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freelancearsonist · 24 days

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make a move on me

➔ pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x reader - 5.5k

➔ You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodeling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.

➔ Rated MA for baby’s first anal fic protected p in a and anal fingering (r receiving), age gap (reader is early 20’s, joel is 36), m masturbation/pillowhumping, daddy kink, size kink, praise kink, gentle-turned-rough sex, pet names (baby, darling, honey, good girl, baby girl, little lady), slight degradation and condescension but only in a sexy way, one use of “slut”, pussy pronouns, one (1) pussy slap, gratuitous dickscription, heavy dom/sub dynamics i mean seriously these power dynamics are out of control, tommy is a little bit of a shit (affectionate) [pls let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

➔ This reader insert character: has female anatomy and uses feminine pronouns, no name/no use of y/n, is generally able-bodied, fits in joel’s shirt and is implied to be shorter/smaller than him, is on summer break from college but no major/year is mentioned.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. Keep his hands to himself and his mind on the job. Don’t fret over the pretty little thing who’s been draping herself all over the house ever since he started demo, practically begging to be fucked.

If he had any sense, he would pack his shit and drop the job–or, at the very least, tell your parents to put you on a leash. But there’s a little part of him that might be a glutton for punishment–that savors the teasing.

The most infuriating part of the whole thing is that he can’t blame you for this whole mess. He shouldn’t be so quick to temptation. You should be able to walk around your own home in whatever you want and not have to worry about the creepy contractor getting flustered every time he looks in your general direction.

But god, you make it hard–double entendre intended. You walk around like you haven’t a care in the world because you don’t; you’re home for summer break after a grueling year at college, and you intend to savor every languid second of it. Your preferred method of savoring just happens to be wearing tight little bikinis that barely hold anything in place as you lounge out by the pool in the Texas heat, or tight leggings that hug your ass so perfectly it almost makes him jealous of the material as you curl up with a book on your couch.

Joel’s a grown man. He can keep it in his pants, no matter how badly he wants you. But you’re not exactly making it easy on him.

Really, it’s Tommy’s fault when the levee breaks. If he could keep his big mouth shut, Joel might’ve been able to maintain the thin control he had over himself. But Tommy goes and makes an off-handed comment about you one night, and that’s the beginning of the downward spiral.

The brothers are both lounging on Joel’s couch after a particularly taxing day of demolition work, beers cradled in hands and the TV droning uselessly with some movie that they’re more staring at than actually watching. It’s late, yet weary muscles are melted so comfortably into the couch that neither of them try to move even after Sarah’s gone off to bed.

Tommy’s eyes flicker over to Joel, then back to the TV. “That girl’s gon’ be trouble for us, brother.”

There’s a question mark in the grunt Joel emits, leaning forward with interest because he knows Tommy’s talking about you without any specification.

Tommy hums in confirmation and takes a sip of his Corona. “She’s always wearin’ those skimpy little outfits a’hers, and she ain’t coy. Must catch that pretty little thing starin’ at your ass even more than I catch you starin’ at hers.”

Joel plays it off as best as he can until Tommy goes home for the night with a half-assed promise to actually be on time in the morning for once. Then he goes up to his room, locks the door, and wraps himself around the spare pillow that lays against his headboard.

He tries so desperately hard not to think about the plump round curve of your ass, or the enticing way you lick your lips, or those damned little bikinis you favor. He grinds his aching cock into the soft pillowcase and tries to think about anything that isn’t you.

But he comes with a muffled growl of your name anyway, face pushed deep into the pillow and hips jerking arrhythmically.

There’s not much he can do now besides clean himself up and try not to think about how thoroughly fucked he is.

The next day is torture because he can feel your gaze lingering. He catches you checking him out on more than one occasion, and you’re brazen about it now. You can tell something has shifted, so you shift with it. Where you once would’ve flushed with heat and hurried away to your room, you now meet his heated eye contact and hold it.

Joel’s jaw hurts that night from the way it’s been hard-set and clenched all day long. He rubs over his sore temporomandibular joints with his long, thick fingers and wills himself to siphon you out from beneath his skin.

It doesn’t work.

The work helps. Laying tile is something he normally considers tedious, but it’s a welcome reprieve in your home because he can get down on his hands and knees and focus on something that isn’t you.

You see the labor he’s going through, and you appreciate it. And really, what kind of host would you be if you didn’t reward his efforts?

It starts with a pitcher of iced tea. It’s made just the way Joel likes it, with light ice and a few slices of lemon. He doesn’t know how you could possibly guess that, but it makes him want you that much more.

And then it’s cookies. Pain-stakingly handmade oatmeal raisin cookies, to be exact. You’re like something out of his most shameful domestic dreams in your cute floral-patterned apron and oven mitts as you pull the tray of cookies out of the oven, and an image of you in nothing but those mitts and that apron flickers through his mind before he can stop it.

All the while you traipse around the house like a mirage–humming along to the yacht rock that drifts from Joel’s stereo, swaying your hips in the kitchen as you put together the most delicious bologna sandwich Joel’s ever eaten, toweling off your soaking wet body after an afternoon in the pool. You’re the worst temptation Joel’s ever had to face.

It becomes his mantra. Be respectful, be respectful, be respectful.

But there’s no respect in your eyes. There’s nothing honorable about the way you bite your lip and smirk when he catches your gaze lingering on him.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. But why should he have to play nice if you don’t?

And really, the whole thing is Tommy’s fault. He started it with that first comment about you, and then he goes and calls out sick (read: horribly hungover) this morning. He leaves Joel all alone with you–gives you the perfect opening to pounce.

Or, more accurately, entice Joel into pouncing on you.

He’s just setting his tool bag down, about to decide where he wants to start today, when your beautiful face pops in through the door.

“Good morning, Joel,” you say with that gorgeous smile of yours that makes his knees go a little weak. “No Tommy today?”

He nearly chokes on his own tongue when you step further into the room wearing a plaid button-up he left here earlier in the week and booty shorts so small he has to do a doubletake to make sure you’re actually wearing anything on your lower half. You look fucking good in his shirt, and suddenly all he can think about is pulling you in and bending you over the half-finished vanity–

“N-no. He’s sick,” Joel manages to choke out. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, then, “that’s my shirt, isn’t it?”

You look down and rub the time-worn fabric between your fingers like you have to think about it, like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.

“Oh, it must’ve gotten mixed in with our laundry!” The little giggle you let out is so innocent that he almost believes you. Almost. “Here–”

You start to lift the fabric up your torso in the most tantalizingly slow fashion, and he just sits there and watches it happen. He sees the first peek of skin above the waistband of your shorts, and then your beautiful stomach, then the delicious curve of a breast–

He quickly jolts out a hand to stop you in the midst of mentally willing every single molecule in his dick to control itself. “S’alright, darlin’. You keep it. Looks better on you, anyway.”

“Okay,” you acquiesce and let the fabric drop back down into its rightful place. “Can I get you anything? Water maybe?”

He certainly could use it. His neck and face are flushed red, and there’s sweat starting to form at his temples despite the relatively cool temperature within the house.

He realizes, with startling clarity, that he’s at a precipice right now. This might be the only chance he gets to really do something about this burgeoning tension that’s spread thicker than butter between you and him. He’s got a choice to make, and it’s not going to be an easy choice.

“Sure.” It comes out a bit too high-pitched, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Sure, sweetheart. That’d be great.”

“Alright,” you say with that damned giggle again. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as you leave the room, Joel feels like he can breathe again. It’s so much easier to think straight when you’re not standing there, smiling up at him and looking so damn gorgeous.

He’s got two options, when it boils down to it: fuck you or leave you alone. And he really, really wants to take you. Make you scream his name while he pounds himself into you, fill you so full that you never completely wash him out. And you want it too, he knows you do, you’re practically begging for it.

But he promised himself he would be respectful. That he would keep his hands away from the girl that’s definitely too young and too pure for someone like him–because he knows that if has you, he’ll never be able to get enough.

There’s a very clear and obvious loophole that comes to mind now; a way he could have you without ruining you, a way you could both come out of this satisfied yet mostly intact. Joel’s never been opposed to doing the hard jobs, after all.

He’s got a condom in his wallet and KY jelly in his bag–mostly used for plumbing fittings, but it’ll do the job for this kind of pipework, too.

You come back with a glass of ice water, and his resolve slips. How the hell is he supposed to initiate this? What if you say no and think he’s disgusting? What if you tell your parents? He can’t do this, this was such a horrible idea, he–

Your touch on his back is like a gentle breeze, just a flutter of your fingers to alert him to your return. He flinches a bit at the sudden contact, but when he turns you’re still so achingly close. He can smell the agonizingly sweet aroma of your conditioner and the lotion you slather on your body after showering, and all he wants is more. He wants to wrap you around him, to inhale that scent straight from the source. His resolve is back, just like that.

He doesn’t give himself another opportunity to hesitate. He places one big, meaty palm on your cheek and wraps the other around your hand that holds the glass of ice water to steady you; and then he kisses you with such bruising force it almost knocks the wind out of you.

You moan. You actually moan the second his lips meet yours, and he knows just like that–with a startling moment of clarity–that this isn’t going to be enough. He’s going to take, and take, and take–gorge himself on you until you have nothing left to give. And the strangest thing of the whole matter is that he thinks you’ll actually enjoy his greed.

