talk back to me. If you want to stop, we’ll stop. But don’t stop because you’re shy. Tell us what you want, baby.”

“Yeah, _. Don’t let us kinkshame you.”

Haechan now sucking on the thin skin of your neck, you gasped, eyes fluttering and your bare pussy now resting on his clothed bulge. “Fuck, uh, need to be fucked, filled, with both of you. Take another in my mouth, please, fuck, I wanna cu-“

“That’s better, slut. Begging to cum like the whore you are, rutting against him like a little bitch in heat. Go ahead, ride him. Do it properly or you’re not cumming again.”

Your hands scrambled for the zipper, Haechan throwing his head back as his hard, long length sprung out of his fly. He groaned and grabbed the back of your neck, squeezing hard as you pumped him impatiently. “Don’t tease.” Lifting yourself up, you aligned your soaking core to his tip, moaning in staccato as you let gravity let all of him be sucked inside you. “H-Hyuck, oh, fuck, so tight.”

He readjusted his hips, making your hair fall in front of your eyes and your hands slam, splayed out onto his upper chest. “Ah…” You moaned as you rode him, feeling every inch pound your insides, tip kissing your cervix with every thrust. Haechan guided your face to his and slammed his lips onto yours, letting your moans escape into his mouth.

Leaving love bites on your collarbone, Haechan dragged one hand under your shirt, rolling the ends of your nipples in between his thumb and forefinger. “H-Haechan, oh, wait-“ You cried out as he pinched the end, not hard enough to be excruciating, but enough to be uncomfortable enough to make you cry out, letting some of his length slip out. “Fuck! I’m sensitive, please.” You heard him shush you, your whines lost amongst the sounds of skin slapping skin as you rode him diligently, trying not to slow down as he played with your chest. “Just felt you squeeze around me, good fucking girl. You like having your body played with like a little brat, hmm?”

Jeno pulled your head back by your face, Haechan releasing your left nipple with an agonising pull, making you cry out. Bringing your upper body back to meet his, he wrapped one arm around the bottom of your stomach, firm and unforgiving. “You wanna take alpha too? Hmm?”

Incoherent sounds left your mouth as you felt Haechan’s cock slide out of you, tingling from the closeness of your orgasm. You felt a sharp smack at your core, making you arch your back. “Haaah…fuck! Yes, yes, s-sir!” Trying to shut your legs on impact, you felt Haechan pry them open again, and, with Jeno tipping you forward, you let him slide back in. Haechan wrapped one arm around the back of your shoulders, another on your lower back, pushing you down on him.

“Hghhh, alpha, please…” You weren’t sure what you were pleading for anymore, your voice sore from all that had happened already. Feeling Jeno’s massive bulb press against your core, your breath quickened. “Ah, fuck, what if it doesn’t fi-oh, ah…” You and Haechan moaned in unison, feeling the tight space get even tighter as Jeno pushed inside, inch by inch.

“Fuck, my little omega takes cock so good.” Tears ran freely down your cheeks, the stretch borderline unbearable but addictive. Your muscles sloppy, you gasped. “I’m so stretched out, alpha, please, can’t move…”

“Shh, you just lie there, baby, and cum when you need to, okay?” Jeno’s voice suddenly soft, you felt something warm spread across your stomach. “Yes, y-yes, alpha, trust you, wanna be good f’you, ah…” You cried softly as Jeno started sliding slowly in and out. “So good, alpha, so good, please, fuck me, oh god.” Jeno started picking up his pace, rendering you speechless, squeezing the back of Haechan’s neck as he jerked his hips up in sensitivity. “Oh my god, Haechan…” Burying your mouth into his neck, you felt a tap on your head as soon as you did, looking up in reflex. Haechan let go of your upper body, letting your hips roll against the two cocks now sliding in and out of you at a pace that was only getting faster. “Did you forget about me, honey?”

“N-no, Markie, ah…” Letting your chin rest against the arm of the sofa, Mark slid his cock easily down and out of your throat, letting the saliva messily drip all over his aching length. “Fuck, what a good cockslut. You think you can get me off again, hmm? Swallow it all like a good girl?”

You nodded, but a sharp smack to your ass made you shake and lose your balance, Jeno pulling you back onto his chest again. “Did you ask alpha for permission, brat?” You cried as Jeno pounded you ruthlessly, shaking your head and mumbling apologies in between moans. “What do you want, baby? Use your words. Or I swear to you I’m not letting you cum.”

“Mmm, wanna suck Markie’s cock, alpha, ah! And…swallow his cum, oh, fuck!” Haechan pushed his length harder into you as Jeno pushed your hips down. “Fuck, alpha, fuck, want you and H-Hyuckie to fuck me while I do it, please, please…” You sobbed as Jeno released you, seemingly happy with your words as he snapped his hips into you. “Oh my god…” Your eyes rolled to the back of your eyes, feeling Mark bringing your near his cock as the pleasure made your legs vibrate. “Hang on, baby. Cum with my cock in your mouth.”

“Alpha, cum, please!” You cried, voice disappearing as you choked around Mark’s thick length. Jeno tapped the back of your hips, mumbling something in support just as soon as you saw white, feeling your own juices spray uncontrollably and your hole constrict as you came around both of them. Haechan cursed as he filled you with his own thick release, Jeno pressing you down as he came into you seconds later. Mark used your mouth as you weakened gradually, muttering sweet praises as he shot his load down your throat, the bitter taste waking you out of your trance.

As you heaved, you wrapped your arms around Haechan, feeling multiple hands rub up and down your bare back. “That’s a good girl. Good job, baby.” You nodded, closing your eyes and drifting off, your body and mind well and truly spent.

∞

“Hey, you alright?” Chenle looked at you with a hint of concern, not clear whether it was directed at you or at his makeup that was now looking a little bit unusual. You shook your head with the tiniest movements, tapping his cheek again with a pale blush. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just don’t move your head.”

“Fine. You just seem different today.”

“I’m okay. Just a low energy day.” Beside you, Haechan and Jeno shared the smallest side glance, Mark smirking at himself as he changed behind the mirrors.

“Big night?” Chenle smiled at you through the mirror as you scurried around the drawers, looking for the angled eyeshadow brush, his hands adjusting his hair to his liking. You sighed, a true muscle fatigue-likes feeling spreading through your body and getting worse with each client. You were actually so tired, and, unprofessionally, not hiding it very well.

Then again, you were probably doing something that would be considered generally much more unprofessional, so you didn’t let it bother you too much.

“You could say that.” You slammed one drawer a little too hard, apologising immediately to the drawer and then rolling your eyes in frustration and embarrassment. “I-I think I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick. I’ll be back.”

As your heels clacked away, getting softer and softer, Chenle got up, letting the salon cape fall away from him. “What’s up with her?” He mumbled to no one in particular before walking away. Mark soundlessly nodded to Jeno and Haechan, a nonverbal assurance that he would be outside, and Jeno patted Haechan’s shoulder as left shortly after, leaving only Haechan in that small backstage room.

As Haechan stared at his reflection in the mirror, makeup done and hair only half, he opened his lips, letting some tension escape his body.

He thought about you.

How maybe his little white lie didn’t technically hurt anyone in the end.

Technically.

Technically, you were the one who got fucked (in a good way) and got the money for translating poison.

Technically, you did write it. Just not from scratch.

Technically, you were also into that.

But so was he.

He remembered how embarrassed he was when you first found out, and what you said to make him feel better.

“Oh Haechan, don’t worry about it. Don’t let me kinkshame you.”

How right you were in the end.

2K notes · View notes

midryss · 2 days

Text

Little Beastie (The Ghoul x Fem Raider Reader NSFW)

Smut with plot PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU'RE A MINOR!

Warnings- Blood play, spanking, rough sex, hair pulling, fingering, p in v, creampie, knife play, addiction, choking, biting, overstimulation, light degrading, night terrors/nightmares

Word count- 10482 Yep it's a long one, you're welcome 😜

Summery-Coming off the chems and trying to turn your life around was a challenge considering you were brought up a raider, but you wanted more out of life. Wanting to escape all the rage and violence, an unlikely alliance with The Ghoul makes you question whether you're truly capable of leaving behind your psychotic tendencies, unless he can tame the beast.

Your lungs burned, muscles screamed, heart thumped hard through the adrenaline but you couldn't stop. Vicious snarls gained quickly on you as the Deathclaw chased you down.

It was just one bad affair after another with you lately. Escaping the clutches of your former raider clan by the skin of your teeth, before foolishly interrupting the dinner of one of the most feared beasts in the wasteland. All in all the past week has been pretty rough, but you were a survivor, determined and resilient.

You swerved and clambered frantically through crumbling buildings in an attempt to lose the beast on your tail. The wounds you had earned just days before from your so called "family" began to weep. There are few who can say they made it out of raider life, mostly because so few wanted to leave at all. It was all they knew after all. Being brought up following their barbaric ways most raider folk never thought twice about the savagery. Like a cult, they had you trapped. Loaded you with chems to keep you high, addicted to the feeling, to all the violence. But as the years went by, you began to refuse the chems and your thoughts became clearer. This isn't the life you wanted.

Of course your attempt at persuading the other raiders to drop the chems fell on deaf ears. You knew it was a matter of time before the "new you" would become another one of their victims. Just another nameless face piled on the bonfire. So in a final "fuck you" to your former clan you destroyed their supply. Making a very narrow escape with only the bare essentials in the process.

Those essentials didn't last long in the blistering heat of the desert. Nor did the ammo you foolishly used up on the Deathclaw you disturbed. Making matters worse you lost the crudely made pipe rifle a while back.

Skidding through the doors of what you can only assume was some sort of office before the bombs fell, you shot a quick glance behind you as the beast pounced.

"Shit!" You dove behind the pile of desks and file cabinets to avoid its clutches. Scanning around the room for something to defend yourself with, your eyes landed on a crate of alcohol at the bottom of a crumbling staircase. You ran for it, bottles clinked together as you used the momentum to pull the crate up to the second floor. Praying for a miracle, you tore rags of cloth from your dusty flannel shirt while scanning the room.

"Thank fuck" you breathed a sigh of relief snatching a little gold lighter off an office desk. Stealing a glimpse out the blown out window, you watched the Deathclaw forcing its way through the surprisingly sturdy walls below you.

"Die, bitch" you mumbled as you dropped your hastily made Molotov's. It let out a furious roar, prying itself back from the wall. Its jaws snapped at you perched at the window above it. You watched it writhe in the flames but to your surprise it wasn't you that killed it, but a powerful gunshot from behind it. You snapped your gaze up to the owner of the gun. A cowboy, clad in dusty worn leather. You tilted your head to the side curiously, squinting for a better look through the rising smoke. He marched over his latest kill through the dying flames and you saw his scarred skin, thick like leather. A Ghoul.

You let your body relax, not at all caring who your saviour was, just that you were alive to tell the tale. Slouching down in a nearby office chair, you rubbed your tired eyes in your palms and released a heavy sigh.

"The fuck do you think you're doin!?"

You didn't bother lifting your head.

What now?

The Ghoul stormed through the office, pure rage written across his marred face. Before you could react, he grabbed you harshly by your tattered shirt and thrust you against the wall.

Confusion was clear in your expression so he explained, frustration and anger laced his voice.

"Been tracking that bounty for days!" His grip on your shirt tightened as you struggled to free yourself "You and your pet just cost me the trail!

"The fuck was I supposed to know!?" You snapped, "I'm just tryna survive."

"Oh Yeah? See if you survive this, Sweetheart!" he brought the muzzle of his pistol to your jaw and you saw red. The psychotic raider in you erupted. Letting out a vicious snarl, you leapt on him like a rabid dog, teeth bared as you defended yourself like a cornered animal.

He didn't shoot. Releasing you from his grip, he brought his now free arm up to protect himself. You clamped your teeth down into the filthy leather of his coat. Initially you were aiming for his neck, not at all deterred by the textured flesh, it's still just skin at the end of the day.

The force of your attack sent him stumbling backwards, seizing the opportunity you hooked your foot around his ankle, forcing him to drop the pistol and catch himself as he collided with the concrete floor. You wasted no time in snatching up the gun and scuttling away leaving him coughing and spluttering. You didn't look back, thinking only of running once again.

You ran clumsily through buildings and across rooftops in an effort to deter The Ghoul from tracking you down. You stole from a bounty hunter after all, you knew he'd be after revenge and his pistol back. Finally you were able to scavenge some resources and re patch your wounds left by your raider buddies. You slowed your pace as you heard sounds of civilization ahead and reflected on the hell of a day you had.

You beat yourself up over that Deathclaw. It could have been so easily avoided had you not been in such a hurry. And that damned Ghoul. Would he really have killed you? Over a bounty!? Surely he could pick up the trail again, it was his job after all.

Through all your wonderings about the Ghoul, a pang of guilt struck you, knowing you had killed for less. Maybe he should have pulled the trigger. Many would say you deserved it for your previous wrongdoings, and you would have to agree.

Shaking your head, you did your best to push the self loathing away. The hardest struggle you faced being clean was the constant guilt, knowing all the shit you've put into the world, when you could have helped rebuild civilization, to create something instead of destroying it.

You focused on the sounds coming from behind a heavily barricaded gate in the middle of the dilapidated concrete jungle. It sounded like a city. You could cry at the thought of being part of a normal community, a small smile crept its way across your quivering lips as you approached the gate earning small nods of greeting from the guards.

With no caps, a stolen pistol and a face that looked like it was dragged through hell, you had no idea where to go from here. Feeling out of your depth in a bustling community of people just trying to survive, you were quickly becoming overwhelmed. Wandering aimlessly you tried to blend in while taking in your surroundings.

Until something caught your eye. A scuffle in the centre of town and a small crowd beginning to gather.

"Fuck off I had him first!" a gravelly voice threatened.

"Like hell you did!" Another replied, equally as angry.

Two men both widely built and decked out in leather armour were about to fight it out over a feeble little man cowering on the ground, his wrists were bound with rope and he’d clearly been beaten more than a few times.

"There's a hell of a bounty up for this piece of shit, I ain't giving up without a fight!"

You froze, wide eyed at the pathetic looking man on the ground.

The bounty

You grinned to yourself, sneaking through the crowd. With enough chaos you could slip the target away and return him to the Ghoul. Strike a deal with him, gain protection while you establish yourself in society, or at least till you get your own weapons and armour.

You slipped an empty bottle from a nearby barrel and launched it at one of the men through the crowd. That did it. Within moments a brawl broke out between the bounty hunters and the crowd. Slipping through the frantic bodies you pulled the target out of the chaos and didn't stop until you were both hidden in a darkened ally.

It didn't take long for the crowd to dissipate as the bounty hunters frantically searched for their prize.

"If you want to keep your balls, come with me!" you hissed as you dragged him by the collar to the patchwork metal walls surrounding the settlement. The boundaries were tall, with barbed wire wrapped around its peak. In a panic you both kicked and tore your way through the most rusted panel available, before scuttling through the tight space.

Hauling your captive from the dust you retraced your steps, running as fast as your weakened muscles could with the weight of the bounty target behind you. It didn't take long for The Ghoul to find you as you stood in the middle of the dusty road, gun to the trembling little man's temple. The Ghoul narrowed his eyes at you, he was pissed.

"Well, look what we have here," he said, surprisingly calm, despite the threatening look in his eye.

"Gonna offer you a deal, Ghoul!" You announced, a slight shake in your voice. You weren't used to bargaining, you hoped you were doing it right.

He tilted his head to the side, a questioning look on his face. When he didn't respond you continued.

"You get the target and your gun back on one condition"

"...which is?" He asked through gritted teeth, he was growing impatient.

"Take me with you for while"

The threat in his eyes was replaced with amusement as he started to laugh. You scowled, nudging the barrel of the pistol harder into the hostage's temple earning a whimper from him.

“Just until I get on my feet” you were stern but there was no denying you were practically begging for help.

"And what if I refuse, little lady? Better yet, what's stopping me from accepting this deal and just killing you, hm?"

You smirked "honour"

He laughed once more, louder this time, almost sarcastically.

"I'm returning what I took from you and I know you have some decency left in you." he stopped laughing and his harsh glare returned.

"Oh, you don't know shit about me, sweetheart"

"I know you could have shot me earlier, but you didn't" His eyes narrowed. Time was getting on and it was only a matter of time before the other bounty hunters would search outside the settlement.

"Look, other bounty hunters are on their way for this bastard right now. So you can either accept and I tag along, or decline so I can blow this fuckers brains out" You hissed the last bit in the captives ear, an almost evil gleam in your eye letting them both know you would do it and you wouldn't lose any sleep over it.

The Ghoul glanced behind you, searching for the other bounty hunters, frustration clear on his face.

"Not givin me much of a choice, Sweetheart. Fine, you got a deal"

You grinned, proudly. Relief washed over you as you tossed the target and the pistol to the floor at the Ghouls feet.

"Pleasure doin business, Cowboy!"

The Ghoul gagged his prize and tied him with his lasso for good measure before laying down ground rules.

"Now if you try to escape or run or do anythin that makes me think you're plotting, I'm gonna let my pretty little companion here take your eyes, understand" His tone was calm and he spoke with a malicious grin, making his threats that much scarier. The little man sniffled but nodded.

You had journeyed in silence for a while and it was starting to get dark. You were growing chilly as the sun began to fall and your torn shirt did little to protect you from the elements. Of course The Ghoul noticed, he knew you were tired, you were dehydrated, hungry and weak but he didn't stop. He wondered how long it would take for you to give in or just collapse, but you never did. Unknown to him you needed to keep moving. You had to keep your mind focused on something other than getting high. The pain helped, kept you distracted, made you feel something. After so many years on the chems, you forgot what it was like to be anything other than numb, fueled with rage and craving violence. The pain was hell but at least it was real.

Hours passed and finally the Ghoul decided to set up camp. The hostage wasn't in great shape either and The Ghoul needed him alive. You sat by his fire still in silence, getting lost in the flames as your eyes started to feel heavy. Your thoughts snapped to the last family you killed on a raid. Innocent blood spilled because of you and your psycho addiction. The shock shook you awake and you noticed him watching you curiously on the other side of the fire. You rubbed your eyes hard.

"I'll keep watch" You announced, the little man had already passed out and The Ghoul smirked.

"Don't trust me to stick around, Darlin?" You looked at him, it was better than telling him you were plagued by nightmares every time you sleep.

"Would you?" You asked, his smirk turned into a sideways grin.

"Clever girl" He lay back, covering his face with his hat. You were alone with only your thoughts and the crackle of the fire. Doing anything you could to stay awake and distract yourself you paced for a while, before drawing crude pictures in the dust with your knife until eventually your eyes could no longer stay open and you slipped into your nightmares once again.

You woke with a start, tears cut through the grime that painted your cheeks. Your heart raced as you looked around wild eyed, slowly coming back to reality. The sun barely broke over the horizon but The Ghoul was already awake. You caught his glance but you were unable to read him. You stood up suddenly, too embarrassed to look at him, for him to see you like this.

Fuck!

Your muscles were tense, every movement felt like you were tearing yourself apart. But the pain, the reminder that you're alive; that you’re free, was worth it. You hissed as you stretched, feeling his gaze still on you. You tried to ignore him, to compose yourself quickly before kicking the bounty target awake. He was flustered as you dragged him to his feet.

“We need food and water” You said, taking in the state of the hostage who was somehow starting to look worse than you. You heard the ghoul kicking the burned embers of the fire behind you, scattering evidence of the camp.

“So scavenge” He said, as if whatever you do is none of his business.

Raising an eyebrow you ask “think I trust you not to leave?” you cross your arms “Gonna need a guarantee, Cowboy”

He sighed, knowing the hostage would die before making it to the client at this rate. But he already lost too much time.

“Lotta work, you are, woman” He tossed the pistol to you “One mag, that’s all ya gettin. You waste it, it’s your problem.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, holstering the gun in your belt. “I’ll not stray far” you assured him. He didn’t really care but you figured you’d let him know his weapon wouldn’t be too far from his side.

The wasteland was just that, desolate, save for the odd farm house. Not even a pitiful rolemat made itself known. After hours of walking with the distant silhouette of the Ghoul still within sight, you had only picked up scraps. The stimpak was useful and you chewed greedily on some iguana bits which tasted foul but at least it was better than starving. What made you return was the increasing amounts of chems you had picked up. You figured the ghoul would have use for them and the further away from you they were the better.

You forced the deviled eggs down the bounty target's throat, letting him know he’d be dehydrated a while before gagging him once again. You were surprised to see the glee on The Ghouls face when you presented him with the jet and mysterious yellow vials you’d found in the wreckage of one of the farmhouses.

“Well, would ya look at that! Not so useless after all” he didn’t waste any time in gulping the liquid like it was holy water.

“Never seen a chem like that before” you exclaimed

“Lucky ya found it, little lady. Been looking mighty delicious for a while now” He grinned maliciously. The shock was clear on your face, accompanied by a surprising blush. You shook off the strange fluttering feeling his comment gave you.

“Don’t know how long we can go without water” You changed the subject

“Next town’ll have somethin” his mood had improved greatly since taking the medicine. The tension between you lifted slightly, making travelling together much more tolerable for the pair of you. You tried returning his gun but to your surprise he allowed you to keep it.

“Give it back when the job’s done. Might need it till then, an I ain’t protectin ya like some damsel”

Finally after hours of idle banter the next town held promise. You found a new shirt and a jacket with lots of pockets, perfect for scavenging. You filled your jacket with as much as you could carry: food, ammo, more chems and finally…

Water!

You wept at the sight. Purified water, finally! You gulped down your share before catching up with the Ghoul, a spring in your step. Your prisoner's eyes lit up as you approached, a canteen full of clear refreshing water. The Ghoul yanked him back as he lunged for you.

“Now that wasn’t very nice, was it?” you feigned offence before tossing the canteen at him.

The Ghoul raised a brow at you “That it?” you tilted your head at him in question “Thought you were the type to have fun before dishing out rewards” he explained

“Sounds like you want me to tease the poor fucker…Unless you’re the type who likes to watch” You slowly drawled, inching closer to The Ghoul.

“Oh, Darlin, I’m more of a doer than a watcher” he stepped towards you, confidently, almost asserting dominance over you. He was close. Closer than you would normally allow but something about him drew you in. He wasn’t like the raider men. He was harsh, cruel and selfish but there was still some shred of human decency in him just like you said and he was unexpectedly charming. You were curious about him, and you found yourself studying his face properly for the first time. His teasing smile fell as you caught his eyes, the way the sunlight hit them made them look like jewels, they were beautiful in that brief moment until he hardened his gaze.

“You askin to be made a meal of, Woman?” He broke you out of your trance, his tone impatient, defensive even, as if he knew you were searching him.

“N-no!” You finally shoved him away.

You forced the trio to move as long as possible until eventually your hostage collapsed. The Ghoul glared at you.

“If he dies, I’ll sell you to raiders! I’m sure they’d love to have their way with a sweet thing like you”

You scoffed “Try it, they wouldn’t know the right way if it shot them between the eyes” He stopped suddenly, tilting his head in question. You smiled innocently in response, knowing you’d said too much about your predicament and hoping to throw him off. He was clearly curious but he didn’t delve any further. The pair of you set up camp under cover of a department store, barricading the door and window with shelves and pulling old moth-eaten pillows and sleeping bags to the middle of the room. Thunder could be heard from a distance and the air began to feel thick, The Ghoul approached a small crack in the window.

“Betcha glad we stopped when we did, darlin” He shot you a “told you so” look and you narrowed your eyes at him as you lit the small candles around the room.

“Radstorm?” you asked, he nodded

Time passed in silence as you both got comfy in the sleeping bag pile. You normally enjoyed the blissful silence but this time it was almost awkward.

“So what’d he do to get a bounty on him?” You asked suddenly. The Ghoul turned his gaze from the chems he was organising to you.

“Mean to tell me you’ve been followin me round like a puppy for a bounty an’ ya don’t even know what he did?”

You thought for a moment “yup”

He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief “You’re a strange little thing ain't ya?”

“I never said I wanted the bounty by the way. But since we’re on the topic, what do you say to splitting it?” He laughed at your confidence and the radstorm outside rattled the boards on the windows.

“Ya lost me the target to start with, cost me time, stole my gun, used my ammo, made the target collapse from exhaustion and you got the balls to ask for a cut? Lucky you’re still breathin, Sweetheart!” he was amused as he called you out on your mishaps and you returned his tone with a small smile.

“I also kept both you and your target alive, remember!”

He scoffed “Fact of the matter is, I don’t owe you shit, Princess. You travel with me under my terms. Don’t like it, then leave” he spat almost daring you to leave. You crossed your arms in a dramatic huff.

“Don’t get bratty now, you chose this” he began devouring the yellow liquid from one of his vials before taking a hit of jet. You watched hungrily, his eyes fluttered closed as he breathed out a satisfied sigh. You couldn’t deny you craved the high he was on. He caught the look in your eye and the slight shine on your lips from where you had unknowingly licked them.

“Dangerous to look at a man like that, sweetheart” he teased. You blinked hard, a light blush dusting your cheeks as you avoided his gaze.

“It’s not…I mean…I wasn’t…nevermind” you trailed off, finding the seams of the sleeping bag you were on suddenly very interesting.

The little red inhaler landed suddenly beside you. You looked at him wide eyed, shocked at his generosity.

“All you gotta do is ask, princess” you picked it up with slightly shaky fingers.

“Oh…Um, thanks…but I, uh don’t…anymore” you were almost embarrassed to say you were clean, it must seem like such a trivial thing to a ghoul.

“Oh…” He realised but said nothing more as you handed it back. He shoved it as well as the assortment of other chems back in his pack to help you avoid temptation. You were surprised at the respect he showed and you smiled at him in thanks. Thoughts about teasing him crossed your mind but you refrained, revelling in the moment of genuineness.

He scanned the room before his eyes landed on scattered bottles in the corner, he let out a long whistle.

He gestured towards the bottles asking if you drank, you thought for a moment before nodding. It had been a while since you drank but you figured you deserved some reward after the shit show that had unfolded recently.

You both shared a bottle of old whisky. It burned your throat and you coughed at its foul taste, but you gradually warmed up to it as the radstorm grew louder. You chatted for a while as you carved a little chunk of wood with your hunting knife. He lectured you on whisky as most old men do but it led you to wonder.

“How old are you?” the effect of the alcohol started to set in as you began to feel fuzzy and more carefree.

He glared at you for interrupting him “How’d you end up with raiders?” he snapped back as if to say I don't ask you questions so don't ask me. You sat up, frowning at him realising you weren’t as sneaky as you thought.

“They were my clan,” you admitted after a moment before falling back onto the soft sleeping bags.

After a short silence he mumbled “Over two hundred, don’t know exactly”

“Woah!” You snapped your head to look at him, “so…you were there when the bombs dropped?” you asked eagerly.

“So this clan of yours, everyone inbred? or just you?” he returned your gaze with narrowed eyes letting you know he wasn’t comfortable with the personal questions.

“Cheeky fucker!” you launched the bottle of whisky, it landed on the concrete behind him with a smash.

“Now, now, princess. Don’t make me punish you for being a brat” The way he spoke in that low gravelly tone mixed with your now tipsy state made your heart beat quicken with excitement. He noticed the way you flustered and he chuckled “How’d a raider end up as innocent as you? Squirming like a virgin” he teased. Your blush deepened. Although you weren’t technically a virgin, your only experience had left you woefully disappointed and you never bothered with sex again afterwards.

“Ain’t drunk enough to discuss this” you admitted stumbling over the passed out captive to the other bottles rolling around behind the tills.

“Come on, princess, indulge an old ghoul”

You bit your lip and grabbed the biggest bottle of vodka on the bench.

“Fine, what do you wanna know?” You asked, removing your jacket and making yourself comfy beside him.

“These raiders of yours…they make you feel good?”

You took a big swig from the bottle before passing it to him. Shaking your head you asked naively “Should he have?” He looked at you, his eyes widened slightly.

“Oh, oh darlin, you poor thing”

“Don’t patronise me, asshole!” You glared in embarrassment but also curious to learn more you continued “Just…answer the question”

He loved watching you get hot and bothered, loved teasing you and your lack of experience.

“Course he’s supposed to make you feel good!” He answered as if it were obvious.

You took another swig getting lost in your thoughts, wondering if you even knew what sex was anymore. What else had you missed out on?

“How long did it last?” he continued

“Not long, like a few minutes maybe. Prolly a good thing considering how bad it was” You found yourself laughing along with him. It was nice having someone to confide in, even if he was teasing you.

“Well, you’ll get no judgement from me, Princess. All you gotta do is ask” he said with a charming smile.

“Thanks, Cowboy…so, that lasso see much use?” you gestured to the rope tied round the snoring bounty target.

He raised a brow “might be a bit too advanced for you, dontcha think?”

“Not for that, dumbass! I meant in fights, bounty hunting, that sort of thing” He laughed.

“It has its uses” he caught your curious gaze, pulling your face by the chin with his fingers, firmly but not too aggressive. “And yes it can be used on misbehaving brats” you gulped as the fluttering feeling returned. The urge to lean in, the urge to feel his lips against yours grew. Maybe it was the alcohol clouding your judgement or maybe his words just made you that excited.

He grinned, knowing he could have you so easily if he wanted, but he was a patient man and he loved the game “Get some sleep, Princess, you’re exhausted” he removed his hand and leaned back against the sleeping bags as you crawled back to your spot opposite him. You didn’t want to sleep, worried about the horrors you’ll see but at the same time, he was right and you didn’t want to be a burden. Accepting the fact The Ghoul would have to face your whimpering and cries in the night you fell into another restless sleep.

You were back home, at your settlement with your clan. Fellow raiders were laughing by the fire, sparring, getting high or fucking. But a deep rich red began leaking through the walls, flooding the settlement fast. You ran for the doors while everyone around you paid no mind to the flood or you. You moved so slow, frustration caused tears to roll down your cheeks and the gates were forever out of your reach no matter how hard you tried to run. The liquid rose up higher until eventually you could taste it, it spilled into your throat, the familiar metallic taste.

Blood

You thrashed around wildly, panic took over and suddenly brightness blinded you.

You blinked through the sudden white light of dawn. The Ghoul was on top of you, pinning your wrists beside your head, his chest heaved like he’d just been fighting, blood splattered across his chest. You relaxed under him, not realising how tense your body was and you heard a clink of metal hit the ground as your grip on the knife eased.

You were both speechless, so many questions whirled through your mind and finally the metallic taste hit you.

