#though I was unaware he was a fucking menace over there
Text
Calling them bro after you start dating
Masterlist
Katsuki | Shouto | Izuku | Eijirou
Tags: SFW, but suggestive, Fem!Reader, Crack? Fluff, Comedy, kinda ooc, Characters are all aged up, Deku’s is a lot more suggestive. The tense on this is all over the place, I’ll fix once I have the brain power to do so
Bakugou Katsuki
Even before you were dating it sort of ticked him off- being called bro by you- so after you start dating, does it drive him MAD!
“Stop that shit.”
You’re too used to his huffy behaviour so you pay it no mind, just rolling your eyes.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me.” He glares, albeit not harshly.
His stare lingers and you find yourself finally caving and asking what’s wrong. “Bro what?”
“That.” He points at you, looking dramatically offended. “Calling me bro? I’m your Boyfriend.”
The realisation that it’s being called ‘bro’ that had Bakugou acting all pouty, has you choking back a laugh.
“Katsuki, bro, is that it?” You sputter through the giggles.
“Oh fuck off [Name].” It isn’t angry sounding and he takes a seat by you, almost cuddling. “What if I started calling you extra, Hah?”
“You used to!” You poke him and he shoots you yet another glare. “‘Fucking extra, go out with me’ if I recall correct.”
Then he’s groaning and turning his head, sporting an evident blush. “I thought we agreed to not talk about that again.”
“What, I said yes didn’t I?” You go to cup his cheeks so he faces you. You then push yourself to his lap, seating yourself comfortably “And here I am, in your arms, 5 years later.” His frown had started to soften, but like the menace you are, you couldn’t help but tease a little more. “Bro.”
This time he rolls his eyes, smitten enough to let you tease. “You’re the fuckin’ worst, ya’ know that?” His words mean nothing with how gentle they leave him.
“I know.” You grin, pecking him on the lips. “But you love me anyways.”
He returns your kisses almost instinctively, then sighs out a soft. “Yeah… I do.”
“But actually stop calling me bro, next time I’ll kick your ass.”
“Kats’!! You’re so mean!!”
Todoroki Shouto
Thinks he’s in the bro zone.
Although he’s not unaware of the feelings of those around him by any means, he can be a little ignorant to nuances of speech, taking things too literally at times. So when you refer to him as bro, oh he assumes the worst.
To be fair it isn’t just on him, you’re just as bad calling your crush bro. What did you expect.
It takes multiple hurdles, an abundance of google searches along the lines of “Does my crush like me back?” or “How to tell if a woman is interested you.” Unbelievably useless advice from resident-playboy Denki, and a more than awkward conversation with his father, for Shouto to actually find himself in a relationship with you.
So when you call him bro even after you start dating, oh god is he even more confused.
“[Name], Do you see me as a brother figure?”
The question is out of the blue and you can only stutter out a “What?”
“You keep calling me bro, even ‘broski’ once.” He prompts.
You hadn’t even noticed that, and it’s a little embarrassing to finally realise; you very much have been calling your crush-now-boyfriend ‘bro’ for years.
“Oh god, it’s just habit.” You insist. “I don’t see you as a brother, no.”
He doesn’t respond immediately, seemingly in thought.
When he does reply though, his words are a little stuttered. “You call- Katsuki and Izuku ‘bro’ too…”
You’re not sure why that matters until it clicks, he wants to be called something special.
“Would you like it if I called you something else, how about love? I think pretty suits you too.”
It’s not often you see Shouto flustered- confused maybe- but hardly bordering shy. Instead he’s one to be blunt and direct, sometimes even shameless. But now he sways, warm in the face, nodding his head and whispering out gently. “Yes. I’d like that.”
Midoriya Izuku
It’s not even you that gets to him, it’s Bakugou.
Laughing about “She calls you bro?? You fuckin’ nerd, bro-zoned by your own girl!”
Izuku knows it’s just habit and you see him as your man, more than knows mind you.
But he’s never been immune to Bakugou’s torments so it does keep him on high alert, taking note of the multiple times you call him bro.
When you’re leaving the house, it’s a “See you bro.” When you return, it’s a damn kiss alongside “I’m back bro.” Even when you go to say those three special words, it’s somehow tainted by being followed by “bro.”
Izuku doesn’t get mad often, but it’s really starting to agitate him hearing you call for him so casually.
“Okay, no more.” He one day stands up without any warning. Practically stomps over and tackles you to the ground.
It’s a tumble of laughter but one look at Izuku and you know you’re fucked.
His eyes are dark, his expression stern. It’s a look you hardly see on him, being so doting all the time. But it’s one you certainly don’t mind.
“You’ve gone far enough.” His voice is deep, almost rough, you can feel it on your skin. “I think we should just remind you what I’m really called…”
Kirishima Eijirou
Doesn’t notice the difference. And it’s probably because he calls you bro.
Everyone is a bro to him, all his crushes growing up were bros [and he wonders why none of them worked out] even his own Mother is a bro.
However draws the line during sexy times.
He’s kissing your neck, clearly initiating a little time away from work, while you type away at your desk.
“Ah come on bro, not now.”
He quite animatedly deflates, literally sinking with a frown.
“You ruin my fun.” He speaks, pout on his face.
“Sorry Bro, just a lil’ more paragraphs and I’m all yours.” You turn and give him a quick peck.
“No- It’s not that- you just.” He really is a sweetheart who would never be upset by being turned down. “Stop calling me bro.”
“Oh.” You almost laugh. “But you do it all the time.”
“Not while kissing you!!” Kirishima insists.
“Broooo.” You let out a dramatic sigh, paired with a smirk that Kirishima catches on to. He frowns.
“That’s it. I’m banning the word.” Kirishima stands up, determined. “Neither of us can use it anymore.”
You raise an eyebrow in his direction, amused by his new found commitment. He takes no mind to your lack of belief and remains dead set on his new pledge.
Doesn’t last a day.
Gets a call from Bakugou and picks up with “What’s up bro.”
As if he already expects you to be there laughing at his mistake, he shoots his head round and makes direct eye contact with you.
“Told ya’ you couldn’t do it-” You both stare each other down, silently daring the other to say another word. You take on the dare with a brilliant grin. “Bro!”
This is a very me thing to call everyone bro/brother or broski… anyways, clearing out my drafts and found this, I don’t particularly like each part but it did make me laugh a lil so hey! Why not post lol.
#fanfic#x reader#fanfiction#mha x reader#bakugou x reader#kirishima x reader#Todoroki x reader#shouto x reader#deku x reader#izuku x reader#Midoriya x reader#shoto x reader#mha headcanons#bnha x fem!reader#bnha x reader#mha imagines
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Since I don't see much of it,may I request a dark robber Bucky AU? That turned soft dark? It can be a home robbery. Or a bank robbery. Whichever's easier for you. But I feel like a bank robbery would be way more thrilling. Maybe he held her as a hostage and had his way with her. But then decided he wants to keep her for himself after all and add kidnapping to the list <3 Ski mask and all. Like the one Seb wears for his role in that Destroyer movie with Nicole Kidman. Except I want to request the long haired Civil War Bucky looking Bucky in this one. Just imagine how hot it is when he takes off his ski mask & reveals himself to her in all his glory with his long hair falling to the sides of his face and framing it perfectly. And reader is just stunned,because he's too beautiful. Again,if you want to do a home robbery instead,it's fine too. He went to rob a house but wasn't expecting the pretty little thing hiding under the blanket/in the closet. Decided to have some fun on his "quest" and had his way with her but had a change of mind and decided to correct his way, "moves in" with reader in her home and get a proper job now so he can finally marry her in the near future and propose to her with a diamond ring,one that doesn't belong to reader's mother/grandmother/aunt lol. And finally have that break,that normal life he's been craving for so long now and a beautiful wife by his side to spend his whole life with. Sorry if this request sucks,just haven't seen much robber AUs of Bucky so I thought why not? Okay,that's all I got. Whether you want to take it up or not,thank you so much <3 I'll keep enjoying your other works :D
so… um… idk if you know me or not but i am kinda known on here for being a mad slut… i hope you like it and please don't hate me if you don't i know i am greedy af. ill redo it with one of the scenarios if you don't like it <333
| Small World |
Pairing: Dark-Soft-Dark Robber!Bucky Barnes | Naïve!You.
Warning(s): Non-con/Dub-con, Dark!Bucky, bank robbery, violence, knife play, gun play, fear kink, unprotected p-in-v sex, missionary, doggy style, corruption kink, sir kink, power imbalance, Daddy kink, stockholm syndrome, he's lowkey mean, size kink, naive!Reader, virginity loss, fingering, spanking, dacryphilia. Minors do not interact.
MASTERLIST
Panicked and horrified eyes turn to stare at you when you are pointed out of your group of hostages to stand up from your position on the ground. Some of your colleagues look at you with pity, others with hope and plea in their teary eyes.
Please, do it for us.
The greater good, and all.
Before you can decide whether you are the sacrificial lamb type or not, the masked man who has called out for you wraps one of his gloved hands around your arm and tugs you away from your group. Your meek and wheezed out requests fall on deaf ears as you are marched down the main hall.
“P- Please!” You turn your head to look back at his covered face with tear stained cheeks, head slightly shaking as your hands tremble beside it from their position in the air.
“I won’t repeat myself” the soft volume of the man’s voice can easily be easily mistaken for mercy if not for the menace in his tone. And the fact that he has the biggest stature out of his entire group –practically a giant- does not help your case. “Get the fuck inside or I’ll make you” he nods towards the door of the manager’s office, gun trained at you threateningly. “Move it.”
Within the next few moments, the man has you pressed up between him and the heavy wooden desk while he towers over you, toying with the loose strands of your hair with a little pocket knife that he has brandished out of his leather jacket.
“Please…” You helplessly plead in vain, thighs quivering from the way he rests his gun between your legs. Your shaking thighs tightly hug the barrel as the tip presses into the table.
“Aw, honey” he is relaxed and unfazed, almost as though he is unaware of the severity of the situation. Or perhaps this is more natural to him than you can ever know. A chill rises in your back as realization hits you. He cannot care less. “Why are you crying?” The man gathers a drop of your panic on the tip of his blade before bringing it to his mouth and taking a lick before humming at the taste. “I just wanna be friends… don’t you wanna be friends?” Your bottom lip wobbles as you shake your head stupidly.
“P- Please lemme go join the rest…” He sighs at your sob, disappointed.
“Out there with all those average Joes?” His teal eyes watch you from behind the mask as he traces the shape of your clothed boobs with the knife. “Oh, come on, pretty girl” terror fills you when you feel his hard-on rubbing against one of your knees. “You’re too special to be out there with those lowlifes, baby” your body freezes when the knife trails its way up your chest to rest on your bottom lip.
“P- Please…” A whisper shudders its way out of your still lips while your widened eyes watch the blade trail along the opening of your mouth. “D- Don’t hurt me, s- sir…”
“I won’t have to if you behave…” The tip of the weapon clinks against your teeth as the crown of his gun caresses your intimate part at the same time; having found its way into your pencil skirt. “So say, doll. Will you behave for me?” You would be a fool if you think that you have any other choice than to nod. “Use your words now, come on” his muffled coo is so soft it nearly triggers something inside you.
But before you can ponder over it, his hand thumps against your cheek to bring you back to the present moment and you find yourself instantly nodding again. "Y- Yes, sir. I- I'll behave for you…" Something scratches at you from deep inside, but the sickening stimulation that you're being subjected to keeps you bound in the present moment.
"Good girl" you let out a relieved exhale when he pulls the blade from your lips and now brings it to the buttons of your blouse. "Tell me, honey. Do you have a boyfriend?" Your cheeks flush despite the situation and you gulp, lowering your eyes to watch him bounce the stitch holding your button together against the sharp metal. "Or… maybe a little girlfriend?" You can't help but loudly gasp when the thread finally comes undone and your swells bounce into his view.
"P- Please, sir…" The man tuts and shakes his head.
"Remember, baby. I'll only be nice to you if you are nice to me…" As if to put emphasis on his words, he straightens the knife and softly pokes one of your boobs by sliding the tip inside. You can't see it but your hurried apology makes him smirk under the mask. "Now, then. Where were we…?"
"N- No, sir…" You softly sob, unable to control your tears. "I d- don't have a boyfriend…"
"Good girl" he speaks as if he knows you and like you owe it to him, his gun-holding hand disappearing inside his jacket to put the weapon away. Though the relief that washes over you at the sight is short-lived because said hand then comes to grip and caress one of your thighs… under your skirt. "You're too good for silly little boys" your mouth falls agape when he suddenly catches two more of your buttons in a single strike, making your boobs jerk downwards due to the sudden change in pressure.
"Please–!"
"Shhhh" his rough hands yank you closer and against him by the help of your ass, your clothed core colliding with his bulge as he now presses the wider part of the knife against your lips. "I won't remind you again, baby. I'll only be nice to you if you shut up and behave like a good fucking girl" his eyelids flutter a little when his hips move against yours. "Because you'll look just as pretty to me without a tongue as you do now, so make your choice" you freeze as blood drains from your face.
The man gives you a few moments to try him and then he hums in satisfaction when you don't dare.
"See, that wasn't so fuckin' hard, was it, baby?" Your eyes sting from how tears keep spilling out and down your face in thick streams, the saltiness pricking at your lips as you feel his knife cut your skirt open from the middle before he tears an opening in your pantyhose, groaning at the sight of your pussy before you feel the leather of his gloves tease your folds. "Fucking hell, honey. You've such a cute little pussy on you" you can no longer clearly see what he's doing due to your blurry vision, but the violation of your intimate parts leaves you devoid of any desire to do so.
Your mind screams at you to stop him.
No one should touch you.
You don't know why exactly, but every fiber of your existence is screeching at you to run.
Not so much to escape, instead to avoid being defiled.
But what match are you to an armed man who is thrice your size?
"It's so tiny and fragile, do you think she can handle me, huh baby?" His voice is heavy as he now pumps his huge leaking cock with one hand, hissing when he touches the tip against your opening to gather some of your slick before spreading it on himself. "You can cry as many of those pretty little tears as you want, angel. Your naughty little pussy is telling me everything I need to know" a sob leaves you at his words as you helplessly sit wide legged with your head hung low, hands resting flat on the table behind you like you had been instructed to do so a few moments ago, now awaiting the inevitable.