“Joel–”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmurs as his lips break away from yours–so low and soft in your ear it can’t be anything but a growl. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop right now.”

“I want it,” you affirm.

He searches your eyes, but he finds only earnest honesty and lust. That darkness, that pure and unadulterated want is enough to make his pants tighten. “Fuck.”

He’s so big underneath your roaming hands as he crowds you back against the long bathroom vanity. He lifts you like you’re nothing and sets you on the counter top; he slots himself between your legs and there’s an actual stretch in your muscles to accommodate the width of his hips. One of his wide palms slips behind your head and his fingers tangle into your hair, tugging a little bit to angle your head just the way he wants it. It’s messy and frenzied and desperate–your hands gliding over tee shirt-covered muscle, his tugging your (his) shirt up over your stomach.

“Was starting to think you weren’t interested.” Your voice is heavy and breathy as he breaks away to tug the shirt over your head, casting it aside to lie forgotten on the floor.

“I’ve been tryna convince myself m’not,” he kisses into your neck. “Didn’t work.”

With a sudden roll of his hips, he has you gasping into his neck. He can’t be more than half-hard, but that bulge is formidable. Thick and straining and… suddenly you can’t focus on anything except getting him out of those tight jeans to see what you’re working with.

Your hand just barely fits around him. He’s thick and flushed, getting harder with each passing second as he scatters feather-light kisses over your neck and shoulders. He muffles a groan into your neck as you slowly pump his length–you think he’s seven, maybe eight inches at best guess. The tip of him is flushed red once you get his uncut skin out of the way, and it makes your mouth water. There’s a slight upward curve to him and a long, prominent vein that runs down the left side. It’s porn star material–you didn’t know real people had dicks like this.

“Joel… Jesus, that’s gonna be a tight fit.”

“Oh, don’t worry darlin’,” he hums, thumb ghosting over your clit in a way that makes your entire body jolt. “It ain’t goin’ in there.”

There’s nothing but pure excitement in your voice, despite the anxious gulp that tracks down your throat. “Where…”

“Flip over f’me.”

You follow his instruction with a sort of morbid curiosity, hopping down from the counter before folding yourself over it.

You can feel his eyes on you, as he takes in your willingness. It’s like you’re on display for him, for his appraisal. You’ve still got shorts and a bra on, yet you’ve never felt more exposed.

It’s almost like he can sense your mind swirling–maybe it’s because his is prone to do the same. He sets a gentle hand on your back and smooths it down your spine as he crowds up against you–you can feel the press of his exposed cock against the curve of your ass, and it makes you shiver.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs as he folds over you, caging you in with the delicious weight of his body. His lips trace along the curve of your jaw and down your neck as he speaks. “But I made myself this little promise that I wouldn’t fuck you. You got me actin’ so unprofessional, honey.”

You whine at the sincerity in his voice–all you’ve wanted since the day he started was for him to have you folded over and at his mercy like this.

“You can fuck me,” you whine earnestly. “It’s okay, I promise. Won’t tell.”

“Mmm, I know. You’re too good a girl to go gettin’ me in trouble over somethin’ like this,” he hums–you can hear the condescension in his voice even as he praises you, and it makes your cunt clench around nothing. “But with all the teasin’ you been doin’... don’t rightly know that you deserve to be fucked.”

“Please–”

“However,” he continues, landing a light smack to your ass in retaliation for your interruption, “might be willin’ to take you anyway, with some conditions. Out of the goodness of my heart.”

He pauses to let you ask, “What conditions?”

And then he pauses again, asking his own question this time. Is he really going to go through with this? But he’s spent the better part of two weeks staring at your ass, and you’ve spent the better part of two weeks putting it on display for him. It’s like you’ve been silently asking him all this time to take it.

His hand slides down from where it rests on your spine, over your tailbone to where he’s been thinking about all this time. He feels the way your muscles tense up even through your shorts, and it sends a thrill he can’t describe coursing through his veins.

“You ever taken someone here before?”

“N-no.” He feels it again as his other hand comes to soothingly rub your hip–that excited-yet-nervous flutter of muscle. You haven’t run away screaming yet, and that’s the biggest motivator he could have to keep going.

“I think you ought to let me. As a thank you, for puttin’ up with all your play,” he growls into your ear.

It’s fucking dirty, the idea of letting a man you hardly know take you in such a taboo way. It’s even dirtier how fucking excited the idea has you.

“You say no right now and I’ll drop it,” he murmurs so sweetly. “Don’t ever have to talk about this again.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished talking–a sly smirk spreading over your lips as you grind back against him hard enough to make him choke on a moan.

“It’s only right,” you affirm. “Gotta make it up to you for how naughty I’ve been.’

His eyes flash dangerously as he grinds his cock against you again, smearing precome against the flimsy fabric of your shorts. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

He has your bottoms and panties down around your ankles in a flash, and he actually groans at the sight of your sticky cunt all puffy and wet and on display for him.

He can’t resist the urge to swipe a finger through your folds, delighting in the string of shiny arousal that connects his finger to your core when he pulls away. “She wants it so bad, hmm? Such a shame she ain’t gettin’ any.”

It tugs a moan from your throat, especially when he drags as much slick as he can up to circle your tightest hole. He feels the way you flutter with apprehension, and he leans back down to kiss the corner of your jaw.

“Gonna get you nice and ready, I promise. M’not gonna hurt you, baby girl.”

“Thank you, da–” You almost lost yourself there for a second–almost laid your whole hand of cards out on the table for him to see. You try not to get flustered over the slip–you simply clear your throat and try again. “Thank you, Joel.” But you aren’t nearly as smooth as you hope to be.

In a flash Joel’s free hand is lifting your head, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. They’re so much darker than normal, and it only serves to make you wetter.

“What’d you call me?”

“J-Joel.”

His hand slips down to your throat and gives it a warning squeeze–his jaw is set, you know he isn’t playing. “Try again, and tell the truth this time.”

“D… daddy.”

You try to hide your face, to cower in shame, but he won’t let you. He smashes his lips to yours at the exact second his first finger probes that tight, waiting entrance.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as he slowly breaches you, using your own slick to guide the way. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You can’t do anything but gasp, hands clutching for dear life to the edge of the counter. This feels different, and not in the way you were expecting it to. It’s tight, sure, and it feels foreign, but it also feels so much better than you ever could’ve expected it to. The subtle stretch around his thick finger is addicting.

Joel’s jaw drops at the expression on your face; you already look so thoroughly fucked-out, and he’s barely even started. “Fuck.You like this, hmm? Like feelin’ daddy’s fingers gettin’ you ready for his big cock?”

The only response he gets is a wrecked little whimper, and he props your chin up again to meet his heated gaze. “Talk to me. Gotta talk to me, tell me how you’re feelin’, or I’m gonna stop.”

“Fuck!” It’s shriller than you want it to be and you would feel pathetic if you weren’t so thoroughly overwhelmed with this new sensation. “Don’t stop daddy!”

“Feels good, yeah? How long has daddy’s little slut wanted to try this?”

But there’s no way you can be expected to answer, not when he’s adding another finger to the onslaught. Not when your legs are already shaking and you’re thinking about just how many fingers he’s going to have to use to get you ready for the massive cock you can feel throbbing against your thigh.

He retracts just as suddenly as he started, and a needy little whine escapes from your throat involuntarily.

He can’t help chuckling as he reaches for the bottle of KY jelly he’d dug out of his bag while you were getting him water. It feels like it’s been years since you left the room on that little errand for him–definitely not the barely ten minutes it’s actually been.

“Relax, baby girl. I’m comin’ right back.”

You feel the cool drizzle of the water-based substance over your hole and it forces another whine from your throat. It’s met with his thick fingers again, spreading the jelly over your hole before plunging two in knuckle-deep.

“Atta girl.” His voice is thick and sweet as honey as he slowly works his fingers, thrusting and scissoring at an achingly slow pace. “Doin’ so good f’me.”

“Daddy–”

“I know,” he coos. “I know, it’s so much, isn’it?”

All you can manage to do is nod your head, arms shaking under the strain of holding yourself upright. He sees the way your limbs tremble and he adds a third finger just to be extra cruel–although he steadies you by grabbing your hip firmly with his free hand, keeping you in place as he fucks you open with his fingers.

Everything is so hot. There’s a sticky sheen of sweat covering your forehead and your chest; you can feel your own slick dripping down your thighs.

And then his free hand drops down to thumb at your clit, and everything twists in your gut so fast it nearly gives you whiplash.

Within seconds you’re coming–no pretense, no warning. It explodes white-hot from your belly and sweeps through you to the tips of your fingers and toes with flash flood speed. One second there’s nothing more than pleasant anticipation–the next, you’re shaking and convulsing and sobbing Joel’s name as you fight with every cell in your body to remain upright.

He does his part to work you through it, thumb swiping even circles on your sensitive clit, pulling his fingers from you to pin you in place on the counter so he can continue working you through it.

“I know, I know,” he coos so sweetly in your ear over the sound of your moans and cries. “You’re doin’ so good baby, let yourself have it.”

It’s minutes before you’re breathing normally again–your legs are cramping from trying so desperately to support your shaky weight. Joel’s hands are soothing you the whole time once he lets up the onslaught on your clit; it’s like he’s mapping you, tracing over every dip and curve so tenderly you could almost forget what this encounter really is.

“Doin’ okay?” He husks into your ear–and then he’s folding himself over you again, and you can feel the insistent press of his hard cock against the curve of your ass.