Fuck that familiar taste of blood, of victory. You were ashamed at how much you loved it, how much you still craved violence. You thought it was the chems at first but this feeling, this primal urge to slaughter…maybe it was just you. A raider, a criminal.

He tilted his head at your slight smile. He was utterly confused by you, enthralled almost as you lay beneath him, dishevelled, breathing heavily, coated in sweat, his blood staining your plump lips.

“Fuck” he hissed as he leaned in, unable to resist the urge to taste himself he slowly dragged his tongue across your bottom lip. Your mind spun, still dazed from your night terror, not yet completely aware of what happened.

He pulled away, releasing his grip on your wrists “lotta fuckin work you are, princess”

You felt the weight of him lift as he made his way to the quivering target who had been watching in horror at the animalistic transformation you went through in your sleep. Lifting your body from the ground you winced at the stiffness in your limbs. You licked the spit he left behind from your lips and rubbed your eyes trying to gather your thoughts.

“What happened?” You asked as he began dragging the makeshift barricades from the door.

“You tell me, darlin. Been restless all night, cryin and thrashin round like a caged animal” He pulled the shelves down, a cloud of dust enveloped you as you stood to help him.

“But this” he gestured to the bleeding gash across his chest “this was a result of waking a damn beast” He grinned as you blushed from embarrassment. “Shoulda known better than to wake you” He jested as if it were nothing.

“I ain’t a beast…least I’m tryin not to be.” You followed him into the light of the morning sun, shielding your eyes.

“Making backwards progress there, sweetheart. Wasteland turns people to killers, not the other way round”

“Just tired of destroyin things, y’know. Tired of bein a raider…” you trailed off not really sure how to explain your feelings. Spending so many years swallowed by anger, you weren’t sure how to express yourself any other way.

“Not what it looked like to me” he scoffed “the way you licked my blood, smilin all the while mind you. Looked damn near feral to me.”

You were glad his eyes were focused elsewhere as you lowered your head, knowing you should feel ashamed but something in his tone made you almost proud, like he was complimenting you. You bit your lip as the jumbled images in your mind started to slot into place. The way you pounced on him, knife in hand when he woke you, the adrenaline rushing through you as you straddled him, slashing as if your life depended on it. The taste of his warm blood on the knife. The worst part is, had he not flipped you both over and pinned you to the ground, you would have licked the wound.

“Sorry, I cut you, cowboy”

He laughed “The fuck you apologisin for? Lemme tell ya, not much surprises me anymore, but you…” he turned to look at you “you keep me on my toes, beastie”

You frowned at his new nickname “Y’know beastie’s not your best one”

He shrugged “Suits you more than Princess”

You rolled your eyes, but wondered if you would ever tell him your name, whether it would even be worth it. You didn’t plan on travelling with The Ghoul for long so names were never a priority, and he felt the same. The sense of anonymity felt like protection, like if all else failed at least you were never tied to one another.

You continued your routine of scavenging, while The Ghoul marched ahead, only this time he gave you his pack.

“Fill it with all the chems and valuables you find” He ordered, you weren’t really sure what was considered valuable but you did your best, jumping from building to building picking up all sorts of bits and bobs. You felt energised, despite the nightmares, a few hours sleep and opening up a bit more to The Ghoul had helped lift a heavy weight off your shoulders.

He waited for you with the target by the tall wire gate of your final destination. He let out a long whistle upon seeing his full pack.

“Hooo, now that’s what I like to see!”

“Me or the pack?” you teased

“Both, sweetheart” you smiled, enjoying the new dynamic between you. He was no longer as harsh with you and you had relaxed a little more around him.

“So what happens now?” You ask.

“Now we take the payment”

You followed behind him as he strolled through the gates, tugging on the lasso that kept the bounty target close. The familiar sound of his spurs faded into the sound of the settlement. It seemed smaller than the previous one yet somehow busier, The Ghoul watched as your eyes widened and your jaw dropped.

“Wow!” you whispered in awe. Farmers had stalls set up in the middle of the dusty road, selling various produce, brahmin and travelling merchants wandered the street to trade, lights hung from building to building and purified water poured from pumps in the ground. He noticed you drifting away from him, getting caught up in the chaos so he clamped his hand on your shoulder and brought you back to his side.

“Careful, Beastie. Don’t want you getting overwhelmed” he whispered. The nature of your condition was unpredictable, recalling the same feeling you had the day you met The Ghoul, biting him in a defensive frenzy. The Ghoul took to calling it feral, neither of you really understood it yet, but the last thing either of you wanted was to be exiled. Particularly as this was one of few settlements that accepted ghouls.

“Maybe we need a safe word” You suggested, sticking close to his side but still looking around wildly, taking as much of the hustle and bustle in as you could.

“You fucked once and think you’re an expert, huh?” he teased

“Not everything is about sex, Ghoul!” you sighed.

You strolled through the town, finally reaching an old police station in a quieter part of town. He took the lead and you watched as he spoke with a man in the biggest suit of armour you’d ever seen. You hadn’t noticed your jaw drop till The Ghoul pressed his index finger to your chin and pushed it back up. You had never seen power armour up close, knowing better than to face an enemy with such strong defences. It was so much bigger than you expected, and intimidating too.

The man in the armour completely ignored you as he opened a safe on the wall behind him and presented The Ghoul with a bag of caps. In return The ghoul released the target from his Lasso and shoved him towards the man in the armour.

The Ghoul tipped his hat to him and gestured for you to follow.

“Think you deserve a reward, Darlin. Whaddya say?” Your eyes lit up.

“Can I get a gun? Oh! And some armour? And can we get some food, I’m starving!” you rambled in your excitement, wanting to see and experience everything and to your surprise, he let you.

“Hold your horses there, sweetheart, one step at a time.”

You followed him through town noticing the locals giving the pair of you a little more space than everyone else, some cast scowls and muttered cruel words under their breath as you passed by. The Ghoul didn’t seem phased by the obvious resentment people had for him. Feeling suddenly defensive you glared back at those who cast you intimidating looks.

“Easy there, Beastie” The Ghoul caught onto your silent threats and guided you towards a very questionable looking bar. The lights flickered above the door which was shoddily patched together after what you can only assume was many years of bar fights. The windows were smashed in and the walls were riddles with bullet holes.

“Just like home” you mumbled as you followed him to the bar, he laughed at your pessimism.

“Don’t be picky now, Princess” he warned as he gestured with his hand to the Mr Handy behind the bar for two drinks.

“You a regular or somethin?” you asked, scanning the building, pleasantly surprised to see the roof still on tact. There were few patrons, but none paid The Ghoul any mind. You on the other hand were new. Those who weren't passed out, watched you closely with your Cowboy companion. You shot them warning glares, as they eyed you up and down.

“Somethin like that” he followed your gaze “As much as I’d love to watch you go feral on them, I'd like a drink first” The cowboy passed you an unlabeled bottle, you assumed it was whisky, the burn in your throat was familiar.

“I knew you liked to watch, you freak” you joked as you slouched against the bar. His confidence in your ability to fight eased your mind and you found yourself starting to relax.

“Careful, Beastie” he grinned “they're no match for you but I'm a whole different monster” his tone darkened as he tested you.

“Oh really?“ you took the bait with a smirk “You sayin I can't handle you, Cowboy?“

He scoffed, “Darlin, I would break you, and you know it” he turned to see you biting your lip gently, squirming in the bar stool, avoiding his gaze. He chuckled, before tossing a handful of caps at the Mr Handy barkeep and paying for a couple of rooms for the night. You took another mouthful of the liquid fire and grimaced before taking your room key “Gonna get cleaned up” You slid your bottle closer to your companion, hinting for him to keep if safe for you before hopping off the barstool.

“Mind the peeping toms” he called as you made your way upstairs, you laughed in response hoping he was joking.

Your room was small and underwhelming. Only a bed, bath and small chest of drawers which were barely standing occupied the space, but at least it was clean and had running water. It was more than you had as a raider, there was even a little bar of soap. You rummaged through the drawers as you let the bath fill with water, hoping to find some towels or spare clothes but you found only bedsheets.

“It’ll do” you mumbled, shaking the dust from the sheet. You began undressing, tossing the discarded clothes into a bucket to clean as you soaked. The water was cold but you didn’t mind, the contrast against the sweltering wasteland heat was pleasant. You let out a long sigh as you submerged yourself in the tub, feeling content for the first time in a long while. Strange, in such a short time you and the ghoul had warmed to each other more than you had expected. You were reminded of his teasing at the store as you drank together.

All you gotta do is ask

You were embarrassed at how easily you opened up to him, and how curious you were. You had made it clear how clueless you were about sex, you scarcely even pleasured yourself, making you wonder how much you had missed out on. The foreign tingling feeling in your belly returned as you remembered waking from your nightmare, straddling him and the way his blood tasted on your knife. You shuddered as your hands drifted over your body under the water. Not really sure where to touch, you closed your eyes, imagining what The Ghoul might do. His textured flesh would feel every inch of you with confidence, every touch would have a purpose, a reason, he would start with your breasts, groping and pulling your nipples until you whined then he would work his way down…

A slight scratching noise made you pause, snapping your eyes open. You listened hard hearing the faint sounds of the town outside before it happened again.

Mind the peeping toms

You glared daggers at the wall where the scratching came from. The wallpaper was peeling and small cracks and bullet holes painted the length of it. Grabbing the bed sheet you wrapped it around your naked form and took your knife from the bed, listening as the scratching stopped. It was probably nothing, it could have been a cat or something in the walls but you didn't want to take the chance. Turning your back to the wall, you slowly began removing the sheet as seductively as possible until the scratching came back, vigorously.

“Fucking creep!” You shrieked, covering yourself with the sheet once again before plunging your knife into the wall. It was flimsier than you expected, just a thin layer of rotting wood which your knife sliced through with ease. You heard a surprised yelp and the creep scruffle away but you weren’t satisfied. The feral rage built up inside you again as you tore your way through the wall, the sheet barely providing coverage as the water from your body seeped through. He was startled, caught with his buckle un done, his jeans barely pulled up as he tried to dash for the door but you were faster, plunging your knife into his shoulder as you dragged him to the floor, releasing all your rage in a frenzy of knife slashes and unhinged verbal abuse. Everything became a blur and you didn’t even notice The Ghoul until you were being dragged, kicking and screaming away from the body.

“I warned ya, beastie” He had one arm tightly wrapped around your waist and the other gripping your knife hand as he lifted you back to your room. He shook the knife from your hand before tossing you onto the bed, pinning you to the mattress. He waited as you thrashed under him for you to tire yourself out. He smirked as the bed sheet now drenched in blood twisted around you, just barely covering your nipples as your arms were pinned above your head. You were panting heavily, growing weak from fighting against the Ghoul and your vision started to become clearer.

“There you are, Princess” he cooed as you came back to your senses. You began to relax under him, licking the blood from your lips, he groaned as he watched you, never releasing his grip from your wrists.

“Did you know” You started, through heavy breaths “You taste different to other men” he chuckled as you continued to surprise him.

“That so? How’d he taste compared to me, Beastie?”

“Disgusting!” You didn’t hesitate, showing revolution in your expression. His confident grin made your belly tingle again and he released your wrists from his grip, gliding his gloved fingers down your arms. You shivered at his touch

“You weren’t by any chance teasing that peeping tom, were you? After all I did warn you.”

You blushed and turned your face away from his fiery gaze, remembering the filthy thoughts you had of the Ghoul as you touched yourself, knowing a stranger was getting off on it.

“Didn’t think you were serious” you pouted, he brought his gloved fingers to your chin and forced your eyes to meet his. He dragged his thumb across your lips and you responded by bringing your tongue out to meet his thumb, licking the tip of the leather, letting him know how needy you were. It tasted like him, like gunpowder and metal but you craved more, just a few more drops of his blood. Your breathing quickened once more and your eyes had a wild look in them as you resisted the urge to bite

“I told ya, sweetheart. All you gotta do is ask”

He wanted you to beg, to submit to him and you would if it meant tasting him again.

“Can I taste you again?” You asked in a hushed whisper, but he was already removing his gloves.

“On one condition” he brought his now glove free hands to your bare thighs gently pulling your legs apart to fit himself between them. You gasped at his warm touch, his skin just like you imagined, leathery and firm.

“I wanna taste you too, Darlin” You nodded your head in response to his request, desperate for more. You watched as he reached for your knife on the floor and brought it to the palm of his hand with a devious smirk plastered on his face.

“Open wide, my little Beastie”

You obeyed, sticking your tongue out as he sliced the blade down the palm of his hand. Drops of warm crimson liquid landed on your face and tongue. He hovered his hand over your lips for a moment before moving it down your throat to your breasts where your hardened nipples poked through the thin fabric. His blood seeped into the fabric and he watched your chest rise and fall with heavy breaths. He curled his fingers over the thin fabric before searching your eyes for consent. The way you looked at him, pleading with dilated pupils was more than enough for him. The cool air pricked your skin and you squirmed in embarrassment, unable to look at yourself. You couldn't bring yourself to see what he saw, all the scars and bruises, your ribs and collar bones visible from malnourishment and years of addiction. You watched his eyes darken as he groaned at the sight of you.

“Fuck, Darlin, look at you…perfect” you were surprised he praised you so much considering how damaged you felt. He admired your body from above for a moment longer before smearing his blood across your lips and down your throat, leaving his prints all down your chest. His movements were rougher than you expected and you arched your back into his hand as he kneaded your breasts just as you thought he would. You licked the blood from your lips and let out a small moan as he pinched your nipples. It felt so much better when he did it.

Feeling a little braver and wanting him to share in your pleasure you picked the knife up from beside you and glided the blade across your collarbones, inviting him for a taste.

“And to think you were the one calling me a freak. Look at you know, filthy little thing” his tone became almost a growl as he took the knife from you, gently pressing the blade against the soft flesh of your breasts before carefully slicing. You inhaled sharply and flinched away from him but he was quick, only leaving a small cut and the cold sharpness of the blade was quickly replaced by the warm wetness of his tongue. You gasped and panted beneath him, throwing your head back against the mattress as he teased your nipples with his fingers and tongue. Grasping his shoulders you pulled him closer, signalling your want for more. He chuckled against your skin

“So needy”

You moaned in frustration.

“Look at me, Princess” You hesitated but did as he asked, your mouth opened and eyes grew wide at the beautiful sight before you. He was panting, hat tilted slightly casting a perfect shadow across his face. His eyes were overflowing with lust and your blood painted his lips and chin beautifully. He smirked

“Tell me what you want”

“...Y-you” you barely recognised your own voice as it whispered desperately for him.

“C’mon Princess tell me” he drawled as he brought his face up to your neck, nibbling and licking, awaiting your response.

“P-Please, fuck me” you moaned.

“Good girl” he growled before biting your neck, his hat tumbled from his head and onto the floor as his actions became rougher, more impatient. You cried out in pleasure as your body shivered, your grip on his shoulders tightened and you arched your back, desperate to feel more of him.

He attacked your neck with his teeth as his hands grazed your thighs, you spread your legs wider to give him access and he smirked against your blood smeared skin.

Growing tired of his teasing you thrust your hips up to meet his, feeling his hardened cock restricted in his pants. He groaned, thrusting himself against your wet folds again before dragging his fingers down your thigh. He pulled away from your neck to watch your face twist in pleasure as his fingers slid the length of your folds before inserting a finger. You released a long moan as you felt him slowly slide his rough finger in and out.

“fuck, you're so wet, Sweetheart. I turn you on that much?”

All shame abandoned you as you thrust your hips into his hand, all you thought of was him, wanting to feel him, to let him use you.

“y-yes, please…more” you whined, moving your grip from his shoulders to the fabric of his shirt.

“Aww well since you asked so sweetly, Princess” he slid a second finger inside you, stretching you as his movements grew quicker and more forceful.

“fuck!” Your moans bounced off the walls and the tingling feeling in your belly grew. Your body tensed and the grip on his shirt tightened as pleasure soured through your body. You had just barely gotten used to being stretched by his second finger when he suddenly added a third. Your eyes widened and you let out a pleasured gasp at the sudden intrusion. He was growing impatient and his fingers were not as gentle as they once were. Your soaked pussy clenched around his fingers as the pleasure built into something almost overwhelming but to your dismay he pulled out.

“n-no, please… S’too good” you whined desperately, grabbing his arm to guide his hand back to your aching cunt. His touch was intoxicating, everything he did was better than you imagined, you had never felt anything like it and you needed more.

“Oh, Darlin” he loved the effect he had on you, making you drunk on pleasure, knowing he was the only one who made you feel so good. “You cum only when I allow it” his eyes narrowed and his tone was dark, he was so much more intimidating than before but it excited you. He smeared the blood from his palm up your neck and you leaned your head back to allow him access, squeezing gently at the sides of your throat a slight smile graced your lips as you heard his free hand unbuckled his belt. Your arms fell from his shirt as you brought one hand to play with your tits and the other to mimic his movements on your pussy.

“Like it rough, little slut?” he growled as he watched you play with yourself, his grip around your neck tightened as he freed his cock from his pants, stroking the length of it. You couldn't find the words to respond, your thoughts only focused on the heightened pleasure shooting through you.

You wanted so badly to cum, to finally feel release but he wouldn't let you. He roughly grabbed the hand that was stroking your pussy and pinned it above your head.

“Not yet, Princess” he cooed as he brought the hand around your throat to the back of your head. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, guiding your head up to meet his fingers, sticky with your wetness. He traced his thumb across your lips and you brought your tongue out to meet it, moaning at the taste of yourself on his leathery flesh. You hoped his focus was entirely on your face as you crept your fingers back to the wetness of your folds, but he knew. He glared harshly at you for disobeying him. Snatching his thumb from your mouth he pulled you onto your knees hard by the hair.

“I warned you, Darlin, you cum when I allow it” You hissed at the sudden pain in your scalp.

“hands behind your back” you obeyed. “good girl, tongue out” he gave you short orders and after obeying each one he made sure to praise you.

He guided your head down to his cock, saliva dripped from your open mouth, sliding from your tongue onto his cock. He was bigger than the raider but not frighteningly big, and despite the mottled texture of his skin you could still see thick veins. You took the hint and slowly ran your tongue around the tip. He kept you steady by your hair but allowed you to go at your own pace, not wanting to push you too far. After tracing small circles with your tongue you took him gradually into your mouth, gently bobbing your head feeling the base of him with your tongue. He tasted familiar, like his blood there was a distinct metallic taste to his textured flesh and you loved it. You could feel your pussy dripping from anticipation, your fingers intertwined behind your back just like he asked. “atta girl” he groaned as he began to rock his hips back and forth. Feeling a little too confident you tried to take him into your throat but you struggled, frightening yourself as you gagged, he pulled himself from your mouth with a chuckle.

“Too eager, Sweetheart” you looked up at him, tears pricking the corner of your eyes as you pouted.

“You can make it up to me by spreading those perfect legs” you didn't need telling twice. Lying on your back you raised your arms above your head showing him your obedience, waiting for your reward. He slapped his cock against your clit a few times before rubbing it up your soaked cunt, earning an excited moan from you as you thrust your hips up, grinding against him.

“Please…” you begged. It was shameful how much you craved him but you didn't care, your thoughts were focused only on him filling you up, on finally chasing your release.

“such a filthy little slut” he growled as he slid himself inside with almost no resistance. You threw your head back against the mattress once more. An animalistic moan escaped you as he finally filled you up with his fat cock. You were tight but not too tight, gripping him perfectly as he slowly pulled back then slid himself deep inside again, savouring every inch of your pussy squeezing him.

“Fuck! ” he hissed as he picked up the pace. Pleasure rippled through your body, and your jaw hung loose letting out shameless animalistic sounds. You allowed his fingers to invade your mouth, twirling your tongue around them messily, saliva dripping down your chin as you moaned in ecstasy. He kept your gaze locked with his as he pounded into your pussy mercilessly. The grooves of his cock rubbed against your walls and you spread your legs wider inviting him deeper.

“Think you can handle more, Princess?“ he groaned,almost begging to be rougher with you. He slid his fingers from your lips allowing you to moan a breathy “yes” in response. Almost immediately he sat upright on his knees grabbing you tightly by the hips and pulling your body up to meet him with a hard slap. The new angle filled you perfectly as you arched your back to accommodate his length inside you. Your eyes rolled back as waves of pleasure crashed through your body, you grabbed fistfulls of the bedsheet beneath you as your orgasm crept closer with every hard thrust.

“P-please, let me cum” you begged

“Go on, Princess, cum for me” that was all you needed to send you over the edge, you screamed as you drenched him, squirting over the fabric of his shirt. Your body trembled as you pussy tightened around him, squeezing his cock as he continued to thrust into you.

“atta girl“ he praised riding you out of your high before pulling out, you whimpered feeling empty without him but it didn't last long. He dragged you by the ankles to the edge of the bed and flipped you on your front bringing your hips up so you were standing over the rusty bed frame. You were still reeling from your first orgasm, your legs wobbled and you weren't prepared for him sliding forcefully back inside your swollen cunt from behind. You let out a surprised gasp at the new position. He somehow felt bigger, reaching a new depth of your soft cunt which sent sparks of pleasure through you. You arched your back to accommodate his length, throwing your head back, your jaw hung open releasing lewd sounds you didn't even know you could make. His grip around your hips was tight, fingernails dug into your flesh, the pain was perfect, matching the burning pleasure in your gut.

Your legs barely held you up as he fucked you over the bed, overstimulated and almost unable to keep up you moaned incoherently, trying to tell him how good it felt. Your fists clenched the bloodied bed sheets beneath you as you thrust your hips back to meet his. Suddenly he brought his bloodied hand up from your hips and cracked it across your ass cheek with a hard slap. You let out a surprised moan at the sudden pain but found yourself asking for more.

“fuck, you really do like it rough, don't ya?“

“A-ah! Y-yes!“ you whined, bringing your fingers up to stroke your clit. You felt filthy, touching yourself as a Ghoul fucked you but the thought of your controversial behaviour only heightened the pleasure.

“Such a good little slut, you like it when I use you?”

“yessir!” you whined as he thrust hard into you, making sure to fill you up with all of his cock. His hand smacked your ass again, the stinging feeling of the spanking mixed with his dick pounding relentlessly made your body tense up as you felt yourself approaching the edge once more. Unable to keep yourself upright anymore you shoved your face into the bloodied sheets, taking in the metallic taste as your jaw clenched around the fabric. You let out muffled moans as your legs shook violently. He grabbed you by the waist with both hands once again, pulling your ass back to meet his strokes so hard you bounced on his cock over and over until your legs gave out and your cunt clenched around him. He didn't let up, pounding you into the mattress as your body twitched and your muscles gave out. You were exhausted, your pussy was sore, your cum dripped down your legs, drenching his pants and you loved it.

“Knew I’d break ya, Darlin” he laughed, sliding out of your cunt to manoeuvre you. You couldn't respond, your mind was cloudy. You let out a small whimper as he threw your legs back on the bed pulling them together, he straddled your bright red ass cheeks and slid inside you one again. You lay gasping and moaning as he rode you, pleasure spiked all over your body. You felt him everywhere, his hands groping every inch of you, his touch felt electrifying.

“Just a bit longer, Princess, you feel so fuckin good!” he praised and you smiled weakly at his words. Hoping to please him more you brought your arms behind your back. Reaching for your ass cheeks you groped the soft flesh, pulling them apart for him to see himself fucking your pink cunt.

“good fuckin girl” he growled as your cunt squeezed his throbbing cock. He was close, his thrusts became messy and his breathing became heavy.

“F-fuck,” you moaned as the new rhythm sent spasms through your body, another orgasm approached. “please…” you begged, but you couldn't get the words out. You gripped the soft flesh of your ass cheeks harder, stretching your pussy wider, feeling the grooves of his cock abuse you.

“Cum inside” you cried as the last tidal wave of pleasure flooded through you. Your pussy clenched around him as he fucked himself to completion in your wet hole.

“fuck!” he growled, leaning over and biting your shoulder as he pumped his seed deep inside you. You moaned at the blissful pain you felt as your pussy milked his cock. He slowly pulled back leaving just the tip in before pushing his length back inside, forcing his cum deep within your sore cunt until he was satisfied.

He finally released you from his grip, sliding from your abused cunt and tucking himself back in his pants. You hissed at the stinging sensation from his radiated cum and lay completely immobilised on the mattress. Fluids dripped from your folds and down your thighs, blood sweat and saliva covered your body.

“gonna need some radaway” you broke the silence with a weak voice. He collected his hat from the floor with a chuckle before looking over your broken form with pride.

“Maybe a stimpak too,” he suggested. You smiled.

“Mind if I travel with you a while longer, Cowboy?”

He sat on the end of the bed with a chuckle “Stay as long as you want, Beastie.”

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auteurdelabre · 2 months

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CODE BROKEN EPILOGUE Joel!Miller x f!Reader

rating: 18+ (youngin's scram!)

tags: established relationship, p in v, dirty talk, romance, LOVE LOVE, soft Joel.

a/n: To @ halseyquinn666 who asked in the A03 comments:

“Would you ever do vignettes for them? This is one of my all time fav stories <3”

Well Halsey, turns out yeah, I would. Let's call it an epilogue.

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

CODE BROKEN EPILOGUE

The night is drizzly and quiet. Most folks in Jackson city are in their homes drinking warm cocoa and reading before the fire. Some are playing board games with their families. Others bake bread, their cheeks warmed from the oven.

But not you and Joel.

No, the two of you stand shoulder to shoulder outside The Tipsy Bison, protected by the overhang of the roof.

His large hand holds yours tightly, fingers lacing. He smells like the cologne he uses sparingly and the laundry you brought in from the line that afternoon before the rain began. His shoulders are dotted with a few raindrops, a darker green than the rest of his jacket.

Joel's eyes dip to the color on your lips, lingering on the cohl around your eyes. You dressed up for tonight, wore your nicest dress and did your hair and makeup. You don't normally go to all this effort but tonight felt like you should.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you look?" Joel rumbles next to you, a soft look in his eyes.

"Once before you ripped the dress off and took me back to bed," you say with a playful grin. "And twice more after we got re-dressed."

The last month with Joel has been idyllic. Not one night has been spent without his arms around you. You take turns going from his bed to yours, give and take on the positions you fuck each other in, who makes the coffee.

Nights are dreamy and spent talking about past life lived, about dreams for the future. Over fingers of whiskey you tell him about your dream of writing a book about the inhabitants of Jackson. Joel doesn't laugh or challenge this. He just nods as if it's a natural conclusion, as if you were always meant to do it and he was always meant to support you in it.

Joel glances over to see your profile, the concern in your eyes. You feel his gaze and return it with a wobbling smile.

"Still wanna do this?"

"Mhm."

It was decided last week that tonight would be when you two made things public.

Official.

You'd thought you were ready for it, but now looking at the chipped wood door and hearing the low murmur and occasional laughter coming from behind it you tense.

There are so many people inside. So many faces you know, Mark and Tess and the rest of the usual Friday night crowd.

The Bison is always busier on dreary nights when many patrons don't feel like returning to their quiet homes. You think that the stillness must still unsettle people who are used to running.

Perhaps that's what has you stalling.

Thoughts of all those eyes on you both the second you walk into the bar. The hushed judgments and confused stares. Joel and Tess made sense when they went out. Both hard and abrasive when they needed to be. Both with those steely gazes and infrequent smiles. So opposite to you with your stitched daisy dresses and easy laughter.

While Joel goes to great lengths to avoid people and connection you seem to welcome it. From the way you greet everyone on your way to breakfasts or how you're so quick to lend a hand to your neighbor. People still come up to commend you on Trish's wedding.

His palm goes to the back of your head, stroking down your hair and spine. You melt into the contact until he reaches the base of your spine, hand sliding from your body.

"What're we waitin' on, pretty eyes?" he rumbles, mouth at your temple.

"Nothing," you answer quickly.

His large hand finds yours and holds tightly, fingers lacing once more. He pulls you to the side of the bar, giving you a moment to breathe. You feel the rough of his calloused palm as he tugs you under the roof to avoid the light droplets.

It takes you back to last week in your bed, Joel's hips rocking up into yours, the sound of his gravely groans as his head tilted back in the pillow.

The headboard smacked into the wall, your hands gripping the wood for support as you rode him furiously. Your bodies were drenched with sweat; it had been a lazy morning of enjoying each other's bodies.

His calloused hands held your hips in quite the same fashion he holds your hand now, something gentle that borders on possession.

"So fuckin' beautiful," he groaned, eyes shuttering as he gripped you, watching you bounce on his lap. You moaned, body arching as you chased your high. Your hands were on his chest as you raised and lowered yourself on his length, your skin slapping obscenely in the quiet bedroom.

"Uh huh just like that," Joel crooned as you shattered around him moments later, a small curl of his lips at the sight. "That's my girl."

You preened at his honeyed voice tinged with grit.

His girl. Joel Miller's girl.

You loved it.

Before you could say anything more Joel had gripped the back of your neck and the low of your back, rolling you both over until he was on top of you, his biceps caging you in on either side.

"Gonna let me give it t'you, pretty eyes?"

You could only moan, nodding as you urged him deeper inside of you. You both groaned lowly at the sensation, even though it was far from the first time you'd done it. His mouth found yours as it always did when you two were in this position.

There had not been a day since Joel's confession that he hasn't kissed you so soundly your knees went weak. Arms wrapping around your waist from behind as you waited for the coffee to brew, soft mouth at your jaw. Joining you in the shower, mouth damp and searching yours as he fucked you senseless against the tile. The lingering kiss he gives you each night before bed, accompanied by the sweetest sigh.

Your arms went around his middle, fingers dimpling the flesh of his muscled back as he licked into your mouth, savoring the way your tongues dabbed, the way you let his tongue thrust into your mouth the same way his cock did into your pussy.

And then he drifted back, starting a slow and measured pace as he braced himself above you.

"That's my girl," Joel rasped, his dark eyes fixed on your face. Your hands went to his cheek, thumbs on his jaw as you locked eyes. "My sweet fuckin' girl."

"I'm your girl," you assured him, peppering kisses there before giving out a small whimper, hands falling and fisting the sheets as his thumb came to slide along your clit. "Only yours."

Joel's mouth pressed gently to yours, his elbows bracing him up as his fingers smoothed the hair back from your face.

"Lemme take you out," Joel rasped as he began to fuck you in earnest. "Want everyone to see us so they know you're mine."

You shouldn't have been so turned on at the possessive nature of what he said, but you were. The thought had thrilled you at the time.

You'd agreed, heart beating as Joel's face broke into an eager smile and his mouth found yours again.

But now you're here in front of the Bison and all that excited certainty is replaced by something far less appealing.