"Fuck" he can't help but roughly curse when your opening refuses to accommodate him and his thick tip slides off it a couple times. "A feisty one" he snickers casually like this is the most normal thing ever. "Good thing I am in the habit of taming–" his words abruptly disappear into a grunt that is accompanied by a jerk of his hips, the action eliciting a loud moan of discomfort from you, "–silly brats like this sweet little pussy here" your back arches as your features scrunch in discomfort, nails pressing against the wooden tabletop. Your pussy squelches around his cock as it is being pried open by his thick girth.
"Ohhh, sir!" You grunt and more tears escape your eyes. "N- No, no…" Your thighs tremble as you shake your head in horror. "N- No… This is wrong…" Your voice is barely a whisper but he seems to understand you clearly.
The man cruelly chuckles, the action causing vibrations to travel up your body from where they are connected. "But it sure feels fucking great, don't you agree?" The flat part of his knife digs into the side of your leg as he tightens his hold on your thighs and settles on a rhythm, hips rocking back and forth between the space of your legs.
Your arms give out and buckle in, causing you to land on your elbows as the loud squeaks of your pussy squeezing at the skin of his cock before letting it go with humiliating clicks only for it to repeat fills the air.
Your lack of response makes him snort. "What, you don't agree?" When you still don't say anything and just continue to stare at his ski mask, a competitive glint appears in his teal eyes. He brings the knife to your lips and holds it against them. "Kiss it" when your shoulders shake with silent sobs, his hips speed up and the blade presses harder against your skin. "I said, kiss it!" The harshness of his tone forces you to succumb to fear and you obey, nearly sliding up and down the table as you peck the metal. "Now thank me for fucking you" your lips wobble against the weapon but he is relentless as he pants for air in the mask, one hand tightly curled around your knee as your other leg dangles from the table.
"T- Thank you for fucking me, s- sir…" He twitches inside you with a satisfied growl, each thrust fucking into you deeper and deeper.
"Now tell me I am the best cock you've ever had" your head is splitting. You feel as though you are being pulled in two opposite directions. A chaos has erupted in your mind and you can barely register his demands anymore. "Do it!" The slap he lands on your boob breaks your train of thought but the hit triggers something inside you and you speak before you can think it over.
"Please, sir! He won't like it! I can't!" You have no idea who you are referring to and the way his eyes narrow down at you signals that he doesn't either.
Just what the hell is going on?
The entirety of today feels like one big Deja Vu.
"Who won't like it?!" His thrusts have turned animalistic but his voice is much less nonchalant than before. "You said you didn't have a boyfriend!"
"I don't!" You squeak out through your tears as your pussy clenches around him and your stomach flips over, the overwhelming sensation in addition to the cruel way in which his hips snap causing your elbows to give up at last.
"Then who the fuck are you talking about?!" Your shoulders knock over the stationary holder as you shake your head helplessly.
"I- I don't know!" His hot seed explodes in your tight cavern as you whine loudly, desperate to get away from the assault his cock is inflicting on your worked up gspot. "I don't know! I don't know!" You are at a puzzling loss of words. "But he won't like it! He won't!"
His concluding thrusts feel almost angry -not that they were much tender in the first place- as a string of muttered curses release from his clenched mouth, the man's long dark hair swaying over his broad shoulders every time he moves.
"Fucking hell, angel" he rasps once he has finally stopped, though he still remains inside you. "They really did do a number on you, didn't they?" His mask is nearly snatched off his face in the next moment to reveal the most handsome man you have ever seen.
Utterly remarkable features accompany the teal eyes that watch you angrily, shiny long strands framing them in the most attractive way as the wide shoulders of the man rise and fall with each furious exhale of his flared nose. His sharp jaw that is covered in light stubble is tightly set as he scans your face, fingers tightening around your flesh more and more with the passing second.
You feel your nether region blink against his cock as you numbly take notice of every detail that he has to offer. Your eyebrows furrow after a few moments when you realize just what you are doing. Then as your eyes begin to widen and palms find the surface of the desk to press against it in order to hoist you up, the realization of why you are doing what you are dawning upon you.
Your face is next to his within the next second, the discomfort of your joint bodies long forgotten as you reach a finger out towards his face to touch it.
"Oh, my God…" You whisper as you slowly trace out what the mask had been hiding and like a dam broken, a barrage of memories hits you so hard your vision falters momentarily. "No way…" Your hand falls limp at your side in shock.
"Small world, eh?" His grin glints in the dim lighting of the room.
. . .
A loud thump sounded right outside the door of your wardrobe and you couldn't help but whimper, the sound making you widen your eyes before you hurriedly buried your mouth in your fuzzy yellow blanket.
It was an ordinary Saturday night and you had been watching a movie when you had run out of snacks. So you paused it and got out of bed to grab yourself something from the kitchen but faint unexpected footsteps in the hallway leading to your room forced you to halt your quest.
Thankfully, you had made it into your current hiding spot just in time before the door to your room slowly opened and a huge figure stepped in, peeking around the room before it stilled in front of the TV. You watched through the slits of the doors as the mysterious man had put two and two together before beginning his search.
For you.
You slowly shifted a little to see better when he disappeared momentarily, but then he suddenly walked by the wardrobe and you had to stuff the blanket in your mouth to keep yourself from gasping. The man paused and scanned the room again. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as he turned towards your bathroom and vanished from your field of vision again. A door opened before clicking close and you sighed in relief.
Letting a few moments pass before slowly opening the door to a crack, you half turned to grab Kiki, your cuddle buddy and favorite teddy in the entire world from where she had fallen off your lap a moment ago. Though when you went to exit the wardrobe to find your phone and figure out your next move, you found a pair of teal eyes watching you from the crack you had just created, the shock causing you to jump out of your skin and land against the wall behind you with a loud gasp.
You clutched your blanket and teddy close to your pounding chest as you hid your face in your knees, shaking in fear as your heart hammered against your ribcage.
Some moments passed in complete silence before you felt hands tugging at your cocoon. "Please, please, please!" The most soothing voice you had ever heard responded to them.
"I'll be nice to you if you'll be nice to me" his words were the most convincing you had ever heard. "What do you say, angel?" You raised your head just enough to see a metal arm extended towards you.
"Please don't hurt me" you whispered through a wobble of your bottom lip.
"I won't have to if you behave yourself" his form towered you like a vulture hunching over its prey. "You're a good girl, aren't you?" Your furniture had given him some idea of the kind of person that you were.
And the rest Bucky wanted to find out for himself.
He had decided that he would have you before he had even stepped inside this room when the framed pictures of you with friends and family decorating the living room had caused a tent inside his pants.
"Use your words for me" you whimpered before slowly nodding your head.
"Y- Yes, sir. A- Am a good girl" he hummed before thrusting his held out hand in your direction.
"Come on, then. Don't make me repeat myself" the menacing edge to his tone made you gulp and comply before the minute's end.
You were slowly and carefully helped out and onto your feet. The stranger's silky hair rushed forth to frame his face when he lowered it to look at Kiki as she landed with a thump on the floor.
Holding your hand in a firm grip, the man bent to pick her up but didn't hand her back to you.
"And who is this?"
"K- Kiki, sir."
"Is she your… friend?"
"B- Bestie, s- sir…" Unbeknownst to you, his cock hardened at your choice of words.
Fuck.
"Do you want her back?" You slowly nodded with pleading eyes.
He hummed again before speaking. "There's a condition."
"C- Condition, s- sir?"
"You will be quiet and obedient."
You agreed, not that you had much of a choice but Kiki's wellbeing was your top priority.
The stranger placed you on your bed within the next few moments, pulling your blanket away and giving you a pointed look before threateningly waving the poor teddy in the air when a low whine escaped you. The warning was enough for you to shut your mouth as you curled your toes, flushing under his violating gaze that scanned your underdressed form.
You were clad in nothing but a tank top and some strawberry pattern underwear. The sudden shift in your body temperature due to the lack of a blanket made your nipples harden against the sheer material of your shirt and the man cursed under his breath before his free hand traveled to his bulge.
"Why don't you show me how well you and Kiki get along, huh, angel?" You eagerly nodded when the teddy was finally allowed back in your safe hold and you protectively hugged her before going to speak but his next action had you gasping in shock instead.
"Sir–"
The man clicked his tongue. "One little peep and you can sweep little Kiki from the hearth tomorrow morning" your eyes became glassy at his words, bottom lip wobbling. And then you inaudibly vowed upon your teddy's safety.
"S- Sorry, sir."
"See?" His breathing was labored when he stripped you of decency, spreading your legs to examine what was between them and inaudibly grunting at the sight. "That wasn't so hard now, was it, baby?" You shuddered and exhaled heavily through your mouth when his hand curved over the shape of your pussy, thumb swiping over your moist folds.
"N- No, sir." He clicked his tongue.
"You're too little for that, honey. Call me Daddy." Though questions emerged in your mind, you kept them to yourself for Kiki's sake. "Well?" He raised an eyebrow as his digit found its way to your entrance and he poked at it, the sensation causing you to jump up in shock.
But you knew better than to express it.
"... Y- Yes, Daddy…" The word felt foreign and awkward in your mouth, but the intrusion of your private areas overpowered every other feeling.
"Tell me how it feels, honey" the man's tone turned into one of coaxing as the tip of his thumb glided up and down between your folds before circling your entrance. But he kept it from invading your privates for now.
Your eyebrows were tightly furrowed together as you whined, nuzzling your face into Kiki. "W- Weird, Daddy" that seemed to please him, and he hummed in approval.
"Good girl" a loud and confused squeak escaped you when he pushed the tip of his digit up your glistening slit next.
"S–" the click of his tongue stopped you and you corrected yourself just in time. "Daddy!"
"It's okay, honey. Daddies are supposed to take care of their little babies like this" his thumb was soon replaced by his middle finger and you couldn't help but let out a moan when it began to toy with the hood of your clit now, his finger working you open all the while. "See, getting better, isn't it, angel?" It was nothing but strange for your inexperienced body. Your hips tightened but you had no idea what it meant or led to.
And the intimidating visual was not helping the puzzle.
"L- Looks so scary, Da- Daddy" your bottom lip jutted out as you sniffled, unknowingly clenching around his finger and making him twitch inside his pants in turn.
"Aw, baby" he could swear you were the most precious thing he had ever come across. "Too much for your innocent eyes to handle, is it?" He had to have you. "Daddy can help you with that" his finger plopped out of you and your hole retracted, a shudder running down your spine at both the feeling itself and the loss of contact.
A small pout made its way on your face as you snuggled into Kiki, subconsciously missing the penetration.
Bucky moved further onto his knees and grasped your naked thighs in his strong calloused hands. "Turn around for Daddy, angel" you were moved to your knees in front of him. He spread your legs apart before moving back to undo his own pants, admiring the handiwork that he had made of you all the while.
Then he told you that it would feel a bit strange at first, that it may even hurt, but then it was sure to feel good.
You panicked when he entered your narrow opening as he hissed out curses, his metal hand curling around your thigh while the other rested on your ass cheeks that it fondled every now and then.
His words that you had initially suspected turned out to be true the more he moved inside you. Your tight, warm channel of moist flesh gripped at his cock in the same way your arms bracingly choked Kiki, whines drawling their way out of your gaping mouth as you nuzzled your flushed face in her soft body, feeling a small flame ignite in the base of your stomach.
"Hnnng owwhh, Daddy!" You whined as stars clouded your vision when his thick tip hit you deep up your cavern in a certain tender spot.
"You're so fuckin' tight, angel" his breathing was laboured as his muscular thighs slapped against yours, the collision causing your skin to sting as well as fill the room with a loud clapping sound which was occasionally accompanied by a squelch or two. "It's like you were waiting for your Daddy all along, huh?" You winced when one of his hands wrapped around your hair to pull you back as gently as he could manage. "Tell me you were waiting for me to come along and fuck this pretty pussy broken" you yelped when his free hand landed a harsh smack to one of your ass cheeks. When you didn't respond, he gave a demanding yank to your head. "Don't make me repeat myself, now."
Bucky could see that you had some difficulty with carrying out orders.
So he added that to the list of the things that you would have to work on.
"I- I…" Your chest ached as you struggle to breathe, feeling your senses battle between pain and pleasure. "I w- was waiting for you to co–" your words dissolved into a moan as your form swayed under his rough fucking, "come- come, come and–!" Your fingers tightened around Kiki to brace yourself against the influx of sensation that burst out between your legs when he spanked you one last time before trailing his fingers down your pussy.
"Go ahead, baby" his lips found the crook of your neck before his sharp teeth grazed against the skin. "You're doing so well for me" your back arched when he pecked your skin right before biting down on it.
And all of a sudden, the sensory overload was too much for your fucked out mind to handle. Your hips clenched and a lava of what you could only classify as pleasure exploded between them, your vision paling and hearing becoming muffled, mouth falling open to let out raspy stomach churning moans. Suddenly, the intensity of every stimulus that had been tearing its way into your body decreased and a faint ringing swam in your ears. The skin piercing hammering of your heart morphed into heavy thumps and your body went limp as it hung from the robber's cock, being held up solely by the tangle of his arms that encircled your body.
Bucky felt himself twitch when your orgasm gave way to obedience and you guzzled out your words to fulfill your command. "W- Waz wai'ing for D- Daddy to come along and f- fuck my pussy b- broken" his curse went unheard by you due to your temporary vertigo.
"Now tell Kiki that" he had to tap one of your cheeks to bring you back to the present. "Look at Kiki and tell her that" the sternness of his words fueled the overstimulation that your core was suffering, the hypersensitivity causing you to clench hard around his girth that pounded into you at a barely registerable pace, your knees shaking uncontrollably.
"K- Kiki…" Your arms were jelly as you forced them to wobble the pink teddy up in your sight since your head was locked in place by the grip he had on your hair. "I- I…" You whined out a loud moan. "W- Waiting on D- Daddy to c- come and b- break l- little pussy o- open" the brokenness of your voice coupled with the omission of words reached out for his climax and pulled it through. Bucky loudly cursed out in between moans as he rammed into you animalistically, his seed searing into your worked up walls and coating the flesh pale.
You had never been praised the way you were that night when the man– Bucky, he told you once he had placed you in the comforting bath he drew for you, cleaned and washed you thoroughly as he pressed reassuring kisses to your tear stained cheeks. When he declared the next morning that he was moving in, you did not say much for he still intimidated you but you had your suspicions. However, as time passed and you two grew closer than ever, you realized that the transition had been much easier and natural than you had expected.
Your lover excused you from your outdoor obligations and gave you a list of rules to abide by to make sure you would well fulfill your role as the homerunner. He made a promise with you to mend his ways and he actually did it by finding himself an honest job that paid well enough for your household. Then, even though you reassured him that he could just give you your grandmother's ring to propose, he was adamant on buying you one with a big rock. One that would match the shine of your pretty eyes, he said.