For some reason, that’s what really makes it sink in. That’s the moment you realize that this is actually going to happen–that you want it to happen. Joel’s about to take something from you that no one has ever taken before, and you want him to. You’re offering it willingly, even.

You hum in response and buck your hips back, giving him a delicious taste of friction that pulls a ground from his throat. “Mhm. I’m ready, daddy.”

“Fuck, that’s my girl.” He gives your hip a light pat before pulling away for a moment, and you somehow have the presence of mind to jump up on the deep countertop because you know your legs won’t be able to support you through what’s about to happen.

There’s a smile on his handsome face when he turns back towards you, lube and condom in hand. “That how you want it, baby?”

Despite everything that’s already happened, you feel so much more exposed like this. You’re completely naked, and he’s fully clothed with his pants shoved down just enough to free his dick. Even as you spread your legs to admit him between your thighs, you feel shy. And he senses it, the slight apprehension in your gaze, because his smile softens even further; he sets the lube and condom down on the counter next to you so he can grasp the collar of his worn t-shirt and tug it up over his head.

He’s beautiful for a nearly forty-year-old man, you think. He’s firm and toned, but there’s a softness about him that you can’t help admiring, especially around his belly. Your eyes eagerly lap up the soft curve of his tummy, following the tantalizing promise of his treasure trail to his cock, hard and aching for you. The ruddy, flushed tip is weeping for you; you don’t know that you’ve ever seen someone so turned on before, and it’s a heady rush of power.

He chuckles as he sees your hungry eyes taking him in–he raises one big hand to cup your chin and pull your gaze up to meet his. “You’re so pretty, baby, look so good spread out f’me like this. You sure you’re ready f’this?”

“Fuck yes,” you say with an alluring little wiggle of your hips, and that’s more than enough for him.

He pulls his bottom lip between even rows of shiny white teeth as he rolls the condom down over his length, and it’s actually intimidating like this. He’s so big and imposing and it makes your legs want to close, but–

“M’gonna go slow, okay?” He vows, voice gentle as his big, brown eyes look into yours. His fingers wrap tightly around the half-used tube of KY jelly, and he leans down to kiss you when he sees the nervous gulp that bobs your throat. “Gonna be real gentle, I promise. You tap out at any time and we’re done, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you affirm, and you feel a lot better. As out of the blue as this is, as little as you really know Joel, you can tell he’s being sincere. You trust him; you know he won’t hurt you.

The first press of his aching tip against your hole is enough to make you choke on a gasp. He’s big, and even with all of his attentive prep work to get you ready for him it’s a tight fit. You can tell it’s affecting him, too. His eyes flutter shut and he bites down hard on his bottom lip, and you can tell that he’s fighting with all his strength not to just shove himself deep inside you. You appreciate his restraint more than words can convey, so you don’t even try; you hook your arms around his neck and pull him in for a deep, messy, desperate kiss instead. His tongue licks eagerly into your mouth as he eases his hips further and further towards yours, and it’s a nice distraction from the nearly overwhelming stretch of your muscle trying to accommodate his girth.

He shudders when his hips finally meet yours, cock stuffed to the hilt into your ass. “God damn baby, you’re so fuckin’ tight. You doin’ okay?”

You whine at the first roll of his hips, nodding your head rapidly because words won’t come. It’s such a foreign sensation, being stretched and breached like this. Not unpleasant necessarily, but so brain-scramblingly different that all you can do is dig your nails into his strong, broad shoulders and hold on for dear life as he actually starts to fuck into you.

It’s nasty, and you’ve never been so wet in your life. You hear the sticky squelch of lube as he thrusts his hips, shoving his cock deeper than you imagined possible. Your own wetness seeps from your neglected cunt and drenches him, dripping down around his cock and wetting the dense curls at the apex of his sex.

“Shit baby, you’re takin’ daddy’s cock so well,” he whines breathlessly; one arm hooks under your knee so he can spread you open a bit wider for him, and then the other hand returns to your puffy, arousal swollen clit.

You make what has to be the most high-pitched sound you’ve ever made as his index and middle fingers start a torturously slow pace on the little bud. “Fuck daddy!”

“I know,” he coos–you think that soft, breathy, Southern twang is going to actually put you in your grave. “I know, you wanna come, dontcha? It’s okay baby, daddy’s gonna make you come all over his cock just the way you need.”

His hips pick up the pace in time with his fingers, and all you can do is lay there limply like a ragdoll. The pleasure is so much different than what you’re used to, but it’s good. It’s amazing, the feeling of him balls deep in your guts in tandem with his ministrations on your clit, in a way you never imagined it could be.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl f’me,” he growls, hitching your leg a bit higher over his hip so he can thrust even deeper. “Fuck, m’not gonna last long like this. You’re gonna make daddy come so hard in this tight little ass.”

His words are accentuated with a little smack to the side of your ass, and it makes you moan louder still. Your head rolls back as he picks up the pace of his fingers, swirling hard and messy circles with reckless abandon. He’s not trying to prolong it anymore–he’s going for the kill.

“Fuck daddy!” Your hands scrabble for purchase on his smooth, freckled skin as he pounds harder into you. “W-want it, please, want you to come in my ass–”

“Gonna give it to you, impatient girl,” he growls deep in his chest. “You gimme one first.”

Your entire body jolts when he brings his hand down on your sensitive cunt before groaning at the way your arousal sticks to his hand and makes his fingers shine.

“She wants t’be stuffed so full, doesn’t she?” He purrs, fingers dancing so fucking teasingly around your fluttering cunt that it makes your eyes water. “Bet she’d love to be chock full’a cock right now.”

“Joel–”

“Now, now, baby, no whinin’. It’s unbecomin’ for such a sweet little lady,” he grunts, and the condescension dripping from his tone is almost enough to make you come on its own. “You’re gonna take what I give you and be grateful for it, aintcha?”

“Yesyesyesplease–”

His fingers have barely returned to your clit before you’re coming again. This one is even more powerful than before–a hurricane instead of a flash flood. Your entire body trembles with the ebbing flow of pleasurable waves–the words you’re panting aren’t even discernible English anymore.

The way you clench and flutter around him in your own pleasure pulls him over the edge faster than anything ever has before. He comes hard, chest clenching hard around his breath, cock twitching more violently than anything you’ve ever felt before as he spills his load into the condom.

It’s a long, breathless moment before he pulls himself from the vice-like grip you have around his dick. He pulls out with a deep, long groan–it makes you giggle, because it’s the most over-dramatic sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

There’s a beat, and then he starts laughing, too. At the sweet sound of your laugh, at the way he feels like he just ran a marathon, at the absolute absurdity of this whole thing. His laughter is so sweet and gut-deep and infectious, and it only serves to make you laugh harder. For a good few moments it’s just you and Joel, half naked, panting and sweaty, doubled over in laughter.

And then the bathroom door swings open and Tommy barges in.

“I’m feelin’ a helluva lot better after sleepin’ in, what’s so funny–” He stops dead in his tracks; he sees you naked and spread out on the counter and Joel disheveled and sweating. Neither of you are laughing very much anymore as you both scramble to cover yourselves up.

Tommy quirks a brow, a smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes dart back and forth between you and Joel. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”

You don’t know how to answer when you’re so mortified, so you do the only thing you can think of–you dart out of the room and down the hall to the safety of your bedroom as fast as your shaky legs can carry you.

➔ beta: @fhatbhabie dividers: @saradika-graphics

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #cece writes

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ivymarquis · 1 month

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The Neighbor

Hello friends I fucked off for a month but I’m back and I bring Price smut as an apology for my absence. @sky-is-the-limit’s “Im here to do what your boyfriend cant” prompt has lived in my brain rent free ecer since I read it and while I didn’t follow it verbatim, I did keep in spirit with the theme :)

Also womp I was gone for the Price challenge by @glitterypirateduck but this actually checks off a couple of the prompt options (first time being intimate, a confession/secret is discovered/revealed) so I’m submitting it.

There are a lot of tags. Make sure you read them.

Pairing| John Price x Reader Rating| M Word Count| 4.8k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Accidental voyuerism by virtue of living in an apartment, the reader has a dogshit boyfriend at the beginning of the fic (there is no cheating), slut shaming (from the dogshit boyfriend), these two idiots are down bad for each other, sex toys, oral (F!receiving), unprotected PiV, gratuitous squirting because I’m me, not really heavy on BDSM elements but mentions of the following: bondage/restraints (John uses his hands, nothing crazy), something akin to subspace from how good the nut is, aftercare, John is a prick to the now-ex, very brief angst due to a quick misunderstanding, very vaguely implied somnophilia, rampant abuse of italics. Lemme know if I missed anything.

His neighbor is clearly used to Price being deployed.

She’s a sweet thing, really, and on the whole isn’t that disagreeable of a neighbor.

He just has one problem with her (not even her, really) that is a thorn in his fucking side- her boyfriend.

The boyfriend was not an issue when they first met- wasn’t in the picture at all.

And no John most assuredly hasn’t had it out for the guy since Day 1. The fact that John had gathered himself up to ask his pretty neighbor out when he came back from his latest mission, only to find out about the new boyfriend, does not color his impression of the other man. He’s grown and this is not the first time his advances have been turned away for whatever reason.

But there are, to his knowledge, no true redeeming qualities about the man and he is about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.