"Cold feet?" His voice is concerned.

"Just taking a moment," you mutter. "Wanna enjoy these last few seconds when it's just us. Before everyone has opinions."

"Fuck their opinions," Joel says. "I don't give a shit about what they think."

You know he's being sincere. Joel doesn't suffer fools.

"I only care about what you n' me think about it," Joel assures you. You feel warmth flood your entire body leaving you tingling.

"And that's why I love you."

You snap your mouth shut, feeling your eyes blow wide as you realize what you've just said. Despite your stress about this evening you feel your heart suddenly pick up again at your choice of words.

The topic of love is tiptoed around in your homes. It's felt in every loving action you perform for one another. From the way Joel washes your hair at your request to the way you massage his sore muscles. It's in the way he strokes your cheek when you rest your head in his lap while you read and the way you hold his gaze when you ride him.

But you've never said it. The words seemed too big, too monumental.

But now they slipped past your teeth and lips, exposed to the air and the tall man who looks down at you with an amused curl to his lips, seeing the way your cheeks flame and your eyes drop. You feel yourself falter, a strained smile on your face.

"Sorry," you say in a rush. "I didn't mean-"

His mouth covers yours, pressing a full lipped kiss there and stopping you from saying more. There with the rain pattering down on the tin roof, you cling to Joel as his arms wrap around you, holding you tightly to him.

You sigh against his mouth, letting his arms wrap around your waist as you fling your arms around his neck. He kisses you unhurried, not caring if patrons are coming or going. All he cares about is the soft sensation of your lips working against his.

"Nothin' to be sorry about," he murmurs against your temple as he drags his mouth from yours moments later. "Never have to be sorry about that, baby."

You still have a hard time not feeling embarrassed. "It's just I never.... I've never said it to anyone before."

It hangs there between you both, this heavy admission. Joel had a daughter, a life before all of this. He's known love, declared it. But you? It's never felt right until Joel.

You feel his forefinger brushing your chin, urging your face up.

"I love you," he tells you plainly, no frills, just truth. "V'loved you for a long while now. Every morning I wake up and you're there I fall in love all over again. I love you so damn much, pretty eyes. I still can't believe you're mine."

Your eyes are brimming with tears, so much that Joel is now a watercolor blur. Knowing it and hearing it are so different.

"How long?"

His brows knit together in concern. "How long what?"

"How long have you loved me?"

Now it's Joel's turn to look shy. His boots scrape against the dirt on the ground. You hide a grin as he clears his throat before finally answering.

"Realized it the day at the bookstore."

The day he chased after you with the copy of Jane Eyre. Many many months before now when you yourself weren't even sure how you felt about him.

"That's an awfully long time," you tease gently before you wrap your arms around his middle, tucking yourself up under his chin. "Waited a long time to tell me."

"Didn't want to scare ya," Joel murmurs into the crown of your head as his arms encircle you.

"You could never."

You mean it. Joel is your safe harbor, your light in the darkness. Your hands lace around the back of his neck, urging his face to yours.

You kiss him again, a tender, soft thing before you glance back at the closed door of the Bison and then back at the man who looks at you with stars in his dark eyes.

"Joel?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"I'm ready."

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #dad joel miller #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #joel miller #dark!joel miller #dark!joel #dark!joel x reader

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katiexpunk · 7 months

Text

Sugar, Spice & Please Fuck Me Nice | Pairing Neighbor!Joel Miller & Fem!Reader

Summary: Part 3 of @sydneyinacoma's Sugar, Spice & Please Fuck Me Nice series. Joel is your new hot neighbor and after a sexy night alone with him on Halloween (where he literally makes you squirt (!!) on his couch, you run into him after a long week at work and you two finally go on a proper date. You two eat burgers; go to a fair, and then he fucks you like it's his last day on earth. Yep <3

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word count: ~6.7K Warnings: Pining, flirting, 2000s style (needs a TW lol), Joel is a little rough/bossy, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, folks, or don't idk you're not gonna listen to me anyways), creampie, blowjob, pet names, praise kink, Joel spits in readers mouth, fair date, eating, did I already say flirting, bobbing for apples. Listen, these two are just down so bad for each other. There are no descriptions of reader except for clothing & wet, curly hair. Authors Note: I legitimately feel so honored to have been part of this chapter with my Slutty Smutty Sister @sydneyinacoma -- writing this version of Joel has me creaming, and I wish I could scream it from the rooftops how much I want everyone to read this fic. This version of Joel is all her brainchild and I could cry at being part of it. Pls go follow Syd, she's seriously such a gem and probably the best Moot and friend a girl could ask for. ILY, bb. Sydney's Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word count: ~6.7K Warnings: Pining, flirting, 2000s style (needs a TW lol), Joel is a little rough/bossy, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, folks, or don't idk you're not gonna listen to me anyways), creampie, blowjob, pet names, praise kink, Joel spits in readers mouth, fair date, eating, did I already say flirting, bobbing for apples. Listen, these two are just down so bad for each other. There are no descriptions of reader except for clothing & wet, curly hair. Authors Note: I legitimately feel so honored to have been part of this chapter with my Slutty Smutty Sister @sydneyinacoma -- writing this version of Joel has me creaming, and I wish I could scream it from the rooftops how much I want everyone to read this fic. This version of Joel is all her brainchild and I could cry at being part of it. Pls go follow Syd, she's seriously such a gem and probably the best Moot and friend a girl could ask for. ILY, bb. Sydney's Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2

NOV 2005

You can’t stop thinking about that night at Joel’s a week ago. The way he touched you, pleasured you in a way that you've never experienced before. The way he kissed you, fervently yet soft. You could kiss him for hours and never tire.

Not only are you craving his touch, but you also find yourself wanting to learn more about him. You want to know him. The things you’ve learned about him through Sarah and what you’ve picked up on are tiny crumbs, leaving you starving for more.

You hope he feels the same.

You haven’t had a chance to talk to Joel since that night, as you’ve been drowning at work. You started working for this publishing firm in college, first, as an intern, and now that you’ve finished school, you’re an editor. You agreed to take on extra responsibilities due to your coworker being out on maternity leave, which has exponentially increased your workload, on top of your boss being a micromanaging asshole. Joel’s been burning the candle at both ends. He’s working against a tight deadline on a big project for a persnickety client and Sarah’s soccer team is in the playoffs for the district championship; he’s incredibly proud but attending her neverending roster of games has left him a bit preoccupied. He never thought he would end up being a soccer dad, but life has a funny way of keeping him on his toes.

Much like you, he’s replayed you squirting on his leather couch in his mind over and over, a never-ending lascivious reel that plays in his head as he fucks his cock at night. Joel longs to hear those saccharine sounds you make while you ride his cock, your tits bouncing in tandem with your movements. He’s kicking himself for not getting his hands, or mouth, on your pillowy breasts. The cheekiness of forgoing a bra in your bunny costume revealed a side of you that he wants to unleash.

He wants to know everything; what keeps you up at night, what makes you double over in laughter, your ticklish spots, which movies make you cry without fail, all of your little quirks. Hell, he even wants to know if you believe in aliens.

+++

You pull into your driveway after a long, grueling day at work. Your brain is so fried you didn’t even turn the music on for the drive home; a rarity for you since you always have music playing in your car, whether it be the FM radio or one of the various CDs you’ve collected over the years. A true indicator of your current state of being. You can’t wait to veg out on the couch, rid your mind of this shitty week, and huddle into an antisocial ball.

After a few moments of idly sitting in your car, you peel yourself from the driver’s seat and go to retrieve your work tote from your trunk when you hear a deep voice calling out to you, one you’d recognize anywhere. You turn in the direction of the sound and find Joel. He’s clearly working on a renovation project; a miter saw, lumber and a plethora of other tools are set up in his front yard. There’s another man with him, bearing a slight resemblance to Joel. Brothers, maybe?

“Hey, neighbor!” Joel immediately regrets his word choice, finding it oddly stiff — considering he’s had his face between your thighs.

“Hey Joel!” You manage to shout back, despite your energy battery being crucially depleted.

He waves for you to come over. Unfortunately, or fortunately, you’re unable to resist him. Not when he’s covered in a sheen of sweat, hair tousled, and coaxing you across the street.

Though you feel drained, being in close proximity to Joel makes your body thrum in nerves. You’re being energized by anxious attraction.

Joel and the mystery man greet you at the edge of the yard.

“This is my brother Tommy. Tommy, this is my neighbor.”

“So, this is the pretty neighbor you were tellin’ me about,” Tommy says, his southern drawl identical to Joel’s.

Joel glares at Tommy. If looks could kill.

Tommy holds out his hand, you tell him your name and give him your hand for a brief shake; much like Joel’s does, his palm size is large in comparison to yours and envelops your full hand. You survey the man in front of you; handsome, dark curly hair like Joel, slightly longer and free of the grays his brother sports, deep brown eyes, similar to Joel’s. The Miller genes are super fucking strong.

“Nice to meet ya, sweetheart,” he says, nodding his head in acknowledgment, his eyes dragging over your figure just a second too long.

“I’m gonna start packin’ these tools up,” Tommy announces to Joel and then shoots him a wink. It’s obvious he wasn’t aiming for subtlety, clearly wanting to give you and his brother a moment alone.

Joel shifts his broad frame to face you directly. You wish you didn’t feel so bashful in his presence, but it’s hard to breathe evenly when he is standing so close you can smell him - earthy and a hint of his deodorant wearing off. It should be gross to you, but you want to put his scent in a candle. You’re fucking deranged.

“Sorry, ‘m all sweaty…” Joel apologizes, looking down at himself, remembering that he probably reeks like a locker room.

You wave off his apology, giggling at his self-awareness.

“I wanted to ask you somethin’,'' Joel says, gently wrapping his hand around your arm right above your elbow. Goosebumps erupt on your skin at the touch of his calloused fingers.

“Okay…”

“I was wonderin’...” Joel pauses, his fingers now grazing over the soft skin of your arm.

You gulp in anticipation. “Yes, Joel?”

“I was wonderin’ if you’d like to go on a date with me,'' he asks, his eyes dropping to his boots for a second before coming back up to meet yours, “a proper one.”

You’re so giddy at his proposition you think you might burst.

“Well, you know…I’ve gotta check my calendar,” you say, a big grin plastered on your face. You see his face drop, but before he can sulk too much you wink at him and say, “yeah, I’d love to,” you exhale and try to keep your voice level, not wanting to give away how excited you actually are. A date. With Joel Miller.

“You free tomorrow?” he asks, beaming, revealing the dimpled smile you’re so fond of.

“Lucky for you, I am,” you say, feeling your skin warm.

“Pick you up at 7?” he asks, dipping his face closer to yours, his hand now on your waist pulling you into him.

“Works for me,” you confirm while planting a chaste kiss on his cheek, “see you then, neighbor!” you conclude, being sure to emphasize the neighbor in your words, and before he can convince you to stay, you’re sauntering across the street back to your house.

+++

It’s finally here. Your big date with Joel.

The day went by torturously slow, anticipation pulsing through your entire body. You spent almost two hours getting ready, the majority of the time trying to pick an outfit. You probably changed 30 times, trying to find the outfit that conveyed the perfect balance of sexy, yet subdued.

You decide on a pair of dark wash flares and a lacy top, both accentuating your figure heavenly. You spritz on a little perfume you save for special occasions. If this ain’t a hell of an occasion.

Joel, with impeccable timing, rings the doorbell right as you tug your black cowboy boots on. It’s sill relatively warm in Austin, so you decide to forgo a jacket.

Opening the door, you and Joel take a moment to check the other out, neither of you trying to hide it whatsoever. Joel’s wearing his signature jeans and a green flannel with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, exposing his veiny, strong forearms. You’d hump his arms given the opportunity.

“Absolutely stunnin’, sweetheart,” he licks his bottom lip while his brown irises roam over your entire body, paying special attention to your waist and tits. You’re mentally patting yourself on the back for your outfit choice.

“One could say the same for you, cowboy,” you quip back, a smug grin plastered across your face.

Your smile shoots blood straight to Joel’s cock.

He swallows as he realizes the night is just beginning.

+++

Joel takes you to a quaint diner for your date. From the outside, it’s unassuming; an older building in urgent need of a pressure wash, adjacent to a virtually empty shopping center. A true hole-in-the-wall in the middle of downtown Austin.

“It doesn’t look like much on the outside, but I promise ya, they got the best damn burgers in town,” he assures, seeing the questioning look on your face when he pulls into the parking lot.

You and Joel slide into a booth in the far corner, Joel insisting that booth seating is part of the experience. You both order burgers, per his recommendation and boy, it does not disappoint.

Between bites of food, you and Joel learn more about each other. The conversation flows easily, both hanging onto each other’s every word; no awkwardness or feigning interest. You both share parts of your childhoods and you share stories from your college days. Joel recounts the mischief he and Tommy got into when they were younger, earning several belly laughs from you.

Joel loves the way you laugh; candidly, throwing your head back, your shoulders jerking uncontrollably as you try to catch a breath.

You’re pleased to learn that both you and Joel have a fondness for 80’s action movies, especially the over-the-top-borderline-cheesy ones, and 70’s artists like Fleetwood Mac and Electric Light Orchestra.

Joel asks about your job as an editor. You tell him the different types of manuscripts you have to read; some you drudge through, others you enjoy. “I love seeing how the story progresses from the first rough draft up until the final copy,” you tell him,” a lot of authors are really full of themselves, so you have to boil down a lot of the flowery language and hubris.”

In return, he tells you about how he got started as a contractor, hard work rewarded him with promotions until he opened up his own contracting business six years ago. “It’s priceless gettin’ to be your own boss,” he says, “not havin’ to answer to anyone, can be more selective in projects you wanna take on,” he continues, and you swear you’re listening but you’re secretly caught up in the sound of his voice and the way his lips move when he’s talking; hypnotizing you with every word.

Joel opens up about when Sarah came into this world; the happiest day of his life while simultaneously being scared shitless — he was wild and ungovernable, definitely not ready for fatherhood.

Through the years he’s found his rhythm. He doesn’t talk about her mother and you don’t ask; you’re not looking to dig into that lore on the first date. He tells you what Sarah was like as a baby and the subsequent years. Your heart melts at the adoration and pride that glow in his eyes when he talks about his daughter.

You both sit in the overused booth, totally absentminded to the world around you. You’re both locked into one another, afraid of missing even the faintest shift in facial expressions. You might as well be the only two people here.

Taking the final bite of your burger, you tell Joel that you’re inclined to agree that these are the best burgers in town.

He mumbles something to the effect of “told ya,” before finishing his last bite.

On the ride home from the diner, you spot an illuminated Ferris wheel, glowing in the distance of the Austin night.

“Oh, I didn’t know the fair was still in town. I haven’t been in years!” exclaiming a little loudly for a woman your age, “can we…..?”

Joel can’t say no to you, not when you’re giving him a pleading, pouty look.

+++

Once inside the fairgrounds, you both walk through the selection of vendors, and it doesn’t take long for the funnel cake sign to catch your eye; Joel purchases you one and you continue on your adventure together.

“Here,” he says, offering you a paper napkin.

You gently shake your head, shoving another bite of funnel cake into your mouth, “don’t need one.”

He laughs. You look like a stubborn child learning what sugar is for the first time, “you’re gonna get all sticky,” he says, a big grin enveloping his face, your eagerness for the sweetness of the battered dough reminds him of Sarah’s sweet tooth. God, you’re cute – it makes him wish she was with you both tonight.

Well, that is until he notices it. It’s subtle, but it’s there – a sprinkling of powdered sugar on your cheek and exposed chest.

He knows this is a family event, but he wants to do anything but PG-rated things with you right now.

He stares at the white dust on your skin until your voice catches his attention again.

“Maybe I want to be sticky,” you reply, “gives you more to lick off of me later.”

And fuck, if that doesn’t turn him on.

The thought of his tongue on you sends a flood of impure thoughts to his brain; much like the ones he had when you first showed up at his door, covered in remnants of flour, all sugar and sweetness.

He knows now.

You may be sugar, but fuck, if you haven’t got some spice in you, too.

+++

As you stroll, your eyes grow wide when you see it; a yellow wooden sign with the words “bobbing for apples” in Comic Sans engraved into it.

“Ah! Joel! Bobbing for apples! I haven’t done that since I was a kid – we have to do it!” you say, your voice is a little too eager and a little too high-pitched, but the childlike wonder on your face is all the convincing that Joel needs. He might not admit it, but he’d give you anything you want. You reach out for his hand, and he takes it, letting you lead the way.

You and Joel make your way up to the station, and a fair worker in an apron and a straw hat shouts to the crowd, “Come one, come all! Test your skills at an apple grab; the winner gets a prize,” his voice is low in octave but loud enough like he’s speaking through a megaphone.

A line of fair-goers of all ages quickly forms around the barrels filled with water and apples, and you look at Joel with eager eyes as you step up to yours.

The rules of the game were explained by the worker with a chuckle, “Alright, folks, no hands, just your teeth. Lean in, and bob for an apple, and what you catch is yours to keep plus a prize from the booth to the right.”

“You sure about this, sweetheart? You’re gonna get all wet,” Joel asks, probably just a smidge too concerned about your well-being considering it’s just bobbing for apples.

“You gonna act like you don’t know that I’ve been wet this entire night?” you say, not waiting to hear his response as the worker calls out a loud “GO!”

Giggles and cheers fill the air as you and your fellow participants lean over the barrel. Your face disappears into the water; your competitiveness in overdrive – edging yourself deeper and deeper into the water; so far that your shirt gets soaked. You don’t care, though, and you gleam from satisfaction as you resurface with a gleaming red apple held triumphantly between your teeth.

The crowd erupts in applause at your efforts, and Joel stands watching you with his hands on his hips, a smile plastered on his face. As his gaze drops from the apple in your mouth, he notices the wetness of your shirt and shit, you’re positively drenched.

It takes Joel all of .0002 seconds to notice the silhouette of your nipples peeking out from your shirt, the goosebumps littering your skin, and the tail ends of your hair wet and starting to curl under the weight of the water.

You drop the apple from your teeth and catch it in your palm. “Well, well…looks like you’re on a date with a prize-winnin’ apple picker. Feeling lucky yet?” you tort, attempting to flirt through the uncomfortable press of the damp fabric on your skin.

“Sweetheart, I’ve seen that mouth in action, I already knew you were going to win,” he says, “but you know I’d never thought I’d see the day…” he trails off.

“What do you mean?” you ask, slightly confused.

“Never thought I’d see the day that I was jealous of a fuckin’ Red Delicious apple,” he says, humor behind his voice, “s’ashame I wasn’t the one you were bobbin’ for in that barrel.”

“Listen, if you want to get wet and let me put you in my mouth, I am more than happy to accommodate,” you reply back, your voice flirty and suggestive.

Joel doesn’t respond, but you see him palm himself through the denim of his jeans at your suggestion, interjecting his thoughts.

You can’t hide the shivers that take over your body from the chill of the night air and the wetness of your clothing.

“C’mere, baby, you’re freezin’,” he says, brow furrowed, and arms wide open stretched out to you, beckoning you into his large arms. You take a step forward and step into his brace, letting yourself melt into the warmth of his arms and the aroma of his natural scent.

You stand there, wet in more ways than one, and let him hold you. Your arms wrap around his thick middle, and he rubs up and down your back with both palms in an attempt to warm you up. He releases you momentarily before saying, “Here, take this.”

You step away from him for a second, giving him space to slip off the flannel he’s wearing, revealing nothing but a white t-shirt underneath; the little tufts of hair peeking out through the collar of his shirt almost send you into a tailspin.

He holds the flannel open by the collar to face you, encouraging you to put it on. You turn your back to him, allowing him the privilege of holding it as you slip your arms into the sleeves. The fabric of the shirt is warm from his skin, and the moment you put it on you’re flooded with the smell embedded deep within the fibers; all musk, whiskey, cinnamon, wood, and Joel.

“Come on, now, you little bobbin’ minx, let’s go get you your prize,” he says, tilting his head to the prize booth. You grab his hand and let him lead the way this time.

You and Joel make your way to the prize booth, the smell of kettle corn invades your senses; sure, you were already stuffed with funnel cake and your dinner, but the sweet aroma makes your mouth water. Or maybe it’s just Joel, you’re not quite sure, but you don’t really care.

In the small structure of the prize booth, the shelves were adorned with a colorful array of stuffed animals of all sizes, trinkets, and games. You carefully assess your prize options while the attendant tries to convince you that of all of the random assortment of prizes, you absolutely need the goldfish. Right.

You look over the options in front of you for what feels like a good ten minutes before the attendant not so subtly grows tired of your indecision. You sigh. You decide on a small puppy dog with beady plastic brown eyes, and you nod in thanks as he hands it to you, and you and Joel walk away from the booth.

“Had a tough time decidin’ there, didn’t ya, sweetheart?” Joel asks, not really questioning.

“Well, to be honest, none of the prizes were really appealing to me,” you respond, playing with the fluffy ears of the stuffed plush in your hands. “I only picked this one because I thought Sarah might like it,” you say. Your consideration for Sarah, and your accepting demeanor to her, warms Joel’s heart.

“But I can think of one I’d really like to claim,” you say, catching his gaze. You see his jaw clench at your words.

“Oh yeah? And that would be..?”

“You,” the word comes out breathy.

You both stop walking and the crunch of the dirt under his boots and the distant sounds of the fair in the background all but freeze as you stand there, seemingly paused in your own little private moment.

“Take me home, Joel,” you say, planting your palm on his broad chest and stepping closer to him, your chest nearly flush against his. His hands skate down to your waist, and he closes the gap between your bodies, holding you close enough that you feel the growing bulge between his thighs.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, leaning down, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

And it’s sweet.

Just like the funnel cake.

And just like he thinks you are.

But you have other plans for him tonight.

And he has the same for you.

+++

You and Joel make your way out of the fairgrounds and to the lot where Joel parked his truck.

Still wearing his flannel, the stuffed puppy dog intertwined between your crossed arms, you wait for him to open the passenger side door. You all but eye fuck him as he reaches into the depth of the front pocket of his jeans and grabs his keys. He unlocks the door, and opens it for you; offering you a hand to help guide you in.

“Always such a gentleman,” you say, placing your hand in his, accepting his offer, using the strength of his arm to help lift yourself into the bed of the truck.

Joel rounds around the front of the vehicle, unlocks the driver’s side door, and slides in. He turns the key in the ignition and the engine rumbles to life and the radio turns on, “Come a Little Closer” by Dierks Bentley plays over the speakers.

Deciding to take a note from the lyrics, you don’t bother to buckle yourself into the passenger seat, and instead slide over into the middle seat of the truck, positioning yourself tightly against Joel’s side. You lace your arm through the underside of his and interlock them, your hand curls around his firm bicep. You lean your head into his shoulder, and close your eyes, taking a moment to bask in the solitude of the strong man beneath you.

He looks down at you for a moment – god, he could get used to this. He dwells on the thought for a moment longer and then begins to drive away.

You’re clinging to him and you both ride like that in an easy silence, apart from the faint music and the hum of his truck. It has been so long since you felt so content, so at peace with the moment and yourself; not worried about work or life, or anything. It was just you and Joel, and you like it that way.

Nearly back to your house, and your shared neighborhood, you let your left hand wander on the expanse of his thigh. The time for sweetness is over. The events of the night, your combined obvious want, and the flirtatious taunts catch up with you.

Joel keeps his eyes on the road, but you don’t miss the way his grip on the steering wheel tightens as your hand makes its way closer to his belt buckle. You begin to toy with the cool metal there, and his large palm comes down to cup yours.

“We’re almost home,” he says, holding your hand tight against his stiffening cock, not letting you move. “But I want to feel you now,” you whine.

“I know, baby, I know you wanna get your hands on this cock, and I would like nothing more,” he says, “but you’re gonna have to be patient, we only have a few more minutes until we’re there.”

“And why do I have to be patient, neighbor?” you ask, pulling your hand away, slightly keyed up. Greedy. Horny.

“Because I wanna give that needy little pussy the attention she deserves,” he says, “and because once I get started, I know ‘m not gonna be able to stop.”

“And neighbor ain’t gonna be what you’ll be calling me,” he says roughly, “I’ll fuckin’ make sure of that, sweetheart.”

He takes a turn and pulls into your neighborhood. You catch a glimpse of Mrs. Morrison taking out her trash. She glares at you in disapproval as you drive past in Joel’s truck.

You sometimes wonder what your neighbors might think; a pretty little young thing like you, the youngest daughter of their good friends, a.k.a your parents, hanging out with the older, single-father neighbor across the way.

But truthfully, you don’t really give a fuck.

+++

Joel pulls up into your driveway, the engine purrs softly before falling silent. You both pause in silence.

Joel turns to you, a smirk on his lips “We’re here,” he says, his voice carrying a hint of invite me in behind his voice.

You glance out the window, your house bathed in the soft glow of your porch light. You turn back to Joel and say “Thank you for tonight, I really had a fun time. But to be honest, I just realized I never got to thank you properly…”

Joel looks at you and something dark flickers in his gaze. “And what would you need to be thankin’ me for, sweetheart?” As if he didn’t know.

“For the best orgasm I’ve ever had. Come in and I’ll return the favor,” you say, conjuring your sultriest voice, knowing he doesn’t need an invitation.

You step out of the truck, and the night air is cool, a gentle breeze whispers through your hair; your features are illuminated by the street lights in your neighborhood, and the warm glow casts an inviting aura around you. Joel appears at your side of the truck and helps you exit.

The gravel under your feet crunches as you walk toward the front porch; the air is charged with electricity, a livewire, a magnetic pull drawing your bodies together.

The porch light by your door casts a warm yellow glow on your faces. You pause at the front of the step and reach for your house keys in your purse. Your porch swing sways gently in the breeze, its rhythmic creaking adding to the undertone of the moment.

You insert the key into the lock, but before you can fully turn the doorknob to open the door, Joel already has his large palm on yours, opening the door, pushing you through the door frame and into your house, his hands cradling your face before he crashes his plush lips into yours.

The second you’re both fully in your house, Joel's hands are on the hem of your shirt, silently begging for you to take it off. You let him work on getting you topless, meanwhile, your hands are hastily working to undo his belt buckle, the excitement of finally being able to touch him and him not being able to stop touching you has you worked up. Joel presses his thighs together against yours, drawing little moans from you while he nips at your neck.

As much as he is trying to distract you, he’s no match for your determination. In record-breaking time you have his buckle undone and the zipper of his jeans is down; you gracefully fall to your knees before him, tugging his pants and his boxers down with you to the floor. Joel’s cock releases from the confines of his clothing and slaps against his tummy, leaving a little trail of pre-cum in its wake. You already knew he was big, but having him in full view makes you realize just how big he really is.

You lick your lips and reach out to grab his thick cock, affectionately kissing the tip of it; you run your tongue through the slit, lapping up the salty pre-cum that drips out before you circle your tongue along the underside of his head. You let your jaw go slack, and you begin to dip down on his length; a gurgling sound escapes your lips as you pull back up again. You do this a few times before letting his hard cock fall from your lips, now puffy and coated in saliva, some of it dribbling past your chin.

You pull off momentarily and smile up at Joel. He thinks you look far too sweet and innocent for someone who is absolutely taking his cock deep in your throat like a champ. He intertwines his fingers through your hair and groans, before gently urging you back down onto his length.

“Fuck, sweetheart – can’t tell you how long I’ve been thinking about having that pretty little mouth of yours on my cock,” he says slightly breathless.

The thought of him thinking about you goes straight to your core and makes you want to mouth fuck him harder.

You wrap your lips around him again, and he thrusts his hips to glide himself inside of your mouth to the back of your throat.

He begins to pick up his pace, holding your head steady by your hair as he fucks into your throat, pressing deeper and deeper until spit pools at the corners of your mouth and slight tears form in the creases of your eyes. He presses you down onto him until your lips are wrapped around the base of him and the course hairs that reside there. You’re drowning in the taste of him, hardly able to breathe, but you don’t care; you want him to chase his high, to use your mouth for his own pleasure. He made you come harder than anyone ever has before; this was the least you could do for him.

“Jesus – look at you, pretty girl, fuck you feel so good wrapped around me,” he grits out, “takin’ it so well, baby.”

His words go straight to your cunt, the ache now insufferable.

You begin to work him harder with your tongue, struggling for air, and he inches closer to the back of your throat and you begin to gag. Joel pulls out, not wanting to hurt you, and a strand of saliva trails between your lips and his cock. You blink back tears and look up at him, your mascara now a mess on your face, and your eyes glossy.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks, his brow furrowed in concern.

You swallow, and reach up to wipe a tear from your cheek. You are okay. More than okay. “Peachy. I'm relieved I finally got to return the favor,” you hum, standing to rise to meet his face.

He wraps his hands around your waist, and pulls you tight against the front of his body; you feel the warmth of his tummy, the hardness of his cock, and the strength of his back behind your grip and it makes your legs turn to Jell-O. Fuck, you need him.

Joel kisses you for a moment, before pulling away and bringing his lips to your ear “Gonna fuck you now, sweet girl.”

You feel your stomach swoop and your folds tingle; you have thought about this moment for so long and you yearn for the stretch of him; to know what it’s like to be filled to the brim with Joel fucking Miller.

He kicks off his boots, steps out of the clothing bunched around his ankles, and takes your hand to follow you down the hallway into your bedroom.

Part of him wants to take his time; to make you feel good, to taste you again, and feel you come and come on his fingers. Part of him wants to shuck down your jeans and put your pretty pussy in his face.

Joel doesn’t particularly think of himself as a selfish man, but he has waited patiently, and he needs you. Now.

As much as he wants the taste of you on his lips, the part of him that wants to shove himself into your addictive cunt until you forget your name until you forget every other name except for his is the dominant one right now.

Once in the bedroom, he crowds you back until the back of your calves meet the edge of your mattress. He grabs both of your hips in a bruising grip and pulls you tight against his chest, his hips grinding into yours, and you lean your face up to kiss him. You think he might kiss you, but instead, he ghosts your lips and leans forward until your back meets the soft fabric of the mattress with an oof, and he’s on top of you.

He grabs both of your wrists, pinning them above your head. His grip on you is firm, yet gentle. You’ve seen his brute strength in action and the fact that he could overpower you sends a shiver to your clit.

“So beautiful, darlin’ – you know that?” he kisses your nose and trails a slew of them down your cheek, jaw, chin, and neck. Once at the nape of your neck, he nibbles on your earlobe and whispers “You ready for me, sweetheart?” his breath is heavy in your ear.

You can’t nod fast enough in agreement.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” he practically purrs the question.