In other words, everything was going well.
Yes, the beginning of your relationship had been unconventional to say the least.
But fate had a strange way of bringing people together.
That eventful night had been your share.
What did such silly things matter when the both of you loved each other so much?
That was, until one day…
. . .
"I told you, angel. I'd always find my way to you" the man speaks as he fixes his pants while keeping a vigilant eye on you.
Your mouth is wide as tears wet your cheeks like an unceasing waterfall. "Daddy…"
"Yes, Daddy" passive rage drips off his smug words. "You thought you could report me and flee the country and that'd be the end of it?"
You shake your head vehemently and sputter out all the words you can manage in your honest defense. Your labored breathing turns into sobs as you grab at his hands and plead your case desperately.
You hadn't reported him. You could never do that to your Daddy and future husband!
Not even in your worst nightmare!
What had actually happened was that you had been tending to your daily tasks as usual when some strange men with badges you did not understood had shown up to your house while he was at work. They were mean but they had not hurt you. Instead, they had thrusted all kinds of files and records in your face, saying unbelievable things about your Daddy that simply could not be true and then demanding you tell them where he worked.
But you were too little to know those things.
So they ransacked your house before one of them found a piece of paper from one of Bucky's jackets before showing it to the rest. Their boss had turned back to look at you one last time with pity in his eyes before he called someone on his phone and joined his fellow men in one of the sleek black SUVs that they had arrived in. Your Daddy had not come home that night. Instead, your sobbing mother who lived in a different city had approached you where you had been waiting for Bucky out on the front stairs of the house.
She had forced you away from your home. You kept telling her that you had to inform your Daddy of what had happened and that he never ate without you and that he would be looking for you. But your sweet mother had become a tyrant with your safety -like you needed it- and you just could not understand the hysteria until she placed you in therapy that you thought you did not need.
But when you finally did start responding to the kind lady at the funny smelling clinic, you had slowly understood your mother's manic behavior.
"... And she said you were a terrible man that I best forget all about and move on in my life, Daddy. I didn't mean to blank you out!" You finish your speech, squeezing his fingers earnestly as your eyes beg his to believe you. "I didn't want to. But they said you were bad and a criminal and, and– I didn't have a choice" you sob and shake your head desperately, the awareness of just how hurt he must have felt when you disappeared choking your heart out. "And they wouldn't listen and they kept saying that you kidnapped me and–" he doesn't interrupt you. In fact, he hasn't done much of that in the past few minutes.
But then a heavy bell goes off in your head all of a sudden and you understand why he has been quiet, the horrific realization causing your muscles to freeze and shrivel as you feel foam rising in your mouth. Your eyes widen to the shape of saucers as the pattering of your tears literally becomes audible in the quiet room. "... But… Y- You…" Your clammy fingers try to yank themselves out of his. "You… did kidnap me after…" Terror grips at your throat.
Unreadable emotion passes by his teal orbs faster than you can process. Bucky lowers his head as he restricts your hands from pulling out of his by interlocking them in an iron-strong hold. Heaving in a deep sigh, he snickers to himself humorlessly, the long strands of his hair falling over his face as his shoulders shake.
"Oh, angel" he looks up once he finally gains composure over what had turned into sneering chuckles. "You will have to relearn everything all over again, won't you?" Your body feels petrified as the graveness of the matter sears into your muscles. He tugs his gloves off before cupping your face with his metal hand. "Good thing we have the rest of our lives with no one left to trouble us this time, huh?" With a promising kiss to your lips, he pulls his mask back down and fishes another one out of his jacket before slipping it over your face. "Come on, let's go home" Bucky effortlessly hauls you onto one of his massive shoulders after he swipes your nose with his thumb on which he had poured a strange substance out of a vial. The liquid instantly numbs your mind and your eyes go heavy, not that your terrified body was moving much in the first place.
The next few things that you feel through your melting senses include Bucky pulling your tattered skirt down before giving a powerful smack to your ass, turning in the opposite direction of the way you had come here after exiting the Manager's office, descend the fire escape that he chooses to exit the building through before briefly jogging to what you figure is probably a vehicle since you hear the beeping open of a lock.
And then everything goes dark.
#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes imagine#mcu bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#dark bucky#dark bucky smut#dark bucky x you#dark bucky x reader#dark bucky barnes
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Okay.
I don't often gush about movies on this blog. Hell, I don't often go to the movies anymore. I just don't have the attention span for it. And I honestly was going to give this one a miss until someone who's opinion I trust was adamant that I needed to see this film right now on the biggest screen possible while I still had the chance. So, FOMO out won over, and I went to go see Godzilla Minus One in Imax.
...
Look, I've been a Godzilla fan practically all my life. My family used to rent those old english dubs of the films on VHS from Blockbuster in the early nineties. I grew up with these monsters. But I have to admit, I've never seen the original, nor have I seen Shin Godzilla. To me, Godzilla is about one thing and one thing only.
Fuck.
Yeah.
Gimme the big monsters just going HAM on each other. Rubber suits, CGI, I don't care! I want the big boys with beef to beef with a large side of cheese!
I guess that's why Godzilla 2014 ultimately left me feeling kind of cold while I absolutely loved KOTM despite how stupid a lot of it was. I just want my big monsters absolutely wrecking shit.
This was different. I knew it was going to be different. A remake of the original Godzilla, this time from the viewpoint of the common citizens still trying to get their lives together after WW2? I knew I was in for some heavy drama.
What I didn't expect was one of the most amazing theater experience I have ever had.
And I'm not just saying that because the movie is good, even though it is.
I'm not just saying that because the movie is great, even though it is.
I'm not just saying that because it's a goddamn masterpiece, even though it is.
I'm saying that because it's about as close to perfect of a film as you can get, and not just of a Godzilla movie, but just as a movie!
Like, it's a running joke that you can cut the human characters out of any Godzilla movie. Here, you could cut Godzilla out and still have a great movie. That's how good the human side of things was.
Like, you really grow attached to these people who have literally lost everything. You grow invested in their struggles, in their relationships, in their baggage, in their love for one another. You come to care about them and are genuinely happy as they eke out a new life after having their homes literally blown to bits. You just want to see them succeed and be happy together.
And that's when Godzilla shows up.
This movie is called Godzilla Minus One in reference to how post-war Japan was basically a Zero Society, left devastated by the conflict. And these people who literally were left with nothing suddenly find even that ripped away as an enormous monster just starts rampaging through the recovering cities.
And this time, Godzilla isn't an avenging hero. He's not a destructive anti-hero. He's not a fun mascot. He's not even a poor, suffering monster unaware of the destruction that he's wreaking. This Godzilla is goddamn menace, an outright monster that is absolutely terrifying. He wants to crush, kill, and destroy. This is Godzilla at his most actively malicious, and all you can do is gape up in horror with these people that you've come to care so much about, wondering how in the hell are they supposed to deal with this!
I won't give away how the day is eventually saved, only to say that it is a masterclass of character-driven suspense and emotion. You honestly come to root for the humans for once. You want to see them succeed, and are genuinely in fear for their lives. No exaggeration, I had my heart in my throat and tears in my eyes all throughout the climax. I don't cry during movies, and this movie made me sob like a baby. It was that good.
And it also had so much to say! Not only about Japan's collective trauma following the nuclear bombs or the other bombing raids like the original, but also about how the Japanese government dehumanized its own people during the war, treating them as expendable resources to fuel the war machine. The main character is a freaking kamikaze pilot who lost his nerve and abandoned his mission, and that plus another act of what he saw as cowardice haunts him throughout the movie, and while it realistically shows how such a person would be treated like a pariah by his former friends and neighbors, it is nothing but sympathetic toward him. He blames himself constantly, but the narrative never seems to.
And there's just this wonderful moment near the end, when it's clear that the government isn't coming to the rescue, so it's up to the common man to band together and find a solution, when a few men leave the mission for fear of their lives and that of their families, and are not condemned for it. And the scientist spearheading the whole thing gives this lovely little speech about how carelessly life has been treated during the war, from the kamikazes to the poorly maintained supply chains to how the common folk were left to fend for themselves, and he hopes to just once be able to secure a win that doesn't sacrifice any more lives. Wow.
I know it's probably too late for anyone else to see it, because I'm pretty sure it's theatrical run ends today. I just wanted to get this review off my chest, because wow, this was the best movie I've seen all year. What a goddamn masterpiece.
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Future Android 18 being confused when her own body gets hit with the contingencies.
Bulma found some of Geros work but may have picked the wrong signal. Instead of activating the bomb she evacuated the bowels.
[Warning like really gross]
"We'll see who's laughing now... I've spent months reverse engineering this kill switch! I'll see you in hell you damn blubbery tyrant!" Bulma cursed struggling to keep her mind and hand steady as she held a detonator in her hands. Without a second thought she'd push the button and carefully watch from her concealed hiding place amongst the ruined rubble of the trashed city waiting for the Android menace to expire. "Any second now..." Bulma though her mind filled with visions of all those they had lost up till now.
"BWOOOOOOOOORP! Fuck me these burgers are even better. I don't know what 17 was worried about, keeping humans alive to make food was the best idea I ever had." The futuristic and sadistic version of 18 belched as she sat atop a creaking and bending bench gorging herself on food she had collected from the various surviving settlements the androids hadn't torched in their path of destruction.
"I bet the pizza is ever better!" 18 snorted and huffed wiping away a smear of ketchup from her lips with a flabby arm before shoving her greasy pudgy sausage fingers down towards a pizza rolling the entire thing up like a burrito and swallowing it in one gulp.
"It... it didn't work?" Bulma though fearful she had made a mistake but a sudden change in the androids expression almost made her give up her position.
"Hhrk... Hnnng! Wha- whatsh happenin'?" 18 groaned and grunted as she clenched her chest and belly doubling over in her seat as sweat began to drip down from her forehead in thick greasy beads. Bulma knew it had to be the bomb! She'd get to watch the murderer suffer for everything she had done! Or so she thought... 18 didn't explode instead an ominously gurgling began to grow louder as she panted and wheezed. The blonde menace looked to be in pain as her face scrunched up and she leaned to the side hefting her elephant sized ass cheek off the bench and letting out an explosive
"BRAAAAAAAAPPPPP BLOOOOOOORT!!!!!"
Like a cannon going off the androids stomach unleashed an explosive burst of flatulence with her sweat stained jeans rumbling as her gas soiled the already ruined fabric and flooded the surrounding area with a rancid, rotten and brown tinted smog that almost made Bulma faint from the sheer horridness of the smell.
"Shit... whew... that was FOUL! I feel like I've been holding that in all day. Ah who am I kidding I've been full of it since I ate those deep fried dino tails." The crass and vulgar android joked unaware of the distraught scientist In hiding just aways away from her.
"But... I had to work... I-I did everything I could..." Bulma said muttering to herself almost crying as she looked down at the remote in disappointment in herself and her work. "I failed..." she said tears now freely running down her cheeks.
"Once I finish up this pile I bet those bakers down in south town have had long enough to make me another wedding cake, if not I might just blow them up... or their toilet whichever one comes first." Future 18 grunted letting out one last burst of gas before getting up and digging her fingers into the back of her jeans to pull the stained fabric up and over her exposed sweaty ass. Standing up however wad definitely a mistake as her stomach dropped and the androids face paled. Something inside her was jostled loose by her sudden movement and she didn't like where it was going.
"Oh shit..." is all the Android got out before the flood gates opened and the fail safe Bulma had unintentionally triggered kicked in.
"BLOOOOOOOOORT!"
18's bowels gave way and her jeans already ruined by her humid body began to bulge and sag as she emptied the contents of her gut Into her pants stretching the material out and sagging to the ground in a rancid beanbag sized boulder of filth. Her pudgy cheeks turned scarlet as she voided her bowels emptying everything she had consumed and digested in her cauldron of a gut in a matter of moments. This was the straw that broke the camels back and bulma couldn't keep it together anymore. It was a mixture of anger, sadness, disgust all at once and despite a breath sadistic grin at ruining the Android and humiliating the world's torment she quickly passed out when another explosive fart left 18's rear overwhelming her senses and singing her nose with the burning overwhelming smell.
With the last of mess sputtering out into her pants the Android stood in shock at what she had done. 18 sat in silence for what felt like an eternity before lifting a pudgy finger into the air and blasting the mound of half eaten food with a ki blast before flying off leaving a thick scent trail behind her and carrying her swaying sagging britches along with her. She left without a word...