He catches bits and pieces through the walls. The boyfriend is not attentive, caring, or sweet to her. She is treated as a guest in her own home, and twice he’s heard bellowing shouts that had Price at the door with his fist banging against it- both to shut him up and make it exceptionally well known that if the boyfriend thinks intimidating a woman is going to fly, that Price will not hesitate to kick the door in.

The most appalling part of it all is that John has a front row seat to just how atrocious he is in bed.

For the life of him John does not understand. It’s not even like the lad’s a good lay.

He’s heard many stories of women tolerating absolutely atrocious behavior from the muppets they were with because he knew how to make them see stars.

That is exceptionally not the case here. And John is rapidly finding his patience wearing thin at continually being subjugated to his pathetic performance.

So what the hell is it about the boyfriend that keeps his neighbor so enamored with him?

John stares at the ceiling, watching the blades of the fan turn as he tries to tune out the thumping of the headboard against the wall.

He thinks that if the man was just a bad lay and completely incapable of getting her anywhere, that would be one thing and John would continue to be frustrated but ultimately understand. But it’s the way he seems to actively ruin it anytime she has the audacity to enjoy having sex with him that truly grates on John’s nerves.

It’s not often, but even a blind squirrel finds a nut every now and then. The thumping of the headboard is accompanied by her sweet voice moaning lowly in short staccato notes as the boyfriend appears to finally be doing something right.

The thumping comes to a halt, and John groans in frustration.

“Why’d you stop?” He can hear his pretty neighbor lament through the thin walls.

“Why the fuck are you being so loud? Trying to give the neighbor a show?”

John squints his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. The fucking muppet can’t do anything right.

If the neighbor was his, John wouldn’t give a fuck who heard. Let all the neighbors know that he could fuck the sense clear out of her pretty little head. John could show the muppet what loud is.

“No! I’m not trying to do anything- it just felt good,” she defends herself.

“Well, be quieter about it, no one needs to hear that. You sound like a whore,” the muppet snaps at her irritably, and John is nearly at his fucking limit when the god damn headboard starts to thump against the wall again.

“Get out.”

Oh.

John is impressed- pleasure and pride coursing through him as his sweet neighbor stands up for herself rather than letting that ungrateful swine continue to berate her.

Good fucking girl.

“What did you just say?” The thumping stops.

“You don’t get to call me names. Get off of me and get out.”

For all his sins, it seems even the muppet has a line he’s not willing to cross.

There’s a shifting as he presumably pulls out and gets off the bed- the words are muffled but the tone is clear. The muppet isn’t above laying into her verbally though consent is (smartly) a line he won’t toe.

And good thinking on his part- John would probably tear through the drywall and turn him into a chew toy had that conversation gone in any other direction.

The door slams loudly, announcing the boyfriend’s departure.

John can’t help but keep his attention on his neighbor to see what her reaction is going to be. It is taking every ounce of self control he has to not follow the boyfriend and wring his neck in the parking lot.

There’s no conventional guide for how to address this situation with your neighbor. ‘Hello, I’ve fancied you for quite some time and that ungrateful prick somehow swept you up before I got the nerve to ask you out. I've had to hear you have the most lackluster sex ever for the past several months, and equal parts want to check in on how you’re doing emotionally after his latest stunt, and also want to bend you over and pin you to the mattress until you’re squealing. May I come in?’

He can’t say he is too surprised to hear things slamming about in the apartment- his pretty neighbor sounding more pissed off than upset, catching snippets of “Who the fuck does he think he is, talking to me like that” and “Motherfucker couldn’t find my clit with a map and a headlamp but can find the audacity to call me names-”

Okay, John has to fight back the urge to laugh at that last one lest she hear him. She’s quite the viper when (finally) provoked, and it just endears her more to him.

She doesn’t appear particularly distraught, the slamming and huffing and muttering concluding with her tossing herself on the bed.

It’s a very common occurrence that after the neighbor’s rendezvous with her lazy boyfriend, John is treated to a show where she finishes herself off with her toys.

The boyfriend, like many inadequate men, is threatened by them and John has heard the snide remarks.

Hilarious, he finds it, that a man incapable of getting her off is so adamant that she gets rid of them.

She hasn’t listened, clearly, as the low sound of her vibrator can be heard through the wall.

John is soon graced with the sound of her panting moans. His cock stiffens in interest at her voice, which is a frequent occurrence. She makes such pretty noises, mewling and whimpering as she works herself up.

Tonight is a whirlwind of emotions for his pretty neighbor, and at the end of the day her no-good boyfriend left her high and dry.

John will gladly enjoy the consequences of the boyfriend’s actions, one hand wrapping around his cock and beginning to stroke in time with her whines.

What he wouldn’t give for a chance to make her see stars. He’d be so good to her.

The reality of his job makes dating a logistical nightmare, part of what stayed his hand for so long.

He’s not blind. His neighbor is kind and sweet with a killer smile and wandering eyes. He’s caught her more than once ogling him when he’s returned home in uniform, or more nondescript tactical clothing.

Feeling her gaze on him always makes him puff up with pride, enjoying holding her attention no matter how fleeting. If he takes his time after a run and makes a point to pull the hem of his shirt up to wipe at his brow where she can see it, that’s his business.

So John thinks he’s dreaming when he hears that lovely voice whimper his name from the other side of the wall.

He stiffens, quietly waiting to see if he hears it again.

“John- Oh, fuck- please,” is all he needs to hear before he’s well and truly lost any semblance of patience.

Only having the presence of mind to dress himself enough to not warrant any errant looks from the other neighbors, he is at her door in a second.

It’s only after he knocks that he realizes he may well have killed whatever momentum she’s built for herself- given her muttering as she approaches the door- but he fully intends to make up for the stolen release.

She opens the door without looking through the peephole, obviously expecting it to be the ex based on the vitriol poised to spill at John’s chest, approximately eye level with where the (hopefully ex) boyfriend would be.

Once again he has to stifle a laugh, finding her a comical vision when the anger on her face melts away as her eyes flick up to his face with the realization that it is him at the door and not the object of her ire.

“What are you doing here, John?” Christ, he’s always been a sucker for pretty doe eyes. If he held even an ounce less of restraint he’d be mounting her right here for everyone to see.

“I’m here to do what your sorry excuse of a boyfriend can’t.”

Even as he reaches out to pull her in for a kiss, he’s watching her body language- gauging if she stiffens or shifts away.

She doesn’t.

In fact, her arms loop behind him and pull him closer, tugging on his hair and his shirt.

John’s not wasting any more time than he already has, walking her backwards into the apartment and shutting the door with his foot before reaching back to lock it- he’s got no desire for any interruptions from wayward former boyfriends.

They separate for a moment as she paws at the hem of his shirt, clearly wanting it off of him. John is all too happy to oblige, preening under her attention. He’s always had the stockier build of a man who’s fitness came from utility in the field, opposed to the hard defined abs of someone who spends most of their time in the gym.

It’s cute, the way she has to pry her eyes up to his face- clearly liking what she sees and flustered by the fact that John can see her staring.

“I broke up with him,” she clarifies.

“Good,” is his simplistic response, although if John’s being honest with himself he doesn’t really care about the finer details. The little prick never deserved to have her and John finally has his chance to prove himself worthy.

“The bedroom’s this way,” she prompts between kisses.

Their clothes are peeled off in turns as they stumble towards the room. The layout is inverted to John’s own flat nextdoor, so despite having never stepped foot inside before he guides her to keep her from crashing into something behind her.

By the time they are collapsing against her bed, they’re stripped of everything except a scant thong on her and his own boxers.

She’s just so delightfully soft in his grip, John can’t keep his hands or his mouth off of her.

The feeling is reciprocated as she pushes up off the bed to grind against him. As much as he’s relishing in them dry humping and making out like teenagers, he’s wanted her for so long and now that she’s finally willing and pliant underneath him, he’s itching for a taste of her.

Kissing his way down her body- starting at her jaw, the column of her neck, across her collar bone, down her sternum; latching onto each nipple and teasing them to hardened peaks before continuing his path down.

He’s compelled by the urge to turn her into a chew toy as he reaches her belly, although he stifles that urge and keeps his teeth to himself.

He can’t quite resist giving a small nip as she squirms, clearly excited by the implication of where he’s heading.

There’s a damp spot on her underwear already as he kisses along the waistband while his hands tease with the elastic on either side of her hips.

The sound of her breath hitching in anticipation makes him smirk, attention drifting further south.

The fabric is in his way as he presses a kiss against her clothed cunt, gripping handfuls of her hips to keep her still as she bucks in his grasp.

“Easy, sweetheart- we’ve got all night,” he soothes before moving his attention up one thigh to the backside of her knee.

Those sweet thighs are splayed open for him, giving John unfettered access as he continues to tease.

“When’s this sweet cunt been eaten last, hm?”

He knows he’s heard her give that undeserving muppet head, but can’t recall any reciprocation occuring. There’s not much that can shock John at this point in his life, and he’s willing to roll the dice by dragging up her now-ex because he knows this poor thing hasn’t been eaten until she’s begging him off in ages.

“I couldn’t even begin to tell you,” she answers breathlessly, anticipating having her thighs twitching in his hold.

Out of the corner of his eye, John spies a torn condom wrapper that didn’t quite make it into the bin. Well that keeps him from having to ask two questions, then. Smart girl.

“What a shame,” he tsks lightly, peppering kisses back up and down her thigh.