You want nothing more than to be a good girl for Joel. You nod almost aggressively to make up for the fact that you’re unable to construct a single sentence right now.

He lets out a satisfied moan and drops his grip on your wrists, and drags his heavy hands down your body to the center of your jeans and undoes the button of your pants, and hooks his thumbs in the waistband of both your jeans and your panties and pulls them down in one fell swoop.

He dips down to place a delicate kiss to your tummy and lets the weight of his head rest on the softness of you. He inhales deeply, the aroma of your perfume comforts him, and he fights the urge to dip his face lower and bury himself in your pussy.

You drop both of your hands and grab his head, your fingers carding through his hair, and he groans.

“Thought you were gonna be a good girl for me,” he says, not really questioning.

“I am being a good girl,” you respond back, not really sure what prompted his statement.

“Maybe I wasn’t clear enough the first time. When I put you in a position, I want you to stay there, until I say you can move. Got it?”

And holy fuck, bossy Joel turns you on.

You only hum in response.

“Need you to use your words, sweet girl. Answer me, or I’ll make you,” he says, voice low, his head closer to your center now, almost to exactly where you need him but not quite.

“Ye - ah, yes, fuck I understand,” sending all of your energy to string the words together.

He hums in acknowledgment and pushes your hands back up overhead, telling you to keep them there, and only to touch him when he says you can. When he releases your hands and sees that your arms stay put, he rasps out a “good girl.”

He then reaches down and notches his tip at your entrance, and drags the weight of his thick cock through your glistening folds.

“Mmmm so fuckin’ wet, this all for me?”

“All for you, J-oel,” you’re trembling, desperate to feel him deep inside you.

He pauses momentarily, only the tip of him inside you, and god, it’s such a tease.

You know it’ll sting, but you want him to just fucking bury every inch of himself inside of you. You don’t care about the pain; you crave the stretch of him.

“Joel – ah, need more,” you moan, “need all of you.”

“You sure, sweetheart? I ‘don wanna hurt you,” he says, once again concerned about you.

“Joel, I want you to fucking wreck me. Need you to move, please.”

After your plea, he obliges. You feel every inch of him, the way he throbs inside of you, and the tip of his head drags against the spongey spot inside of you.

Your eyes flutter shut as he begins to move in and out of you, he feels so fucking good, and you’re so perfectly full.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” he says, voice low and gruff, still continuing to saw in and out of you. ‘’Want you to look at me while I fuck you.”

And his words are like music to your fucking ears. He’s the perfect balance of gentleman and fucking filth.

He brings a hand down to circle your clit, and with the added sensation you’re not far off from your orgasm. You can feel it growing in your stomach with every circle of his thumb and every thrust of his cock. You open your mouth, your jaw slack, and you begin to moan.

“Fuck, baby – you shouldn’t open your mouth like that,” he moans.

“And – fuckkkk, why not?” You respond back, breathless from each of his thrusts.

“Just a reminder of another hole I need to use,” he responds, and then gruffly says “Open,” while pressing his thumb and index finger into your jaw, holding you in place.

You do as he says, and he spits into your mouth. Your eyes wide as saucers. It’s hot, dirty, filthy.

“Taste how perfect we are together, baby” he says, still pounding into you and circling your clit.

His words send you into fucking oblivion, and you’re gone. Your vision goes white, and despite his order to keep your eyes open, your eyes fall closed and he fucks you through your orgasm.

Your tight, slick walls pulse and squeeze around him. His hands squeeze your hips, his fingertips bruising your skin as he rocks your limp and shaky body against his cock, chasing his own orgasm.

Not long after you’ve come, he’s finishing too. He fucks into you at an erratic pace and then shoots his seed deep into your cunt.

“Fuckkk, baby” – he trails off, letting the final spurts of his cum paint your walls.

You let out a sigh, and once again drop your hands to his head, intertwining your hands with the hair behind his head.

You both lay there in your fucked out bliss and then he pulls out of you, taking a dribble of his cum with him, a glob of it landing on your thigh.

You’ve never felt so satisfied, to be laying there, content and full of Joel Miller.

He rolls over onto his side and puts his hand on his chest.

“Shit, baby. You’re perfect,” he says. “I don’t think I’m ever gonna get enough of you.”

You hum in delight and roll over onto his chest, melting into him.

“You in the mood for some cookies?” you ask, and he grins in response.

He hit the fucking lottery with you.

END

Tagging some Joel-lovers: @endlessthxxghts @survivingandenduring @darkheartgatita @joelmillersblog @joelsgreys @dins-riduur-anthe @joelmillers-whore @pedroswife69 @hearteyesforjoel

As always, feel free to let me know if do or don’t want to be tagged!xx

#joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #pedrohub #pedro pascal character #collaboration fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller series

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mono-moonchilds · 10 months

Text

For Glory │KNJ

⤑ pairing: underground boxer!namjoon x fem!reader

⤑ genre: angst!!, smut, some fluff ig but also not really but yes??

⤑ rating:explicit (18+)

⤑ word count: 3.2k

⤑ summary: A fight to the death. No rules, no refs, and nowhere to run.

⤑ warnings: descriptive depiction of boxing, illusions of death, mentions of a stabbing, ig just violence in general fr, arguments, anyways on to the smut part of these warnings, fingering, emotional sex, missionary, riding, namjoon has a buzz cut, feel free to let me know if I missed anything but I think that's all folks

⤑ A/N: I watched Bloodhounds a few weeks then just had to make a boxing fic because I loved that show so much. hot men + fighting = sign me up.

The room was full to capacity, nothing but sweaty drunks that were hollering over each other while letting out rowdy cheers filling the place. Despite it all, it felt like you could hear everything. Every punch, every kick- each blow that landed on his bruised skin rang a thousand times in your ears. The fight had only been going on for fifteen minutes —probably less— but it felt like much longer. Both of their bodies already so badly beaten —bright red blood spewing from their wounds and covering the once pristine mat.

This was your first fight and it showed. Your hands clenching the worn wooden benches, breath hitching at every movement. You usually didn’t come to these events, and you didn’t see how anyone could. They were barbaric and rough -no gloves, no rules, and definitely no safety measures. They couldn’t use weapons but that was about it. Everything else was free game and however the match ended was how it ended.

Whether it was in a K.O. or stone-cold murder was all up to the victor.

‘Fight To The Death’ was what they called it. A sixteen-by-sixteen ring, surrounded by wired, ceiling-high fences, and absolutely no referees. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and nowhere to escape. Neither party could call a time-out either. Once they were in the ring they were stuck there until the horn blew signaling the match was over.

“Fuck!” You jumped up from your seat. That was a mean one. The punch knocked Namjoon straight on his back allowing the other to climb on top. Luckily Namjoon was able to bring his arms up and get into a protective huddle, but it was still barely any help. Lee Do Yoon was evil, and his hits were ruthless. Even in the regular matches, he had a reputation for playing dirty.

This wasn’t even supposed to be his fight. For two years Namjoon had been out —he owned a gym and had a regular life that didn’t involve the underground fighting scene. For two beautiful years, you were able to see your boyfriend come home the way he left. No bruises, no busted lips. Just a clean face and a happy smile.

All of you had told Jungkook to lie low. That bragging and arguing with The Vipers was something he did not want to do. Despite your efforts to keep out this scene and the business that went along with it even you knew that Do Yoon and his little gang were nothing to mess with. Of course, Jungkook didn’t listen. When did he ever?

The night of your anniversary was when you got the call. You and Namjoon were on your way home from dinner when his phone rang.

Jungkook had been stabbed. They did him over three different times before leaving him for dead in the middle of an alley. Thankfully Jungkook had been relatively fine, but he was in absolutely no shape to fight. He could’ve pulled out but all of them had way too much vengeance to let the incident go unchecked, letting The Vipers have another by default victory. The other man had done this before and the only reason none of them ever got him back was they were all too consumed with their grief.

Hoseok had offered to fight in Jungkook’s place and so had Taehyung but either of them getting in that ring with Lee Do Yoon would’ve been like signing their death note. It’d been years since their last fight. And even though both of them were still in amazing shape they also had way too many injuries to even stand a chance of winning.

Of course, Namjoon never told you his plan though. He kept quiet, carefully dodging your suspicious questions until tonight.

“It’s okay- he’s okay. Namjoon’s got this,” Jungkook tried to comfort wrapping his arm around you, but you shook him off sending a mean glare.

You knew it was unfair to still be angry with him, but you couldn’t help. Sometimes you just wanted Jungkook to grow up —for him to mature and think with his head. Yeah, he knew how to step but he also needed to know when to fall the fuck back. He was twenty-five and everyone was still cleaning up his messes as if he were a kid.

“Joon!” You screamed out your hands banging against the gate. Instead of grabbing your boyfriend’s attention, you grabbed Do Yoon’s. A bloody grin filling his snake-like features as he turned towards you.

“Come on Joon—” he cooed mockingly, “you gone let your girl stand there and just watch you get put down like an animal? I thought you were supposed to be something. That’s what they told me.” Do Yoon got up from on top of him swinging his leg back hard before pushing it forward kicking Namjoon straight in the side. It sent all the air out of his body making Namjoon curl into a ball as he let out a loud cry. “Your nothing,” Do Yoon hacked a bloody lob right onto his face. “Just a washed-up piece of shit.”

Do Yoon yanked his head back. Namjoon had no time to react before the other man's hard fist clocked him dead in the face six times before dropping him back on the mat. Even though the match wasn’t over Do Yoon jumped around the ring as if he’d already won the crowd hyping him up like the depraved monster he was.

“Please,” You begged. Namjoon was still down. He kept trying to get up, but his body was wobbly and failing him.

Do Yoon crouched down in front of you. His tongue dragged against the nasty wire fence as he licked it. “Once I’m done imma have a nice time with you—” he reached down groping his flaccid dick in his shorts. “me and my boys. We’re going to-”

Before he can finish the sentence Do Yoon’s face is smashed against the fence before being dragged back. Namjoon is the one on top now. His punches unrelenting as he attacks every part of the man underneath his body. For once you understood how everyone else in the arena felt. A loud cheer came from the depths of your soul as you threw your arms up. Do Yoon was able to get a few good punches in, but it wasn’t enough, newfound energy filling Namjoon’s entire being.

It should have terrified you. The way Namjoon looked -his eyes cold and distant but it didn’t.

With one last heavy punch the match was over, Do Yoon’s arms falling flat to his side. For once the audience was quiet. Everyone was waiting with bated breath to see if he would get up. Strings of swearing erupted from his goons, their hands shaking the cage wall as they yelled at him. It was too late though.

The loud countdown over the speaker started.

Ten!

Nine!

Eight!

Seven!

Six!

Five!

Four!

Three!

Two!

One!

The horn blared.

“The winner of this year's Fight to The Death: Kiiim NaaamJOON!”

As soon as the gate rolled open you were gone. Jumping up you wrap your legs around Namjoon’s waist, his strong arms lifting you into the air. The crowd fickle as ever rang out in cheers, shouting and chanting Namjoon’s praises. Your boyfriend took it all in, a loud roar erupting from his throat as he bounced up and down.

It was over.

It was all finally over.

Namjoon walked out of the venue with a limp and somewhat clean face. Though he was still marred with bruises and cuts, Seokjin had managed to patch him up well. Before the two of you got into the car, he called over Jungkook handing him one of the leather briefcases. With a shake of his head, the younger immediately declined, pushing it away.

“Take it,” Namjoon pressed shoving it into his chest. “Pay your debts and stay out of trouble.”

“I’m sorry Hyung,” Jungkook broke down into tears. “I’m so sorry,” He repeated looking at you this time. “I will. I promise I will.”

“I know,” Namjoon said pulling Jungkook into a hug. “It’s over. don’t think about it too much.”

Throughout all his goodbyes Namjoon kept a stoic face. It was only when the two of you crawled into the backseat of Hoseok’s car that he let out a loud sob. Hoseok looked back at him through the rear-view mirror but didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything to say. Reaching over you grabbed his hand and leaned over resting your head on his shoulder.

“I did it. I fucking did.” Namjoon whispered but you knew he wasn’t talking to you. He wasn’t talking to either of you. Instead, his focus was on the golden boxing glove chain that was around his neck.

Yoongi’s old necklace.

When the two of you entered your shared apartment the story of what had gone down just hours before was all over the place. The space is messy littered with broken objects that you’d thrown around in a fit. Before you could finish making your way over to the kitchen to grab the broom Namjoon grabbed your wrist stopping you.

“We’ll clean it up tomorrow. Come on,”

Sitting down on the bed Namjoon pulled you a top of him. Your legs spread on either side of his body. “Didn’t think you would come,”

“Called Jimin last minute. He rushed me over.”

“How come?”

You shrugged sucking in a sniffle. “I just couldn’t bear the thought of you being in that ring thinking all that shit I said was true. I didn’t mean it Joon. I didn’t mean any of it.”

Namjoon, as understanding as ever nodded his head. “Baby I know you didn’t. I know you were just angry and you had every right to be.” That made you cry. You never would understand what you’d done in life to be able to call someone like Namjoon yours.

Gingerly grabbing your brown cheeks between his palms, Namjoon pulled you in for a kiss. The remnants of dried metallic blood danced on your tongue. It reminded you of your first kiss. How the scars made his lips rough and how swollen they felt against yours. You should’ve been used to this but for some reason, it all felt so foreign. Haven got so used to your new normal you’d completely pushed down the old one.

The staying up to the wee hours of the morning wondering if he was going to be okay, sometimes having to patch him up or force him to go to the hospital when things looked too bad.

“Come on,” Namjoon hushed pulling you back in. “Stay with me,”

Flipping the two of you over he laid you down on your back. His hands instantly falling to the hem of your leggings as he pulled the tight fabric off of you. Namjoon’s lips found yours once again, a soft gasp-like breath leaving your mouth as you felt the outline of his hardening cock pressing against your lower belly. Freeing you from the confines of his hoodie Namjoon latched onto your neck, his mouth sucking hard at the exposed skin as his fingers slowly trailed down your stomach and to the place you needed him most.

It was crazy. How with just a mere touch from him you were soaked. Panties clinging desperately to your sodden pussy. Letting out a low chuckle Namjoon pulled his fingers from your panties showing you the slick digits. “Thought you said you hated me?”

Letting out a whine you rolled your eyes. “Please,” You quietly begged. You knew Namjoon was just trying to make light- show you in his own little way that he wasn’t mad at you, but you couldn’t do it tonight. You didn’t want to relive any of the shit you’d said to him.

Sliding from off of you Namjoon laid down on his side while pulling your thigh up onto his hip so that now the two of you were laying down on the bed facing each other. Pushing his hand back between your bodies his fingers made their way back into your panties- the calloused tips rubbing against your sensitive clit.

One by one he pushed his middle and ring finger into your needy hole. Forcing another low gasp from your mouth as you leaned forward burying your face into the crook of his neck. Namjoon kept a slow pace. Dragging his fingers in and out, ever so slightly curving the digits to rub them against that little spot that always made you lose it.

“You know I love you,” Namjoon breathed against your neck. You nodded. “I was always gonna come back to you. Nothing could keep me away from you.”

Your body writhes, your right hand flying up wanting to tangle into Namjoon’s dark locks but there was nothing there. Just like it was when you’d first met him his hair was once again completely buzzed leaving him with practically little to nothing. So instead, you settle for grasping at the back of his neck, practically fucking yourself onto the digits, your hips having a mind of their own as they rolled and jerked.

You wanted nothing more than to say something back, tell Namjoon how much you loved him too but you couldn’t. The pleasure over taking your body so much that the only thing you could do was let out low swears followed by the call of his name. It always embarrassed you how just with a few touches Namjoon could have you speechless and clinging to his body in desperation.

You could hear the wetness. Your slick undoubtedly leaving the bed sheets along with your inner thighs a mess. “Look at me,” Namjoon mumbled a faint smile filling his lips as you followed his command. “You know I like looking at you when you cum.”

Namjoon’s fingers sped up. The squelches from your pussy fill the quiet room. “Shit,” You swore. That familiar feeling rising up in your lower belly. You could feel your legs tightening up, the heel of your foot pressing into the back of Namjoon's calf.

“That’s right. Let go for me baby,” You don’t need to be told twice. Your vision crossing a little as your body shudders against his. “There we go. Always so pretty. My pretty baby,” Namjoon encourages his fingers not letting up even for a moment as he fucks you through your orgasm. It feels like forever before he finally pulls away, shoving the slick digits into his mouth.

Pulling away for just a moment Namjoon sits up and pulls his own hoodie off. Even though you know it's against your better interest you can’t help but look. His bare chest was exposed showing all of the bruises that littered his once clear skin. They were everywhere. There wasn’t a bare piece of skin that didn’t have Do Yoon’s dirty prints on it. “nuh uh—” Namjoon murmurs tilting your chin up. “Don’t look at that. Look at me. Just stay here with me,” Kissing your tears away Namjoon rolled the two of you over so that he was back on top of you. In one swift movement, he pulled down his gym shorts and boxers allowing his thick cock to spring free from its previous confinements.

Grabbing the length, Namjoon began to pump it, smearing the creamy white beads that’d spurted from the tip into the rest of the skin. “Joon,” You breathed needily, your cunt throbbing desperately in your panties. Even though your boyfriend just shushed you he didn’t tease much longer, the head of his cock pressing into your pussy slowly splitting you open.

Despite Namjoon’s thrusts being slow they were hard. Each push knocking the wind out of you as you begged for more. Dipping his head down Namjoon wrapped his full lips around your brown nipple suckling the pebble into his mouth.

“Right there,” You moaned, eyes fluttering closed at the overwhelming sensations that racked through your body. Letting go of your nipple Namjoon’s face falls onto your shoulder, low grunts and groans falling from his lips with every thrust.

“Fucking love you,” Namjoon whispers so low that you weren’t even sure he’d meant to say it out loud. Wrapping your legs around his lower back, you pull him deeper into you, making a low hiss fall from Namjoon’s mouth as you accidentally press into a bruise.

“’m sorry,” you slur out.

“S’okay,” He grumbles kissing your collar blade, his wet tongue dragging across the skin. Pulling away Namjoon looked down at you, a small smile filling his face as he stared. Even though he didn’t say anything you knew exactly what he was feeling because you felt the same. The happiness. The relief. Although Namjoon had given promises of winning before he left the two of you both knew very well the fight could’ve gone either way.

Gradually his eyes drifted downward, first falling on your bouncing breast but then inevitably ending on your belly causing tears to fill his eyes. This time you pull him out of it, your hands cupping his cheeks as you pull him down for a kiss. “Lemme ride you,” you say.

With a nod of his head, Namjoon changed positions causing you to let out a lower whimper. He always felt so fucking deep in this position, like his cock was right in your stomach. “Shit—” Namjoon’s eyes got wide. “do you think we’re gonna—”

“Joon—” You cut him off with a laugh already knowing what he was about to ask. “You’re big but you're not that damn big. Just give me a minute.” You finish a moan tumbling for your lips as you roll your hips just a bit to help get used to the stretch.

Instead of placing your hands on his chest you lean back grasping his thighs, eyes fluttering close as you rock back and forth. Namjoon’s hands found purchase on your waist helping you grind a little bit faster, his hips rising a little to match your movements. Lifting yourself up you drop back down, the loud sound of skin slapping together filling the room as you repeat the movements.

“Don’t think I gonna last—” Namjoon chokes out. “feel too fucking good.”

You nod your head in agreement, already feeling the sensation building. “Just a lil faster baby.” Namjoon whimpers. “I need a little more,”

As you follow his directions, Namjoon’s head falls back. His lips forming into a ‘o’ as his eyebrows furrow together. He was almost there and so were you. Reaching down you rub fast circles onto your clit, your body shaking as your orgasm hits you hard. It doesn’t take long for Namjoon to follow, a loud groan escaping him as his cum paints your inner walls white.

The two of you pant, barely allowing the other to catch a breath before you find your lips on each other once again. Carefully you slide off him and fall to the side. Wrapping his arms back around you Namjoon pulls you in once more. His hand finds rest on your belly rubbing at the barely there bump as his eyes flutter close.

“Don’t know what I would do without you,” You whisper.

“And I don’t want to find out.”

⤑ A/N: I really loved writing this couple and I kinda wanna write the prequel to how they met and also Jungkook and Yoongi's story. I hope you guys enjoyed it!

#bts smut #bts fic #namjoon smut #bts x black reader #namjoon fanfic #bts fanfic #kim namjoon fanfic #namjoon x black reader #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 3 months

Text

The Dangers of Hope Ch. 7

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, bit of smut.

Word Count: 4,813

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: Chapter 7 has arrived. 😊 I hope you enjoy it! Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading, liking, commenting and reblogging this series! It means SO much! ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

Three and a half weeks later

“And these would be beside every tent?” Dean asked Brandy as he looked at the rough drawings she’d made of her latest idea.

She nodded. “Yeah, on the West side of every tent. It would mean families don’t have to come to Food Storage every few days for more rations, and once the deep snow comes that’s gonna be a huge benefit for folks. Plus it’s easier for people to plan ahead and stretch their food if they have two weeks worth of rations sitting outside their tent. I mean, it won’t work once spring comes, but that’s a problem for spring.”

Dean nodded. He looked at their builders, the group of half a dozen survivors that were tasked with providing new buildings and necessities as the camp required. They’d built the sheds earlier in the year, the chicken coop last summer and were currently finishing up a small barn for the cow.

“Is this gonna interfere with completing the barn?” He asked, nodding at Brandy’s drawings.

One of the women, he was pretty sure her name was Vanessa, shook her head. “No, we’ll be finished with the barn in a couple of days, and be able to get Lily settled for the winter all snug, and then move on to the food sheds.” She looked at the drawing again and shrugged. “They’re small enough that we should be able to get them all done within a few weeks?”

She looked to the rest of the builders who nodded their agreement.

Dean frowned. “Lily?”

Vanessa grinned. “Yeah, sorry that’s what the kids have dubbed our little cow. Y/N has them going to visit her once a week so Ralph can teach them about farming.” She said, referring to the old farmer who had helped to plant the winter vegetables.

Dean felt his stomach twist as it always did when someone brought up her name. But he just nodded. “Okay, good. Get started on the food sheds as soon as you’re able. The deep snow is gonna come in the next couple weeks. It’d be good to have them all done by then.”

They all gave a chorus of “Okay, Boss” or “Sure thing Boss” as they nodded and took their leave. They wrapped their scarves tight and pulled on their mittens. The deep snow may not have come yet, but the ground was layered in white, and winter was sharp and stinging in the late November air.

Brandy gathered up her drawings and was headed out when Dean called her back.

“Brandy?”

She turned back to him, an eyebrow raised in question. They'd never discussed their meeting in the cabin with Y/N, but he'd noticed a slightly colder demeanor from her lately.

And he knew why, of course.

Brandy had been one of the original dozen survivors who had built the camp together. She'd been an incredible asset from the beginning, and they probably wouldn't have survived without her planning and strategies for running the camp. He and the soldiers may have kept the survivors alive, but Brandy kept them living by organizing and planning for their food and shelter. She was an invaluable member of the camp.

But three weeks ago he'd treated her like a servant meant to do his bidding. He knew he owed her an apology, but it had been so long since he'd apologized for anything that it stuck in his throat.

Now she contemplated him, waiting for him to speak, and he just nodded. He pointed towards her drawings.

“This is a good idea.” He cleared his throat. “So, thanks.”

Brandy stared a moment longer before a small smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. She nodded.

“No problem, Boss. That's what we're all here for, right?”

Dean just nodded and she lifted her scarf over her face and left the big cabin where Dean conducted most of his business these days, since it was warmer than his tent and could fit more people.

As he ran a hand over his face, the door opened again and most of his soldiers tromped inside. They were there to talk about security and possible threats, but Dean immediately looked at Johnston.

“Hey, did you tell her I want to see her?”

The thin man nodded vigorously. “Yes sir. I told her yesterday. Has…has she not come to see you yet?” He looked around the room as though Y/N might be hiding somewhere.

Dean shook his head. “No, she hasn't.” He pointed towards the door. “So why don't you go get her and tell her I expect to see her now.”

Johnston looked wary and as though he definitely didn't want to follow that order. But when Dean just stared him down, he turned and left quickly.

The rest of his soldiers began giving their reports about any problems they were having at the outposts, like equipment that needed repair or items that needed replenishing. But Dean was only half listening; his gaze kept straying to the door, waiting for Y/N to show.

Ten minutes later, Patrick was briefing him and Dean tried to focus on what he was saying.

“Williams has seen the group twice now, but -” Patrick cut himself off as Y/N and Johnston pushed through the door.

Y/N smiled at the soldiers as she came in. “Sorry to interrupt, but apparently I was summoned.”

She cut her glance to Dean and her smile turned brittle.

“I was told you needed to see me.”

“Yeah, since yesterday.” Dean responded, hardening his voice in an attempt to not seem desperate, especially in front of his soldiers.

“Sorry. Busy.” Was Y/N's curt reply. “What do you need?”

Dean took a deep breath. “I just wanted to know how you're -” he altered his words, “your school, or, uh, the school was going?”

Y/N paused for a moment before answering with a shrug.

“Fine.”

When it was clear that was all she was going to say, Dean scowled at her. “You wanna elaborate on that?”

She raised her chin a fraction. “Oh, I'm sorry, Boss, I don’t have anything else to say right now, but I’ll be sure to write out a full report for next week.”

Her eyes shot daggers that found their mark, bringing a pain to his chest that he felt a lot these days. He’d thought it might go away if he could talk to her, see her, but it was just worse with her there.

He shook his head. “That won't be necessary.” He said quietly.

“Anything else then, Sir?”

He'd never hated that moniker more. “No, that's it.”

She spun on her heel and walked out of the cabin. Silence reigned when she left. Dean waved at everyone else. “We'll finish this another time.” When they didn't immediately move, he made his voice a bit sharper.

“Dismissed.”

That got them moving and they all shuffled their way out the door - all except Risa. She closed the door behind her fellow soldiers and then turned back to face Dean.

He caught her eye and lifted his hands. “What?”

She shook her head slowly. “You're such an idiot.”

Dean dropped his hands and raised an eyebrow. “Wanna try that again?”

Risa shook her head as she walked back to him. “No, I said what I said.”

Dean gave her a look of annoyance as she reached him and leaned one hip on the table where he stood. She raised her hand to his cheek, her countenance softening.

“I really wanted to be the one.”

Dean scowled in confusion. “The one what?”

Risa pushed her fingers through his short hair. “The one to make you smile.” There was a long pause between them and Dean had no idea how to respond to that. She shook her head and stood up straight, dropping her hand. “But, it was obviously meant to be her.”

Dean scoffed. “What are you talking about?”

“Y/N. You know I'm talking about Y/N.”

He gave a short burst of sarcastic, humorless laughter. “Yeah, right. You think Y/N's gonna make me smile? I've done nothing but pull my hair out since she got here, so ..” He trailed off and looked away from Risa's knowing gaze.

Risa nodded. “Yeah, cause you're an idiot.” She reiterated.

When he looked back at her, Risa was smiling softly and wistfully. “Apologize to her, idiot. Try to get back what you've nearly lost. She's pissed, don't get me wrong, it might take some real groveling on your part but,” she nodded, “she has a very kind heart, so she might forgive you. It's definitely worth a try.”

Dean stared at her for a moment before he looked down at the ground, conceding the truth in her words. “I don't know how to do it.”

Risa gave a gentle laugh. “You're a smart guy. Bet you'll figure it out.”

She put her hand on his cheek again, resting the other on his chest as she stood on tiptoe to reach his lips. She placed a light, lingering kiss there and then pulled away.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean felt a jolt of worry at the farewell. “You’re leaving? Am I losing a soldier?”

She smiled and shook her head. “No, the soldier is staying. I'm saying goodbye to the woman I wanted to be for you. And the man that she…cared about a lot. I hope he lets himself be happy.”

Dean frowned, feeling the weight of her goodbye, with all of its disappointed hopes.

“Goodbye Risa.” He said, and knowing it wasn't enough, he cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her lips, light and brief. “Thank you…for being the woman you are.”

He thought he saw a glimmer of moisture in her eye, but she blinked it away quickly and pulled out from under his hands. She moved to the door in a few strides and, with one last smile thrown over her shoulder, she walked away.

***

That afternoon as the winter sun headed into the west, Dean made the decision to go talk to Y/N. This was ridiculous. They were a camp of less than 150 people, continuing to try and avoid each other was impractical.

He'd just go tell her that.

He walked to the school because she was usually still there this time of day. But when he got there, the schoolroom was empty. He looked around the space that he hadn't seen in over a month and had to shake his head.

What had been a cold empty shed not even three months ago was now a warm, inviting, cozy space. She'd had a little camp stove installed, and on the Northern wall, replacing the fall leaves that had been there, was a giant, beautifully sewn quilt. He recognized it as the same design as the one that hung in the big cabin.

Hannah, who was Ralph-the-farmer's wife, had made it out of old scraps of material. It took a long time to gather enough scraps for a whole quilt so he knew this quilt probably took her months of hard work. But of course she'd gifted it to Y/N and the school. That's what Y/N brought out in people - hard work and generosity.

The small wooden table in the room had four chairs around it now and he wondered where she'd snagged the other two chairs.

The kids’ blanket seating had been enhanced slightly with the addition of a few pillows, and on the western wall, beside the old map, two long, weathered planks of wood had been nailed in place to serve as bookshelves. The books he'd brought back had been placed lovingly on the shelves, not a single corner bent on any of them.

He sighed at the changes and felt a warmth flare to life in his heart. Y/N did this too - seeming to warm the spaces around her without trying.

He walked out of the schoolroom and was just starting to walk back to his tent when he heard high pitched giggles coming from the side of the school just seconds before three small bodies hurtled forward, chasing and grabbing on to one another - Emma and her two little friends. He couldn't remember their names.

When they all saw him, the laughter fell away and Emma's eyes got wide, fear and suspicion filling them instantly. It felt like a punch when he remembered the way she'd climbed up on the chair beside him that one time, shy acceptance in her expression as she asked him to read to her.

He hated that she was so scared of him; he had to try and fix that much, at least.

“Hi girls.” He said in what he hoped was a friendly sounding voice. Emma's friends nodded and waved at him slightly. But Emma stayed on high alert.

He looked at her two friends. “I need to talk to Emma, so you girls head on home now.”

They looked to Emma who looked more scared than ever. But she whispered goodbye to them and they ran off.

Dean got a bit closer to her and went down on his haunches. He took a second to think what to say to her.