#slob#anon ask#muse: android 18#muse: 18#muse: bulma#tw: extreme slob#extreme slob#tw: scat#tw: soiling#gross
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you're the most normal girl i know
WAKABA ARC LET'S GO
i've really been loving utena thus far, and these two episodes somehow find a new height. this show fucking rules. how do they do it?
right from the intro it's clear something special is going to happen, as the typical prelude is replaced with a version centering wakaba. much like with utena, she awaits the arrival of her prince, and yet it's a little hollow - no conversation, no promise, no ring - she simply waits. in the meantime, she has her prince surrogate, utena, to dote upon, and the two enjoy another picnic on the lawn until they're approached by tatsuya, the auspicious onion prince.
wakaba's childhood friend and ostensible defender, tatsuya has come to confess to utena, who gently rebuffs him. wakaba stirs up and cautions utena against him, slowly revealing that she has a special place in her heart for him - a fond memory that has grown fainter by the year. hearing wakaba call him a prince, utena infers what's going on and sagely advises her friend to consider the role of fate in all this. wakaba disagrees as a lamppost suddenly illuminates the scene - a happy coincidence.
meanwhile, the student council members discuss their own desires and longing, which remain constant and unfulfilled. miki thinks of anthy whenever he plays the piano, touga remains the sun in nanami's sky, and though her name doesn't escape juri's lips, shiori echoes in her musing on one's inability to choose who they love. this prolonged, unrequited pining atmosphere will return…
utena seeks advice from her weekly akio session, wondering what to do about wakaba and tatsuya, who she feels aren't being honest with each other. akio posits that people's hearts are "veiled with thin silk" and that it's impossible to read their true desires. utena takes this at face value, unaware of how relevant his words are, sitting innocently across from anthy. akio's advice so far has made an interesting contrast to the silhouettes - while the silhouettes seem to obliquely hint at the episode's dramatic thread (prompting utena's skepticism), akio is more straight-to-the-point, and utena usually sees his words as wise guidance (when she can understand his metaphors). there's something to be said here about the voice of a male authority figure taking precedence over the shadowy plays of the feminine silhouettes, especially given akio's apparent menace. the silhouettes seem to grasp at something, possibly as misguided as the teenagers they accompany and often seem to be peers of. what is a tire, anyway?
utena, beleagueredly sipping her tea with a sage air, parrots akio's advice, prompting wakaba to confess her true feelings for tatsuya, which she continues to deny. utena's words do have the desired effect on tatsuya, and he pursues wakaba to a picturesque hill overlooking a burnt orange sunset. he asks wakaba to be honest with him, and there's a smooth bit of animation as wakaba kicks the ground, saying "i'm always honest." typically, the more fluid animations happen during the duels, so it's always intriguing to me to see when they're used otherwise - here, it seems like a potent emphasis of her flustered ambivalence. the rug is pulled and wakaba realizes she needs to embrace her prince, leaving tatsuya in the lurch. fortunately, they say the memorial hall can give guidance to those lost and confused…
just as tatsuya has re-entered wakaba's life too late, he enters the hall without an appointment, begging to be counseled. souji welcomes him, and tatsuya pours forth his anxieties - his love for wakaba, his grief that she doesn't return it, his anger that someone else will take his place and tarnish her, and his eternal hope that love will prevail and bring her back to him. and for the first time, the black rose rejects an interviewee. there's so much to wonder about here: souji claims tatsuya is a truly good person and that this is no place for him. something about how calculated souji is makes me feel like he wouldn't lie unnecessarily, but i also wonder if he simply sees tatsuya as a poor candidate for a duelist, especially when compared to saionji. tatsuya's rant isn't exactly free of incel sentiment, though i'm open to the thought that the elevator provokes a certain raw, unfiltered psyche vomit that doesn't necessarily define the interviewee. maybe it's tatsuya's lingering belief that wakaba will return to him that disqualifies him - he's heartbroken but not hopeless in the way that the other black rose duelists have been.
returning to wakaba, i truly thought she would run into utena's arms, but the fact that she used "him" to describe her prince did plant a seed of doubt in my mind. how naive i was. the ending of this episode was the shock of my life.
unable to wait, i continued. the warm, hazy light from the sunset returns and suffuses the air of this episode, gently accompanying wakaba as she descends into the town to shop and then returns to her dorm, to saionji. what a contrast to the other episodes - in place of miki's golden memories, nanami's noir imagination, and juri's preserved photographs, wakaba floats in a heavenly summer aura. her reality has become better than her dreams, and though her fate seems bent towards sorrow, for these few days, weeks, she has attained what every other character longs for. she has found her shining thing, her miracle.
removed from the influence of touga, the council, and ohtori, saionji has become remarkably docile and emotional, tearfully thanking wakaba for hiding him after his expulsion. stripped of the pressures and rituals of the school, he has a chance to reforge himself, exchanging his kendo sword for a whittling knife and paint. yet, his uniform hangs on the wall, a reminder of all he lost and might regain.
wakaba is in bloom. in an arc of secrets, hers is one to treasure, and in keeping it, she has become, for the first time, special. she excels at school, at sports, and though she loses touch with her friends, she can go home every day to her prince, acting out a quaint domestic life not unlike anthy and utena. utena knows something's changed, and consults her advisor, akio, who spins a tale of two kinds of people: those with special destinies, like utena, and those without, like wakaba. the latter, he explains, may become special - but only temporarily. utena is confused by akio's words, which he cites as proof of her specialness, but it all certainly smacks of any number of hierarchical -isms and -archies. that said, he may be right that utena's uncertainty at her own "specialness" is a component of her success - her humility, chivalry, and nobility are the rare qualities that bring her good fortune, popularity, and victory, while her rivals, such as touga, who see themselves as superior to others, consign themselves to defeat. it of course remains to be seen how akio's ostensible sense of superiority will affect his fate.
meanwhile, saionji presents the leaf clip to wakaba, and she sheds a tear. "it's perfect," she says. her life can soar no higher.
leaving only one direction.
as wakaba cheerfully recounts the goings-on of the council, she just so happens to omit one of their members, prompting saionji to ask the fateful question: "how is anthy doing?" and so an unignorable crack forms in wakaba's perfect life. touga's cruel words from long ago echo: "your feelings will betray you as deeply as you feel them." saionji hasn't let go of his feelings for anthy, and wakaba fears she can't compete with her, relegating her back to obscurity and unspecialness. as her heart begins to cloud, souji strikes.
"no secret escapes the notice of the black rose circle," he tells saionji, once again bringing the arc's themes into stark relief and following it up with another knockout line: "how will you escape this purgatory?" i thought, "of course!" the lovesick pining, the endless fealty to end of the world, wakaba's earlier comments that nothing ever happens at ohtori - all reflections of the purgatorial nature of the show's world. everyone is waiting, unchanging - saionji waits to return to school, tsuwabuki waits to grow up, utena and wakaba wait for their princes, juri waits for a miracle, miki waits for his shining thing to return, nanami waits for touga to reciprocate her love, and touga now waits for a resurrection. what is high school but the long wait before "adulthood" - a wait that we fear may be both far too short and unending? in this atmosphere, the duels stand out as rare moments of action, as characters finally move to seize their desires. and all along, the prince's castle hangs in the stars above, while the fires of the memorial hall's incinerator burn below.
i can't wait to finish the show and read what other people have made of it - i feel i'm barely scratching the surfaces with moments like this.
souji's moves are keen as a razor, and he dangles exactly the right bait for saionji: the reversal of his expulsion. "i'll need something of yours," he says, rich with dramatic irony. everything falls into place. anthy wears the leaf clip in front of wakaba, shattering her into pieces. she returns home and seizes the sword from saionji with frightening speed and violence. utena ascends to the arena and is rendered speechless. "utena, the sword!" anthy pleads, but utena can't raise it against her closest friend. wakaba delivers some truly heartrending plaints (huge props to her VA), cursing utena and the school's elites for trampling her life into the dirt. all she wanted was what they want - love, and a place in the sun. so utena provides as best she can, reassuring wakaba of her love for her, and yet… and yet… "i'll save you."
because she needs saving. just as utena once saw herself as anthy's savior, she now sees herself as the savior of wakaba. and, as nobly as she means this, it creates a distinction, a hierarchy between them. and so it's utena who makes the calls. wakaba's rose is cut. saionji returns to ohtori, rumors swirling about whether he'll try to rejoin the student council, his star once more ascendant among the school. and wakaba goes home to an empty room.
just like normal.
stray thoughts:
the silhouettes discuss purchasing tires and fox weddings, a legend i remember from akira kurosawa's dreams collection. been meaning to rewatch that sometime soon, i think i'd get a lot more out of it now.
hard to think of something scummier than akio telling anthy "i hope you find your own prince soon."
love that wakaba's home life with saionji is so funny - him scampering away to hide and then wiggling out from under the bed like some kind of giant insect, and meanwhile she's pretending to be a religious devotee to cover for him.
interesting that saionji frames his return to school as like, being part of a mission to space. "launch!" maybe he'd been spending time with akio before this? ever since akio's fixation on the stars was introduced, i've wondered if the show will somehow eventually go to space, continually expanding in scope a la gurren lagann.
anthy's cries to utena to draw the sword reminded me of another of my favorite desperate shouts: "chan! we need fire! bring the fire!" from the tunnel fight scene in snowpiercer (happens at 3:10 in the clip)
thought about the beast asking the woodsman "are you really ready to go back to that empty house?" in over the garden wall when wakaba got home at the end.
#revolutionary girl utena#shoujo kakumei utena#utena project#my writing#over the garden wall#gurren lagann#snowpiercer#duel 19#duel 20#akira kurosawa#dreams
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pack nanny
Ned's nerves are frayed so thin you wouldn't believe. Ned works as a prosecutor and he's had a hard day at work. It's that Greyjoy gang wreaking havoc in the city yet again. Eddard and the Mayor Bob Baratheon have their hands full with Greyjoy shit. Just the usual: drug dealing, illegal whorehouses, asassinations...
On top of that, Catelyn has been nagging Ned lately about how he doesn't spend enough time with family.
Thing is, he does. Just not when Catelyn is around, and that's the problem, really. He's spending a lot of time wth the children. Noticing how the Nanny takes such a good care of them. How she hugs them when they cry. How she kisses better every scratch and bruise. It's been driving him FUCKING NUTS.
Just two days ago, he has caught the Nanny making out with the Greyjoy brat behind his garage. He grabbed the rascal by the ear and dragged him off of his premises, then gave the Manny a stern talking to, all the while ignoring the tightness in his pants. It's only by the desperate effort of his last two braincells that weren't completely addled by testosterone, that he's resisted taking her then and there against the back door of his garage and marking her as his.
So this night, when he comes back from the courthouse, he notices three things. One: Catelyn isn't home. She's told him she'll be working late tonight (she's a creative director for a clothig brand and they're about to release a new collection, so she's been busy). Two: the children are fast asleep in their beds. Three: the Nanny isn't around. But she wouldn't leave the children unsupervised, she has to be somewhere in the house.
Ned stalks upstairs silently, wondering what is going on... He hears it, a quiet breathig, no, it's... panting. And then a moan. He feels his cock harden at the sound. Damn it all to hell.
She is in his bedroom. Again. After he's specifically forbidden her to enter there. He approaches and looks through the crack in the door.
The sight he's met with makes his blood boil.
Nanny is lying on his bed, her shirt and bra discarded, her skirt hiked up. She is writhing sensually and panting, tweaking her nipple with one hand, while her other hand is...
...between her legs, her fingers burried deep in her drenched, glistening cunt. The SOUNDS she's making are obscene. He can almost feel the heavenly, salty SMELL of her arousal. Her eyes are closed, she seems completely unaware of her surroundings. How unprofessional, he thinks, what if something happened to the kids?! But the thought is just a fleeting wisp quickly blown away by his raging desire. She's mewling, uttering some incoherent littany.
"Yes, oh, yes... like that..." she moans, "...just like that, I'll be good, I'll be your good girl, I promise... Please, oh... oh shit! Yes! Ned! YES! Mr Stark, right there, please..."
Has he misheard? Is she calling his, Ned's, name? The last thread of his self control snaps. He is already unbuttoning his shirt when he bangs the bedroom door open and marches towards the bed. He discards his shirt and starts working on his trousers, towering over her with menace on his face.
The nanny halts all of her movements and blinks. She's visibly shaken and frightened.
"Mr Stark, I... I'm sorry, I wasn't..." Words get stuck in her throat.
"You're out of control, Nanny," he states, matter-of-factly, though the horny rasp in his voice belies his meaning. "What am I going to do with you, hm?" he asks, stepping out of his trousers and kicking them to the corner. "Theft. Loitering with the bad seed of this town, indecent exposure at work, public misconduct ON MY BACKYARD no less..." he ennumerates her sins, "and now THIS!" He crosses his arms waiting, hoping to hear her pleading.
Sure enough, she starts sobbing.
"Please, Mr Stark, Sir, don't kick me out. I need this job, else I'll end up on the streets." Tears are streaming down her cheeks and Ned's heart almost bursts. "Please, I beg you! Don't you fire me!"
She pleads with him so sweetly, how could he refuse her? He slowly takes off his briefs and his fat, hard cock springs free. Was it his imagination, or did the Nanny just lick her lips at the sight?
"Fire you?" he asks, bemused. "On the contrary, you're being promoted," he declares, as he kneels on the bed and crawls over the nanny, taking in her surprised expression and the slight tremor of her beautiful body.
"In addition to my children," he says, looking down at her, his face just centimetres from hers, "from now on you'll be taking care of THIS," he gives his sentence, as he pushes his cock into her slick, tight, virgin pussy.
(Ned Stark is my bane.)
!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HOT HOT HOT!!!!!!
DROOL WORTHY !
NSFW GIF
He's lost all control now and we love it !!
#pack nanny#it's the hottest thing ever!!!#i can't add anything to this master piece#you always write the best!
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Keep Your Eyes On Me • Chapter 8
Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x F!Mitchell!OC
Summary:
Elizabeth “Ghost” Mitchell is the daughter of what some would say is the most decorated Naval Captain. But when she is called back to North Island for a special mission she is forced to face her past loves, past hurts, and past losses.
Warnings:
violence, swearing, PTSD, war, mental illness & probably more
Word Count: 2204
Cross Posted: A03 • Wattpad
“You used something I told you in confidence against my father and against my brother! Go fuck yourself, Jake!” she shouted as Jake looked at her, still holding his face. His face was already beginning to swell. She hadn’t held back at all.
“I'm sorry,” he breathed out, causing her to soften a little.
“Lieutenant Mitchell, my office, now,” the voice of Admiral Simpson rang through the halls.
She hadn't noticed that her father had opened the door and had seen the whole thing. She glanced over at him before walking past Jake and towards Admiral Simpson.
Elizabeth stayed on base, unwilling to go home to face Bradley. She was ashamed she had told Jake anything at all. Her music blared in the gym as she pumped up and down on the bar, watching her form through the mirror. Her arms were bare as the top part of her jumpsuit was tied around her waist. She was angry. She had been grounded for a day while the others did basic flight maneuvers. Her father got orders to report elsewhere. She dropped to the ground, unaware of just how menacing she looked. Her RBF was amplified, causing any of the others in the gym to go to the other side where she wasn't.
She hadn't known how long she was there. She had no orders, so she got there at about 0800. Looking at the clock, it was now noon. She sighed softly as some of her fellow team members trickled into the gym. Her eyes met Jake’s for only a moment. Long enough to get a look at the nice-sized bruise around his eye.
“Damn Seresin! Where’d you get that?” one of the others in the gym as she walked over to the punching bag.
She looked down at her phone, seeing the unopened text to her uncle.
Yes, I know I shouldn't have punched someone in the face, but I still really need to talk to you. As an uncle, not an admiral.
She sighed softly as she wrapped her hands and began punching the bag, the muscles in her arms glistening. Many female aviators were muscular but in a slim way. She was a brute of a woman. The army made her strong. She kept herself that way. She bounced around the bag as ‘It’s just one of those days’ by Limp Bizkit played.
She was too focused on the bag in front of her for her to notice that Jake had walked over to her. His hands gripped the bag to stabilize it for her. He leaned his head to the side to watch the woman in front of him.
“Liz, I'm sorry,” he said softly, only to be met with her hitting the bag harder. The fire in her eyes caused the hair on his neck to stand up. “I shouldn't have said what I said. It was a dick move. Please, can we just talk?” he pleaded gently.
She felt the phone in her pocket vibrate, causing her to pull away to look at it.
Meet me at the diner. We can talk there.
“Just leave me alone, Jake,” she said, meeting the man's gaze briefly before grabbing her water and turning to go to the locker room.