Deciding that she’s waited long enough and he’s had his fun being a tease, John is quick to remove the scant lace and pull it off of her legs before tossing it to who-knows-where.

The sounds she makes as he makes a meal out of her is music to his ears. Each hitched moan and breathy whimper makes him stiffen in interest.

His attention shifts to focus on her clit, tongue circling the sensitive nub as his hands hold her hips in place.

As focused as he is on what’s right in front of him, it takes a moment for John to realize that she’s stifling her noises. One hand is fisting the sheets beneath her while the other is clamped across her lips.

Well. That simply won’t do.

The ex may have trained and shamed her into silence, but John didn’t make it as a military captain without learning how to break someone else’s bad habits.

He ignores her whimper of protest as he stops, one hand abandoning the softness of her hip in favor of grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away from her mouth.

“None of that,” he admonishes gently, pressing a kiss to one thigh. “Let me hear you.”

“I-I’m too loud,” she protests and for a split second John sees red.

To his credit, he does not leave her wet and leaking on the bed to go bludgeon her ex to death with a blunt object.

“No such thing, sweetheart,” he soothes before having a thought to tease her. “Who are you worried is going to hear you?” He asks kindly, a shit eating grin as he speaks again, “the neighbor?”

Her wide eyed expression is thoroughly scandalized and John can’t fight the chuckle that escapes him.

He hasn’t released her wrist yet, deciding that it’s time to get back to his meal. If she abandons gripping the sheet with her free hand to cover her mouth again, he simply plans to hold both of her wrists.

It’s tentative at first, still not entirely trusting John at his word that he wants to hear her.

But John is all for positive reinforcement as a motivator, crooking his fingers to stroke that one spot that makes her see stars to encourage more from her.

She’s a quick study, although when she releases the sheet John is watching her like a hawk.

Rather than clasping over her mouth again, John is pleased when her fingers end up burying in his hair.

More than happy to let her guide him, John takes his cues from how she pulls at his hair. The feel of her thighs twitching as she breathes in staccato breaths is all the reward he needs.

“You’re getting close,” he says against her cunt, pointing out the obvious before getting back to work. She’s anxious, he thinks, the closer she gets to her climax. Poor girl doesn’t know what to do with herself with an orgasm she hasn’t had to put all the work into.

“D-don’t stop,” she stammers, rewarded immediately with John redoubling his efforts.

He’s not going to stop. Pretty thing like her deserves nothing less than laying on her back and enjoying getting her cunt eaten out.

“O-oh fuck,” is his only warning before she’s gushing on his face and John is like a kid on Christmas morning.

He doesn’t even know if she realizes she’s squirted, too caught up in the pleasure of her high.

He’s always thought it was hot- now that he knows his pretty neighbor is a squirter he is more than willing to get on his knees and pray to whoever is listening that this isn’t a one time event. He’ll do anything to get her to keep him.

Even as her high fades he doesn’t let up on her, continuing to work his middle and ring finger inside of her. All he wants is to see her cum- wants to see those eyes roll as she squeezes them shut in anticipation.

Despite pulling his face away from her wet pussy, he doesn’t leave her clit unattended for long before his thumb is gently circling in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

Kissing his way back up her body, John can’t help but be pleased as she pulls him in to make out with him. Snatched gasps and bucks of her hips grace his ears as he works her from orgasm to the next, the wet sound of his palm slapping against her.

“John Im gonna cum again,” she whimpers in warning.

He feels like a god with the way she stares up at him reverently, eyes wide and desperate for another climax.

“Come on,” he goads, “Show me- let me see your face when you cum.”

Christ if her leg twitches any harder it’s going to start vibrating, serving to only encourage him.

“O-oh,” she mewls, “God- don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t-“ she’s pleading with him like he wouldn’t sit at her feet if she asked him to.

The bewildered look on her face is darling, and John nearly finishes untouched; he's so wound up it’s not going to take much.

A few choice thoughts keep his own eminent climax at bay and buys him enough breathing room. She bucks and trembles in his hold, a high pitched squeal escaping her as he proves not only can he make her cum twice, but he can make her squirt like a faucet twice.

As soon as she’s starting to come down from her high she’s pulling at him, drawing up her knees to spread her legs in invitation.

“Greedy girl,” he teases as he kisses her- wet fingers abandoning her cunt in favor of manhandling her, wrapping her legs around his waist as he positions himself.

“Please, please, please-“ she begs so prettily for him, pleading for him to do exactly what he’s been fantasizing about for months.

He’s not a small man and mindful of that fact, but she’s well prepped and takes him easily. The desperate whimper that escapes her sears into John’s memory.

The buildup of everything finally gets to him as he wastes no time setting a steady pace.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Let me hear you,” he encourages as she cants her hips in time with his, whines of pleasure escaping her on each thrust.

“John, please,” she begs, eyebrows furrowing in pleasure as she watches where they’re joined.

“Eyes up here,” he instructs and Christ he almost loses it when her gaze flicks from between their bodies up to his face.

His hands find hers, fingers lacing together as he lowers his torso in order to kiss the ethereal creature underneath him.

She whimpers into his mouth, her sounds only encouraging John.

Everything about her is warm and inviting, from her soft skin to her warm cunt and the way she sings for him at every thrust.

Maneuvering them so he can grip both her wrists with one of his hands, the other immediately dives between their bodies to find her clit again.

His pretty neighbor has spent months not having an orgasm she didn’t give herself, and John is determined to prove to her that he can give her as many as she can handle.

“John I can’t cum again,” she pleads even as her thighs shake on either side of him.

“Yes you can,” he assures her. “One more time for me, yeah?”

Now, should she insist she’s done and satisfied then John would leave her clit alone and finish up their fun. As it is, though, she nods in acquiescence before the trembling in her thighs increases.

“Good girl,” he praises, fingers continuing their steady pace around her clit as she creeps closer to the edge.

She’s babbling in his ear as he presses a kiss to her temple and he knows she’s almost there.

“Good girl,” he praises again, a cocksure grin pulling at the corners of his lips at her immediate response.

“My good girl,” he ups the ante, testing her response to John staking a claim on her. And God did it ever work. That last little bit is all it takes to finally tip her over.

She clenches down on him like a vice and John immediately loses it, groaning low as the haze of his orgasm washes over him.

It’s everything he wants- she’s everything he wants as he recovers enough from his climax to finally notice that the bed is an utter mess beneath them.

It’s not his immediate concern however, more interested in soothing her through the come down of her high. She’s shivering underneath him, eyes glossy from the intensity of her last orgasm.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmurs reassuringly. “Just breathe for me.”

He gathers her up in his arms, listening as her heartbeat relaxes in time with his own.

Eventually when enough time passes she’s more alert and happily snuggling against his chest. After giving her a chance to rest he herds her along to the bathroom so she doesn’t give herself a UTI. She tries to brush him off but her legs are taking their sweet time cooperating again.

Of course, she’s not exactly a recruit taking a piss test so he gives her her privacy and she’s able to return on her own albeit on shaky legs.

John pets at her head idly, attention drifting in post coital bliss as his hand strokes down along her back.

“I can’t believe you’re actually in my bed,” she giggles deliriously after a stretch of quiet.

“Only reason I wasn’t here sooner was because of that muppet,” he assures her. He doesn’t want her thinking that this is a one time thing for him. He’s wanted her for so long he can’t possibly be expected to turn her loose at the end of the night.

“I only dated him because I didn’t think you liked me,” she scoffs at herself.

“Oh, it was nearly the first moment I laid eyes on you. But with my work I kept talking myself out of doing anything,” he tells her. “Kept telling myself you deserve better. And then you brought the muppet home and kept him around,” John grouses good naturedly at her. “Think they say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

“I plead temporary insanity,” she jokes, snuggling closer against his chest. “But I got rid of him. And you finally made your move.”

He hums in agreement, sleep pulling at him now that he has her tucked up against his side.

John doesn’t remember falling asleep but he wakes with a jolt to the sound of pounding on her door.

He’s only been out for an hour or so when he checks the clock on the nightstand, his neighbor sprawled out next to him.

Well, now he knows she snores. The sound is light enough to have never heard it through the wall, but curled up next to him she’s like a cat purring loudly in his ear.

And he’s exceptionally pissed right off at the fact someone has woken him up. Especially considering he has one guess who it is.

He fully debates answering the door buck ass naked to teach the prick a lesson about banging on doors after midnight but settles on tossing his joggers on.

Much like when she opened the door for John, the ex is automatically trained at where her head would be rather than looking at John’s face.

“My eyes are here,” he quips sarcastically. “Why the fuck are you banging on the door this late.”

“Why th-“ the ex starts to parrot back before cutting himself off. “Why the fuck are you in her apartment? Why isn’t she answering?”

“She’s asleep,” John answers simply. There’s no obligation to explain the why and how he ended up in her apartment.

“What the fuck do you mean she’s asleep? How is she asleep after she just dumped me? And why the fuck are you here?”

The boyfriend (the ex boyfriend, he thinks with glee) is either oblivious or…

Well. The ex boyfriend is oblivious. Let’s just keep it at that.

“I’m here because you can’t do your job right. She’s asleep because I can. What part of that is confusing?”

“That stupid slag’s been fucking you behind my back-“

“No.” John is somewhat mindful of not giving a full on “screaming at recruits” bellow, but his voice booms into the corridor outside the apartment anyway. “You watch your fucking mouth. This” John gestures vaguely at his own presence in her flat, “just happened after she dumped you. You don’t get to hurl insults.”