“You know, you don't have to be scared of me.”

“I'm not.” Emma said quickly while her big blue eyes were shrouded in fear.

Dean nodded. “Okay, good because…” He struggled to find the words that would help. “Cause I thought maybe I scared you a bit before. When I, uh, needed to talk to your mom alone.”

Emma nodded, the suspicion growing in her gaze. “When you were mad at Mommy.”

Dean shook his head. “No, I wasn't mad.”

Emma gave him a look that said she didn't believe him and he conceded with a nod.

“Okay, I was a little…upset, but I was just…confused. Eventually everything got figured out.”

She didn't say anything, clearly still highly skeptical.

Dean took a deep breath and decided to just go for it. “Anyway, I didn't mean to scare you and I'm…sorry about it.” He cleared his throat. “And I promise not to scare you like that again. Okay?”

Emma stared at him for a long time and he kept hold of her earnest blue gaze throughout her scrutiny. Slowly a smile spread across her face.

“Okay.” She said, accepting him at his word. “Then can you come over again for supper tonight? I can read a bunch of words now, mommy taught me in the books. So, I could help you read the story this time.”

Dean shook his head at the speedy ways of forgiveness in a child's heart, and for the first time in more years than he could remember, a small smile turned up one side of his mouth.

He reached out to pat her cold cheek. “I'm not sure, kiddo. We'll have to wait and see.” Emma was about to argue the point but Dean stood up. “Now it's gonna be dark soon and it's way too cold for you to be out here without a scarf. Don't you have one?” He asked.

Emma nodded. “Yeah, but I don't like it. It itches.”

Dean hummed. “Ah, yeah wool does that sometimes.” He unwound his own scarf from around his neck.

“Here, I'll trade you.” He said as he wound the polyester scarf around her neck and up over her cheeks. “Now, you head home.”

Emma's eyes were bright and happy above her new scarf as she danced away, skipping through the light snow that blanketed the ground.

He watched her go for a moment before turning back to head home himself. But he stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Y/N standing in the path with an arm full of wood. Silence reigned for nearly a full minute. Finally he reached forward to take the wood, but Y/N shook her head.

“No, I’m fine.” She nodded toward the school. “Just stocking up for tomorrow.”

“Right.”

More silence. Y/N’s voice was quiet when she finally spoke. “Thank you for the scarf. It’s been impossible to get her to wear one.”

He nodded and then realized something. “How long were you standing there?”

Y/N took a deep breath, answering on an exhale. “Since just before you promised my daughter not to scare the shit out of her again.”

Dean nodded and closed his eyes. “So, basically the whole time.”

“Yeah, basically.” She took a beat pause. “Thank you for that.”

Dean nodded. She walked towards the school again but before she could close the door and shut him out, Dean called to her, knowing his voice sounded desperate.

“I needed to believe it.”

Y/N turned in the doorway, a frown on her face. “Needed to believe what?”

He took a step closer, feeling choked by all the words he wanted to say that wouldn’t form properly in his mind. Y/N stared at him for a moment more before huffing slightly and walking into the schoolroom. He followed her inside, closing the door against the wind as she dropped the pile of wood into a metal bucket by the stove.

When she turned back to face him, she was scowling. “Dean, I don’t know what you want here. What do you want me to say?”

He shook his head. He didn’t want her to say anything. He wanted to say things, so many things. “No, nothing.” He croaked out.

She crossed her arms over her chest, bunching up her too big jacket. “Then what are you doing here?”

He took deep breaths in through his nose, pushing the words out through a closed throat. “I needed to believe it.” He said again, quieter this time.

“Believe what?” Y/N asked in frustration.

He stepped close to her and she took a step back before refusing to retreat. He gazed at her and wished more than anything that she really could just see inside his head so he wouldn’t have to try and get it out.

But he looked at the ground quickly and then back at her. His breathing was slightly labored and his voice was thin as he spoke. ��You’re so dangerous to me, Y/N.”

He knew he said the wrong words when her forehead wrinkled into a deep frown and she nodded. “Because - I’m a psychic monster? Or because I’m a croat? Why exactly am I dangerous this time?”

“Because you’re you.” Dean answered loudly, speaking over the end of her question. He sighed in frustration; he was getting all of this wrong. He looked up to the heavens, as though they could possibly help him, and tried again, speaking softer.

“I needed to believe that you could control my mind or my…my feelings because…” He trailed off and looked at Y/N hoping she’d just know what he was saying and finish the sentence for him. But she was still just frowning in confusion.

“Because,” he continued, “my feelings when I'm around you are…dangerous. For me, I mean, they’re dangerous. Y/N I can’t…” He shook his head. “The way you look at the world? And the way you change how I see it too? It’s so fucking dangerous.”

He waved his hand, trying to encompass everything. “This world is ugly and shitty, and fucking ended! We literally lived through the end of the world, and now all that’s left is this - this dark, violent, bullshit reality.”

He shook his head and his voice was filled with awe. “Yet somehow you move through it like this,” again he struggled for the words to describe her, “like some kind of lighthouse, like a refuge for every cold, lost thing. And I - “

He cut himself off, not sure he was making any sense. But Y/N had stopped frowning and was now just contemplating him.

He shrugged. “And when I’m around you, I feel warmer than I’ve felt in years, brighter.” He shook his head and moved away from her, embarrassed by his confession and knowing he wasn't saying it right.

He stared at the map as he spoke. “So, I needed to believe that the feelings weren’t real, that you’d just forced me to feel that way. Because if the feelings and thoughts you bring out of me are real?” His shoulders slumped. “God, I’m so fucked.”

He felt Y/N come up to stand just behind him on his right, but he stayed staring at the map as she spoke.

“Why? What’s so dangerous about warmth and light?”

His voice was barely audible as he answered slowly. “Because they bring hope. And hope is a lie. It’s a lie I believed for a long time, a lie I clung to. The lie of possibilities, of family, of good conquering evil. And when the lie was revealed and the world fell apart, the truth almost killed me.”

After a moment he turned to face her and felt his heart skip as he saw her expression of sadness and the tears that sparkled in her eyes, even in the growing dusk.

He lifted a hand to cup her cheek and thumbed away a tear as it fell over her bottom lashes. “And Y/N, if I allow myself to hope again, and it gets crushed by the world again…” He shook his head. “I won’t survive it, I know I won’t.”

He took a step closer to her and felt her warmth penetrating his cold bones. She grabbed his free hand and held it in both of hers as he dropped his other hand from her cheek.

“Or…” she said, her voice filled with conviction, “or we can both hope, both fight, and both win. Even if we never get big wins, the little ones still count. And they add up. Every day we’re here alive is a win. Every time we smile at someone and they smile back is a win. Every time the sun shines so bright you have to close your eyes, every time we hear Emma giggle, every time our stomachs are full, every time we do something to make our home here better - every small thing adds up to big wins.”

Dean shook his head. He knew that trying to resist the pull of her light and life was pointless; she’d been pulling him out of the dark, and changing his plans since the moment she’d come into his life.

He used their connected hands to pull her tight against him and watched heat enter her beautiful, red-ringed eyes.

He bent his head, but before his lips touched hers, he whispered words that came much easier now. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. For all of it. I’m so sorry.”

Another tear fell down her cheek and she smiled and bit her lip. “If I say you’re forgiven will you kiss me?”

He pretended to mull it over and then nodded. “Yes, I think that’s fair.”

In the dusky twilight around them he pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers; his arms tightened around her as she moaned softly.

He was definitely counting that sound as a win.

***

Over the next month Dean resumed his dinners with Y/N, the difference being that he was there nearly every night, and he’d stopped pretending to himself that he didn’t relish every moment with her and Emma.

Over the evenings spent together, Emma had warmed more and more to him so that now she ran to meet him every time he walked through their tent flap, holding her arms up so he’d pick her up and toss her up into the air, catching her in a swooping motion as she came down. It made Y/N gasp every time, but Emma squealed with delight. He’d set her down and she’d grab his hand, nearly three times the size of hers, and pull him over to the table.

He’d take off his heavy canvas jacket within the relative warmth of the tent, and drape it over Emma’s shoulders, making her giggle as she drowned inside it.

They’d sit around the table and share the day's events, though Emma usually did the majority of the talking. It always brought a mixture of feelings when he listened to her bubbly, excited stories. It made him happy and terrified at the same time. She was so precious he couldn’t help but smile, an expression that was becoming easier for him as the days went by. But also, his chest felt tight and he could feel terror creep in as the darkness whispered a warning, telling him that he couldn’t possibly keep her safe. He’d lose her, and Y/N too.

Sometimes that thought woke him from a deep sleep and made him shake and sweat. It was proving incredibly difficult to make all his fears go away. But as soon as he saw Y/N’s smile the next day, it felt easier.

In fact it was becoming increasingly difficult to go home at all, to leave her warm cozy tent and return to his dismal gray one. But they were trying to be careful and move slowly in deference to Emma. They didn’t want her to feel confused or unsure of things now that she finally seemed so at ease.

So they hid their kisses and their caresses until after Emma was sleeping, at which point they’d usually try and brave the cold long enough to enjoy some alone time, even if it was encumbered by bulky jackets and scarves. They never had enough time, but they’d managed slightly more satisfactory make out sessions in the empty school and in Dean’s tent. But they were always too rushed and things had to end too quickly.

Dean ached for her more and more every day.

One evening in mid December, the air was much milder than usual; the day had been unseasonably warm and the night held on to a trace of it. Dean had Y/N pressed up against the side of the thick canvas tent, sucking on the soft skin just below her ear. As her breath caught and she angled her head so that he had better access, he was practically vibrating with how badly he needed to feel her.

As he breathed into her mouth, he slowly unzipped her jeans, letting her tell him no if she wanted. But she just nodded and bit her lip.

He watched her face as he slipped his fingers under the waistband of the leggings she wore as an extra layer against the cold, and then down into her panties. He desperately tried to stifle the moan that wanted to escape as he felt how soaking wet she was for him.

“Goddamn.” He whispered roughly as he slid two fingers inside her, rubbing his thumb against her little bundle of nerves and making her bite harder into her lip to keep quiet. He decided to help her out and closed his mouth over hers, swallowing up her small moans.

He pushed in and out of her body, his cock hardening as she gripped his forearm where it disappeared into her pants while her cunt clenched tight around his fingers. He passed his fingers over her sweet spot a couple of times and she fell over the edge. She broke off their kiss to bury a scream in his neck, muffling it with his thick collar.

As she came down she clung to him, her hot breaths creating puffs of white in the cold air. She moved her hand to cup his hard on through his jeans and was just reaching for his zipper when they suddenly heard Cas’ voice inside the tent.

“Emma, where is your mother and Dean?”

Dean groaned. What the fuck? Y/N squeaked slightly and pulled her hand back, making him absolutely throb with need. He was gonna slaughter his best friend.

They were quickly righting their clothing when Emma's voice reached them, and it didn’t really sound like she’d been sleeping.

“They’re outside the tent, kissing each other.”

Y/N’s eyes got huge and round and Dean stifled a snorted laugh behind his palm while she slapped his bicep.

“It’s not funny. Jesus, we’re gonna traumatize her!” She said in a horrified whisper.

Suddenly Cas’ head poked around the side of the tent and he frowned. “Are you finished kissing?”

Y/N buried her head in Dean’s chest and Dean scowled at the angel. “Well, we sure as hell are now.”

Cas nodded, completely ignoring Dean’s frustration. “Good. You need to come inside. I have incredible news.”

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. “What news, Cas?”

The angel’s smile was surprising in its rarity and it made Dean raise an eyebrow.

“I know why Y/N isn’t a psychic.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

#endverse!dean #endverse!dean x reader #dean winchester smut #endverse!dean series #endverse!dean fan fiction #dean winchester #dean x reader

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malewifesband · 2 months

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Here is a Labru fic I wrote over the last week or so. Post-canon. Extremely sexually explicit, 18+ only please. Trans male Kabru, and yes, Laios is a little chasery about it--be honest, you should expect this of him. 7.5k words.

Summary: With Marcille and Falin both gone temporarily from the castle*, Kabru and Laios have had a high workload, and the stress has started to get to them. Kabru has an ingenious solution to relieve stress, but Laios is not so sure it's a good idea: his feelings for Kabru are confused enough without adding the concept of platonic dick-touching to the mix.

*Will be followed up on in its own fic.

This and future fics will be filed under the tag #the compendium; because I dont like any fanfic sites.

Lots of things seemed to demand Laios' time: a deluge of common folk with grievances and indignant nobles angry at their recent vassalage and farm owners who didn't like whatever ordinance Laois had passed to increase food production because they didn't want to milk minotaurs and still more peasants complaining about the farmer he just saw, and on and on, forever, without end, it would rain pissed off subjects for forty days and forty nights and Laios could drown in the all the information they wanted him to track. Kingship was a nightmare.

He could and would say it was worth the pain to see when his plans succeed and happy faces of people whose lives were improved, but in honesty what actually made it bearable was the company and help of Falin, Marcille, and Kabru. Falin and Marcille were wonderful court mages and fantastic researchers, who made all his stupid ideas into real, actionable policy, and Kabru… Kabru helped him get even that far. It was incredible how quickly he would catch onto complex social dynamics and dissect them, remix them into something Laios could parse, and whisper it to him on the throne. All without missing the next beat.

And for the past month, he’s been over-relying on Kabru, and neither of them have been able to get away from the castle. Marcille and Falin have been having a rough patch, and decided they needed time together away from the castle. Which of course, Laios let them go take a vacation–he owed them that much. But while they've been away, tensions have exploded. The resurfacing of the Golden Continent has lead to droughts across the land as crop fields used to an abundance of rain from the coastline suddenly found themselves far inland, and foreign land holders were demanding compensation, and of course their rulers backed them as it meant they would not have to pay to feed the victims of an impending famine. (And no one seemed willing to farm monsters to eat despite their abundance. Close-minded jerks–it’s a necessity!)

The ordeal has been taxing on them both, and Maybe Kabru more than Laios. He’d been taking dinner in his quarters the last two days, and he's been standing about a foot further from the throne than he was before. Odd little distances from Laios he didn't take before. Laios feels like he's barely seen him in a week. He’d reminded him to eat and sleep plenty, and Kabru insisted that he had been. Laios wasn't sure what else he could really do.

A line of delegates had been leaving the dining room, a late meeting over dinner that perhaps no one wanted to have, one night when Kabru leaned in again, just as the door closed, and said, “Laios, can I talk to you about something, man to man?”

Laios was not sure how else they were meant ro talk, being as they were both men and thus couldn't talk, say, woman to woman or dog to dog, but he replied, “Sure, what's up?”

Kabru’s face darkened. “Not here. Let's talk in your chambers. I’ll meet you there in 30 minutes.”

It didn't feel like a long wait. He’d only really started to settle down when Kabru knocked at the door.

“Come in,” He called, kicking off his boots. Kabru entered, smiled at him, and then turned to bolt the door behind him. He took a deep breath and turned back to face Laios.

“You know I love this job,” he says.

“That’s great–” Laios starts to exclaim, but Kabru holds up a finger to silence him

“BUT. I have no time for women anymore, and it's been… frustrating.”

“What about Rin? She's a woman,” he said. She was pretty and they seemed pretty close.

“That's very true, Laois, Rin is a woman, but she's also like a sister to me. I could never date her.”

“Do you want time off?” He couldn't imagine running things without him, and Yaad insists that because he doesn't know how long he'll last in this world, that he should refrain from interfering so they do not depend too much on his service when he finally passes… Surely though, he’d be okay with filling in for Kabru for a couple of days? Maybe best not to tell him it's so Kabru can go on dates.

“No, it's not a real solution,” he says. He takes a deep breath, and his face flushes, getting darker again. “I don't think I could get away enough to meet my needs, I’d still be sexually frustrated.”

People get mad at you if you suggest they just go to a brothel for an hour or so, so Laios doesn't say that. Instead he tries, “You could invite a girl over for dinner, that seems like a cool date: dinner in a castle!”

The flush darkened.

“That's too serious. I’m not really looking for a girlfriend right now, not with how much work there is to do.” He averted his eyes from Laios' face, and crossed his arms.

“We could have an informal dinner–”

“Laios.” he said, firmly, like calling on a misbehaving dog. Something about that thought made Laios' heart flutter.”I’m trying to ask something of you. Please don't make any suggestions yet.”

He looked sweaty.

“Okay.”

He took another deep breath.

“I think it'd be easiest if we masturbated each other.”

Woah. Laois’ face fell into shock, open mouthed and wide-eyed like a fish gasping on deck.

“C-couldn't you just do that alo–”

Once again, Kabru cut him off, this time by touching his elbow.

“You’ve been pent up too,” he said softly, a small smile on his face, which had an odd effect with him still being flushed and sweaty.

Laios had been trying to pay attention to Kabru the way Kabru pays attention to others (it seemed fair to do that for him when he does it for everyone else), and so he knew this was the manner he talked to people he wanted to convince of something they already said they didn't want. In 15 instances of him doing this, Laios had seen him succeed 11 times. It seemed to work by making himself seem nonthreatening–he leans forward in a way that makes him smaller and exposes the neck, and his voice becomes quieter, almost like a purr, and he always smiles but never broadly in a way that shows his teeth.

He was starting to wonder how instance 16 would turn out. So he went quiet while Kabru went on.

“You’ve been as moody as I have, and I know what incredible stress you've been under with Marcille and Falin away, and your other friends unable to visit… We need to find a way for you to relax, and I promise it’ll be more satisfying if you let someone else touch you.”

That much, Laios knew, was true. Like trying to give yourself a hug, there was a certain sensation that was lacking–maybe the warmth of another person, or the fact that you can feel both the skin of your hand and the skin of your penis/body pressed together that makes it less powerful. He didn't have a ton of experience though, none of it with other men–though maybe that was for the best, since Kabru was not like other men and Laios was unsure what exactly to expect from him, genitally speaking. And all of his experiences had been transactional. And not that great.

Honestly, trying to navigate this strange social experience sounded far more stressful than a good orgasm could relieve. Just the thought of trying to figure out where to put his hands and at what point is it sex and can you have sex with your friends and just be friends and and and–

The hand at his elbow slid up to his bicep, and Kabru's other hand slipped around his opposite wrist.

“Tell me what's on your mind, Laios,” he said, gentle and firm.

“Do you have a cock? I’ve never held another man's cock and wouldn't it just be sex either way?” he answered all in a rush, heat rising from his neck to the tops of his ears. Kabru's grip tightened and then relaxed again.

“Yes and no to both,” he said.

“Wait, yes or no to which?”

“Yes and no to both,” he repeated, “If I have a cock depends on what you're asking for, and it's only sex if we say it is and we are saying it's not! It's not as complicated as you're making it out to be.”

Laios disagreed–this was already complicated. It seemed it would only get more complicated if they went through with it. And maybe even more complicated than that if they didn't after this conversation.

“I’ll be gentle, Laios, you're not the first virgin I’ve been with,” he said with a little laugh.

“Hm? I’m not a virgin,” Laios stated.

Kabru's eyes widened a bit, eyebrows raised.

“You… aren't? You had a girlfriend?”

Laios shook his head. “I had a fiancee, but I didn't really know her.”

Kabru exhaled loudly.

“You know what, it doesn't matter. You just need to tell me if you want to try it out.”

Laois really wasn't sure. Something about the whole concept seemed off, but maybe it was just that it felt so sudden and out of the blue. Maybe Kabru had been thinking about it a while, and this really was his best solution. He pictured Kabru calm and content, like how he looks when he takes his tea in the morning before the stress of the day creeps in. If it was really what would make him happy, it didn't seem right to deny him.

“Kabru…” he said low, unsure how to voice what was on his mind.

Kabru's hand slid into his. It was warm. Comforting.

“Yes?”

“Is this really what you want? You're not just asking me because you think I’d want it?”

This question was apparently very funny. He chuckled, then let his face spread into a grin, and laughed heartily. His hand stayed in Laois' and the one at his bicep grabbed at his shoulder now as if to support him.

“I am doing my best to convince you this is a good idea, and you're worried I just think you want it! Do you see how silly that sounds?” he said once his giggle fit wore down.

“I guess,” Laios replied, “But you lied about wanting to eat monsters.”

“I wasn't the one convincing you to eat them, though.”

“I still don't get how it's not just sex though.”

“Think of it as platonic sex between friends if you must then, just don't go telling people we're having sex or they'll get the wrong idea. Actually, please just keep this secret in general.”

Why does sex always have to be some secret thing no one should know about?

Content that Kabru really did want to have not-sex with him (and now discontented with many other things), Laios was ready to give his answer: “Okay, we can do this.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Kabru started leading him to the bed.

“Oh you meant now,” he said.

“Did you… did you want to wait?” Kabru said cautiously. Their hands were still held together. Warm. Comforting. If none of the rest of this was fun, Laios would like to start holding hands with him more at least.

“Now is as good a time as any,” he answered.

“Because it’d make you nervous anticipating it otherwise.”

It wasn't a question, because if Kabru says something about what you think, it's usually because you did and he knows it. And it would make Laois nervous, sitting on his throne, listening to all those people, and having Kabru lean over him all day knowing what they'd be doing later. Which makes it sound very erotic, too. But in that romantic story way where you can just skip over the part where you have to do a lot that day and it'd be weird and honestly kind of strenuous to just be horny all day long: i.e. not actually all that erotic.

Then again, that last hour of waiting…

“Laios, sit on the bed, please.”

He sat on the bed as commanded, while Kabru put out the lights. Perhaps the dark made it less like sex. He left one dim candle and returned.

There was a poof as Kabru sank into the feather mattress beside him. It was quiet for a second.

It felt like Laios should say something, but what? It felt like all the thoughts had emptied from his brain, it was overwhelming, something was about to happen and it felt as dark inside his head as it did in the room. Like a flickering something in the back of his skull that he couldn't look straight at or it would blind him, but it was too dim to reveal anything else on its own.

“I’m going to undress. You should too, let's not overtax the launderer.”

Commands were good. He could follow commands. He stripped off his doublet and shirt sleeves–he had already ditched his finery as soon as he could get away with it–and started unlacing his breeches. His eyes were quickly adjusting to the dim glow, and now he could see Kabru’s outline.

His shirt was off, and he was bent double to remove his own shoes, showing off his back. He was lean, but you could see the strength in him, like a runner or a gymnast. He sat up, shoes tossed aside, and suddenly bucked his hips, and his pants and underwear dragged down his legs. With a little kick, they too lay discarded in the dark and leaving Kabru’s crotch exposed. Thick pubic hair shined there, but no external genitalia that Laios could see, at least not at this angle.

He was actually very curious about it. Certain monsters endogenously change their sex, such as Basilisks and some varieties of Merrow, under certain environmental or social pressures. Sometimes even due to unique genetics not found in others of their species! Kabru had said that he’d been taking a masculinizing hormone since he was old enough to start puberty naturally (apparently elves were rather accepting about such change), so he didn't develop breasts, but what effect that has on human genitalia, Laios was uncertain of. The monsters he knew of that could transition naturally did not have human-analogous genitalia, so he couldn't really conjecture.

“Your breeches are still halfway down your thighs, your majesty,” Kabru said. He laughed.

“Um. Sorry…” Laios hurriedly finished undressing.

And then it was still again.

“We don't have to do this if you don't want to,” he said. They were almost shoulder to shoulder, close enough that Laios could sense his nearness of him by the radiating warmth alone. He felt cold sitting there naked. He wanted to get closer. He didn't know how.

“...I do want to. I just…” he muttered. Kabru didn't prompt him to continue. Instead he put his arm around his shoulders and waited. After a second, he found the words to say, “I feel like I don't know what to do here, or what you want from me. I don't –I don't want you to not like it.”

“You can start by not trying to ogle me,” he replied.

“O-oh, sorry! I just want to know about how sex transitions work for humans! You see, a basilisk hen can become a rooster under specific circumstances, but they have cloaca, so their external genitalia remains the same, and it's similar for merrows, which you might know as the fish-type of merman–though I suppose you could use certain kinds of healing spells to create a penis and testes if you wanted one–”

“Laios, my friend, can we please focus on the task at hand?”

He sounded angry but didn't pull his arm away.

“Sorry! I’m nervous!”

Kabru sighed deeply again.

“If you need me to tell you what to do, then I will. But you better do it the way I tell you. And if you do…” he leaned in closer, the whisper of his breath grazing Laios' ear, “then I will enjoy it. Understood?”

A lump had just formed in his throat, so Laios could only nod once, animated enough for three.

“Good. I’m going to start by touching you. Try to stay still or lean against me.”

The hand at his shoulder began kneading there–at first it was a dull ache, but it soon began to melt into that warmth-comfort that being held by Kabru felt like. He groaned. Kabru's other hand snaked around his waist, more caressing than the deeper massage at the shoulder.

“You carry a lot of tension lately.” Kabru's voice was so quiet, and spoke directly in Laios' ear now, not an inch between them.

The kneading hand moved from the flesh of his shoulder to his neck. His fingers would press gently against his carotid, and the intimacy of it felt exciting. Like a wolf exposing his neck to his packmates, an ultimate show of trust. ‘You could kill me, but I know you wouldn't because of how much I matter to you.’

His nails dragged against his skin, just barely catching as he pulled his fingers back.

Kabru rested his head against Laios' back, nuzzling the nape of his neck, making his hair stand up. The caressing at his waist became firm, then Kabru dug his thumb into the hollow of his hip. Laois' cock twitched.

With excruciating langor, Kabru pushed that thumb down towards his groin, to the crook of his thigh. His knuckles brushed against his shaft as he began rubbing his inner thigh. The increasing tightness in his groin was becoming impossible to ignore.

“Should we kiss?” Laios blurted out.

Kabru paused his ministrations. And that was agonizing too.

“You want to kiss me?” he asked.

“It feels like we should be.”

He started rubbing his thigh again, but on the top of it, not the hypersensitive area near his half-erect cock.

“...We can try it,” Kabru answered. He spoke so slowly and softly, it was more like he was talking to Laois' shoulder than to Laios proper.

He pulled his hand away from Laios' thigh and cupped his jaw instead. Laios turned towards him, and tried to mirror him, bringing a hand to cup Kabru's face too.

It felt incredible to touch him, it made him feel silly that he hadn't been touching him before now. His skin felt so soft, with a hint of the roughness of stubble down his jaw. He rubbed his thumb over the apple of his cheek, where the flesh was plumpest. He wondered how Kabru's lips would feel.

He didn't wonder long.

Kabru pulled him closer by the nape of his neck until their lips pressed together. The feeling was difficult to describe: Kabru's lips felt soft against his, pillowy, but also a bit rough because they were a bit chapped, like he hadn't had enough water, but it wasn't really those qualities that seemed to matter most–it was this almost electrical feeling, like a static shock that surged through him through his heart to the base of his spine. Laois threaded his fingers into the hair at the back of Kabru's neck, enjoying the silky texture, and tried to deepen the kiss, get more of this feeling–

Clack!

Their teeth clashed and Kabru drew away quickly. He took his hand back from Laios' thigh to tend his teeth.

“Try to walk before you can run,” he hissed behind his hand.

“What does that mean? You're trying to have us masturbate each other and I’m just trying to kiss!”

“If you want to stop–”

“No, I don't want to stop! I just want you to make sense!”

“You are so frustrating!” he cried and fell back on the bed.

It just doesn't make sense! There was some essential divide between the way Kabru was acting and what he was saying and it bothered Laios. For once, he didn't feel like he’d done something wrong here. Except hurting his teeth (his own ached a little too).

“I’m sorry I hurt your teeth,” he said.

“It's fine.” He didn't sit back up.

“Can you please tell me what it is you actually want? None of this makes sense to me. You say you're sexually frustrated, you need to get laid, but we don't tell me to touch you or how you want it–”

“I was going to when I was ready.”

“You couldn't wait to do this, I don't believe that if your goal was quid-pro-quo orgasm, you wouldn't want to go first.”

“And why is that so unbelievable that I’d want you to cum first?”

“I don't know, it was just weird how you were making it all romantic and sensual but you say you don't want it to be romantic.”

He still wasn't getting up, so Laios fell back with him. Now they were both laying down with their legs hung over the side. Laios' erection flopped onto his belly.

“I can't believe you're still hard right now,” Kabru huffs.

“I can't control it, it does what it wants,” he answered.

Kabru chuckled, but then went quiet. Laios wasn't sure what to say. He hoped he hadn't ruined it–he really was enjoying it.

Laios turned towards him on the bed, to look at him, and said, “It’s fun, even though I feel like I don't understand you.”

Kabru didn't turn to face him, he stayed on his back, looking up at the ceiling. But he did talk again.

“I’m sorry. I–I don't know why I thought this was a good idea.” He sounded upset.

Laios grabbed his hand, and hoped that it felt as nice to Kabru as it felt for him.

“Laios…” he said, squeezing his hand, “I think I like you. Romantically, not just as a friend. I’m sorry I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

And that… That made more sense.

“Why didn't you just say something?”

“I’ve tried so many times and the words just die in my throat! Do you know how hard this is? I’ve never liked guys before and now I do and it's you! You, who I spend so much time with and none of it alone–the few times I’ve gotten you alone and tried to flirt or drop a hint or anything, you just don't seem to get it! And then I get so nervous about how to get through to you, I feel ill.”

“You weren't actually sick?!”

That made Kabru turn around. He slapped his hand to Laios' cheek and pulled.

“Focus, stupid!” he said.

“Okay, okay!”

His hold released. But the hand stayed. Laios couldn't help but smile: it really was nice.

“I like it when you touch me,” he said, realized how that sounded, and corrected, “Not just sexually but all the time,” realized how that might sound also, “But I’d like it if you touched me more just maybe as like a boyfriend instead of whatever it is you were doing before!”

Kabru pulled closer to him again–another kiss. This time, Laios let him do what he wanted. It was tender, it sent a shiver through Laios to try not grab him like he was trying to devour him whole, but he couldn't stop himself from cupping his hand over Kabru's and squeezing tight.

Too soon, Kabru pulled away again. He pressed his forehead to Laios' so the tips of their noses touched.

“I’ll fuck you as a boyfriend then,” he purred.

The blood rushed back to Laios’ dick so fast that it left him dizzy.

“Just lie like that a minute, I need to grab something.”

He did as he was told, but he did peek.

The candlelight only offered a glimpse of Kabru's silhouette as he got up and knelt by his bag–Laios hadn't noticed he'd brought one. He dug around, and Laios heard the clink of glass against glass. When he stood back up, he held a bottle, some larger, translucent object Laios couldn't make out, and what looked like a bunch of leather straps, and he held something else behind his back. He placed the leather straps and the glass bottle on the end table, and held out the larger object. It was a glass phallus, complete with textured bumps and a tapered end to keep it in place once inside someone. It was fairly small, as phalluses go, but it looked like it would feel perfect inside you.