She got to the diner she and her uncle frequented occasionally. He usually made it a point to meet with her at least once whenever she wasn't deployed. She noticed a bike already parked in the parking lot and decided to park next to it. She climbed off her own as she slipped her helmet off, stretching before walking up the stairs. Not having any civilian clothes, she wore her tans.
“Hey Frank, Ice here yet?” she questioned with a smile.
“No, I haven't seen him. Some guy took your usual table though,” the man said.
Liz looked over to see her father sitting there with a cup of coffee in his hand, waving at her.
“Oh no, he's right where he's supposed to be,” she mumbled.
She took a deep breath before walking over to the table and sliding into the seat across from him.
“I uh, heard you needed to talk, and uh,” her father mumbled, fidgeting a bit. “I've been wanting to talk to you but I uh…”
Elizabeth watched him with an amused face before slowly reaching over and resting her hand on top of his.
“You don't have to explain yourself. I've wanted to talk to you as well,” she hummed.
Just then, a waitress brought over plates of food. Elizabeth smiled softly as coffee and pancakes were set down in front of them.
“I see you still like cinnamon banana,” Pete said. He saw the childlike glint he had missed so much in her eyes.
“Adore. I remember being in Afghanistan and all I wanted was a big fat pile of cinnamon banana hotcakes,” she said, basically drooling. She immediately dug into the food, only stopping when she noticed her father hadn't started. “What?” she muffled out, mouth full of syrup-covered bananas.
The man shook his head as he began cutting his food, laughing a bit.
“So, you punched Seresin,” he said, trailing off.
“Yeah, he deserved it. The only thing I'm sorry for is laying my hands on someone. Actually, no I'm not. He had it coming,” she snorted out, trying to brush it off a bit.
“Lizzy,” he said, giving her a comforting yet pointed look only a father could pull.
“I regret punching him in the face. I let the anger out. I'm just pissed he used something I told him against the both of you,” she mumbled. She hesitated before she spoke again. “The other night we all had gone to the bar, we got into callsigns and well… John got a little heated with Brigham. It set something off… had my first PTSD attack in a while. Jake was the one to come and comfort me. Wouldn't be the first time, but hopefully, it's the last?” she said.
But it was probably wishful thinking. She hated breaking down in front of others. Why should they have to deal with the consequences of her mistakes?
“Wouldn't be the first time?”
“When me and him had to eject during aviation training, I panicked,” she explained. “After last night, I ended up taking him to a friend's home, and we spent the night there. I told him about my service, and our relationship, and I didn't mention Bradley until he asked. I guess he saw your TOPGUN photo in the classroom,” she explained. “That's the only reason I mentioned it. I never thought he would use it against anybody.” She shook her head, using her fork to pick at the food in front of her.
“Based on what I’ve seen, it's not that surprising. He's arrogant and doesn't seem to see that he can make mistakes.”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“It was his fault we had to eject in training. He cleaned up his act, mostly, and made sure I knew he was sorry and meant it. People seem to think that he's just someone who leaves you hanging. He’s an asshole, but he owns up to his mistakes, though he just doesn't seem to make very many,” she clarified rather confidently as she shoved a big bite into her mouth. “What about you? Any woes that need curing?”
Pete chuckled.
“Many, but the one at the present is mending relationships,” he answered before crunching at his bacon.
“Well, you have me in your corner, Bradley on the other hand…”
“Yeah I know,” he mumbled.
“It's bad. I can't mention your name at all. He’s still so stuck on hating you. He hates me right now. That's why I don't go home.”
“Did you fight?”
“Minorly. I told him I wanted to make amends with you and he blew up. That's part of the reason we broke up when we did,” she explained. “I’ve wanted to make up with you for a long time, but then the army happened and I just got angrier… there are no real excuses.”
“Elizabeth, I want you to stop apologizing for what you said. I won't deny… it hurt. But I know you were scared and angry,” he said softly. “I want you to talk to me about things. Like what happened in the army. I will admit Ice told me some of what happened, I know the bullet points. But if you ever want to talk more about it, I'm here.” He reached across the table, clasping her hand and watching the tears well up in his daughter's eyes. Elizabeth almost immediately lifted her face to blink the tears away. She didn't deserve him.
“So, you and Penny,” she said, changing the subject, not sure if she was ready to discuss her army deployment again. Especially in a busy diner. Pete smiled softly, looking out the window as a slight blush came to his cheeks. “Ohhhhhh you and Penny,” she said, getting excited.
She remembered when they dated she was around 14 or 15. It was messy, childish, and fun. But as mature as her father had become with raising her, he was still immature when it came to love.
“No no, she doesn't want to go down that road with me again,” he said, denying her words.
“I think she still holds affection for you. You just can't abandon her again,” she put bluntly.
“It’s different this time. I don't want to leave her again. She’s just… perfect,” he breathed, looking at his daughter. A smile grew as he looked at the mad grin she had on her face.
“Ooooo Mavericks in loooove love.”
“Yeah? And what's with you and Hangman? I saw the two of you in the bar that first night,” he said with a smirk, causing Liz to sputter a bit.
“I was afraid you heard that…” she mumbled, mostly to herself.
“I'm just surprised it went from Bradley to… well him. Wouldn't peg him as your type.”
“You say that as if me and Jake are a thing,” she said, sipping her coffee.
“I trust you know what you’re doing,” he said with a smile. She looked at him and felt a rush of relief come over her, causing her to smile more.
The two of them finished their food, chatting about a bunch of other things before heading out. They ended up racing one another on the freeway until they broke apart. Pete headed to base while she made her way back home for the first time in a few days.
Liz slowly pulled up to the house and sat in the driveway for several moments. She checked her phone notifications, seeing her father had texted her: he made it to base safely. Elizabeth did the same for him, only looking up when she heard the front door open. Her eyes widened in shock when she saw Jake walking out. His eyes met hers before he immediately went to his truck and drove off. She climbed off her bike, watching the rental drive down the road before looking over to the front door. Bradley stood there, looking at her before he turned and went back inside.
“What was Seresin doing here?” she asked once inside, closing the door and slipping her shoes off. She noticed how pristine the boys kept her home in her absence.
“Explaining himself,” Bradley said with a slightly haughty tone as he walked out of the kitchen.
“Bradley, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it,” she said, following him.
“But you did,” he said. He glanced at her before sighing.
“Roo,” she mumbled, looking down at the floor. “I’m sorry. Genuinely.” She breathed out. “I was wrong.”
She felt his long brawny arms softly drag her into a hug.
“You wanna say that again?”
“Say what again?”
“That you were wrong,” he said with a grin, making her flare up at him slightly. “Bagman explained everything. Based on the massive bruise on his face, I’d say that was repentance enough.”
He kissed her softly on the head.
“Are you sure?”
“Don’t worry about it, E. Seriously,” he said, pulling away and ruffling her braids causing her to huff. “Where have you been? Other than being grounded?”
She gave him a look before walking up the stairs. Bradley followed.
“Where’s John?” she asked instead.
“Talking to Jannette and the twins.”
“Ah, I won’t bother him then,” she said, walking into her room.
She turned to look at Bradley, who had followed her inside and raised an eyebrow.
“I wanted to say sorry for snapping at you the past few days.”
Today was the day for apologies, it seemed.
“I understand. Maverick being around brings up a bunch of old wounds,” she hummed. “I’m sorry I had a short fuse as well.” Bradley nodded, rubbing the back of his neck as he stood there awkwardly. “Let me shower and change, then we can play some more of the Last of Us. I still have our game saved,” she said, causing his face to light up.
“I’ll go set up,” he said before turning and rushing out of the room, his heavy feet making the room shake a bit.
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Authors note: n/a
Editor(s): @delicatenightfury
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#top gun#top gun maverick#top gun 2#top gun fanfiction#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#jake seresin fanfiction#jake hangman seresin imagine#jake seresin fic#jake seresin x oc#hangman#hangman fic#hangman fanfiction#hangman fluff#hangman top gun#hangman x oc#hangman seresin#top gun hangman
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talking body | joel miller x f!reader
read on ao3 | tlou is created by a zionist and tlou2 is based on the Israeli occupation on Palestine, pls visit these links to help. i urge other joel/tlou fanfic writers to do the same & add these resources to your posts to educate yourself or others who may still be unaware of this info.
pairing: joel miller x curvy f!reader
rating: 18+ MDNI
word count: 7.5k (dear god)
summary: joel doesn’t hesitate to show you just how crazy he is about you.
content warnings: jackson era, canon divergent, established relationship, unspecified age gap, (joel is late 50’s/pushing 60 & reader is whatever age you like her to be), fatphobic/misogynistic comments from a male oc, mentions of body insecurities, a little bit of jealousy (from reader), [internal] angst (feelings of guilt & shame), reader wears a form–fitting dress, joel gets handsy, body worship, pet names (sweetheart, darlin’, baby, pretty girl), brief vaginal fingering, biting, body marking, praise kink, sprinkle of degradation, 1 pussy slap, dirty talk (or as kat put it; joel miller and that FUCKING MOUTH), oral sex (f receiving), mild ass play, unprotected piv, rough sex, spanking, multiple orgasms, possessive!joel, pussy pronouns, creampie, fluff, joel just being such a sweetheart but also an absolute menace UGH, game!joel or show!joel, reader is curvy and can be interpreted as being mid/plus sized, but other than that no other physical descriptions of reader and no use of y/n.
a/n: this is completely self indulgent and i love doing shit out of spite so naturally i wrote this cuz of all the shit i’ve been seeing these past few weeks. also, this is me pushing the agenda that game!joel is a hips guy and show!joel is an ass guy, so i mixed a little bit of both in here bc i can. to everyone with thick thighs, squishy bellies, big tits, hip dips, and every thing in between i see you, i love you (so does joel), and he would fuck your brains out, he told me himself :3 thank you to my loves @skrunkly-scrimblo & @phoeberidgers for being my second and third eyes & helping my indecisive ass with the visuals (and for always putting up with me) ily both sm <3 | dividers by @saradika-graphics
oh! masterlist is coming in a few days (i’m sorry, i’ve been putting it off)
Joel’s still sitting at the table with Tommy and Maria when Dina cuts into your path as you approach the bar, you were getting refills for your table. Dina drags you along behind her to the open space where a few other Jackson residents are dancing, she points out that you still haven’t delivered on your promise to dance with her. You playfully roll your eyes as she tugs you along, you don’t really mind, you’re the type to drink and dance the night away whenever you and Joel joined your fellow Jackson residents at The Tipsy Bison, letting out all the stress and worries that had built up from days prior and tonight was one of those nights, you endured a long, shitty, fucking week.
One dance had turned into two which turned into three and very quickly you felt the overwhelming sense of heat from the lights and the alcohol running through your system warming up your body an ungodly amount. It didn’t help that the short, tight dress you were wearing was beginning to ride up your thighs and the thin fabric on your stomach clinging to your sticky skin as sweat started to pool in places you didn’t quite like.
You take advantage of the song coming to an end and spin out of the dance before someone ropes you back in, tugging the hemline of your dress down while you make your way to the bar to finally order refills for your table. As you wait for the bartender to come out from the back, you turn around to watch the rest of Jackson’s residents while they drink, dance, and laugh through the night, a smile tugs on your lips as you briefly spot Dina now dragging Ellie to the small open space. You continue glancing over the room, it was busier than usual though still expected, gatherings during the fall and winter months tended to occur more often, the cold weather gives people a reason to spend more time indoors, alcohol and loud music helps keep bodies warm and memories faded away. Nights like these are needed in Jackson.
Your gaze eventually lands on your table, seeing a tall, beautiful, dark-haired woman standing in front of Joel, you know exactly who it is…Esther. You’re not surprised, she’s been after Joel for years, completely disregarding your relationship with him. You don’t blame her, Joel’s one hell of a man but you can’t help but feel a pit in your stomach when you see a smile on his face as he cracks a laugh at her joke, she playfully smacks his arm in return and you avert your eyes to scan the crowd once again.
You know he doesn’t mean anything by it, Joel’s a gentleman, always polite and charming, he plays along as to not embarrass her.
So why does it bother you?
You feel stupid, again you can’t blame her, but then your eyes trail down her body, she’s got a few years on you but she doesn’t look it. From what you can tell, her body has remained the same since the day you met her.
Yours, on the other hand, has slightly changed to a noticeable degree, as you settled into Jackson as well as your relationship with Joel. Your breasts spill over the cups of a few older bras, you have a softer tummy that protrudes out in form–fitting clothes like right now and your thighs and ass fill your jeans out a bit more. It’s a dull feeling now, not really paying it any mind anymore, you were more aware of it at first, but occasionally, moments like this remind you of the changes in your body.
His body has deliciously changed with age; his hair now suitably silver, though the gray patches of hair spanning across his chest and down his belly don’t quite match the hair on his scalp. When he lifts his arms just enough his soft belly peeks out, perfectly protruding just above the waistband of his jeans. He’s insecure about it, his age more apparent when you’re beside him, not that he’d ever really admit that to you, but you picked up on it pretty quickly when he started opting for loose fitting button downs and jeans, but he clearly still has an effect on women.
With you it’s just….different.
Feeling the heat of a stare on you and knowing who it’s from, you glance back at Joel, your gaze landing on his face again, you can see his face more clearly now, Esther’s still talking to him, yet his attention isn’t on her, his eyes are trained on you and you’re met with an expression of hunger on his face. His eyes steadily rake down your body, feasting on the tight material clinging to your sticky skin, they pause and for a fleeting moment he fixates on your exposed thighs, his eyes trail back up to your chest, and as he lifts up the glass of whiskey he’s been nursing to his mouth, you catch his tongue poke out to lick his bottom lip, his eyes never leaving yours as he takes a long sip of his whiskey.
The faint buzz from the alcohol emboldens you and you wink back at him.
No longer giving those feelings a second thought you turn back around and try to wave down the bartender.
“Another round, please.”
“Sure thing, sweets.”
He turns away to grab your drinks, your ears perk up when you hear someone say your name, you turn your head towards the voice, noticing a few men sitting at the edge of the bar. You recognize one of them, a younger man, who happened to be your old patrol partner and your last fling.
Naturally, you eavesdrop on their conversation. Matt’s back is to you when you hear it.
“She’s not in her prime, you should’ve seen her a few years ago,” he sneers.
His words pierce through you, you know exactly what he’s getting at, it stings even when you know it shouldn’t, it festers.
A man you’re not familiar with, probably the newbie, stands further away, he opens his mouth to speak but you can’t hear what he’s saying, the music is too loud and you have to fight the urge to look directly at him so you can read his lips, but he says something that earns a few snickers out of the men surrounding him.