“She hopped off of my cock and straight to yours- what the fuck else is it?”

“You couldn’t get her off,” John hisses in annoyance. “I’ve had front row seats to your shitty little performance more than once. Not 5 minutes after you leave and she’s having to handle it herself.”

“I can’t be expected to compete with a fucking vibrator!”

“Well I sure as shit didn’t need one to get the job done. Poor girl could barely get her legs to work to go to the loo and not give herself a UTI. Your skill issues are what started all of this.”

“You know what? Fucking have her. I don’t need this shit.”

Ah yes, because John needs the ex’s permission to date a newly single woman. Absolutely. That’s entirely how that works.

“Never needed your blessing. Now fuck off. I’m trying to sleep.”

The ex responds with a two finger salute as he spins on his heel and storms off.

John is almost tempted to grab him by the back of his neck and turn him into a chew toy. Given his military career, his patience for muppets giving him attitude is virtually nonexistent.

But the siren call of his pretty neighbor is a stronger pull than the muppet can ever hope to achieve. John’s succeeded in his mission to run the prick off, and he’s going to try to get a few more hours of sleep before seeing if she’s interested in another romp in the morning when she wakes up.

The bedroom is dark and poorly lit but John immediately picks up on the silence.

Rather than being sprawled out and snoring like when he left her, she’s quiet and curled into a ball.

She’s awake.

“Sweetheart?” He calls softly.

She jolts, fabric rustling from the sheets falling off her as she sits up.

“You’re still here,” the surprise in her tone cuts, although he knows she didn’t mean for it to.

She seems to realize how that comes across and clarifies further, “I- I heard the door shut.”

It falls into place for him then- she woke up to the sound of the door and John nowhere to be found. She thought he’d left.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he consoles, making his way back to the bed. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he assures her while gathering her back into his arms.

Sleep comes back readily once the two of them are situated back in the bed.

Come morning, John’s got the patience and the presence of mind to throw a towel on the bed. He finds out for himself that his neighbor makes the prettiest noises with her arse propped up in the air and her face still buried in her pillow.

He can’t help but laugh later when she texts him that one of the neighbors made a noise complaint.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

#ocaptainchallenge #john price x reader #captain john price #price x reader #cod x reader #x reader #implied plus size reader #take a shot every time john calls the reader pretty #but dont or youll get alcohol poisoning #also I used ‘turn into a chew toy’ 3 times and I dont care :)#my writing

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pholla-jm · 21 days

Text

Heir

IMAGINE: HEIR ~ SUKUNA X WIFE!READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: sukuna is a bit ooc. fem!reader. not proof read. set in the heian era. true form sukuna. ***************

If someone were to tell Sukuna that in some years that he would have a wife, he would laugh at them… and then kill them.

But here he was, thinking about how his beautiful wife looked with a small bump on her tummy. It’s all he could think about really. Ever since he found out his wife is pregnant, his view of the world changed.

Sure, he still thinks that humans were lowly disgusting vile, but the world seemed like a better place with you and his future child in it.

His every day activities seemed a little less fun now, and all he thought about was getting back home to his wife.

After a day full of people worshiping him and some killing, he made his way back to his castle. Where his wife should be patiently waiting for him.

********

“What do you think you’re doing?” You hear the deep voice of your husband call out causing you to jump a little.

He had found you in a different room. It was bare at first, but you were starting to add things to the room.

You were working on a traditional crib for the baby, having different silks laid out in front of you to choose.

It was a bit early to start getting ready for the baby, but you were too excited.

You turn to look at him. He towered over you, with his four arms crossed as he looked at you with a disappointed look.

“I just want to make sure that the baby’s room is going to be perfect.” You say turning back to the silks.

Sukuna hums, sitting down next to you while observing the objects in front of you.

“How long have you been doing this?” You shrug, “not that long.”

“You could always have the servants do this, you know? You shouldn’t be working so hard.”

“Yeah, I know. I just feel like if I do this myself, it feels more special.”

Sukuna breathes out a happy breath, leaning his chin on one of his fists. He knew that you would make a great mother. Someone that is nurturing, and he knows that his future son will be loved and taken care of.

“Still, you should be taking care of yourself. It’s important that you and our son are completely healthy.”

You perk up hearing the word ‘son’. “Son? It’s a bit too early to know the gender.”

Sukuna just smirks, eyeing you up and down. “Trust me, I know it’s going to be a boy.” You laugh, “oh yeah? How so?”

He points at your belly, “It’s lower. A low stomach means it’s going to be a boy.”

Your eyes widen and you look away from him in disbelief. “Where did you even hear that? I didn’t know you believed in old wives tales anyway.”

“It’s not an old wives tale if it’s the current talk.” “The current talk? What, are you gossiping with the local ladies now?” You laugh at the idea of Sukuna gossiping causing him to frown. “Whatever woman. What they say is true.” “Okay, we’ll see.”

"I don't want you working on this room by yourself anymore. I have to be here to help you, okay?" You nod your head, a bit happy that Sukuna came up with a quick compromise. "Sound good to me. You can do all the heavy lifting."

Sukuna nods, then points at one of the silks that are laid out in front of you. It was a darker colored one, something that you knew he would like. “This one. It’ll be great for our son.”

You decide not to comment on the son thing again. With a smile, you pick it out and put it to the side.

Pushing your hands on the ground, you start to get up from the ground. “What are you doing?” “I have to use the bathroom.” You say. However, Sukuna gets up faster than you. He gently picks you up, carrying you bridal style. “I can walk by myself.” You tell him with a small smile.

You appreciate that Sukuna doted on you like this, but you don’t know how long you would be able to babied like this.

“When I’m around, you’re not doing a single thing. You understand?”

With a content sigh, you relax in his arms. Head resting on his shoulder, hearing the faint sound of his heartbeat.

“Yes, my beloved, I understand.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #oneshot #jjk fluff #jjk #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff

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javiscigarette · 5 months

Text

Silent Night

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You’re home for the holidays and Joel isn't gonna let a drinking contest or a house full of people stop him.

Warnings: PWP ofc, established relationship, mentions of drinking/alcohol, having to keep quiet?, oral (f&m receiving), thigh grinding, creampie, breeding kink, come play, getting caught, I think that's all lmk if I missed anything

w/c: 6.6k

a/n: hiii everyone! I am in fact alive! I'm finally on break from school and this is just a lil something I wrote real quick bc I've been in the holiday spirit since before October even ended hehehe :) Anyway, thank u to the actual loml @undrthelights for beta reading and finding the perfect pics!! It's nice to be back! Please leave a comment letting me know if you liked it, support is what keeps writers going!! Love u all!!

my masterlist

Your hips grind a little harder against his thigh, a soft sight falling from your lips as he licks and sucks at the spot under your ear that drives you absolutely wild. “I don't think I can be quiet” you whisper, gasping softly when his tongue swipes over your pulse. "You can" he mumbles against the side of your neck, the vibrations of his voice and his warm breath against your skin sending burning hot sparks down your spine. “You can do whatever I ask, can’t you baby?”

You can hear them downstairs, muffled sounds of Joel and several other of your family members talking and laughing while they sip on the fancy whiskey that your dad was saving for the occasion. You opted out of it, quickly taking up the offer of the first hour or two of alone time you’ve had since you arrived at your parents house two days ago instead. You figured Joel could use the time too, talking with your dad and uncles and cousins about whatever men talk about when they’re doing whiskey tasting in the mancave of a basement.

You managed to avoid getting roped into watching a shitty Hallmark Christmas movie with the rest of your family or helping them prep for the big dinner tomorrow. After successfully sneaking away to your old childhood bedroom that’s now redecorated as a simple guest room, you're left with nothing to do besides relax. First up was a long shower with the water so hot you nearly scalded your skin, and now you’re cozied up in bed, nose buried deep in the middle of your book while the rest of the house buzzed with muted background noise.

Time passes without you noticing, too engrossed in your book to keep track, but eventually the bedroom door creaks open, pulling you back to reality. You’re about to tell off whoever is at the door for interrupting you, but you immediately soften when Joel slips inside, quietly closing the door behind him.

He looks so sweet, wrapped up in a thick dark brown sweater, his curls flopping over his forehead, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose with a lopsided smile. His eyes are soft, warm, and a bit glassy as he looks at you like you’re the best thing he ever did see.

"Think your dad is trying to kill me" he says, his words slurring just a bit as he crosses the room over to the bed.

You giggle, watching him plop down on the bed on his back, his head rolling over to look at you, "Are you surprised? He does this to you every year."

It's true, every holiday at your parents house, your dad insists on the whiskey "tasting", which is really just him pouring heavy handed shots and glasses and seeing who's going to be the last one to tap out. Usually it's just him and his brothers in the end, hashing out some decades old sibling rivalry in the form of a drinking contest. And ever since the first time you brought Joel home for the holiday five years ago, your father has insisted on dragging him down there and challenging him too.

The first year was the worst with Joel not heeding any of your warnings about how much liquor your dad would actually push on him. Joel was so sick by the end of the night that he made best friends with the toilet and passed out on the couch, then spent most of the next morning with a massive hangover, apologizing profusely to your dad about it who just laughed and said that he can try again next year.