“Get up on the pillows, and lie on your back.”

He scooched up and fluffed the pillows.

“Can you guess what I'm going to do with this?” he asked, very cheerily.

“Um. Put it in me?” He’d typically used his fingers when touching himself, and didn't have something as nice as this.

“Wrong! I'm putting this one in me–though if you ask nicely, I might let you do it. But this–” he pulled his hidden hand from behind his back. Held in his grasp was something Laios had never seen before. It was certainly also a phallus, certainly human shaped (complete with balls), but of a material he’d never encountered–not glass, nor the stuffed leather ones they sell in sex shops with the irritating looking stitches, but something stiff yet flexible enough to bend with the incredible girth of the thing. Maybe rubber? You couldn't easily get rubber on this continent since the trees won't grow here–it must've been expensive.

“This is the one I want to put in you.”

Laios gasped.

“That thing is massive! Are you sure?!”

He put the smaller one on the end table, and dropped the big one on the bed, letting it fwump and roll into Laois' side as he got busy putting on his harness. Laios was quickly coming to understand what he meant by ‘I have a cock depending on what you're asking for’. He meant to thrust it inside him like any guy with one growing out of his crotch could.

“Calm down, Laios. I’m not going to just shove it in there. I'm just putting it on, for the feel of it. We’ll stretch you out first.”

Laois could feel himself blush from head to toe. His unattended cock twitched painfully, but he didn't dare touch himself before Kabru got back on the bed and touched him first.

Thankfully the buckling and snapping came to an end. Kabru leaned over to grab the massive dildo, and secured it in place. The straps dug into the flesh around his hips and thighs, and wrapped around the base of the cock and the balls, almost fusing it to him. He uncorked the bottle and poured some of the liquid into his palm, then began stroking himself with it.

“The natural rubber can catch skin and hair if left dry, and it's really uncomfortable. This will help it feel more natural, and we’ll apply more once you're ready of course.”

“Can you get back on the bed now?” Laios said impatiently.

“Ah, now that you're thinking of me ‘like a boyfriend’ you know exactly what you want?” he said.

“Yes! I thought we were clear on that. Do we have to talk more? I’d really rather you touch me again,” he replied, increasingly aggravated every second Kabru was keeping him waiting like this wasn't his idea.

“I don't think I understand you,” he said, but to his credit he was on the bed now, “Any time I try to tease you and flirt with you, it blows up. I say the most humiliating thing I’ve ever said, completely lose my composure, and that's what works. Everytime.”

Laios huffed. He really thought they'd gotten over this by now. He grabbed Kabru's wrist and pulled him closer.

“Just say the thing that you mean first, and you won't be so embarrassed later. Fucking hell,” he said as Kabru toppled on top of him.

Kabru got back up, supporting himself by one elbow as he readjusted his cock, which was currently trying to rut itself into the crease between Laios' thigh and hip.

“Fine, here's my true feelings: you are such an ass.” He slapped his dick down on top of Laios' and dropped down, squeezing them between their bodies and winding Laios. He tried to moan, but with all the air pushed out of his lungs (on purpose!), all he could manage was a gasp.

“You still *gasp* like me though, right?”

He didn't answer, he just nuzzled into Laios' shoulder, kissing the skin where it joined the neck, and then slowly rocked his hips. He wasn't really expecting what it felt like–maybe it would've felt like a handjob did, but it didn't. It felt gentler than that, gentler than the constricted feeling of penetrating someone, yet with firm pressure on his sensitive shaft and head. The weight of Kabru on top of him, pressing their bodies together, felt incredible. He whimpered, his arms moving on their own to hold Kabru around the waist.

“Now you're the one who doesn't make sense. Be more confident that I like you even though I think you're a stupid asshole.”

Laios gasped again and turned to putty–Kabru picked up the pace and kissed his neck in earnest. Laois wanted to wrap his legs around him too, just take every part of him into himself, just absorb him, but Kabru's hands at his hips were locking him in place, and it would take an extreme force of will to try lifting them when it risked Kabru letting go. He went faster, and faster, kissing and tonguing his neck, until–

Kabru stopped abruptly, panting a little (Laois panted a lot). His dick throbbed with need.

“Don’t stop now…!” he whined.

Kabru sat up on his heels.

“I have a mission, Laios,” he said. He leaned over to grab the bottle of lube. He uncorked it, poured more in his palm, recorked it one-handed and put it back. With much squelching and spurting, he lubed up all five of his fingers and the palm too. He positioned himself so that his thighs created a wedge pillow for Laios' hips to rest on. Then, he pulled him up. Kabru's strength was always impressive–but maybe it was more his familiarity with the human body and how it moves, and how to use its natural points of leverage against someone–or for them, if he was about to fuck them in the ass–and that was even more impressive.

It was lucky that Laios tended to keep himself clean to facilitate his own masturbation, because Kabru didn't seem to think about that at all. He took a deep breath and got ready for what he expected next.

Probing finger number one entered, hooked upwards to seek out his prostate. He stroked in and out until he found it, and hit it hard. Precum shot from the tip of his dick. His sphincter clenched from the sudden excessive stimulation.

“Agh! Don't be so rough!”

“Sorry,” he said in his sweetest voice, “I was having fun.”

With a much gentler hand, he stroked it slowly. Once Laios relaxed again, he inserted a second finger. He rubbed at that hollow of his hips as he stroked, then began scissoring his fingers, a little wider each time. he was methodical, trying to work him out as fast as he could. Laios grabbed for his free hand again–he missed how comfortable it was beneath him, and it felt like all he could do was anticipate when Kabru would decide to come down to him again. He put in the third finger.

All of this felt so new, mostly because it was. He’d never had anyone else inside of him, even if he’d done it himself regularly. He’d had sex, but not with a close friend, not with someone who he enjoyed clinging to like slime. It was nerve-wracking, it was exciting, it was a fourth finger squeezing inside.

Kabru whistled.

“To be honest Laios, I was not actually confident I’d be able to get it in tonight, but it seems we will. Good job.”

“Th-thanks,” he said hoarsely. He’d been moaning nonstop for the last ten minutes, so his voice was about spent.

Kabru kept thrusting his fingers, brushing Laois' prostate on every third plunge in exactly, never really letting Laios lose himself in the rhythm of it, or letting him go ahead and cum. He got down to the last knuckle of his hand, and stretched all four fingers inside wide.

“You have definitely done this before,” he said.

“Um, just–ahhh–just to myself.”

Slowly he closed his fingers and withdrew them.

“I think you're ready. Now you get to get me ready.”

Once again, he returned to the end table, pulled the bottle of lube and the much smaller dildo. He handed them to Laios, who had sat up to see what he was doing.

Kabru laid back on his elbows, and lifted his legs to give Laios better access to his crotch.

“Put some lube on that and stretch me out a little so you can put it in,” he said.

Laios rubbed the dildo with the lube, making sure to coat his fingers as he did so.

“Bend down to get to me,” he instructed.

So Laios bent over, ducking the monstrous cock he was going to be taking very soon, and at this angle he could get a good look at Kabru's anatomy.

He had been wrong about the lack of external genitalia–his clitoris hung outside of the labia majora, engorged and standing at half-attention despite the weight of the skin and fat sitting above it.

“Yours is huge,” he said, awestruck. He touched it, holding it between two fingers, stroking it not unlike how he would the tip of his own and eliciting a moan from Kabru. He wondered what it would feel like against his tongue. “Could I suck it? Just for a minute?”

Kabru went very still for a second.

“Please do.”

Laios dove for it, using one arm to support himself, and the other to feel what he couldn't see in the dark, and letting the showy dildo flop onto his head. He took it into his mouth, licking the underside with the flat of his tongue and pressing it into his pallet. He had neither sucked dick nor eaten pussy before, so he couldn't truly compare, but he liked that Kabru's…–well, it should be fine to call it a cock even if there was a much larger artificial one above, dirtying his hair right now–Kabru’s cock was almost exactly a mouthful. It made it easy to loll it about on his tongue, testing the weight and density of it. And all his play seemed to be working wonderfully for Kabru–his thighs shook and his breathing was a bit shallow. He found a rhythm he liked and focused on using his fingers now. He spread apart the lips, and tried to finger him.

His head was unceremoniously pushed away. The heavy dildo flopped down onto the bed.

“You haven't fingered anyone before, have you?” Kabru asked, voice a little shaky.

“Ummm… No.”

Kabru just nodded.

“I’ll show you another time. You won't stay stretched forever,” he said, scratching at Laios' scalp for a second before continuing to push him away, “Go on, lay back as you were.”

He picked up the smaller dildo–which Laios had forgotten in his eagerness–and slowly worked it into himself. Once it was in, he left it there, no further fussing with it. He instead turned his attention back to Laios and his splayed legs. But instead of wedging himself under Laios again, he climbed over him, straddling one of his thighs, and said, “You still have to finish lubing it up, though.”

With a sweet smile, he passed the bottle to Laios again, who uncorked it while he stared down the massive, heavy battering ram strapped to his royal advisor. He poured the viscous substance directly onto the shaft of it and passed the bottle back to Kabru to deal with. He took it in both hands, pumping it slowly, being sure to fully coat it. Kabru hummed in contentment.

“Can I ask something?” Laios said, careful not to stop his work as he talked.

“Hm? Sure, go on,” he answered. He sounded almost blissful.

“If you can't feel it, why do you enjoy this?”

“Um. I suppose…I just like to watch.

“So you’d like it if I sucked this one too?”

Laios could see his Adam's apple bob in the dim light.

“Yes. Yes, I would. But stay focused, please,” he said. He stayed Laios' hands.

In a few swift motions, Laios' ass was back in Kabru's lap, the head of his dick pressed against his sphincter. That slim and strong body holding him in place, readying to fuck him–Laios figured he could understand why Kabru liked watching his partners. It felt good to know you made someone else enjoy themself; it made him feel sexy to see Kabru so focused on him.

Man, he really didn't get to feel sexy often. People didn't seem to really desire him like that. Granted, it's been uncomfortable a lot of the times he's noticed someone else was interested in him, though he wasn't sure why. Why should they be interested in a body like this? There was nothing cool or special about it. It just was. It didn't feel sexy.

So then why did Kabru liking him feel different?

The head pressed past the ring of his asshole, spreading him wide all at once. He inhaled sharply, his legs reflexively tightened around Kabru, forcing him in deeper. Kabru caught himself before he pushed too far too fast. He kept his pace slow and Laios tried to hold his legs still, but couldn't stop the way they twitched. Soon, the head brushed against his prostate. The sheer girth of it as it moved past made it feel like it’d been getting hammered. And still it kept coming for what felt like hours before Kabru finally bottomed out.

When he did, he leaned forward, pushing even deeper, forcing a deep moan from Laios. He couldn't reach Laios' face, but he could press his face to Laios' chest and pepper it with kisses. He ran the tip of his tongue around a nipple, and it made Laios shudder. So he locked his legs around Kabru, squeezing their bodies together.

“You can start thrusting; I’m ready,” Laios said, voice husky with desire. His cock ached for release.

Kabru complied, slowly and carefully at first, but gathering speed each time. The pressure on his prostate on the up-stroke was immense, and as the strokes came faster and faster, the ripples of pleasure coursing through his body were becoming crashing waves. Small gasps and moans too were becoming louder, and if he didn't control himself, the whole castle was going to hear him getting his back blown out. He bit down on his hand to muffle himself.

Soon, he came: thick ropes coated him and Kabru's bellies. He expected Kabru to slow down and stop, but he kept up his feverish pace. The sensation left him feeling dizzy, fuzzy in the head and weak in the limb. It certainly wasn't bad but he was going to pass out if he kept this up.

“Kabru,” he tried to say, but it was so hard to speak like this. He tapped him on the shoulder.

Kabru responded, his own voice hoarse and gasping now, “I’m close, I’m so close!”

No stopping him now–Laios clung for dear life onto Kabru's shoulders. He was flaccid now, but every stroke past his prostate forced more seminal fluid from the tip of his dick, milking him dry.

With a moan and a shudder, Kabru finally relented. He rested his head on Laios' tits, just a moment, giving a few soft kisses while he caught his breath. Laios rubbed his shoulders, keeping his touch light, not wanting to risk arousing him again (he could not handle it if Kabru tried to rut him again so soon).

“Kabru,” he mumbled, too tired to talk properly.

Kabru looked up. His face looked blissful and sleepy. “Hmm?”

“You gotta pull out, man, I am so tired.”

He pushed himself up back to the kneeling position and carefully pulled out. And so Laios immediately fell asleep.

A few moments of sleep later, he woke to Kabru climbing back in bed with him, holding a warm towel.

He was dressed in his night wear, and more candles were lit again so it wasn't quite so dark.

“Here,” he said, pressing the towel into Laois' hands, “Get cleaned up, and put your bed clothes on.”

Laios took the towel and began to wash up what he could. He couldn't have been asleep for very long, as the mess on his stomach hadn't completely dried down, but the feeling of the lube was starting to itch. It was kind of awkward with Kabru just sitting there, and it seemed Kabru felt the same, since he decided it was a good time to talk.

“So… you're feeling alright? No pain?”

Laios hadn't been prepared to talk yet. His mouth felt sticky.

“Mm. Mostly. Just feel kinda sore.”

“Well, let me know if you need a healing spell or anything.” He drummed his fingers on his legs, pointedly not looking at Laios. For his privacy, Laios guessed, though that did feel silly to be concerned about with a guy you were just inside of.

“Water would be nice,” Laios answered.

“Of course, let me grab your glass,” he said, springing back to his feet. He was just acting kind of weird in a way Laios couldn't place.

Kabru had brought in a jug and a couple glasses when he'd come back, along with the hot towel. If anyone saw him passing by, they’d probably think Laios had been sick–at least that's what Laios would think.

Laios finished cleaning himself off and bunched up the towel to put in the laundry later just as Kabru turned back to him with the water.

“Thanks,” he said, taking it and gladly chugging it.

Kabru sat on the bed in an awkward silence while Laios picked up discarded clothes and the towel and got himself into something clean, and he was still waiting like that when Laios sat down with him again.

“Are you, like, okay?” Laios asked, trying not to yawn. But fuck was he still tired.

Kabru exhaled hard. He was sweaty again–he was sweaty a lot though.

“What exactly did you mean by saying you wanted me to ‘touch you like a boyfriend’?” Kabru said politely, his focus entirely on Laios. Scanning him, almost.

Laios had not thought of the statement as ambiguous, but pressed to answer he wasn't now sure what he did mean by that. Why the hell did he say it that way?

“I mean that…You're my friend, and I care about you a lot, and I couldn't do any of this kingly mess if you weren't here…” Kabru's stare was intense, and it was making him nervous, “and… You know you're really handsome? And…” he was turning red and sweating, talking was getting physically more difficult, “and… tonight, that was nice? We should… again. Sometime.”

‘Be more confident that I like you…’

Why couldn't they talk about all this before milking his prostate and continuing to fuck him for like ten extra minutes?

An arm snaked around his waist, pulling them close. Laios just wanted to go to sleep like this, pressed against him. He rested his head on top of Kabru's–his hair smelled nice, probably some perfume he used inbetween washes.

“Would you like to be my boyfriend, then, Laios? Is that what you're trying to say?”

Laios dared lay a kiss in that bed of curls; he dared to wrap his own arms around Kabru.

“Yeah, it is.”

“We’ll have a lot to discuss if we want this to work,” he said.

“Probably. Being king doesn't help,” Laios answered, “But let's worry about that in the morning. I just wanna sleep with you now.”

Kabru squeezed him tightly, nuzzling his neck again, breath against his pulse, speaking softly.

“You should phrase that differently–I could go for another round.”

Locking Kabru in a hold, Laios fell back on the bed.

“You're insatiable! Let me rest!”

They laughed together for a minute as Kabru broke the hold and got up to put out the candles. Laios yawned deeply, and got under the covers, and made space for Kabru. He pushed a pillow over for him. When Kabru climbed into bed, he laid face to face with Laios.

He looked so beautiful in the moonlight, soft and happy, and his eyes seemed to sparkle. Being with Kabru made him happy, even if they didn't always understand one another. He could trust him, and he felt like Kabru trusted him too. He wanted to kiss him again, fall asleep close that way. So he did. They lay curled around each other, lost in dreams.

All that mattered that night was that they wanted each other's company: Everything else could wait.

#the compendium #labru #kabru #laios touden

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 2 months

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03/26-27/24 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Rhys Darby; Great Big Cow Band; Leslie Jones; Vico Ortiz; Guz Khan; Kristian Nairn/Con O'Neill; Rachel House; David Jenkins; Watch Parties; Kudoboards; Trans Day of Visibility; Fan Spotlight; Cast Cards; Our Flag Means Fanfiction; Never Left - Podcast; We Need to Be a Lighthouse Pixel Art; Articles; Supportive busineses; love notes; Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika;

First of all, tonight I wanted to say thank you, I received so much love yesterday when I cancelled the recap. I still haven't gotten to respond to all the messages, although I promise they are coming! Thank you for giving me so much love, it really meant so much. The last few days have been rough on me personally for various reasons (not because of the recap) so I appreciate all the love, it got me through the day! 😭🫂

PS: This is going to be a Long Post is Long so I'm gonna throw a break in here so I don't kill all your feeds!

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

= Rhys Darby =

So many Rhys Sightings!!!!

Source: Rhys' Instagram

== Great Big Cow Band ==

For those of you not already aware, Rhys' son Finn's band Great Big Cow debuted in New Zealand yesterday! Rosie posed a picture with commentary on being a proud band mom!

Source: Rosie's Instagram

== Leslie Fucking Jones ==

Are you in New York, NY? Wanna see Leslie Jones in person? She'll be at The Comic Strip at 1568 Second Ave. (between 81st and 82nd st) on March 30, 2024 at 8 pm! For tickets call 212-861-9368!

== Vico Ortiz ==

I can't remember if this has been announced before, but just in case, Vico will be at the Phoenix Fan Fusion May 24-26 2024! Get tickets at Phoenixfanfusion.com! Source: Vico's Instagram

= Guz Khan =

Samba's keeping our friend Guz Khan hyped! If you're in Los Angeles (Apr 24) or New York (Apr 26) you can see Guz Khan in person! For more info visit @guzkhanofficial

== Con O'Neill / Kristian Nairn ==

Con and Kristian together again 😭 Con O'Neill's Instagram

== Rachel House ==

Photo shoot with Rachel House for DenizenMagazine/SundayMag! Just some fun pictures of one of our pirates! Source: Rachel House's Instagram

== David Jenkins ==

I ran out of image slots so took a screenshot, please visit @ofmd-ann's post here.

== Watch Parties! ==

Join SaveOFMD crew for another watch through of These Thems! It's free to watch on youtube!

When: March 28 7:30pm GMT/ 3:30 pm EDT / 12:30 pm PDF Who: Via SaveOFMD Crew On Socials Hashtags:

#CoolPirates

#SaveOFMD

#TheseThems

== Kudoboards Reminder! =

Thank you to @sharpenyersword on Twitter for setting up ALL THE KUDOBOARDS! The rest of the Kudoboard's will close on the 31st.

Go send the cast and crew some love folks!

David Jenkins

Nathan Foad

Con O'Neill

Ruibo Qian

Leslie F*cking Jones!

Matthew Maher

Vico Ortiz

Samson Kayo

Alex "Ass Tonight" Sherman!

David Fane

Gypsy Taylor

Kristian "Wee John Wondays" Nairn!

Samba "BTS and Baking King" Schutte!

Fellow OFMD Fan Crew!

== Trans Day of Visibility! ==

Save OFMD Crew is celebrating Trans Day of Visibility on the 31st by highlighting trans and nonbinary creators, activists, cast and crew, and allies as well! Wanna celebrate someone? You can use this graphic by @snejpowa and give a well deserved shoutout! Please use #CoolPirates! Trans/Nonbinary creators-- please us the hashtag to promote your platform! Save OFMD Crew will give a you a boost!

== Fan Spotlight ==

= We Need To Be A Lighthouse! Pixel Art! =

Our dear @blueberreads is back to having heart palpitations with Alex Sherman and Samba sharing their latest pixel art vid on Instagram! Congrats <3 Want check out the whole amazing video? Visit any of these places! Tumblr / Twitter / Instagram

= Our Flag Means Fanfiction! =

Are you ready for another episode of Our Flag Means Fanfiction? The podcast is available on Spotify below! This week is The Steddy Hands Episode!

= Never Left! =

Another episode of the Never Left Podcast is up! The third part of Beautiful Princess Disorder is up! Please visit their Linktr.ee to check out their new episode!

Art Source: @AmysBirdHouse Never Left Instagram

= Cast Cards =

More of our extended cast from @melvisik! I'm behind a few days so lots at once, with our beloved, gone too soon, STEAKY! John Bartholomew / Widow Ellen Conroy / Steak Knife

== Articles ==

Not specific to OFMD-- but it's about Rhys' son's band!

== Supportive Businesses! ==

So I ran out of room for images! So I'll to make a separate post for this, but Bank Square Books in CT put together a really cool list of books they'd recommend to various OFMD Characters. Obviously we've got some crew members on their staff! Even cooler, they do book bundles so if people are interested you can get lots of books for reasonable prices! OFMD Character Recommended Book list (note this link doesn't include which characters they're recommended to, you can check out their twitter link for the images / recommendations per character)

Twitter

== Love Notes ==

Hey Lovelies! @blakbonnet was kind enough to explain to me the little lovely letter game going on here on tumblr, and I think it is the coolest and sweetest thing! 😭😭😭 I'm trying to participate too but i'm gonna be a little slow! Sorry for the delays! Today got away with me!

But seriously, how damn awesome are all of you sending love like that!?!?! You're just opening up and sending and receiving love, and I feel like it's 100% what we all need right now (and helping some folks normally nervous to get some love!). It's just incredibly heartwarming, and I wanted to say how happy it made me to see it.

This post is getting insanely long so I'm gonna cut off here tonight, but I wanted to share something lovely our lovely Pirate Queen Ruibo Qian shared on IG. -- I adore all our mutual weirdness and imperfections and there's no other people I'd rather be weird and imperfect with than you all :) Good night and good day lovelies!

Original Post / Ruibo Qian's Instagram

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Tonight's gifs suggestion submitted by @brainfugk ! As you can see, the theme is "Shake Weight"... and "ARMS". Src of twitter post that was sent my way was: @snejpowa (I pulled tumblr gifs cause I wasnt sure how to transfer them from twitter, sorry for any confusion!

Darby Gif courtesy of @fandomsmeantheworldtome

Taika Gif Courtesy of @nero-in-a-petticoat

#Spotify #daily ofmd recap #daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #taika waititi #rhys darby #rachel house #guz khan #leslie jones #vico ortiz #big cow band #rosie carnahan darby #con o'neill #kristian nairn

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zoroshark · 1 month

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Hey! This is Zoro coming with an update about my health as quite a few things have happened the past couple of months. As some may know, I've been dealing with chronic pain and illness since February of last year as mentioned in this post here.

A quick summary of it was that I have been dealing with constant bladder and stomach problems suddenly that were disrupting day to day life as they were painful and constant. Despite the multiple hospital visits, nothing was really done and at the time I could only wait to see certain specialists (which required a lot of money to see). Recently however, I finally got an answer to what was causing me pain in one part of my stomach! The culprit was my gallbladder and it has been removed!

The rest of the post will be caught off so for those who want to read in more detail, but one issue has been solved (at least i hope so)!

I also want to note here and thank everyone who's been supportive of me during this rough patch in my life. I also want to thank those who sent money for the GoFundMe! However, due to a few circumstances which will also be explained in the read more section, I will be refunding it all to those who donated.

TLDR version of my reason is that I was advise to do so for the eligibility medical/financial benefits I've been looking into. The refunds should be sent in about a week, so keep and eye out!

TW for Medical related subjects such as surgery.

For what was causing me pain in my stomach, or at least one of the reasons:

Turns out I had gallstones that somehow CT scans and ultrasounds didn't pick up last year, despite the pain and discomfort I was in from them. It got to the point where the pain was so unbearable, I was crying for about 2-3 hours before going to the ER. They found one stone had thicken walls through the ultrasounds and my gallbladder was infected from these stones.

Because of the findings, I underwent surgery to completely remove it during my stay in the hospital. I am now close to two weeks post-op and so far it has relieved most, if not all, of the constant pain I've been in my upper right. While I still have issues elsewhere in my body, it feels nice to have one issue solved. I just hope I don't need another trip to the ER anytime soon.

As for the detailed explanation for refunding the GoFundMe donations:

A few months back I after the go found me, I was accepted in a financial assistance program that made doctor's visits way cheaper. From close to hundreds of dollars to 3 dollars, that was way more an affordable price range for me. Despite that, i kept the donations on hold just in cause anything changed or something wasn't covered by the program until now.

Along with that, I've been applying for disability as I am considered disabled by my psychiatrist due to my mental health. After talking to a few folks who knew about the system, they mentioned that the money from the fundraiser could harm the process in gaining these benefits. Their recommended course of action was to refund the money as a precaution, so I'm following their advice. After the refunds have gone through, I will be closing the fundraiser.

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Again, I want to give a massive thank you everyone in general who have supported me through all this. Its been difficult, especially since I had to accommodate to the pain and changes in my body. There has been MANY ups and for sure downs, but I'm still holding on!

Thank you for reading on this update, and expect to see me slowly become active again on here! I'm still in my Zonai phase so expect more content revolving around that, along with possible Zora content. Original works not involving fandoms will also (hopefully) be posted too!

Im also thinking of opening commissions in the future! I'll need to ask about that first due to what I mentioned above, but as far as I'm aware, I should be okay to do so (but don't quote me on it). So keep an eye out!

#zoro rambles #health update #tw medical #gofundme update #lifes been freaking rough man #i still have these other issues giving me problems #but one thing at a time i guess #long post #feels weird thinking I don't have a gallbladder anymore though #I gotta be more cautious about my health now

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ftm-radio · 1 month

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My gender is 4 years old

...and four days, as of April 15th. This post is a bit late. 😅

Four years ago, all the confusing little puzzle pieces I'd been collecting came together in a genuine eureka! moment and I realized I was transgender. It was exhilarating and terrifying and it undeniably changed my life for the better.

The last few years have felt pretty damn slow and I've had to scramble over a few frustrating obstacles (never changing my name AGAIN, lmao, that was annoying as fuck) but it's all been worth it and now it feels like I'm really making headway.

I started testosterone this past year! I did that! I'm almost 7 months on T now! Currently on a dose of two pumps of gel, which I have only missed applying once in all that time because I was literally sick. The changes are gradual but they are real and they have already brought me so much joy and made me so much happier in my humble flesh prison. 💗

The most anticipated change for me (and for a lot of transmasc folks, I imagine) is my voice, and BOY (heh) am I happy to share this data comparison with you:

[ LEFT: A screenshot from the Voice Pitch Analyzer app, dated November 3rd, 2021. It shows that OP's voice registers fully within the female voice range. RIGHT: Another screenshot from the app, dated April 12th, 2024. This one shows that OP's voice registers mostly between the Androgynous and Male voice ranges. ]

My voice is so different now. It sounds different, it feels different, and in just the last week or so I swear it has gotten a little rougher and raspier and I am LIVING. I could not be happier!!!

...okay, fine, I could be happier lmao.

I'm adjusting to my deeper voice and still learning how to use it in a way I like & that feels best to me, so I'm starting to do some casual at-home voice training again after basically forgetting about the concept completely since 2021. (Whoops.) But I am already so much happier and more content with my voice than I have ever been in my life, so it's only getting better from here, lads. <3

I've also had to go to a lot of appointments and answer a ton of phone calls about said appts recently because I kinda fucked up my eyeball (it's better now, don't worry! and be gentle to your eyes, they are delicate and eye drops are so fucking annoying when you're doing them seven times a day, jfc) and my voice has reached a point where I was a lot more comfortable interacting with strangers and I also didn't notice any surprise or confusion when I introduced myself with a male name! It was kind of amazing.

Also singing is even more fun now. I love love LOVE singing along with a male vocalist and feeling the way my voice kinda rumbles through my chest. 10/10 sensory experience.

Other changes aren't nearly as exciting or obvious as my voice, but here's a quick (?) rundown, for those who are curious:

Mood — Gotta be honest, I don't think I've really noticed any significant change in my day-to-day mood, though I may not be the best judge for this because I have trouble figuring out what/how I'm feeling in general, tbh. But I think I have certainly gotten more comfortable and content with myself and I'd even go so far as to say I feel a little more confident these days. It's nice, I appreciate it.

Acne — I definitely noticed a change in how my acne presents itself on my face. I wouldn't say it's worse than before (I've had very bad acne since I was a young teenager and only got medication for it like, last year which has helped immensely) but I think it's different. More little red spots and roughness than the unpleasant and painful pimples I'm used to. I don't even mind it, really. Oddly affirming.

Facial Hair — I've got facial hair. I really do!!! Not clickbait!!! It's not much, not enough for me to be brave and take my dad up on his offer of shaving lessons quite yet, but it has grown in enough that I don't feel silly including it in self portraits! 🤭🧔🏻 Got a little bit of a mustache happening, a little bit at the sides of my face, some fuzz on my chin (with one LONG hair that I can only assume has been greedy and stealing his brothers' growth), and a frankly surprising lil patch of hair under my jaw. On a semi-related note, not sure if my brows have gotten much darker/thicker. They might have? idk.

my new discord icon, hehe... 👁💜🪓

Body Hair — I have gotten a little more hair on my forearms, and it may have gotten a little darker too! I have a tattoo on my arm just below my left wrist and it's been surprisingly helpful for measuring arm hair growth because for years my tattoo was not covered by hair at all but the left side of it's a little fuzzy now... 😏 I've gotten more noticeable hair growth on my upper arms, which were basically hairless before (free gender euphoria every time I put on my T) and on my thighs. Don't think my lower legs have gotten much hairier, and I'm a little impatient about it lmao. I want to get hairy enough to rival my brother.