The shame coils and pulls taut in your stomach, twisting, pulling, scraping so tight it makes you dizzy and nauseous.
You don’t even realize your drinks had been placed on the bartop in front of you, Matt’s irritating voice cuts in and holds your attention, “Can’t believe a man like Joel is still with her. No real man can fuck women who look like that and enjoy it,” he says simply.
The shame turns to rage and your blood boils, you feel your cheeks heating up as anger bubbles in the pit of your stomach, the blinding rage looms over you and your feet move without thinking. You begin to step forward but for the second time that night your movements are interrupted, you hear her voice before she’s in front of you.
“You ditched us to grab drinks and yet we never got them,” Maria teases.
“Sorry, I got carried away,” you look away from the group of men and back at Maria, flashing her a smile, a little forced.
“Figured. Joel’s been eyeing you while you were dancing, I told him to join you but we both know he prefers admiring you,” she says, redrawing your attention by tilting her head into your line of sight.
She beckons you with a jerk of her head, “C’mon, your man gets grumpy when you’re away,” she says with a comforting smile. As the two of you grab the whiskey filled glasses, she hooks her arm through yours and walks you back to the table.
Joel pulls open your chair next to him, you sit down and silently hand him his whiskey, the anger fizzling out as soon as you’re beside him though the knot of shame still tight in the pit of your stomach. He senses something is off immediately, your behavior wildly different than twenty or so minutes before.
“Thanks, baby,” he says as he watches you intently.
“Mhm.”
You nod, shooting him a glance before averting your eyes back to a small group of residents dancing.
Tommy turns his head to ask Maria about the new patrol schedules for the upcoming week, Joel sees it as a window of opportunity, a distraction, so he throws his arm around you and tucks you into his side, just enough for you to smell the whiskey on him, he settles his palm on your stomach, his thumb starts rubbing small circles on your belly through your tight dress, “You okay, darlin’?” he whispers, his whiskey–warm breath against your ear.
“Yup. Just tired,” you say dismissively, trying to keep your voice light, hoping it doesn’t sound as pinched as your throat feels. You press a chaste kiss to the flecks of silver on his temple, attempting to sooth his worries, while internally trying to convince yourself that you’re not giving those assholes too much power over their words, even though you have, it gnaws at you so much it makes your bones itch beneath your skin.
He catches the deceit in your voice but he drops the subject, knowing not to pry in this moment, “Alright, we'll finish these and head home,” he kisses your forehead before he turns his attention back towards the conversation.
—
Joel kept on his word, the two of you leaving the gathering once you knocked back the rest of your drinks. However, finishing off your drinks meant the two of you were in a tipsy state and Joel’s insatiable when he’s got alcohol buzzing in his system. As soon as he closes the bedroom door behind him, he instantly pins you up against the door and presses his lips to yours, his mouth swallowing yours while his hands run greedily all over your body, grabbing and squeezing every part of you.
“God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful,” he says while he nuzzles his head in the deep groove of your cleavage, he nips lightly before leaving open–mouthed kisses to the exposed skin, his big hands come up to cup your breasts, your nipples peaked and hard beneath the thin fabrics of your dress and your bra.
“Fuck–” your whimper is cut off when Joel drags his lips back up to connect with yours, you hum as you taste his flavour, all oak and masculine and campfire like with a hint of spice from the whiskey. He moans as he licks his tongue into your mouth, one hand squeezes the weight of your breast while the other glides around to your back, pulling you closer. Joel always gets like this after a few drinks; it’s always heady, needy, sloppy like it is now. He kisses you with so much want and desire it makes your brain all foggy and your skin flare, forgetting the moment that threw off your mood.
That is until Joel’s hands make their way down your front, palming your tummy softly, one hand reaches under the hem of your short dress to cup your mound and the memory claws its way back to the surface, Matt’s words echo in your mind.
You tear your lips away from his and plaster on a tight smile, knowing your eyes will give you away, you stare at the scar across his nose, “Not tonight, baby,” you whisper, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek and tucking a silver curl behind his ear.
Though Joel Miller, as always, is on high alert, always studying the people around him, it’s all he’s ever known in his role of a protector. He learnt and memorized all your tells within weeks of knowing you, he doesn’t need to see your eyes to catch on, he senses the hint of sadness in the hushed tone of your voice, the same one he clocked earlier at The Tipsy Bison, he knows you’re holding back.
“Alright, sweetheart, what’s on your mind?”
You brush past him, walking away and sitting on the bed, “Nothing, I’m fine, I’m just tired,” you say a little too hurriedly, your voice too syrupy-sweet. That’s the third thing that’s tipped him off tonight. He follows you tentatively, sitting beside you placing his hands on your knees and guiding you to face him.
He assesses your face and sighs, “We’re not gonna do that. You’ve been real quiet and distant most of the night. Darlin’, talk to me,” he hooks a finger underneath your chin and gently tilts your face upwards, forcing you to look at him.
You shrug heavily, feeling stupid for letting their words sour your mood, but worse for thinking the same about yourself, when you should be grateful. Living, breathing, existing is a privilege, one that not everyone gets, something you and Joel are too familiar with, yet here you are letting dumb comments from even dumber men upset you. The same knot in your stomach from earlier pulls taut once again.
You rip your eyes away from Joel’s, not able to bring yourself to face the troubled look in his eyes. “It's just embarrassing, and I’m ashamed that I let things still get to me,” you admit defeatedly, your voice barely audible.
“Baby,” he tugs gently on your chin again, “Look at me,” he murmured.
You blink up at him, forcing yourself to look at him, tears pricking in your eyes when you see the worry line appearing in between his brows and the hues of concern in his eyes once again. He reaches up to gently cradle your face, the contact sends you over the edge and a tear cascades down your cheek, his calloused thumb swipes it away, the turmoil clear as day in his eyes, you hate that you’re the reason for the pained expression on his face.
“Tell me,” he implored, his voice pinched as he spoke.
You can feel the walls of your throat constricting and the rapid thump of your pulse right below your jaw as you swallow tightly. Just hearing the hurt in his voice should stop you, should make you drop the whole thing. You think about leaving Matt’s name out of it, just by mentioning that Matt was the one reaffirming your deep-seated insecurities will upset him alone, Joel’s hated the guy since the day he found out you fucked him but leaving his name out of it feels like you're protecting him.
That coupled with the look of worry on his face, knowing his compulsive need to do right by you but he can’t if you don’t let him, coaxes you to tell him everything.
Biting the bullet and bracing yourself for impact, you take a deep breath.
“You know that guy, Matt, that I used to….” you trail off quietly, biting your lip.
His lips downturn into a soft frown and yet he doesn’t respond, just gives you a firm nod.
You avoid his gaze, picking at the loose skin around your nail, Joel notices and grabs your hands in his. Your eyes stay transfixed on your lap, you sigh deeply, “He said, a man like you shouldn’t be with someone like me, said he doesn’t know how you can fuck me and enjoy it,” another tear spills down your cheek, recounting each of his words feels like hard punches to the gut. “And then seeing Esther hitting on you again, even though everyone knows we’re together–I know I shouldn’t let it get to me but I can’t help how I feel sometimes,” your voice quavering as you ramble admittedly.
You peer up at him under watery lashes and for a second you can practically see him fighting the urge of storming out of the house and heading back to The Tipsy Bison to find the bastard, you can see it in the flash of anger that spreads across his features, in the twitch of his jaw and the flare of his nostrils as he takes in a sharp breath.
Instead, he exhales, “Darlin’, there ain’t nothing wrong with you,” he dips his head down so his eyes meet yours, you shrug again.
“Stop that. You’re perfect honey,” you can hear the sincerity in his voice as he runs his hand along your upper thighs, now exposed as your dress rolled up from your position on the bed.
“I get it darlin’, hell one good look in the mirror n’ I wonder how a pretty thing like yourself could want an old man like me,” he huffs a quiet chuckle.
You shake your head immediately, “Joel–”
“Sweetheart, it’s okay if you need remindin’,” he interjects you, “I have no problem remindin’ you,” he asserts softly, his fingers still tracing up and down your thigh.
You frown, “I know you don’t Joel, it’s just,” you sigh a shuddering breath, feeling that familiar pang of guilt in your chest, now regretting opening up to him. The heavy stones of guilt and shame weighing you down, threatening to swallow you whole. The last thing he needed was you burdening him with your insecurities, you know him, he’ll dwell on this for days to come, checking in when he feels you pulling away.
“Lemme show you, baby,” he says while softly grabbing your hands, prying them away from your middle.
“No, Joel–” you began to protest.
“Need to see my beautiful girl,” he encourages you gently, his hands roam down and pause right below the hem of your dress but he awaits your permission.
You nod softly and lie back against the headboard, you watch his face as he carefully and slowly grabs at the skirt of your dress, shoving up the soft, red material over your waist, revealing your soft, pillowy silhouette.
He hovers over you as he takes his time palming the slopes of your curves, his big hands grab two handfuls of your breasts and squeezes them tightly, lifting the weight of them up and dropping his head down to nip at each breast, then letting them fall and marveling at the bounce of your tits. His hands find your hips, he’s sliding down the bed, just enough so his head is level with your middle, he dips his head down and presses his lips to the soft flesh, his teeth sink into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, you involuntarily let out a soft moan.
He grips your hips more firmly, almost like you’ll disappear before him if he doesn’t, he moves his lips to your other hip and nips at your skin, “My sexy girl, fuckin’ can’t get enough of you,” he says lowly, his breath hot against your skin, you whimper softly as both of your hands find the nape of his neck. His mouth moves to the soft swell of your tummy and he nips at the supple skin right above your belly button, the coarse scruff tickles your skin and you can’t help the giggle it elicits from you.
He pulls away and peers up at you, eyes dark and full of lust, his mouth hovers over yours, “You drive me crazy, you know that, baby?” He whispers fervently against your lips, his fingers squeezing the meat of your thighs.
Your glassy eyes meet his as your hand comes up to cup his cheek, “I’m pretty crazy about you too, handsome,” you whisper, his cheeks flush pink at your words, still so bashful. He kisses the heel of your palm before patting the side of your thigh, “Turn around for me sweetheart, go on, all fours, need to see all of you,” he smirks, his eyes full of intensity as they drag down your body.
You do as he asks and move to the middle of the bed, flipping onto your knees and walking your hands out in front of you, arching your back slightly and hiking your up ass in front of him, he moans at the sight. “Good girl,” he praises softly behind you and your pussy throbs, a familiar sticky heat pools in your panties at his words. You playfully take a glance back at him, his eyes dark and half-lidded as he sits up and moves to his knees behind you, his hands run up the backs of your thighs all the way up until they meet the globe of your ass and he whistles lowly.
“Look at you, so fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs, oggling the curve of your ass as his index finger sneaks under the lace trim of your panties, taking the material between his forefinger and his thumb and lightly skimming his fingers down the lace, “N’all for me.”
His fingers roam down to your covered slit and you let out a soft gasp, which only spurs him on, he runs his fingers along the wet spot on your panties, smirking when he feels the wetness staining your panties, the tips of his fingers dip below your clothed slit, “There's my girl. Always so fuckin’ wet for me, huh?” You hum softly in response.
The tip of his middle finger pushes past your outer lips and you bite down on your bottom lip, trying to suppress the whimper you let out. You’re already so wet, you’re always so wet and willing for him. It should embarrass you, how easy you are for him but it doesn't because it’s him and knowing how much he revels in this, in you makes that small pinch of embarrassment fade away instantly…every single time.
You risk a look at him over your shoulder as he pulls his finger back out and in one swift movement he puts his finger between his lips, quickly sucking your arousal off his finger, like it’s a mindless, habitual thing for him, like he’s sneaking a taste of his meal before he digs into it. His hands reach for the waistband sitting on your hips, pulling the lacy fabric down, marveling at the dark fabric against your skin as he slowly drags the material down your thighs, his eyes catch the opaque wetness soaking the lace while he pulls them down and he moans shamelessly.
Your eyes widen while you watch him bunch up the material and shove the lace in his back pocket and then his hand lands an affectionate smack to your ass, “Eyes forward, sweetheart.” You tear your eyes away as he brings a firm hand to the small of your back, pressing you down and deepening the arch to his liking, you instinctively drop to your forearms– so pliant and needy for him–he brings his mouth down and sinks his teeth into the lush of your ass in approval.
His hands grab your inner thighs, spreading your legs, now he has full sight of your glistening core, two thick fingers stroke through your folds, “Look at that, she’s so pretty baby. She’s droolin’ down your pretty legs,” his voice low and deep.
His words make your pussy throb, you can’t help the whine you let out, “Joel, please.”
“Please what, pretty girl, use your words,” he commands, his fingers still languidly messaging through your puffy lips, smearing your arousal all over his fingers.
“I need you, please do anything, please,” you mewl, not caring how pathetic you sound.
But still, not enough for Joel. A loud wet smack fills the room as he lays a firm slap to your cunt, your body flinches forward, the edges of your vision blurs and your aching, swollen cunt tingles and clenches at the harsh, yet welcomed contact.
He tuts, “You want my cock that bad, baby, I wanna hear you say it.”
Bastard.
“Joel please, I want your cock. I want it,” you whine and writhe beneath his firm palm.
“Okay, alright, baby, s’all I wanted to hear,” he cooes, his slick-coated fingers now soothing your folds. “I just need to taste her first,” he shifts behind you, sliding down off the bed, his knees creaking as he kneels on the floor, he pulls you back towards the edge of the bed by your thighs. He tilts his head up just enough to dig his teeth into the meat of your upper thigh, just below the curve of your ass cheek and soothes the sting with a wet kiss.
You shiver, you’re aching for him and his mouth is everywhere except for where you need him to be.
Joel’s hands come up to grab the meat of your ass, spreading you open and gently pushing you forward for better access, he brings his mouth to hungrily kiss your inner thighs, tasting the sweet, sticky slick coating your skin and a pitiful moan slips from your lips.
Joel seems to have heard it and that’s all it takes for his lips to make contact with your pussy, your breath hitches in your throat as he flattens his tongue and licks a long, slow swipe through your slicked folds, the first one always drawn out and meticulous and just for him.
You push your hips back into his face causing the tip of his nose to nuzzle into your asshole, you feel him hum in approval at your entrance. Suddenly, nothing else matters; the thick fog of insecurity, the crippling shame and guilt sitting heavy in your chest; it all melts away as a fresh wave of sensation courses through you by the warmth of his mouth on your cunt.