Thankfully, Joel knows his limits now and has made peace with the fact that he'll never beat your dad at his own game. It doesn't mean that the challenge doesn't still stand.

"No" he mumbles, a dopey smile spreading across his face, "Guess I jus' never expect him to pour shots big enough to knock out a horse"

"How many did you have this time?" You ask, bookmarking your place in the book before setting it aside, sitting up a little straighter and adjusting the pillows behind your back.

"Jus' three."

"Oh, so you are just a lightweight then?"

"I'm not a fuckin' lightweight" he grumbles with a dramatic pout.

You laugh as you turn to lay on your side, propping yourself up on your elbow. Your hand instinctively falls to his hair, a small content sigh falling from his lips as your fingertips skate across his hairline and glide through his soft curls. scooting closer to him and reaching down to run your fingers through his hair, "Okay, baby" you hum, smiling when his eyes fall shut as your nails gently scratch his scalp, "If you say so."

Joel melts under your touch, like a cat basking in the sun, a lazy little grin on his face and a dreamy, far off look in his eyes. His face is still flushed, the tips of his ears and the tops of his cheeks a rosy shade of pink, his lips slightly parted, a few more stray curls falling across his forehead. He looks absolutely gorgeous, and the soft, tender look in his eyes when he finally looks back up at you melts you from the inside out.

You cup the side of his face in your hand and ;ean in to press a lingering kiss to his forehead. "You're so cute when you're drunk" you murmur, moving kissing his cheek.

"M'not drunk"

You pull back to look him in the eye, smiling, "Sure you're not"

"I'm not" he whines, "M'just a lil' tipsy."

"Alright" you hum, pressing a quick kiss to his pouty lips.

Joel follows your mouth with the softest whine when you start to pull back, his large hand cupping the back of your head, holding you still while he kisses you, needy, but still so sweet. The taste of whiskey is heavy on his tongue as it slides against yours, a soft, satisfied noise rumbling in his chest when you part your lips further, kissing him deeper.

When he finally lets you break the kiss, you're left just a little breathless and dazed, a giddy feeling swirling low in your belly. His pupils are blown when he looks up at you, his lips spit slick and plump, a lopsided smile on his face. He turns a little more on his side facing you, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt until his hand slips easily underneath like it was meant to be there. The warmth of his palm smoothing up and down the curve of your spine is soothing, his fingers gently tracing over your ribs and the dip of your waist, the slight scratch of his calluses over your skin sending a shiver down your spine.

His eyes are half-lidded as he stares at your lips, licking his own. Realistically, you knew exactly what was going to happen as soon as he entered the bedroom. You know how he gets when he's like this, soft, sweet, and incredibly needy. With all the amount of times he tugged you into a bar bathroom after he's had a few, or when Tommy drops him off after a night out and he's already halfway to undressing you before the front door even shuts. You know he's trouble like this, but you can never deny him when he's looking at you like that, like you're the only thing he needs, the only thing he's ever needed.

He leans in to kiss you again, slow and sweet, his fingers splaying on your lower back and keeping you close. His mouth moves languidly against yours, the tip of his tongue tracing your bottle lip and his teeth sinking in the slightest bit to nip and tug, pulling a desperate little sound out from the back of your throat.

He sighs at the small sound and starts to lean into you more, using his weight to roll you over until you're flat on your back with him hovering above you, his forearms on either side of your head with his knees bracketing your hips. The kisses grow hungrier, wetter, more insistent, his mouth moving against yours like he's trying to breathe the very air from your lungs.

He shifts a bit and you moan softly into his mouth when his thigh slots between yours, the firm muscle of his thigh pushing right up against the apex of your thighs, the perfect amount of pressure to make heat spark and smolder in your belly. He does it again, rocking his thigh up against you just a little harder, swallowing the needy whimper that you let out, the heat and friction making you ache.

You can’t help but grind against his thigh, the seam of your sweatpants pressing against the damp spot that’s already forming on your panties and digging into your clit just right. You’re chasing the growing pleasure, the firmness of his thigh and the intoxicating taste of whiskey on his soft lips mixed with the faint trace of his peppermint toothpaste. You’d give anything to have him, for him to take you, but the sounds of laughter and chatter coming from downstairs is a rude reminder of reality.

"Joel" you warn with absolutely no heat in your voice, his lips grazing the sensitive spot under your ear, "We can't.”

He ignores you for a beat, crashing his lips back on yours and kissing you until he needs to come up for air.

"We can" he says, his voice gravelly and thick with want, the deep rumble vibrating in his chest. "We're bein' real quiet"

His lips trail across the line of your jaw and up your cheek before landing on your mouth again. The slow, lazy drag of his tongue against yours makes you throb, another soft when escaping you and the muscles in your legs and stomach tightening as you make no effort to stop moving against his thigh.

“Everyone will hear us” you try feebly, knowing it’s futile.

Joel smirks against your lips, the bastard. “Nah. I’ll be quiet.”

You know he's a damn liar and a bad one at that. In what world could you be quiet with his hands and mouth on you, with his thick cock buried deep inside you, stretching you out and filling you up so good that your toes curl? And in what world could he be quiet, not running his mouth about how good you feel, how pretty you look stuffed full of him, how well you take him. You know exactly how it'll go, if the numerous failed previous attempts are anything to go by.

But then his lips are on the side of your neck, and you're forgetting why it matters. You let your eyes fall shut as his lips press gentle, wet kisses up and down the column of your throat, the stubble on his cheeks and chin scratching and tickling in the best way. You're quickly forgetting why this was a bad idea to begin with.

"You can" he mumbles against the side of your neck, the vibrations of his voice and his warm breath against your skin sending burning hot sparks down your spine. “You can do whatever I ask, can’t you baby?”

“I don’t- oh…”

The rest of your sentence dies on the tip of your tongue as he pushes his thigh against you, grinding it up against your core in a way that has your head spinning and toes curling, the pleasure sharp and delicious as it melts into your veins.

“That’s right” he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’ll do whatever I say, huh?”

There’s a pause and when you open your eyes, his are dark, his pupils blown wide, the deep brown nearly swallowed whole. His hair is tousled and curlier than ever, a few loose strands hanging in his face. His lips are slightly parted, swollen, red, and sick and shiny from your kisses. He’s an absolute sight and you can’t help but nod, eager to do whatever he wants, whatever he asks, because god it’s always worth it.

His eyes crinkle a bit at the corners and the lopsided smirk on his face widens. He’s the fucking devil.

Just the thought of him taking you with the rest of the house full of your extended family is making your veins buzz, excitement bubbling low in your belly. But you're well aware of just how thin the walls are and how nosy some members of your family are and you can't fathom how awkward it would be to come down for breakfast the next morning after the whole house heard you getting absolutely railed.

"It’ll be okay" he assures, reading your thoughts, his hands slipping under your shirt again. The fabric bunches up over his wrists as he slides his palms up your torso to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "M’not gonna let anyone else hear you. Just me."

Fuck.

His simple words are enough to convince you, not that you needed much convincing in the first place. He had you wrapped around his finger and him around yours, and there was no way you were going to say no to what you know will come next. A jolt of electricity shoots down your spine and settles hot and heavy in the pit of your stomach. Your resolve breaks, your legs falling open further, letting him get even closer, and Joel lets out a soft, happy noise against your mouth.

"Atta girl" he hums, his voice rough and deep, "So good for me, aren't ya baby?"

"Always" you manage to reply, the word more of a sigh as you arch your back, his thumb teasing your nipple until it's pebbled and hard.

He gives into you easily, tugging your shirt up and over your head. His mouth lands on your chest as soon as it’s exposed, immediately licking and kissing across your collarbones and the swell of your breast. He noses along the valley between them, the coarse hair of his beard tickling your skin and making you giggle. You can feel him grinning against your skin before he nips and sucks at the supple flesh until a red mark rises to the surface.

You squirm beneath him, his leg still nestled perfectly between yours and pressing against you every time he shifts. The pressure is building in your gut, your clit aching and throbbing. The feeling is almost too much with his hot wet mouth now wrapped around your nipple, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak making it harder and harder for you to keep quiet.

“Joel,” you hiss, the word half warning and half plea.

“Hush, baby” he mumbles against your skin. His fingers replace his mouth, pinching and teasing your swollen, spit-slick nipple as he kisses across your chest to lavish your other nipple with the same attention.

“Gotta be quiet, remember?” he says when he pulls back, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. “Unless you want everyone hearin’ ya”

You open your mouth to say something in protest, to tell him that he’s making things a lot harder right now, but then he starts moving, sliding down the bed and the words die in your throat. The look he gives you as he settles on his stomach between your thighs is sinful, his eyes dark and mischievous, his lips pulled up into a smirk.

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweats, slowly pulling them along with your panties down your legs, leaving you completely bare. Your stomach swoops at the sight of his eyes trained to your center and your thighs twitch, wanting to snap shut and hide. But his hands on both of your thighs keep you spread open for him. You swallow thickly, your breath catching in your throat, the anticipation building in the pit of your belly as your slick starts to drip down the cleft of your ass.

Joel’s mouth falls open slightly, a shaky breath escaping him. “Fuck, baby” he sighs, tongue darting out to lick his cherry red lips, his eyes glazing over. A small, content smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, a swell of pride blossoming in your chest. He looks wrecked, like a starving man eyeing his first meal, and the way he's looking at you so intently, like you're the best thing he's ever seen, the thing that's kept him alive all these years, is making your heart pound almost painfully in your chest.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he praises, his hand running along the inside of your thigh. “And all mine.”