Energy/Appetite — Can't say I've really noticed any differences here? I am not a very active person and I already struggled with appetite and getting myself to eat before I started T (thank you adhd & poor eating habits 🥲💀), so I can't quite tell if I'm ignoring more hunger signals than usual. 😅 I am hoping to get more active and start doing more physical activity now that it's starting to get warmer outside again, so hopefully that will help me see these sorts of changes and also get me into some better eating habits as I expend more energy and work up a proper appetite! (Also, since we're on the topic... a reminder for all of us that taking care of yourself and feeding the body you live in is a million times more important than aesthetics and numbers on a scale. ❤)

Menstruation — I am still getting my period right on schedule, but I am happy to say it is considerably lighter than it was before I started testosterone! My period has begun getting shorter, too. It lasted for roughly 7–9 days before, but I was bleeding for exactly 7 days last month, and only 6 days this month. I'm not sure if this trend will continue at such a dramatic rate, but if my next round is only 5 days I will be very excited about it, lol. My uterus can retire any day now, please...

Bottom Growth — if any of my friends read this part, don't speak to me about it lmao — Yeah... there's a little bit of something happening down there. Not a lot, and I haven't really noticed any pain or sensitivity, but there's a Difference. Aaaaand I like it. 😌 I am looking forward to any and all future developments. 😏👉🏻👉🏻

Okay! I think that's it, really.

I know I haven't been super active on this blog for quite a while now (I have really gotten into fandom blogging on my main lmao, and also discord is my favorite thing right now, it's where 90% of my friends live) so I hope this nice, long, ramble-y post makes up for that a little bit. <3

Not gonna make any promises that I'll post here more often, but y'know. I might. It could happen. Definitely not leaving this blog to sit and gather dust, that's for sure. I'll still be reblogging stuff semi-frequently, even if I'm not writing up my own posts.

So goodbye for now, and thanks for tuning in! 👋🏻📻💖💙✨️

28 notes · View notes

senorabond · 7 months

Text

Rumor Has It: Chapter 4 Peña x f!reader x Pike

Rumor Has It (Peña x f!reader x Pike)

Pairings: Javier Pena x f!reader; Marcus Pike x f!reader; future Pena x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 4 Summary: Marcus is still reeling from your phone call and can’t stop thinking about the last time he saw you. Peña is ready to get things moving.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Chapter Warnings: no use of y/n, previous relationship (Marcus x Reader), flashback, semi-public/workplace sex (evidence locker after hours), unprotected p-in-v (stay safe, folks), probably talking about cum way too much?, Dom/sub dynamic, soft Dom!Marcus, praise kink, you are such a good girl, denying all the feels, Javi is apparently a leg guy

Reader/Character notes: Reader is fem!afab; No mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color.

Words: 4.6k

Author’s Note: This was going to be the final part of the evidence locker flashback, buuut it turned into part 2 of 3. There will likely also be more future flashbacks of Marcus and Reader, perhaps in the form of one-shots. Javi has always had a mind of his own, but he really surprised me while writing this chapter! As always, thank you SO SO MUCH to my beeeeautiful beta @kilamonster for helping me find Javi’s voice and mannerisms. You help keep me going!!

Masterlist || Previous Chapter

Present Washington, D.C.

Marcus sits on his couch, bare feet propped up on the coffee table, summarizing case notes for court on his laptop. He’d be giving a deposition later that week, and wasn’t looking forward to catching up on all the work he’ll miss for the actual trial. The case you and he worked on before your move to Texas was set for a few weeks away. Six months after you made the arrest, and it feels like things are finally coming full circle – both with the case, and with you.

Your call had been a shock to his system, leaving him distracted at work and sleeping restlessly these last few days. Marcus would be lying if he said it wasn’t a welcome shock. He’d been anxious to hear from you, both worried and frustrated that you’d never returned any of his calls. Hurt, too, if he was honest. What the two of you had went beyond some convenient arrangement – it developed out of the natural chemistry the two of you shared, after you’d been working together on the case and developed a friendship based on your mutual respect and admiration.

Marcus realizes he’s been drifting off again when his laptop goes into sleep mode and he has to tap the touchpad to wake it back up. Taking a swig from his beer, he sighs and moves his laptop to the couch cushion next to him. With a heavy sigh, Marcus slouches down deeper into the worn-in leather sofa and rubs his stiff neck. You’re really the reason he’s working at home this late, having to make up for time lost spent thinking of you. And the last time he saw you.

A glance at the clock on his cable box evokes a rough swear. Marcus told his girlfriend he’d call her after dinner, but he also forgot to eat any dinner and time just got away from him. He fires off an apology text and makes a mental note to get up early enough so he can surprise her with coffee before work.

Marcus hasn’t been to the store in awhile, so his stomach will have to subsist on a dry ham and cheese sandwich with stale bread. Too tired to finish his notes, he shuts his laptop and packs his work bag before heading to bed. As he enters his bedroom and goes through his nighttime routine on autopilot, Marcus’ thoughts drift once again to your last night in D.C.

In bed, stretched out on the side you used to occupy on the nights you’d spend over, Marcus lets out a heavy sigh and tries to clear his mind. Unbidden, thoughts come to him: you, laid out on the light table, wet, writhing, and begging. This has happened each night since your call. Tonight, Marcus is hard in seconds, precum already forming a damp spot on his boxers, and he needs relief.

Before he can change his mind, Marcus walks to his dresser and opens his sock drawer. He pulls out the pair of panties you were wearing that night, given to him as a cheeky parting gift. Too embarrassed to admit how long it took him to get around to finally washing them, he’s since used them several times for his own purposes. Having a girlfriend the last couple of months has meant the panties were kept hidden in the back of his sock drawer instead of his bedside table drawer. This would be the first he’s pulled them out since they’d made it official.

Back in bed, Marcus tells himself this is just to help him get a good night’s sleep. He’s removed his boxers and lays there with the covers kicked to his feet, free to move as much as he wants. Marcus fists his cock, and swipes the leaking tip with his thumb, spreading it around the swollen head.

Mentally, he takes himself back to that night in the evidence room: the feel of you in his arms, pussy wrapped perfectly around his cock. Already so aroused, it won’t take him long to finish. As he’s done before, he plans to shoot his load in the panties that once collected your combined cum, spilled from your weeping cunt. Marcus strokes himself feverishly until his thighs shake and he’s bucking up into his fist, trying desperately not to moan your name.

Washington, D.C.6 months ago

“Hey, come back to me,” you hear Marcus murmur, and feel him turn your face to meet his. He kisses you slowly and deeply, and you taste your tang on his plump bottom lip. He presses his forehead against yours and you share a couple of breaths.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

You focus on the feeling of your exhaled breaths mingling in the space between yours and Marcus’ mouths. He nuzzles your neck and trails wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbone and chest. His every move is slow, languid, intentional; every touch sets your nerve endings alight. Your hands are buried in his hair, caressing the back of his neck, holding him to your breast as he sucks a taut nipple into his mouth.

“You’re so soft, so beautiful,” Marcus mutters against your skin, lost in his senses. He’s unbuttoning your shirt the rest of the way, kissing and nuzzling down with each inch exposed.

Suddenly, Marcus is pulling you up, a hand behind your neck, another behind your back, until you’re sitting up fully on the edge of the table. He’s thrown in a slight shadow as your body blocks the lit surface behind you. You love the change in the angle, the difference in your height making him tilt his head up to meet your gaze, his own eyes full of adoration and awe.

Removing your shirt entirely, Marcus quickly unhooks your bra and tosses it onto the table with your shirt. He rolls up his sleeves, his tie draped forgotten over the back of a nearby chair with his jacket. Desperate to feel more of him, you busy yourself with undoing more buttons of his shirt and running your hands across his chest and shoulders and back, wherever you can reach. Marcus reaches for you and helps you off the table, your skirt staying bunched at your hips and waist.

“Turn around for me,” Marcus commands in his gentle, coaxing tone. You obey, and close your eyes a moment while they adjust to the white light of the table surface. Strong hands explore the curves of your ass, caressing, squeezing.

“Feet apart, sweet girl.” His words are right behind your ear, a low rumble of satisfaction elicited as you follow his order immediately. You place both hands on the edge of the table, readying yourself for him.

“Mmm, good girl.” You feel him moving behind you and shudder a bit – he’s undoing his pants, pulling his length out. Then he’s there, body pressed against yours, kissing the back of your neck, hard cock leaking on your ass. Your pussy is already pulsing in anticipation.

Marcus drags the tip of his nose up the line of your neck and nips at your earlobe. “Are you ready to take my cock, sweetheart?” He brushes your hair back from your face and you can only nod vigorously. A firm hand tilts your chin up.

“I need to hear it, baby. Say it.” The suspense is torture, you need him inside you, stretching, filling you, in the way only he can.

“Yes, Sir. Please. I need it.” The intensity of your need weaves a tremor into your voice.

“What do you need?” Marcus grinds himself into your ass with a grunt, his hands gliding over your back and breasts.

“I need your cock, Sir.”

“Then you better take it.” Blood rushes in your ears, your breathing gets more labored.

Marcus removes one of your hands from the table, guides it back towards him and you reach between your bodies. He places a hand over yours, wrapping your fingers around his shaft. The heft of him, the heat, the grip of his hand on yours as you give him a tentative stroke – “Good girl,” his breath hitches.

Marcus’ hand on your shoulder lowers your upper body closer to the table. You tilt your hips up at a better angle, offering yourself to him, then line his cock up at your entrance and try to push back. Marcus stills your hips, holds them firmly in place with both of his strong hands.

With anyone else, you’d be embarrassed at the pitiful whine you let out, but it’s different with Marcus. It’s always been different, and right now you’re too far gone to care about anything else. You just need him inside you one last time.

“Shh, it’s okay, sweet girl, I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.” Marcus speaks softly, soothingly. “I’ll give you what you need.” He drags the head of his cock through your folds, getting it slick and ready.

Marcus inhales deeply through his nose, then enters you in one slow, smooth movement, pulling a moan from deep in your throat, and a stuttered exhale from him. You both take a moment to catch your breath and relish the sensation of being joined again. The stretch, the fullness – it makes your head swim.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Marcus mutters. “You’re so good, so perfect…” His hands caress your back and hips, then he’s moving – slowly, mindfully working you open with each press of his cock. He slides one hand up between your shoulder blades to the back of your neck, digs the fingers of his other into the flesh of your hip. You can tell he’s trying to hold back, give you time to adjust. But soon, he pulls out almost all the way, only to slide home again with more force, your forward momentum stopped by the table.

His pace quickens slightly, each thrust elongated and ending buried deep inside like it belongs there. The hand on the back of your neck moves to grip your shoulder, pulling you back onto his cock, forcing a breathy moan from your lungs on each snap of his hips. The edge of the table digs into your belly, but the feeling of being trapped and utterly at the mercy of Marcus’ increasing heat and ardor only fuels the flames kindling in your lower belly.

“That’s it, baby. You’re doing so good. You always take my cock so well. My perfect girl.” Marcus’ unceasing string of praise elevates the stimulation to new heights and you feel the first flutters of another orgasm starting. Marcus feels it too and groans, slowing his rhythm to a torturous pace so you feel every drag of the head of his cock inside you.

Whimpering, you fight the urge to beg. Marcus knows what you can take, knows how far he can push you. He knows when you’re working hard for him, lavishes you with praise and adoration, and always rewards you with the best sensual, pleasurable experiences you’ve ever had.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m going to let you cum for me again,” Marcus lets out a breathy chuckle. “But we’re not there just yet, okay?”

“Yes, Sir,” you respond automatically and Marcus hums in delight. He strokes the back of your neck with his thumb and gently presses down on your shoulder until your breasts are pressed flat against the warm light of the table.

“Look at you, so beautiful. You should always be in the light, always be seen and appreciated.” Folding your arms to cradle your face, you close your eyes against the light of the table and bask in the warmth of Marcus’ words. His hips never stop their fluid motion, almost lazy if not for the strength and intention behind each thrust.

This is another of his lessons in patience. Patience has never been a strength of yours; Marcus has taught you the value of slowing down, waiting, living in the moment – especially a sensuous moment such as this. If you can focus on the here and now instead of the finish line, the end will be so much sweeter.

“Mm, that’s right, just relax and take it,” He pulls back and spreads the globes of your cheeks to see where his cock is splitting you open. His breath hitches at the sight, “Ohh, that’s pretty. I wish you could see how beautiful you look like this, sucking me in over and over. It’s like your pussy was made for my cock, sweetheart.”

This makes you moan even louder, your breath catching, ass pushing back involuntarily, cunt clenching around his cock. Marcus curses under his breath and shoves himself in harder, thrusts becoming shorter again, hitting even deeper.

“Oh god, Sir. Yes, please fuck me.” the words spill out unbidden, punctuated on each slap of Marcus’ hips into your ass and thighs.

“Does that make you hot? Knowing your pussy was made just for me? Meant for my cock.” Marcus’ words come out more strained as he fucks you harder. “It had to be, you take it so well. You fit so perfectly wrapped around me. Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight, baby.”

He’s got you pinned against the edge of the table now, driving into you, breath coming out in pants. Sweat is forming at your temples and the back of your neck, you’re craning your neck to try and see his face, but the light of the table is blurring your vision. Marcus, always so attuned to you, must see you struggling. He stops, remaining buried in you and says, “Come here, sweetheart. Let me help you up.”

His arms slide around you, one across your stomach, the other wrapping across your breasts to your shoulder. You push up off your folded arms, and Marcus pulls you back against him, burying his face in your neck and hair. Marcus resumes, his thrusts short and staccato. The angle has changed, the head of his cock presses more firmly against that fleshy spot inside you over and over and your vision blurs a bit at the edges.

“How’s that feel, sweet girl? Hm?” A whine loosens from your throat. “I can feel your legs shaking, I know you’re getting closer.” Panting, you grip onto his arm across your middle, wrap the other one behind you to card your fingers into his hair that you love to muss. You’re struggling to hold the angle, arching your back almost painfully. “I’ve got you, beautiful, relax. You don’t need to strain, just hold onto me.”

Slowly, you start to let your weight sink into Marcus’ strong arms around you. “That’s it,” he whispers encouragingly against your ear. “That’s my good girl – letting me help, giving in. I know that’s not easy, you’re doing so well.”

He’s hunching over you, holding you against him tightly, supporting most of your weight now. “I know your body, I know how to take care of you.” Marcus grunts as his cock twitches inside you – he’s getting closer as well. The need for him to fill you is overwhelming, suddenly.

“Please, Sir. I w-want–” Your plea is choked off as the fingers of his hand on your lower stomach start to travel down.

“Talk to me, baby. Tell me what you want.” He nuzzles against your neck, nips at your jaw as you turn to look at him over your shoulder.

“I want your cum, Sir.” His rhythm falters for a moment and he lets out a deep groan.

“I’m going to give you my cum, I promise, sweetheart.” Those fingers make a beeline for your cunt. You cry out as they deftly circle your clit. “But I’m going to need you to give me one more first. Can you do that?” You’re keening, teetering right on the edge. Marcus is relentless, plunging his cock into you, applying just the right amount of pressure to your clit, and tonguing across the fluttering pulsepoint on your neck.

“I know you can do it, baby. C’mon.” You’ve reached your breaking point as his voice goes deeper, his cock twitching inside you as he fights to keep from following you. All it takes is for him to practically growl his next command, “Cum for me. Now.”

As he feels the pulsing of your cunt around him, Marcus crashes his mouth down on yours to swallow your cries, muffling your moans with his tongue. He grunts against your mouth and stills his hips, breathing deeply in and out through his nose as he comes back from the edge. You sag against him, legs shaking, as you ride out your high.

“Good girl,” he rasps. “My good fucking girl.” He kisses your forehead and temple, then presses his lips in a trail down to the crook in your neck where he rests and catches his breath.

“Thank you, Sir,” you whisper breathlessly.

“I should be the one thanking you,” Marcus says softly into your hair. “You did so well for me.” As you begin to regain the strength in your legs, he runs a hand across your cheek and cups it, kissing you gently. His other hand trails featherlight touches across your breasts, then tweaks a nipple making you gasp.

“Do you still want my cum?” This makes you clench around him with a moan, and he smiles. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

~~~

PresentWashington, D.C.

Marcus lays in bed, eyes squeezed shut tight, remembering the sounds you made as you came. He fucks up into his hand, once, twice more – “Oh fuck…fuck— fuck-” your name on his lips, cock pulsing as ropes of his cum land in your panties and spill over his fist. He strokes himself through it all, gasping for breath.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters to himself, waiting for his heart rate to slow. He chooses not to dwell on the fact that he just came the hardest he has in months. Cleaning himself up, he puts the cum-soaked panties in his hamper and almost collapses back into bed. Post nut clarity begins to set in, yet he doesn’t feel guilty like he thought he would, jerking off to those memories while in a relationship with somebody else. Somebody who actually was emotionally available and interested in him that way.

It’s late, but Marcus knows he’s going to sleep like the dead tonight and probably wake up feeling refreshed. He’s gotten past the shock of your phone call and come through the other side.

Marcus lets out a deep sigh and closes his eyes for sleep. His phone buzzes on his nightstand and he rolls over to check it, thinking it must be his girlfriend responding to his apology earlier.

Talked with Peña – I’m officially on the case! Thanks for your help xo ☺️

His mouth breaks into a grin. Of course it’s you. Happy to get the update, Marcus tries to think of something appropriate to write back.

You did all the hard work, you just needed a friend to listen.

Then he adds: Always here to help, I mean it.

He watches the three little dots appear as you type back immediately: Can I call you tomorrow?

He writes: Of course, call any time

Thanks, talk tomorrow. Go to sleep!

If only it was that easy.

~~~

TexasThe Next Day

Javier leans back in his desk chair, fingers laced behind his head. Last night was an unexpected, albeit pleasant, surprise. He hasn’t had someone go toe-to-toe with him like that in awhile, and he always enjoys a challenge. Especially a challenge as good looking as you.

You respect Javier’s position in the structure of things, and you certainly have enough experience as a Fed to understand the rules of the game here. But Javier can tell you’re not just another meek, pushover type. Obedient, maybe, under the right circumstances, yet always ready to put up a bit of a fight when warranted.

That last thought has certainly gotten Javier’s dick interested. He tries to adjust himself inconspicuously, mindful that his office door is open and to get up and shut it could be a wrong move if somebody were to walk by. Shifting a bit in his seat, he focuses instead on the paperwork he needs to sign to make your assignment to his case official.

CBP Agent in Charge is written next to your name on the form. Javier smirks; you said you wanted all in – until the end – and this will make sure of it. You’ll be officially attached to the case, responsible for any Customs involvement in the investigation and a trial, if it comes to that. Javier knows this is a big step up for you, professionally speaking, and a huge undertaking. But he knows you’re up to the challenge.

Now he just needs you to call your guy and bring in the – how did you put it last night? – boys with the fancy toys and the dollars to spend. Javier chuckles at that a bit as he signs and dates the last form. He doesn’t know who it was in the FBI you were previously entangled with, but if it brings him what he needs to finally get these fuckers behind bars, he’ll play a bit dirty to leverage that connection. And it won’t all be to his benefit, there’s a distinct possibility that you’ll get a promotion once this is all over. This is something Javier is more than happy to use his clout to influence.

A thought occurs to Javier that as the CBP’s lead representative on the case, you won’t be directly reporting to him. Not officially, anyway. It’s not like he’s never slept with somebody a few rungs beneath him before, just never a direct report. Besides, at this point in his career, in his current position, any kind of fraternizing is not worth the risk. He hasn’t slept with anybody at the office in quite awhile. Well, he hasn’t slept with anybody in quite awhile, period. Maybe that’s why you’ve been such a source of distraction to him, he just needs to get laid.

He’s had his eye on you ever since you first arrived six months ago. You intrigued him. That’s why he talked to Sandra in Human Resources to get the scoop and a copy of your resume. Once he saw your background and heard a few of the rumors circulating, he had to speak to you for himself.

Most newer agents in the area meeting Javier for the first time are a bit intimidated, excited, or even a little starstruck. He hates those kinds of encounters the most, he shouldn’t be looked up to for the things he’s done. You, however, had a different impression of him entirely.

It stings a bit, he admits, to imagine you thinking poorly of him because of those rumors. Javier doesn’t know what it is, but there’s something about you that makes him want to show you he’s not like that. He knows at least half the rumors he’s heard about himself aren’t true. He doesn’t really mind the rumors about his dick being huge, though, because he can live up to that one.

It’s the rumors about what really happened in Colombia that bother Javier the most. Some of them are purely malicious, but others are a little bit too close to the truth for his liking. Most of the rumors about his sex life, though, are funny, bizarre, or just plain unimaginative. He’s not sleeping his way through the office, or leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake. Yeah, he was closer to being that guy in Colombia, but that was about survival. Getting into the bed of another person got him out of his own head for a little while. The physicality of the sex was his escape. He could drown himself in the sensations, lose himself in his partners’ sounds, what made them feel good, how to take them to new heights.

You’ve had your own share of rumors spread unfairly about you, too. It occurs to Javier that he also had preconceived notions about you from those rumors. He assumed that because he’d heard you’d slept with some FBI guy, it must be true. Sure, you ultimately confirmed the kernel of truth in the rumor, but only when presented with the worse versions. The versions Javier offered up so readily, almost cavalierly. Within minutes of meeting.

Javier growls a fuck and throws the pen down onto his desk in frustration. What the fuck is wrong with him? It’s a miracle you even agreed to help him with the case. He won’t blame you if you never call the FBI. He’d deserve that. Digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, he tries to think of how he’s going to fix this.

“I am such an asshole,” he grumbles to himself.

“Why are you an asshole?”

Javier’s head jerks up at the voice and sees you standing in the doorway of his office. Shit.

“I’m not disagreeing. Just curious,” you say, with a sparkle of mischief in your eye.

“Oh, uh…” Javier searches for some excuse and grabs the paperwork in front of him. “I fucked up these forms. Gonna have to redo them, and my admin already hates me.”

“Oh. Okay then.” You hover in the doorway and glance at the chair in front of his desk that’s covered in stacks of files and papers. “Do you have a minute?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure, let me just–” Javi moves quickly to take the clutter off the chair and decides a spot on the floor next to his desk is its new home. This is the first time you’ve been in his office, and it feels strangely intimate. Like if it were the first time you’re visiting his house. He stamps that thought out before it can take root and sits back down behind his desk.

“What’s up?”

“They’re in,” you say perfunctorily.

You momentarily distract him by crossing one leg over the other.

“Wha– uh, who?”

“The FBI. I spoke to my contact in the art squad, briefed him a bit on the case, and he’s going to see what they can do to help.”

You really do have great legs.

“You’re serious?” Javier looks up at you sharply, then scratches absently at the stubble on his jaw. “Just like that?”

“Well, yeah…?” Your smile is bemused. “Javi, I’m confused here. Didn’t you want their help? I thought that’s what this whole thing was about, using my contact to try and get FBI support on the case.”

Isn’t that what this was all about? Javier doesn’t know jack shit about art, other than if he personally likes the look of something or not. He knows narcos, the FBI knows art, and you were the link. Why does it feel like it’s about more than that now?

“Yeah, of course, I’m just surprised, is all. Figured they’d want something in return or would put up a bigger fight first.”

Javier leans back in his chair and considers you for a moment, runs a finger over his lips. “You must have left a really good impression on them.”

“I guess so.” Your cryptic smile threatens to put all kinds of ideas in Javier’s mind. Thoughts that are not permitted within interagency cooperative arrangements. You stand up to go. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Thanks, by the way. For calling.” You’re watching him curiously. “And, uh–” he gestures at the paperwork he lied about fucking up. “You’re on the case.” Your facial expression makes his throat stick. “All in,” he adds. “‘Til the end.”