This was always his favorite part, seeking pleasure in you because it brings you pleasure, always doing what makes you feel good. To spread you open before him, having a perfect view of your alluring holes in front of him, just begging for him to devour away (and fill you up). He can spend hours on his knees between your legs and he has, slipping further and further elsewhere as he indulges in you, his lips relishing away at the altar in your hips.
A pressure already begins to pull taut low in your belly, you’re squirming in his grasp but his hands move to firmly grip your outer thighs, keeping you open for him and pressed flush against his eager mouth. He doesn’t go easy on you like he usually does. He fucking laves at you, devouring and savouring you like he’d never get the chance again. The vibrations from occasional muffled moans and groans against your pussy make you chant his name over and over like a prayer, even though he’s the one on his knees.
You can feel him push his tongue into your hole, fucking you with it, then he moves to swirl the tip of his tongue tightly against your puffy clit, “Oh god, Joel, fuck,” you moan out, your eyes roll back into your head as the coil inside your belly wounds up so tight every muscle in your body tenses. You start grinding your hips back into his face, he groans in response and loosens his grip on your legs, letting you take what you need from him.
He flattens his tongue against your clit before he closes his lips around it, suckling it into his mouth and moaning around it, the vibrations from his mouth makes the coil in your belly snap, and you cry out, using the sheets beneath you to stifle the noises slipping through your lips.
With his mouth still latched onto your throbbing cunt, he keeps going.
“Fuck, Joel, I can’t–” it’s too much and you’re too weak, a trembling mess on the mattress, so you attempt to close your legs but the strong grip he has on your thighs doesn’t allow you to move, it only goads him further.
He licks a thick, languid stripe through your heat all the way up until his tongue prods at the tight ring of muscle, again, your legs threaten to close but the firm grip of his hands keeps you wide open for him, he swirls his tongue in a tight circle around your puckered rim, “Joel–” your gasp is cut off by his white, hot mouth taking its place right back on your clit, not giving you any time to recover.
The tip of his tongue works small, tight circles on your clit around and around, only this time with more pressure than before and within minutes or seconds–you don’t really know at this point–you feel the pressure building in your belly and it’s growing stronger by every lick and suck from his mouth. His tongue flicks over your clit before he licks it into his mouth once more, closing his lips tightly, he gives it one last tight circle of his tongue and suckle to your clit and you break, your second orgasm crashes over you.
A choked moan escapes you, your legs quiver as they threaten to close while your hands fist the sheets beside your head, the grip he has on your thighs holds you open for him while you come all over his mouth and he laps you up, savoring, slurping, and swallowing down everything you give him.
Milliseconds pass and he shifts behind you, lost in the haze of your orgasm, you can faintly hear the popping of his knees coupled with a grunt behind you as he stands up. He leans forward, kneading your ass in his palms before bending down to lay another bite on your other cheek, this time with more fervor, leaving a mark, your skin tingles.
Joel positions himself right against your ass and places his hands on your hips again and squeezes, “I love all of ya, baby, but this right here,” he grips more firmly at the flesh on your hips again, “Fuck– these kill me,” he mumbles, almost entirely to himself.
“Joel, please, I need you inside me,” you beg and shiver in his grasp.
He stays quiet behind you, too enticed by the sight of your weeping pussy in front of him. You think you can hear the metallic clink of his belt as it drops to the floor and the buzz of the zipper of his jeans coming undone, the sounds make you clench around emptiness, Joel catches sight of it, a lustful groan slips out of him, a guttural sound from deep within his chest. You’re always so needy, so eager to be full of him and he’ll never get enough of it.
He keeps one hand on your ass, the other wrapped around his cock as he swipes it once through your folds, wetting his dick with your arousal, earning a quiet whimper from you at the sudden contact. He draws his hips back slightly and finally notches the wide head of his cock into with your awaiting hole, groaning in unison as his tip stretches you open, “Christ, always so fuckin’ tight,” spitting through his teeth.
His other hand moves to your hip to hold you in place as he sinks into you with one languid, long thrust, sliding himself in as deep as he can, he feels his tip hit resistance and his breath hitches in his throat, he stills for a moment, enthralled at the sight of his cock nestled in at the very end of you, completely bottomed out in your dripping cunt, “Fuck–there you go, pussy’s suckin’ me right in, sweetheart. This perfect fuckin’ pussy,” he grits as the grip he has on your hips tightens, his fingertips digging into the soft tenderness of your hips.
One of his hands sneaks its way to your front and he grabs your breast beneath the neckline of your dress, he kneads it and pinches your nipple between his calloused fingers, then he pulls the neckline down along with your bra, freeing your breasts from the constricting cups, he palms them roughly before leaving them to sway, all bare and heavy, “Look so goddamn perfect bent over for me like this, I wanted to fuck you in this slutty dress all night, fuckin’ couldn’t get it outta my head,” he pants heavily, his hand returns to grip your hip as he begins rocking his hips forward, “Drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy, baby.”
You curse lowly as you shift to deepen the arch in your back–you need to feel him closer–you straighten your arms out in front of you, your hands latch on to the edge of the mattress, your chest now pressed to your thighs and hiking your ass higher in the air for him, changing the angle as your body folds in on itself and earning a low groan from Joel, a sound that rumbles deep in his throat, “Sweet Jesus, that’s good, just like that baby, always so good f’me,” he’s babbling under his breath. The palm of his other hand finds the small of your back, “Tell me how it feels,” Joel grits, his voice thick and breathy as his thrusts pick up the pace.
“F–feels so good, Joel,” you sob, and it’s true, every time feels like the first time even after all these years; he had bent you over, pressed his large hand between your shoulder blades, kicked apart your legs with his knees and when his hand found the base of your neck, he pressed your face into the wooden floorboards and stretched you open, fucking you with ruthless abandon, using your body to get himself off, dulling the agonizing memories and unspeakable horrors that had forced his hand. His unforgiving pace, your face scraping along the hardwood floor, his brutal thrusts that kept your cunt sore for days on end, none of that mattered to you, in a way you were using him too, your insides just desperate and aching to be filled and all you could do was take it, your body completely succumbing to him and accepting his girth, ‘s like you were made for me, his breath hot and heavy as the words buzzed in the shell of your ear.
His deep voice breaks through the loop of ecstasy, redrawing your attention to the moment, “Takin’ my cock so well, this pussy’s so fuckin’ good, she’s so good to me,” he grits, both of his hands now keeping a bruising grip on your hips as he drives your hips back to meet his, pulling you back onto his cock, the slapping of his hips against the plush of your ass echoes loudly in the room. You press your face into the sheets as your moans grow louder while he drives his cock in and out of you, “Those men…’f they had a woman like you…fuck–they don’t deserve that,” Joel rambles gruffly in between his harsh, unrelenting thrusts, “We’ll show ‘em how a real man fucks his girl, I’ll fuckin’ show ‘em, I’ll show ‘em.”
Oh god. Sparks ignite a fire that roils low in your belly, you’ll never get used to how talkative he is while he loses himself in you.
“Oh–fuck, Joel, don’t stop, don’t stop,” your words come out choked, the flow of air to your lungs suspended as he punches himself into you, your fingers dig into the mattress in attempt to anchor yourself.
“I know, baby, I know, just take it,” he hisses through his teeth. “This tight pussy only made to take my cock, ain’t that right?”
His words are swallowed up by the obscene squelches of your cunt as it grips his cock while he slams into you. When he doesn’t get a response from you he lands a firm slap to your ass, this time with more force, your skin tingles beneath his hand, “Yes, Joel—fuck—yes–yes,” you moan breathlessly, completely lost in a dizzying haze of pleasure.
“‘S’right, she’s mine, all fuckin’ mine,” Joel snarls, his thrusts grow more aggressive, you fist the sheets beneath you–the possessiveness in his words, the firm grip on your hips pulling you back to fuck you onto his cock–slowly, you can feel the fire in your belly making its way to curl around the base of your spine.
He tightens his grip on your hips once again, you can feel his fingernails digging into your soft skin, you crane your neck to peer behind you, spotting the small indents beneath his fingertips forming on your hips, leaving more evidence of himself on your body. You know they’ll be there in the morning. A low, breathy moan slips between your lips at the thought. Your hooded eyes flicker up to his face, he looks wrecked; his gray curls cling to his forehead as a sheen of sweat covers his skin, his cheeks flushed a shade of cherry red that extends down to his neck and tanned chest, his pupils are blown out so wide they’re almost black, locked in on his length going in and out of your drippy cunt. His eyes flicker up to watch the ripple of your ass as he pummels his cock into you and it drives him over the edge.
You didn’t think he could get more relentless, yet somehow he does.
He releases the firm grip he has on your hips and slides his hands to your ass cheeks, he glides his hands over the curve of your ass and again, he brings one palm down in a harsh slap, you make a muffled sound against the sheets. His fingers span over the globe of your ass, palming your ass cheeks and grabbing them tightly, squeezing the tender flesh, he groans loudly as he pulls them apart further, splitting you open even more for him, fucking you deeper, all you can do is whimper into the mattress.
“Goddamn, you’re perfect, so fuckin’ perfect,” he rasps, his chest heaves as ragged, throaty moans escape him. Unable to stop himself, he squeezes down on your ass cheeks with more vigor as he unravels and pounds into you relentlessly, his thrusts brutal against you and the tip of his cock now punching your cervix.
You clench around him, a sign that you're close, and he reaches around your front, he presses his fingers into your very sensitive, very swollen clit and starts rubbing tight circles over the bundle of nerves, bringing you to the edge of your release.
The lick of heat sneaks its way up your spine, dispersing itself along your nerves, setting your skin on fire, “Shit, Joel, m’gonna come,” you gasp, your voice all cracked and your breath ragged, unable to breathe as your lungs search desperately for respite, a low static buzz begins to ring in your ears.
Somewhere distant in the endless loop of euphoric haze you hear his voice, deep and rough, “Come for me, need to feel this slutty pussy come on my cock.” A high-pitched moan spills from your lips, your eyes slip closed as your walls flutter and gush around him, your clit sore and throbbing beneath his fingers, your body convulsing in aftershocks as your orgasm erupts and smothers you entirely.
“There you go, attagirl, my perfect girl, comin’ all over my cock,” he talks you through the trance of your pleasure. Your pussy clenches down around his length again, bringing him to his own release and he pants, “Baby, need you to turn over—shit, m’gonna–”
In an attempt to bring yourself up on your shaky arms, you push your hips back into his, Joel hisses through his teeth in response. His hands fly to your hips, steadying himself–shitshitshit–he loses his rhythm as his own orgasm rips right through him, his thick cock pulsing and spasming inside your messy, used cunt, his frame shuddering behind you as he spills inside you. You reach an arm back behind you, grasping onto a hand that’s glued to your hip, his fingers intertwine with yours without hesitation, desperately grounding himself as he groans painfully, long and drawn out while he fucks the last of his seed into the deepest parts of you, filling you to the brim.
His entire form gives out, falling forward over you, pressing his entire weight into yours, the two of you collapse onto the bed, he drops his forehead, damp with sweat, to your back as his body goes limp over you. He exhales heavily, his warm breath against your skin sends shivers down your spine, he presses a tender kiss to the nape of your neck while his hands find your hips again, quivering as he pulls his sensitive cock out of your wasted pussy with a loud grunt, earning a lewd, wet sound once he completely pulls his length out.
Joel sits up and leans back, his hands grab your legs keeping you spread open for him, he gawks at the flutter and clench of your leaking hole as his white milky spend drools out of you and he groans, “Oh fuck me, that’s a pretty sight right there, my girl’s fucked all full o’me.”
“Shut up,” you huff a quiet laugh and shut your legs, he lays a playful slap to your ass, eliciting a tiny squeal from you. Joel stands up and strides off to the bathroom while you crawl up the bed, laying your head against the pillows, the sound of running water in the background as your eyes slip closed, sinking into the blissful haze of the afterglow.
You feel his presence returning, he wraps his hands around your knees and pulls apart your legs, spreading you wide once more and he freezes, “Fuck,” you hear him groan above you. You open your eyes, hazy and hooded, to find him standing between your legs with nothing on but a pair of loose fitting sleep pants, no underwear, a wet rag in hand, mesmerized by the slow flow of his cum dribbling out of your hole.
He’s completely forgotten what the hell he’s supposed to be doing.
“Do you need me to do it,” you tease with a small smile, a devious glint in your eyes as you look up at him.
His eyes flicker back up to meet yours, “Keep bein’ smart with me n’ I’ll stuff that pretty mouth of yours,” he quips.
You grin at him while he drags the damp cloth through your swollen sex. He taps the side of your arm lightly and you sit up, his hands grab at the material bunched around your waistline, as you lift your arms up in the air, he pulls the fabric over your head and your body shimmies its way out of it. His eyes never leave yours as his large hands reach around your back to unhook your bra, pulling the straps from your shoulders, leaving you bare as he scrunches up your clothes and the messy rag soaked in your combined releases and returns to the bathroom. You lie back down again and slip beneath the covers, the back of your head resting on one of his pillows.
Joel saunters back into the room, “Scoot,” he motions with his hand and you do, he slides in beside you and pulls the blankets up to cover your middle. As expected, he tugs you closer to him, tucking you into his side, you instantly hoist one of your legs over the top of his strong thighs, one of your hands rests over his chest, feeling the strong thump of his heart beneath your hand.
As the thick haze fades, your lips part, your voice barely above a whisper, “Thank you,” your fingers gliding over the patch of gray hair spanning across his chest, following the trail down the soft swell of his belly while his fingers softly trace down the slope of your side, fingertips following the curve of your body beneath the blankets.
He presses his lips to the top of your head and he whispers, “I’ll fuck you like that every night f’it means showin’ you how fuckin’ perfect you are.”
Your lips twitch, a hint of a smirk on your face as you press your face into his chest and hum, “Just admit you’re a dirty old man, will you?”
Joel laughs lightly but doesn’t deny it, he peers down at you with nothing but adoration and a genuine smile, “Never said I wasn’t, baby, n’ don’t act like you don’t love it.”
‘I do, and I love you,” you bring your hand up to scratch his gray beard before tilting your head up to his and press an open mouthed kiss to his lips, tasting the flavor of your pussy on his tongue, you hum into his mouth, all dazed and content.
“I love you, honey,” his other hand drags gently along the crown of your head, his thumb resting on your cheek, stroking it as he brushes his nose along your cheek. You can feel his lips turn up into a smile against your skin, “Maybe, I need to get ourselves some rings, that oughta keep ‘em away.”
You smack him lightly on his chest, “You think you’re real funny don’t you?”
He laughs, loud and deep, his perfect soft, pudgy belly jiggling beneath your knee, his fingers grazing down your back, “M’just sayin’, s’an option.”