“Then I look forward to working with you, Javi.” You depart with a brighter smile, and Javier tries very hard to not watch you walk away. It’s only when he’s handing over the signed forms to his admin later that he realizes you didn’t call him Agent Peña once.

~~~

Next Chapter || SeñoraBond's Masterlist

Additional Author’s Note: I am so thrilled at all the folks who have liked this story and that there are others enjoying my horny little musings! As always, I would love-love-love to know what you think. I really want to become a better writer, so any and all feedback is welcome! Thank you for reading! 💜

#senorabond writes #rumor has it fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike #javi x reader x pike

71 notes · View notes

justagalwhowrites · 11 months

Note

HEY BESTIE I LOVE THE PROMPTS #s 21 86 94 114 128 146 😭❤️ THEY WOULD BE SO CUTE TO READ

LOVE U SM

HI BESTIE!!

You had sent in one of these before I asked you to resend them lol but HEY turns out that was the perfect set up to post this one shot, too :D

This is featuring Joel and a smuggling partner who's been working with him and Tess for a while. She's new for this fic but I really like her so she may be making another appearance. I hope you love it!

Thanks so much for writing in and reading! Love you!!

Pretty Girl

Your smuggling partner, Joel Miller, is being uncommonly social during a trip to the Speakeasy.

Based on Prompt 128: "You're pretty" "You're drunk"

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT! Just smut. Smutty smutty smut. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 2.7k

“This is going to be a stupid fucking run,” you took a sip of shitty whiskey - which was the only whiskey to be found in the QZ so you dealt with it. Better than nothing, at least.

“It’s not that stupid,” Tess replied.

“We’re talking a total of, what, eight days on the road?” You asked. “Unless one of you assholes has a car I don’t know about…”

“No car,” Tess said. “But I’ve heard from other folks who have passed through there in the last few months and it’s eight days of damn near empty country with a literal farm of pot on the other side. We’re talking about pounds and pounds of the stuff, we’ll be set for a fucking year off this one run…”

You took another drink, looking out at the other patrons of the bar. Downtrodden and looking for solace at the bottom of a glass. Not all that different than the dive bars you frequented before the world ended eight years earlier but there had been a charm to them then. You and your girlfriends chose those places to add some kind of danger to your debauchery. The concept of going out for cocktails or a beer after work now was almost laughable it was so foreign.

You’d had that kind of life once, though. One where you wore sheath dresses and spiked heels to your office and got paid more money than you needed to write bullshit ads for bullshit companies like Walmart. A trip to a dive bar was a fun way to step outside of your protected little bubble, a way to hook up with a guy with callused hands who might be a little rougher than the guys in your office whose muscle came from machines at the gym.

You couldn’t believe you used to stress about that shit now. It was all so stupid, the pointless deadlines and the KPIs and the concern about what your boss would think if you showed up with a rough blue collar guy to a company cocktail hour.

Now, you were only worried about surviving to the next day. And this run would either make that very easy or very hard, there was no in between.

“What do you think, Miller?” You looked at Joel, the most sullen of your little trio. “Think it’s worth the risk?”

He sighed, looking between you and Tess.

“I think if Tess’ intel is good then we’re fuckin’ stupid to not take advantage of it,” he said. “But we can’t be fuckin’ dumb about goin’. We have to make sure we’re well supplied because I’m not getting caught with my pants down in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere just to run some pot into the QZ.”

You ground your teeth for a moment before sighing.

“Fine. If you’re both in then I’m in. But I swear to God if this fucking scheme gets me killed I will haunt both of you until the day you die.”

Tess laughed a little and downed the rest of her whiskey.

“On that note,” she said, getting up from your table. “I’m getting out of here. We’ll look at getting the fuck out of here in about a week, make sure you’re set on ammo and rations by then, yeah?”

“Sure,” you nodded once and watched her go and turned back to Joel. “Ever wonder what the fuck would happen to Tess if she wasn’t in charge of something for a whole five minutes?”

Joel snorted.

“Doubt that’d ever happen,” he took a sip of his beer, polishing it off.

“You heading out, too?” You asked.

He looked at you for a moment, almost like he was assessing you.

“Thinkin’ about stayin’,” he replied eventually. “Want somethin’ else from the bar?”

“I’ll take a beer if you’re offering,” you shrugged, not used to Joel doing anything social beyond the bare minimum. You’d been doing smuggling runs with him for two years now and you were pretty sure you could count on one hand the number of conversations he’d initiated on your trips outside the QZ together.

You certainly didn’t DISLIKE the man. You liked him probably a little too much if you were being completely honest about it. You liked that he was broad and strong and that he was the kind of guy you’d pick up on one of those nights out in a dive bar with your girlfriends. But you liked more than that, too. You liked the fact that he stopped at a pharmacy on the way back from a run once and grabbed a handful of bottles of children’s Tylenol. You’d frowned as he stashed them in his pack.

“Neighbor’s daughter keeps gettin’ ear infections,” he said. “Poor thing sounds miserable.”

He never mentioned it again.

Joel brought two beers back to the table and put one in front of you before taking his seat again, looking out at the handful of people dancing to the music from the jukebox.

“So Joel,” you said, twisting the glass in your fingers. “If you had to pick one thing - not a person because we all have a person - that you miss most about before, what would you pick?”

“Hm,” he frowned, taking a drink. “Never thought about it.”

“Well I’m asking you to think about it,” you smiled a little as you took a sip of beer. “That’s kind of the point.”

One corner of his mouth pulled up slightly at that and he shook his head a bit.

“Probably goin’ to listen to music or playin’ music,” he said eventually. “Somethin’ about live music… anyway. Probably miss that most. Or maybe museums.”

“Museums.” You raised your eyebrows.

He nodded.

“Went to a lot of museums,” he said.

He got a bit of a wistful look in his eye for a moment before he took another drink.

“Didn’t strike me as the type,” you said.

He shrugged.

“How about you?” He asked.

“Restaurants,” you said immediately. “Hands down. I’d gained like 10 pounds on a trip not long before the outbreak so for the two weeks before I was dieting like crazy and I’ve never regretted a damn thing more. I was eating the most bland, boring shit like a dumbass. Jesus Christ, what I wouldn’t give now for a New York slice. Or a bagel. Fuck, I think I’d rather have one more true NYC bagel than ever have great sex again.”

“Sounds like you’ve just never had great sex,” Joel smirked a bit.

“No,” you shook your head. “You’ve just never had a great bagel.”

The two of you ended up having a few more drinks together and you actually heard Joel laugh - not something you knew he was actually capable of even after a few years of knowing the guy.

“C’mon,” he said, downing the last of another beer. “Should get out of here before it’s curfew…”

“Joel Miller, consummate rule follower,” you teased but knocked back the rest of your drink as well, leaving the speakeasy together.

“Have a question for you,” he asked, his hands in his pockets.

“Ask away.”

“Where’d you learn to shoot the way you do?” He looked over at you. “You never seemed like the type. Still don’t, if I’m bein’ honest ‘bout it.”

“My dad started taking me hunting when I was a kid,” you smiled a little at the memory. “Always liked the challenge but what I really liked was that he liked doing it with me. Never could get his attention any other way, really. Don’t think he ever wanted a daughter but he got stuck with me. So he took me hunting and I loved it. And then he started teaching me more and more and eventually I was just a damn good shot.”

He nodded slowly.

“Well, I owe ‘im,” he said. “You being a fuckin’ deadeye saved my ass more than once.”

“You know you don’t have to wait until you’re drunk to talk to me,” you said, glancing over to him. “You can ask me shit like this when it comes to mind.”

“Not drunk,” he said.

“Sure you’re not,” you rolled your eyes, coming to the road where you usually went your separate ways to go to your respective apartments. But when you turned to say goodbye, he’d turned toward your apartment instead, already walking that way.

“OK so you’re really drunk,” you said, catching up with him quickly. “Your apartment is the other way, Joel.”

“Not drunk,” he said. “Just makin’ sure you get home OK. Not usually out this late. Not with me, anyway.”

You looked at him, incredulous, but didn’t argue. You walked in silence for a few minutes and you felt his eyes on you periodically and you couldn’t figure out why.

“Is everything OK?” You asked eventually. “Didn’t… I dunno, get bit in the QZ somehow, right?”

“I’m fine,” he frowned. “Why?”

“Because you’re being weirdly talkative and walking me home,” you said. “And you keep looking at me. And I’d like to make sure you’re not about to drop dead or turn or something.”

“I’m fine,” he shrugged.

“OK…”

“It’s just…” he paused. “You’re… pretty.”

You snorted.

“You’re drunk.”

“I ain’t drunk,” he said.

“And I ain’t been pretty since 2003,” you shook your head and smiled a bit. “That ship sailed with the Lancome counter at the mall and access to regular blowouts.”

“Well that’s a load of shit,” he said. “You’re pretty. You just are, don’t need fuckin’ makeup or that other shit to see that.”

You stopped walking and stared at him for a moment. He stopped walking, standing under a street light, and turned to look at you.

“What.”

“I swear to God, Joel, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were hitting on me.”

He shrugged.

“Maybe I am.”

You scoffed.

“I’m being serious!” You said. “Don’t make fun of me…”

“I’m bein’ serious, too,” he said. “Not makin’ fun.”

You stepped closer to him, so your bodies were aligned and almost touching, your arms crossed over yourself.

“What were you planning to do about it?” You asked.

He took your chin gently in one of his large hands and tilted your head back before kissing you. HIs lips were plush, unexpectedly soft in contrast to the pleasant scratch of his mustache on your skin. He kissed you until you were breathless, your hands flexing into fists as you tried to work some of the growing tension from your limbs. He pulled back a little, his nose brushing your own.

“Somethin’ like that,” he said quietly. “More, if you’ll let me.”

You we ripping his clothes off before the door to your apartment had fully closed, his shirt winding up somewhere on the floor of your living room alongside your bra.

When you were both naked, you pushed him down on your bed, your pussy already dripping and aching for him. You moved to straddle him and he brought a hand down over your sensitive mound, dipping his fingers into your slit and gathering your wetness before sliding up to tease your clit.

“Goddamn you’re wet,” he groaned. “You walk around like this all the fuckin’ time, just ready for it?”

“No,” you panted. “Took you practically sticking your tongue down my throat outside…”

“Oh is that all,” he worked your clit harder, making you moan.

“Maybe you’re pretty, too, Miller,” you closed your eyes, trying to focus, your body already starting to tighten, your sex all but begging to have something to grip and throb around as aching heat started to swirl through you.

“Know that’s bullshit,” he leaned forward and nipped your throat before kissing and sucking his way to your collarbone, taking his hand away from your slit and rubbing your arousal over his thick, hard length. You tilted your hips forward, brushing his weeping tip with your soaked seam. “Fucking hell Baby…”

“Need you,” you dug your nails into his back and he moaned at it. “Need to feel…”

“Fuck,” he groaned, holding onto the base of his cock and lining it up with your grasping, longing core. His head barely dipped into you, the burning stretch doing nothing to sate your desperate wanting. “Need inside you, need you to fuckin’ take it…”

You thrust down on him, taking him into you in one firm, quick motion. It made you gasp, his size almost overwhelming. You whimpered as your body adjusted, your pussy feeling more stretched than it ever had before.

“Jesus Christ,” his forehead dropped to your shoulder, his breaths coming in keening, desperate pants. “Holy fucking God you’re tight, fuck…”

You started to ride him then, beginning slow but hard, lifting your hips up before slamming yourself back down on him, your channel gripping him tight every time he was thrust up into you.

His hands went to your hips, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of you, clinging to you as you worked his cock.

“Take it like this?” You panted in his ear before sinking your teeth into the muscle of his shoulder.

“Fuck, just like that,” his hands were more desperate on you now, like he was going to lose control. “Want you to make yourself cum on my fuckin’ cock, want to feel you cum all over my fuckin’ cock…”

Your pussy tightened further around him and you pressed your chest tightly against against him, riding him hard and fast now, your clit pressing against the softness of his stomach with every firm thrust.

“Fuck, Joel,” you gasped as you came, taking him all the way inside yourself and holding him there as you pulsed around him.

It was like he’d been waiting for you to cum, waiting for you to be so lost in your own orgasm that you couldn’t do anything to stop him from taking what he wanted.

His arms went around you and he picked you up for a moment before pressing you down into your bed, his cock buried in you to the root. He started fucking into you while your pussy still throbbed around him. Your hands flew to your bed, fingers tangling in the sheets as he spread your legs wide and looked down to where you were joined.

“Fuck, look at you takin’ me so goddamn well,” he groaned, increasing his pace. Your pussy started to contract around him again, your clit both begging for attention but so oversensitive that you were worried him toying with it would make you cry. “Tight fuckin’ pussy so goddamn good…”

He pressed a thumb into your clit and it was like a shockwave rolled through you, something almost like another orgasm coursing through you. But it offered no relief, just driving yourself to get tighter around Joel, your body trying to bring him deeper, hold onto him for longer.

“Not gonna last long with pussy this goddamn good,” he said, leaning over you and kissing and biting down your jaw to your throat. You rocked your hips up against him in desperate, stuttering thrusts. “Where do you want me, Baby?”

“On my clit,” you moaned. “Fuck, please…”

“Jesus,” he groaned, fucking into you harder, his cock forcing you to stretch over him to just shy of the point of pain with every motion. Your body was so taut again you were worried you were going to snap with it, with the aching drive of pleasure and want taking over you. “Fuck, I’m gonna…”

He thrust in you twice more before pulling out of you and jerking himself just once over your dripping slit. He pressed his swollen cock head to your clit and gasped as he came, spilling himself over you, the warm pulsing of his spend triggering your orgasm.

“Fuck you’re so pretty when you cum,” he panted, watching as the last of his cum dripped onto your throbbing clit. He ran his thumb up from your hole through your slit to your overwrought clit, rubbing his cum into you as he circled your clit, making you shudder and gasp as your orgasm eased.

He took one last, long look at your naked body before collapsing beside you, still panting for breath.

“So,” he said after a minute. “Still think you’d rather have a bagel?”

You laughed once.

“Bagels can go to hell,” you said. “As long as you promise to do that to me again.”

“Any time you want, Pretty Girl,” he said. “Any time you want.”

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smut fic #oneshot #follower celebration

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eldritch-thrumming · 1 year

Text

you're a cowboy like me.

you're a cowboy like me, perched in the dark, telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear like it could be love, i could be the way forward, only if they pay for it.

Steve is good at reading people. He always has been. He can spot an easy mark a mile away. He knows what to look for, knows that it’s always the older, lonely women, the ones who wear their pearls and their diamonds to lunch on a Tuesday afternoon, draped in black velvet and satin, ancient fur coats hanging off their shoulders, that will eat up his words and his casual touches like peppermint candies.

Steve’s been working his way through Westchester and the Hamptons for three summers now, which generally means he knows practically everyone there is to know. Everyone worth knowing. So when a stranger in black leather and pressed trousers crashes a Friday night at the country club, everyone takes notice.

Steve’s in the formal dining room, surrounded by Marie—his date—and her girlfriends and their husbands, when Bill Weatherstone stands from his spot next to his wife to greet the stranger who’d just been led to their table by the club’s hostess. Conversation at the table comes to a stop so abruptly Steve would find it funny, if he wasn’t so suspicious of this new stranger. The newcomer has long, curly dark hair pinned out of his face in a ponytail at the back of his neck and big, innocent-looking eyes. When he smiles and clasps Bill’s hand in both of his in greeting, Steve makes note of the dimples on his cheeks.

The stranger isn’t wearing a sports coat, which means he’s technically not supposed to be allowed to sit at their table, but Bill is the president of the club’s board and Steve knows he can generally do whatever the hell he wants. Money will do that.

“Ladies, gentlemen, this is the new associate at the firm,” Bill’s booming voice rings out, so loud that the chatter from the surrounding tables dies out a little as other diners turn to look at them. Steve notices that several other club members eye the stranger suspiciously as well. “Just started up with us last week. Eddie Munson, here’s the gang.” He makes a sweeping gesture around the table. “Gang, Eddie Munson.” He claps Munson on the shoulder before returning to his seat.

Munson turns his blinding smile on the rest of the table while he pulls out the empty chair next to Bill and drops down into it. He’s not graceful about it, but there is a certain charm in the rough-around-the-edges, wrong-side-of-the-tracks vibe he’s got going on. If you like that sort of thing. Steve doesn’t, but he knows that there’s several women sitting in this room who would eat Eddie Munson up like creme brûlée. Steve can't help but scowl down at his plate.

~*~

After that first night, Steve starts seeing Munson everywhere. He’s at all the club events, in the club’s dining room every Friday night, and he’s somehow gotten himself invited to all the best parties. He’s always close to Bill or sometimes Jasper Jenkins, the club’s treasury director.

Steve is still suspicious of Munson, but he hasn’t caused any problems with Steve’s particular favorites this season, so Steve just continues to give the outsider a wide berth and mind his own business. He’s done this long enough to see others come and go. Sometimes he can feel Munson’s eyes trail after him as he leads one of his ladies to a darkened corner or out onto the terrace for a closer look at the stars and some privacy.

About three week’s after Munson first enters the country club, Steve is invited to a poker game in the club’s basement. He doesn’t usually get invited to these kinds of things; he tends to stay close to the women, accompanying them on their days out shopping and listening to them complain about their husbands or how their children never call at their private teas and lunches. Cozying up to the married men isn’t really his idea of a good time and it’s certainly not what he’s here for, but occasionally, he has to put in an appearance or two.

Steve’s shit at poker. He loses three hands before he has to tap out of the game altogether. The room is full of club members and younger women, the air smokey from cigars. The club’s pianist plays in the corner, but no one pays him any mind beyond stuffing a few bills into the glass he’s got sitting on the piano when they pass him by. The women are half naked and giggling, skin smooth and pink as they sit in the laps of old men. The poker room has several doors leading off of it and Steve shudders to think what’s happening behind each one. Steve may sleep with married women, but at least those women have class; they’re hurting and neglected, cast aside by their greedy husbands. They’re looking for companionship, closeness, more than sex; all the things Steve’s more than happy to give them if their husbands won’t. These men are just pigs.

Steve’s been down here only a few times before. He vaguely remembers the way to the restroom and he tries to follow the winding, wood-paneled hallways using muscle memory. He pushes open a dark wooden door down in a quiet corner, a little further from the poker room than he remembers. The room is dark when he enters, a single table lamp lighting up the space. Steve’s mouth drops open, shock paralyzing him in the doorway. In the corner, Munson is pushed up against the wall, head thrown back with Bill Weatherstone’s lips attached to his neck. Munson’s hand is gripping at Bill’s thinning hair and his eyes meet Steve’s. A slow smile spreads across Munson’s face as he meets Steve’s gaze and he shoots Steve a wink before making a shooing motion with his free hand. Steve backs out of the room quietly, pulling the door closed behind him, his face burning red. His hand pulls at the knot in his tie, mouth suddenly dry as he makes his way back to the card game. Steve doesn’t even need to make his excuses to anyone back at the game, just grabs his jacket and flees the club.

Later that night, after he’s taken Marie out to the opera and delivered her safely home to her Manhattan townhouse, Steve lays in his bed and remembers the look on Munson’s face, the way he’d smiled at Steve with heavy lids, vision cloudy through the dark.

Steve was good at reading people. He always had been, until he’d met Eddie Munson.

~*~

shoutout to @richhietozier for leaving some beautiful tags on one of my rotten brain au posts.

#steddie fanfic #steddie #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington #steveddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie blurb #inspired by Taylor Swift cowboy like me lolololo #I worked in a country club in my early twenties and I always got in trouble for letting people sit in the formal dining room #without sports coats or wearing jeans #that was a horrible job lol the men were GROSS!!!!

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jbuffyangel · 2 months

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One: Arrow 2x02 Review (Identity)

I often think if I was online in Season 2, and joined the fandom earlier, then my viewing experience would have been completely different. I would've been more confident Oliver and Felicity were going to happen. But I was not, so I spent the majority of the season flip flopping between confidence and feeling like I was hallucinating the whole thing.

But “Identity” is one of those episodes an Olicity shipper can point to and say, “Yes!!! I AM RIGHT!!! There is something going on with these two.” Oliver and Felicity are nowhere near ready defining what that “something” is, and neither was I, but this episode is a core building block of their relationship and the new direction the writers were taking the show.

And it’s so much damn fun.

Let’s dig in…

Olicity

Oliver is having a rough week. His mother is in prison for “helping” to destroy the Glades which killed many and injured more. It is not a fun time to have the last name Queen. Oliver is trying in earnest to make a difference in the city not only as The Arrow (I’m just calling him that. I don’t care if they’ve done it officially order not), but also as Oliver Queen.

Blood (what a horrifically bad last name), the new Alderman, is not letting the Queens get off that easily and is raking Oliver over the coals in the press. People hate him because Oliver is the poster boy for everything wrong in the city. Since he operates under a secret identity, Oliver can’t really say “Lighten up. I am literally saving your asses on a nightly basis.”

Is this treatment unfair? Yes. We know Oliver did everything he could stop the Undertaking. Is this treatment fair because Oliver’s family were accomplices in the Undertaking? Yes. Sins of the father (and mother).

The good news is Oliver is trying to make a difference not just as The Arrow but as Oliver Queen. Oliver assures Blood he’s his own man and commits to hosting a benefit so all the elites in Starling City can see how the other half live and actually do something about it. Blood balks at Oliver writing a check, but agrees to the benefit – which is just a bunch of rich people writing more checks, so I didn’t really follow him round that logic bend, but whatever. Blood agrees to the benefit because he believes Oliver Queen can be the face of the new rich regime in Starling City – the kind that gives a crap about other people.

Oliver is also embracing his new role as CEO at Queen Consolidated, which means he needs a secretary to schedule the meetings and make all the coffee.

Source: @yet-i-remain-quiet

The whole scene has a snap, crackle and pop that quite frankly Season 1 was severely lacking. I’m all for dark and twisty, but can we inject a little levity once and awhile?

Source: @yet-i-remain-quiet

Felicity is rightfully furious with Oliver for promoting (or demoting) her into a job she absolutely does not want. His reasoning is Felicity needs a secret identity to cover up why they are talking all the time. This pretty much boils down to Oliver not wanting to take an elevator down eighteen floors several times a day. I have lived with a heterosexual man for twenty years and he avoids stairs like the plague, so nothing has ever been more accurate on this show.

Let’s break this down a little further, shall we? You have a phone, Oliver. You could just call Felicity. Not every conversation has to be in person. Also, to answer the question of why he’s talking to Felicity Smoak all the time, I feel certain people would just assume they are hooking up. I mean… he is Oliver Queen.

But nope, Felicity must be within fifteen feet of him ALL DAY LONG. For business reasons and business reasons only. Absolutely has nothing to do with Felicity’s sexy little dresses. NOPE! Nothing to see here folks.

The blasé way Oliver refuses her resignation only infuriates Felicity more. He offers her a new fancy computer to entice her, but then asks her to make dinner reservations with it. Something Oliver could Google.

I’m not coming down on secretaries and neither is Felicity. I was a secretary or administrative assistant as they like to call it nowadays for many years. You have to be smart, organized, great communication skills… yada yada yada. But asking Felicity Smoak, TECH GENIUS, to be a secretary is tantamount to asking me to be a Tech genius. That math ain’t mathing.

Oliver argues they all have jobs they don’t want. He’s CEO, Felicity is a secretary and Diggle -

Diggle: It could be worse. My secret identity is his black driver.

HA!! The accuracy. Just a healthy reminder of racial inequalities. Oliver’s withering stare only makes it better.

Let’s examine Felicity’s decision a little closer. She could just quit or absolutely refuse and return to her desk in the IT department. Oliver isn’t really going to fire her. Instead, Felicity acquiesces and makes the damn dinner reservation. Oliver is not the only one who prefers closer proximity.

But she is never EVER bringing Oliver Queen coffee.

From a practical standpoint, it would be weird for Oliver to hang out in the IT department and talk shop. A private office where they can CEO & secretary by day to cover up their crime fighting activities does make a lot of sense. He doesn’t have to explain why Felicity is by his side all the time.

The whole scene has “I want to rip your clothes off” energy, which is just fabulous. But most importantly, this job change moves Felicity into every facet of Oliver’s life – both day and night. The writers don’t need to search for reasons for these two to be in a scene together. There’s only so many bullet ridden computers Felicity can fix. Ultimately, this means more scenes with Stephen Amell for Emily Bett Rickards. She might not be number two on the call sheet, but Emily is clocking more time with Arrow’s lead. That’s all I’m saying.

This is not the end of the Olicity fighting!!!

Oliver has a run in with the cops and Laurel, while he’s trying to stop China White and Bronze Tiger from stealing the FEMA medicine trucks intended for the Glades’ hospital. Oliver is shot in the leg, which just adds to his annoyance that his efforts to save this damn city were thwarted by his ex-girlfriend and Walmart Wolverine.

Diggle: Why because this time it’s Laurel leading the charge?

Diggle makes an unsarcastically snarky remark about Laurel, which sets Oliver off, and he yells at John.

Source: Paige

AND FELICITY YELLS RIGHT BACK.

She refuses to let Oliver take his frustrations out on Diggle, particularly when he’s being an insensitive jackass.

Felicity: You don’t get to jump down his throat just because you happen to be having a lousy week. Ok? You’re pissed he invoked the almighty Laurel. You’re not the only one whose love life is taking it on the chin.

Oliver has been incessantly brining up Carly all episode and Felicity is furious he hasn’t noticed how upset Diggle looks whenever he does. They broke up and Oliver is too self-involved to notice.

There are so many things I love about this moment. Felicity grabs Oliver’s arm to force him to listen and there’s a glorious look of shock on Oliver’s face when she does because nobody, and I do mean nobody, ever talks to him like this. Not even John. But Oliver doesn’t move Felicity’s hand away.

Felicity also makes a snarky comment about Laurel. That “almighty Laurel” not very subtle. Perhaps, we are seeing a little jealousy seep through? It’s true Oliver twists himself into a pretzel for Laurel Lance, often to the detriment of the mission. I’m sure Felicity and Diggle are tired of the off again and on-again rollercoaster of Lauriver – much like the audience. Oliver’s hyperfocus on his weekly soap opera with Laurel must be aggravating at this point – particularly when he’s oblivious to his best friend’s pain.

Finally, I love the way Oliver calls after Felicity, the gentle way he drags out her name syllable by syllable, as she storms off. Between Oliver’s attitude this week and the new job – Felicity needs a break. She holds Oliver accountable and takes the space she needs.

Oliver’s no good, very bad day continues when he’s forced to choose between the benefit with Blood and saving the next FEMA shipment to the hospital. Of course, Oliver chooses the hood and with Diggle & Felicity’s help is able stop China White and Bronze Tiger.

China White: You’ll never be anything but a criminal to them, which means you’ll never be a hero.

Oliver: As long as the city is safe, it doesn’t matter.

Oliver Queen is doing all of this for the right reasons. His heart is in the right place even if his execution isn’t always perfect. As predicated, Blood chews him up in the press for missing the benefit. More proof that Oliver is a selfish elitist no different than his parents. It stings, particularly since Oliver valiantly tried to straddle the line between his two personas. He sullied the Queen family name more by missing the hospital benefit because he was too busy saving the hospital as The Arrow. But nobody will acknowledge the good The Arrow does because he’s a criminal.

Source: @crisistemporal

Oliver doesn’t complain. He just sits at his desk, alone and brooding, taking punch after punch as he watches the news coverage about who he truly is as a person. And it’s all lies.

Source: @yet-i-remain-quiet

But then we hear a “click, click, click” of Felicity’s heels. There are no further discussions. No more arguments. No apologies. She simply sets down a cup of coffee and firmly whispers to Oliver -

Source: @yet-i-remain-quiet

It’s just one cup of coffee, but it says so much. Oliver may drive Felicity crazy with his stubbornness, and he can be an insensitive jackass sometimes, but his heart is in the right place. Felicity knows everything Oliver does for the city. She knows who he truly is, and Felicity knows Oliver doesn’t deserve what’s being said about him. This cup of coffee is more than a peace offering. It’s empathy.

Oliver’s surprise shifts into a soft smile because he knows with that single word from Felicity, he is forgiven for all the ways he’s failed this week. On the surface, it’s a small gesture. A kindness. But on a deeper level, it’s Felicity believing in Oliver. The world may be against him, but he always has one person in his corner – even when he infuriates her. Its why Felicity took the secretary job. She believes in Oliver.

Source: @yet-i-remain-quiet

The smile fades a little as Oliver gazes after Felicity as she walks out. He watches her for longer than necessary, a look of tenderness and, perhaps, concern. One cup of coffee shouldn’t mean so much. But it does. It means everything. Oliver is clearly not oblivious to his feelings for Felicity, but he is far from admitting them. Falling in love with the unattainable is cause for great concern.

Oliver and Diggle

Felicity was more upset about Oliver’s insensitivity than John was, but they are dudes, so it’s not totally surprising. Also, Diggle is just used to Oliver being somewhat self-absorbed in his own pain. For the most part, it doesn’t bother him, but Oliver constantly bringing up Carly was salt in an open wound.

What’s sweet about the whole thing is Oliver was really trying to be a good friend. He was trying to think about John and be supportive of his relationship. His inability to read Diggle’s reaction means Oliver is still very much in the training wheels portion of his emotionally-sensitive-man development.

Does anyone care that Diggle and Carly broke up? I don’t. I’m thrilled. They had the heat of cardboard and I really need Arrow to focus on chemistry in ALL their ships, please and thank you. Plus, the whole dating your sibling’s significant other thing is weird. Please be done with that kind of storyline.

Diggle: I guess I couldn’t hate him and love her at the same time. You are not the only one reconciling two sides of himself.

It’s not just being Oliver Queen’s right hand man that’s interfering with John’s love life. His obsession with killing Deadshot overshadowed whatever it was he felt for Carly. If you care more about killing someone than loving someone that really sums up the relationship. It’s time to be done.

Diggle’s snarky comment about Laurel was said in part to get a rise out of Oliver. Behold his success. It was a completely passive aggressive remark. Oliver is not the only one who can pour salt into an open wound.

I also believe Diggle is not quite over the whole “You always choose Laurel” fight of Season 1. Both Diggle and Felicity’s comments about Laurel in this episode have less to do with her and more to do with Oliver’s reactions to Laurel. Oliver is upset Laurel isn’t panting every time The Arrow shows up and neither Felicity or Diggle have the patience for this toxic train wreck anymore.

Diggle reassures Oliver that he’s not the only person struggling with duality and John doesn’t always get it right either. The breakup is not Oliver’s fault. Being too wrapped up in his own suffering to see Diggle’s is his fault, however and OLIVER APOLOGIZES. The power of Felicity Smoak is real.

Diggle: We’re dangerous close to hug territory.

The boys aren’t ready to hug yet but give it time my friends. Give it time.

Oliver and Roy

This episode has one of my favorite Oliver and Roy scenes. After getting arrested AGAIN, Oliver tries to talk some sense into Roy, but this time he uses a different tactic – personal experience.

It’s rare Oliver gets to emote like this, and Stephen Amell chewed up this scene. Oliver rarely speaks about his feelings and his explanations for wearing the hood often involve other people. Yes, it’s to honor his father. It’s to save the city. It’s to honor Tommy. But what is the emotion fueling Oliver Queen?

Anger. Still waters run deep my friends. Under that calm, seemingly emotionless, demeanor is a man filled with rage. Oliver Queen was born to privilege and his experiences on Lian Yu woke him up to the unfairness of life. He sees the injustices the weak, poor and vulnerable suffer every day. What makes Oliver Queen a hero is he is DOING something about it. He will be the justice in an unjust world. Oliver is not just saving a city. He’s saving himself. The split persona, man and hood, is the only way Oliver is keeping himself a whole person. The hood is an outlet for rage, but it holds Oliver Queen together. Otherwise, he’d lose himself to the darkness.

This is why he confronts Roy. Oliver recognizes himself in Roy Harper and wants to give him direction. A way to channel that anger that’s not going to get him killed. So, The Arrow gives Roy a job – he’s going to be his eyes and ears in The Glades. No more fighting. Just intel.

Unfortunately, Roy chooses to lie to Thea about his deal with The Arrow. So, another break up is probably coming up soon.

Lian Yu

Oliver is reeling from shock after killing someone for the first time. Slade is rightfully concerned.

Slade: I’ve seen men in war with that look in their eyes. The one that says he’s split into someone else. Someone he doesn’t even recognize. If someone doesn’t talk to him, it’ll tear him up.

Oliver is rightfully concerned about his actions. He is questioning the morality behind it. Shado assures him that he was saving her life, but Oliver is not so sure. Was it completely necessary to kill that man? No, it wasn’t and deep-down Oliver knows that. What came out of him was unbridled rage and that has him scared.

Shado takes it upon herself to lead Oliver to the river where she washes off the blood. It feels like a baptism – the split between selves is being anointed and blessed. She argues that an island cannot make Oliver into something he is not.

Shado: Everyone has a demon inside of them… opposing forces inside all of us. The darkness the light. The killer and the hero.

Oliver may feel he is two people now, but the duality was always there – he’s just more aware of it. Every person has the power for good and evil. Our life is the culmination of choices. The cosmic balance sheet is for God alone to judge.

Oliver is right to be concerned, but the fact that he is concerned, is further proof that he is still a good man. Evil people rarely reflect on right or wrong because they don’t care.

Speaking of duality, how uber creepy was Slade this episode? It completely wigged me out the way he watched Oliver and Shado by the river post coital. Sure, everyone mostly had their clothes on, but it has STALKER written all of over it.

Also, Slade advising Oliver women are a distraction who will get him killed did not feel ultraistic in nature. Slade is clearly in love with Shado and Oliver is completely oblivious to it. There is a darkness lurking underneath Slade and Oliver’s friendship, one that is glaringly obvious when compared to the present-day scenes with John Diggle.

Laurel Lance

Ugh. Laurel. She finally explains why she hates the Vigilante so much. She blames him for Tommy’s death.

Laurel: You didn’t save him. You were too busy fighting a meaningless duel with Malcolm Merlyn. And when people, people you told me you would protect, needed your help you weren’t there. I don’t think you wear that hood because you’re a hero. I think you wear it to hide that you’re a coward.

Yes, Oliver was fighting Malcolm Merlyn on a rooftop while Tommy was saving Laurel’s ass at CNRI, but the duel was hardly meaningless. He was fighting Merlyn for the remote control to the earthquake machine.

You know what? The details don't even matter. I don’t need to defend Oliver against something this stupid.

The only reason Tommy was in the Glades was to save Laurel. If Laurel just listened to Oliver, then Tommy would be alive today. Laurel is projecting all her guilt onto the Hood because it’s too emotionally devasting to be the reason the love of her life is dead. That part of it I understand and sympathize.

My main source of frustration is with Oliver because he just CANNOT let it go with this woman. He has a pathological need for her approval. Oliver doesn’t want Laurel to know he’s the Hood, but he absolutely wants her validation. Oliver used the Hood all last season as a mechanism to build a relationship with Laurel that he couldn’t have as Oliver Queen.

Now that Laurel is good with Oliver again, he’s obsessed with making her buddies with the Hood. She is only going to like one half of you at a time Oliver. It's fine. Who cares?

The Hood even tells Laurel he would have gladly given his life for Tommy. WHY DIDN’T THIS RAISE AN ALARM WITH LAUREL?

I don’t recall Tommy and the Hood being too chummy. In fact, Tommy was adamant Laurel have nothing to do with that guy because he was dangerous. So, the Hood arguing he also lost a friend and would have given his life for Tommy should set off some bells in Ms. Assistant District Attorney. The longer Laurel goes without figuring out who Oliver Queen is the stupider she looks.

She does get something right. Laurel knows telling the Hood to stay away will only make him come around again and Oliver plays right into her hands. Only this time Laurel has the whole precinct waiting for the Hood. We’re supposed to be worried but there will be a trick arrow to get him out of this jam.

Stray Thoughts

How much do you love that Felicity is using a counting method to control her Freudian slips?

I hate China White. I know we’re supposed to love her because COMICS, but every episode with her in it is so stupid from a bad guy perspective.

“I had a secret entrance installed when I ran the club.” Ok, but did Oliver install it himself? Did he pay off the contractor? I have questions.

“He has this way of seducing you. Making you feel like he’s some guardian angel. But he’s not. He causes chaos and death.” Well that went dark rather quickly.

WHY IS LAUREL THERE? (My notes, which we can apply to pretty much any scene with this character). Why was Laurel with the cops out in the field trying to arrest the Hood? That doesn’t feel like a normal Assistant DA duties.

“It seems someone has broken our coffee maker. Violently.” Oliver loves Felicity's sass. Look at that smile. He’s such a fool for this woman.

“It really weirds me out to no end that you refer to yourself in the third person like that.” Diggle had some golden one-liners this episode.

“Crucifixion has such a bad reputation. The Romans used it to punish people who acted against the public good.” A clear sign someone is a total whack job is when they argue the benefits of Crucifixion. IS THIS GUY FOR REAL????!!! See, what we’re not going to do is wax poetically about the way the Romans tortured people.

Diggle wore a mask, but then he took it off in front of China White, which was spectacularly stupid unless she already knows Oliver is the Vigilante. I don't remember if she does.

See? We don’t need to kill. We have trick arrows!

Oliver finds the hozen in cave with the skulls of Japanese soldiers from WWII. That’s super gross. The gift shop story was better.

“You can take a beating. There’s a difference.” But he’s the Parkour Prince!

Ok, enough with the RED arrows. We get it.

Listen to the Watchover podcast reaction to 2x02 (hasn’t posted yet but it will soon!)

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