You chuckle. “Whatever you say, Miller.”
thanks for reading xx
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x plus size reader#joel miller x you#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#tlou one shot#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x reader#noelle's workshop#noelle does things out of spite!#tw: fatphobia
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Dream stuff
It was set it in a fantasy simulation with androids, but it was long abandoned so the robots were just going around and around in slowly more glitched out storylines
And it was abt this cute little fairy girl who starts out with her wings destroyed and she's rescued by a tentacle monster woman who is confused because she feels like the fairy isnt meant to be here. So she tries to keep taking the girl away before she's stopped and forced back to her original coded storyline.
So the fairy is abandoned deeper off script and keeps wandering
And then in meantime there's a Pirate and the Pirate Captain (who seems to be like on an overseer AI but it's reconciled by the android themselves being unaware of it). And the Pirate Captain is like I heard of a fantastical creature, you must bring it to me (because she's in the wrong spot) but there's like no menace behind what he's saying somehow like the Pirate Captain seems very openly to not be trying to kidnap Tinkerbell kinda thing, he's just forced to intervene by ManMade Horrors Beyond His Comprehension.
So the Lackey Pirate goes after the fairy and rescues her from glitched up marauders, and gets a little fucked up by the interaction. She's like clearly not given the capacity to handle violence because she's just hurt and confused by the whole interaction and has no idea how people can be mean :( (because she's supposed to be in an story loop made for children but she's always wandering)
So she tries to heal up Lackey Pirate's injuries but her magic only half works but he's amazed by it anyway while she's confused and frustrated. But apparently magic is weaker or dying out in the Pirate and Marauders storylines. Anyway Lackey Pirate is just watching her swim and play around and he's enamoured but also has this tugging feeling that he already knows the Fairy and that he owes her something because he's failed her before
So he uncrumples her wings but they're still too damaged for her to fly and they set off to the Pirate Captain but when they get there there's another guy with the Pirate Captain. And Pirate Captain is clearly bothered by the Other Guys presence but is unable to not go along with it
And Pirate Lackey is frozen in place, because he's clearly fighting the urge to take the Fairy to his captain but all he's managing is to stand still while the Fairy frets.
And then he says W like clear effort through gritted teeth "I always let people down, but for you, I can't do it. I can't let you down again" and she's confused because Again???
And then he pushes her into the water and she's spirited away elsewhere
And then there was like a flash back, idk, to like all the times they've met because she's a chronic wanderer even before the simulation was abandoned. She makes him a flower wreath and heals his wounds over and over again because he's always injured from his storylines where he betrays the people he cares about because he's hardwired to back stab but even though he's betrayed her before in the past (he hands her in at the end of their little adventures every time, and each time he's more pained by it) she keeps showing back up and when she's turned in she's clearly distraught and hurt by it, but shes never upset with /him/.
And the last round before this one, he still hands her in but manages to go back on it because he attacks the Other Guy who keeps showing up at the end of the storyline and kills him. And then it's revealed that the Other Guy is actually a bunch of different people because they're /humans/ who come in to fix the storyline constantly and they're retrieving the lost unit.
But now he's killed a human being and he somehow is aware of this being Very Bad but she grabs him and starts running
And then I woke up
#pastel dreams#i guess it was a lil westworld esque#i got the feeling thered be no like latestage trivk that they actually knew each other in a different storyline or smth#rhey became genuine friends the first time and shes just always kept showing back up and he keeps seeking out the spot they always meet
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Orion's Body 2: He's Back-Chapter 16: Hunting Fair Grounds
Six Lasers Over Cybertron Amusement Park was quite large, being in the Iacon City part of the land, it had roller coasters, a carousel, a ferris wheel, games and food vendors, and a drop tower, the paths were lit by strings of lights between tents.
During the loading process, the students were packing onto a bus, happily talking away, unaware that they were joined by someone…
He was in low rise pants that were cinched with a studded belt, a tight shirt, and a cropped hoodie that was black and dotted with bright red hearts. He casually climbed onto the bus with simple steps.
Meanwhile, at the police station, Roller was packing his belt, he got his flashlight, his taser, his blaster, cuffs, mace, and spare mags.
Minimus saw him, “You going to the fair?”
Roller nodded, “I am. Can’t risk the killer following a bus full of teenagers.”
Minimus nodded back, “I agree.”
Roller finished preparing his belt and went to the door, “Minimus?”
“Yeah?” The smaller bot asked, looking at the taller one.
“Who do you think was the killer? From 5 years ago?”
“I honestly have no clue.” Minimus answered truthfully.
Roller simply nodded and walked out to his cruiser, he remembers what it was like 5 years ago. Back on the academy campus, learning how to do takedowns, patrol routines, learn codes for different crimes, he remembers letting out a girlish scream when he got shocked in the back by a taser. Course he also remembers the day he met Orion, he was still fresh in the academy, Orion was a sophomore, it was a small town, people talked, but no one did anything but merely frown at the notion of a bot in his 20s getting fresh with a teenager. Eventually the two hooked up, and became fuck buddies. They meet up in secret and do the deed, always using protection of course.
Eventually the fire happened, and Orion was… sacrificed. He wasn’t there but he can imagine how scared he must have been, how confused, how shocked, how lonely.
But back then, 5 years ago, when the killings were happening, no one knew it was the only male cheerleader doing them. Everyone thought it was a masked menace or traveling cannibal. Roller certainly thought so, when he discovered Starscream’s body.
Newly minted officer Roller was exploring the abandoned pool house. His servo was gripping the flashlight firmly. He had been sent to deal with a call from Starscream’s Carrier about him not coming home last night, he searched and questioned the students at the dance, the band performing (though looking back on it now, he should rip up that autograph picture and toss it in the trash) and the chaperones. It lead to a dead end, so he searched at the usual places horny teens like to do the dirty at, behind the walls at school, in an alleyway, and lastly the abandoned pool.
The pool house had a nickname, The Dead Pool. Way back when, it used to be full of life, with swim classes, free pool time, and such. But soon there were cutbacks, and the pool was abandoned, the water wasn’t drained and as a result it got full of scum and muck, turning into a dark murky brown from a clear crystal blue. Roller entered through a door that somehow never stays locked. He turns on the flashlight and walks through the building. His footsteps echoing.
He soon stumbled across the wet and bloody body of Starscream, his suit was drenched and clinging to his body, he was surrounded by dead vines and wet leaves in a mockery of Ophelia, his neck was torn open and bleeding pink energon, mixing with the water. His optics were gray and dull. With a shocked expression, Roller dropped his flashlight.
Roller made it to his cruiser, he got in, still deep in his thoughts.
“Hey copper.” A voice spoke up.
Roller jumped and looked to see Megatron in the passenger seat, lounging on it, his feet up on the dashboard.
“What are you doing here?!” Roller asked, shocked.
“What do you think? I’m using your ride as my ride to Six Lasers.”
Roller was about to make a retort but instead sighed in exasperation. With a frown he turned on the ignition and drove to the amusement park.
Six Lasers Over Cybertron was lit like a beacon, multiple colors glowed like jewels against a dark sky.
Students were running around laughing and cheering as they went on rides and ate funnel cake.
Orion was by the ferris wheel, watching as students were gallivanting around. His red optics scanning, like a perched bird of prey on the prowl.
He soon spotted a lone student, he was sitting at a table, eating a large energon goody and reading a book.
Target spotted.
With a sensual stride, Orion walked over to the student.
“Hey.” He spoke slowly, the student lifted his optics upward and saw the bot before him.
“Hi.” He closed his book. Watching as Orion sat down, his face illuminated by the hanging lights in hues of red and blue and yellow and green.
“What are you doing all by your lonesome?” Orion seemed to purr.
The student swallowed a lump, “I don’t really have any friends.”
Orion’s derma seemed to form a pout, “That’s no fun, everyone needs a friend. I know I do.”
“What do you mean?” The student asked curiously.
“What’s your name?” Orion asked back.
“Perceptor.” He answered meekly.
Orion smiled, “Well, Perceptor, I had a friend once, until they stabbed me in the back.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Perceptor spoke softly.
“Oh don’t be, it’s been 5 years.” Orion said with a sensual smile, he grabbed Perceptor’s servo and held it. “I’ll show you what good friends can do.”
And with that, he got up as did the student and he led them away.
Megatron and Roller pulled up and made it to the fairground, seeing the place is packed.
Megatron let out a groan of frustration, “It’s gonna be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
Roller nodded and just walked in with him.
They questioned students and teachers, but found nothing. It was getting frustrating. Megatron sat down at a table, mulling it over.
Meanwhile, Perceptor was being led by Orion into a funhouse, the entrance was decorated with a giant face of a clown, its mouth serving as the entrance.
“Orion?” He asked, the taller mech spun to look at him.
“What? Scared of clowns?” Orion teased playfully.
Perceptor made a noise, “Pfft, no. Just curious.”
Orion smirked, “It’s a funhouse, meant for fun. And friends have fun together, don’t they?”
Perceptor nodded slowly, “Yeah… they do.”
Soon Orion smiled and they entered the funhouse, swallowed up by the clown’s gaping maw.
Megatron soon sensed something was wrong, one thing he forgot about in those 5 years was that supernatural like bond he had with Orion, he knew what he was doing and when he’d showed up to drag him to Dancitron or some other place. He shot up from his seat and ran, ducking and weaving past fair goers and such. He was like a graceful ferrofluid cat.
Back at the funhouse, Perceptor was walking alone, having been unknowingly tricked by Orion into tackling the Hall of mirrors alone. All he could see was his reflection over and over again. It was lit by blacklight and neon green, giving him a view full of deep ink purple and acid green.
“Orion?” He called out.
No answer.
He was about to turn around and go back until he collided with something, he looked. It was a large purple torso with windshield pecs. He slowly looked up to see Orion staring down at him. Not wearing his hoodie or undershirt.
“You scared?” Orion asked, ominously.
Perceptor felt a lump forming in his cables, and nervously swallowed.
The last thing he saw was Orion’s optics morphing into purple and hearing a demonic hiss.
Megatron raced to the funhouse, panting. He looked up to see the clown’s vacant eyes staring into the void and ran in. He dodged the spinning poles and ropes dangling from the ceiling, bright colored lights in funky patterns spun around the walls and illuminated his body.
Roller saw Megatron was gone and looked confused, he asked someone where the gold and red mech ran off to, and was pointed in the direction of the funhouse.
Megatron made it to the hall of mirrors. He bravely drew a breath and walked in, hands outstretched at his sides to keep himself from bumping into the mirrors. He took turns and slow steps, scanning for any sign.
Then he found it.
Perceptor’s limp body was on the floor, his energon glowing brightly in the blacklight, it pooled around him, his chassis was torn open, his spark casing in shreds. His face frozen in a visage of pain and terror.
Megatron gasped and covered his mouth, unaware of a stained Orion sneaking up behind him.
He was shoved into a mirror by Orion tackling, the shiny surface shattering into a million shards. He yelled in pain when he felt a shard dig itself into his side. He gripped the wound in pain, he looked up to see Orion, his mouth and chassis stained with glowing pink fluid.
“Where’s it at, Spikehat?” Orion teased.
“Fuck you.” Megatron growled out, getting up on his shaky pedes.
“You know, Megs, you always sucked at comebacks.” Orion snarked.
Megatron merely glared, his servo holding the bleeding wound.
“Teenagers, Orion? That’s so low of you.” He shot back.
Orion scoffed, “Don’t knock a guy for starving.”
Megatron felt the shard and grabbed it, with a painful shout he ripped it out and threw it to the floor. Orion watched.
“So, tell me, Orion, why go after these guys and not the band who brought you back?”
Orion arched a brow, “Why do I care about some lame band?”
“Because they named themselves after you.”
Orion tsked, “Charmed. But besides, I’ll deal with them in a bit, right now, I wanna focus on our unfinished business.” He snarled out the last word.
Megatron brought up a fist, “Bring it on.”
As soon as he said that, he saw Orion charge at him. He felt himself get tackled to the floor. He dodged Orion’s claws swiping at his face, he tried to shove him off, with a grunt he brought his pedes up and kicked, Orion was flung back and into another mirror, cracking it.
Megatron smirked, he always was a kicker.
Orion got up and growled in rage. Megatron swung a punch but Orion ducked, causing Megatron to hit the broken mirror.
Orion snatched the opportunity and punched the open wound in Megatron’s side, causing pain to flare up and Megatron to cry out and grip it, hunching over. Orion soon collided his knee into Megatron’s face, a sound of metal breaking can be heard. Megatron felt energon leak from his olfactor, it was most likely broken. He doubled over and looked as Orion was standing over him.
“You also sucked at wrestling and playing gladiators.” He said coolly.
He watched as Orion gripped a piece of the still standing broken mirror and effortlessly tore it off the frame, it was sharp. Orion walked over and held it aloft.
“You know, this is exactly what she did to me.” He said simply. Megatron tried to get up but was in so much pain.
“Consider this poetic justice, for what you did to me.” Orion finished. Megatron braced for the pain but was shocked when he heard a loud noise of shots being fired.
Orion stood there and felt as three bullets fly through his chest, pain erupted from the wounds, he dropped the shard and gripped his chest, he looked over to see Roller, holding a blaster.
“Don’t move.” The cop ordered.
Orion hissed and raced out of the hall of mirrors. Roller fired more shots, but they all missed, Orion was too fast.
He saw Megatron on the floor, bleeding. He raced to his side, “You okay?” He asked.
Megatron panted, “I’ll live.” He slowly got up.
They looked at the direction Orion ran off in, “Where is he gonna go?”
“I don’t know, all I know is he is full. I mentioned the band to him.” Megatron answered.
Roller nodded, and helped him walk to the exit.
In the mechs only washroom, Orion was using the washroom sink and paper towels to clean up.
Roller, should have known he’d still be around. He leaned against the sink, panting. Then looking up at his reflection, he noticed a flier taped up on the wall behind him. He turned around and went to it.
On it was the picture of the band Megatron mentioned, their name on the top in bold black letters designed to look like it was written in… was that his handwriting?
Okay creepers.
Orion kept looking, their logo was a silhouette of his body, seductively splayed above the word ‘Disciples’ on the bass drum.
Even as a legacy, all he is known for is his body.
Soon Orion saw the main thing, they were performing here, at Six Lasers.
Upon seeing this, Orion finally thought. He never really got revenge on the band who sacrificed him, but then again he was dead.
Maybe tonight, it can be his turn…
#NightmareWrites#nightmarerants#Orion's Body 2#jennifer's body au#transformers shattered glass#TFJBAU
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