Like he can’t wait another second, he’s leaning in and licking a long, wet stripe up your center, dragging his tongue through your folds from your leaking hole to your swollen, needy clit. The feeling of his tongue on you pulls a soft, broken sound from you. You clap your hand over your mouth as your head spins, a rush of pleasure washing over you making the muscles in your thighs and stomach twitch and flex.

He does it again and again, and every time his tongue flicks over the swollen bud, you let out a soft whine that sounds far too loud in the otherwise quiet room.

He groans against you, his mouth already wet and messy as he laps at your pussy like he's starving for it, like he would die without tasting you. His eyes are locked on yours, the look in them so dark and primal that it makes your walls clench, more slick freely leaking out of you and onto his tongue. He laps it up happily, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you steady as his mouth works your clit.

He lets out a quiet, breathy moan when you slide your hand through his hair once again, your fingers tangling in and pulling on the soft brown strands. His eyes flutter shut, a shuddery exhale falling from his parted lips, and the feeling of his warm breath fanning over your wet, sensitive center has you stifling another high pitched whimper.

You roll your hips up against his face, desperate for more, and he gets the hint, the flat of his tongue swiping up through your folds a few more times before he dips it into your entrance, pushing in and out while his nose nudges at your clit. You're writhing beneath him, tugging at his hair, trying so hard to be quiet but failing miserably, soft, desperate little noises pouring out of your mouth. You know he's loving it too, making no effort to keep your noises at bay, not giving a single fuck about who might hear.

He moans against your cunt, the vibrations making you jolt, your hips rolling up to meet him. You're panting, the hand that isn't buried in his hair gripping the sheets tight enough that your knuckles turn white, and your back arches when his tongue fucks in and out of you faster, rougher.

"Joel, fuck" you gasp, "I- I'm-

He growls, the sound muffled by your pussy, the vibrations and the feeling of his stubble dragging along your inner thighs making your toes curl, the familiar coil in your belly tightening, your thighs trembling.

He doubles down, bringing a hand between your legs to replace his tongue with two thick fingers sinking into you and curling up against that spot inside you that has you seeing stars, his tongue circling your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you, his mouth and hand working in tandem to pull you apart.

"Fuck, I'm close" you whimper, his fingers crooking against that spot inside of you, sending white hot fire coursing through your veins as your slick leaks down his fingers and into his palm like hot honey.

He hums, sucking your clit between his lips, and your legs clamp around his head, your hand tightening in his hair as your orgasm crashes over you, your back arching off the mattress, a muffled, broken moan spilling out from behind your hand. He fucks you through it, his tongue flattening out against your clit while the tips of his fingers rub against that sweet spot inside of you, sending more sparks of pleasure tingling up and down your spine.

When it's too much, when the sensitivity makes tears prick in the corners of your eyes, you make a feeble attempt to push him away. He pulls back, sitting up on his knees, his chin and cheeks wet with your slick, his pupils blown so wide that the brown is almost completely swallowed up by black. He stares at you, his gaze so heavy and intense that it makes another shiver run down your spine.

"You're not being very quiet" he smirks as he moves off the bed to stand up.

You roll your eyes, still coming down from the aftershocks, your thighs quivering, "Yeah, no shit" you mutter, propping yourself up on your elbows.

He chuckles as he pulls off his sweater and the t-shirt underneath it before he starts unbuckling his belt and working on his jeans. You sit up, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed, reaching out and batting his hands away, taking over and quickly unfastening the button and pulling the zipper down.

He doesn't protest, letting you push his jeans and boxers down his legs until he kicks them all the way off. Your mouth waters at the sight of his thick, hard cock hanging heavy between his legs, flushed a deep red with slippery precum beading at the tip. You reach out, wrapping your hand around the base and taking a moment or two to revel in the familiar weight and warmth of him in your hand.

He shudders, a low moan rumbling in his chest, his eyes slipping shut as his hand moves to cup the back of your head. He watches you intently as you take your time, lazily stroking him, rubbing the pad of your thumb over the leaking tip and tracing the throbbing veins that run along the sides. His breathing grows heavy, his jaw clenching and his stomach muscles twitching as he tries so hard not to buck his hips up into the loose circle of your fist.

"C'mon, sweetheart" he pleads, the words leaving his mouth as a low, breathless groan, "Get me all nice and wet for you."

He doesn't have to ask twice. You lean forward and you dart your tongue out to lap up the bead of precum, humming at the salty, bitter taste of it, swirling the flat of your tongue over the head of his cock, your hand pumping the rest of his shaft. His breath catches in his throat, a stuttered curse falling from his lips when you dip your tongue into the slit, teasing more precum out.

He groans, his grip on the back of your head tightening, urging you to take him into the warm, wet heat of your mouth. You sink down, flattening your tongue and taking him all the way until he hits the back of your throat, the tip of his cock brushing against the roof of your mouth. You breathe through your nose, hollowing your cheeks, swallowing around him, and the deep, guttural groan that he lets out has you squirming, slick leaking out of your cunt and onto the sheets below.

"There ya go" he pants, his head lolling back, "Oh, baby, that's it. S'fuckin' perfect."

You pull off, a string of spit and precum connecting his cock to your bottom lip, and you look up at him through your lashes.

"Need to be quiet" you remind him, "Or else I'll stop"

He lets out a shaky breath and nods, swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He's not used to keeping quiet, not used to not telling you how good you feel, not used to not begging you to let him cum in that low, raspy tone that never fails to make you weak.

"I'll be good," he whispers, breathless and needy. "Promise."

Your stomach swoops at his words, arousal burning bright in your belly. Unable to stay away for much longer, you lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his cock. His hips jerk, another drop of precum leaking out. You lick it up, swirling your tongue around the sensitive, swollen tip before sinking down again. You take him into the wet heat of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing around him, bobbing your head slowly and steadily.

He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood trying with all his might to keep his noises in as you drool all over his cock. He can't take his eyes off you, watching the way he disappears into the slick heat of your mouth. You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around him, spit dripping down his cock and leaking out the corners of your mouth while your eyes water as you take him as far as you can.

You take him deeper, and you swallow, your throat convulsing around him, and the way his whole body shudders makes you smile, proud of the effect you have on him. He's so big and thick, and you both know you can't fit him all the way down your throat, but seeing you try your best is enough to make his thighs start to shake.

His cock hits the back of your throat again and again, the tip dipping into the soft, warm, tight space, and Joel's breathing is getting heavier and faster, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows knitted together.

"Shit" he grits out under his breath, "That's it, sweetheart. That's fuckin' it."

The praise goes straight between your legs, a fresh wave of slick leaking out of you and it's too tempting to resist, so you slip your hand between your thighs and rub circles around your clit, moaning softly around his cock.

He hisses, his eyes snapping down, watching your hand disappear between your legs.

"Are you touchin' yourself?" he asks, the words coming out rough and choked, his eyebrows raised.

You nod, sliding a finger into yourself, and you pull off his cock, panting, a thin strand of spit connecting the head to your bottom lip.

"Can't help it" you whine pathetically, your voice already raspy from how far his cock had been down your throat.

Joel groans, his dick twitching, and he's had enough. He takes a step back, and you let go, a little confused and worried that you've done something wrong. But he just takes hold of your arms and yanks you off the bed, his strong hands easily manhandling you, and then he's pushing you, turning you around and bending you over the side of the mattress.

"Oh" you breathe out, bracing yourself on your forearms, arching your back, sticking your ass up in the air.

You don't have to wait long for him to move. His hand is smoothing over your ass, the other one guiding his cock towards your sopping cunt. He teases the tip between your folds, spreading your slick and dragging his head over your swollen clit a few times before lining himself up and sinking in.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep quiet, letting out a stuttering breath, the familiar, delicious burn of his thick cock stretching you out making your eyes roll back into your head. You've made peace with the face that you'll never be used to his size. It'll always be too much, the feeling of him pushing into, forcing your walls to make room for him will always make you clench and shiver.

He's got his hands on your hips, holding you steady as he bottoms out, his hips flush with the curve of your ass with the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix. He holds himself there for a moment, both of you adjusting to the feeling, and you're trying so hard not to moan, to keep your noises muffled by the mattress, and you know Joel's struggling too, his jaw clenched tight and his brow furrowed.

"Good girl" he whispers, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, "Taking my cock so well, aren't ya?"

You nod, whimpering, your fingers twisting in the sheets.

He pulls back and thrusts back in, setting a steady, slow rhythm, the wet slide of his cock making the most obscene sounds. And it's driving you crazy, the need to let out loud, your chest burning with the effort of keeping your noises in. He keeps his pace slow, not wanting to make more noise with his hips snapping against your ass. It’s nearly tortuous though, the drag of his cock in and out of you so slow that you can feel every ridge as he takes his sweet time. You can only handle it for a few moments before the tingling hints of pain from the stretch subside and the burning need for him to fuck you senseless takes over.

"Joel" you whine, "Faster, please."

He leans over you, his front pressed against your back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "You're not gonna stay quiet if I do," he says, his voice deep and gravelly, "Just take what I give you, sweetheart."

You're so worked up, the slow pace makes you even more desperate for him, and you can't help it, you need more, and you reach a hand back and grab his hip, urging him to speed up.

"I-I'll try" you promise, "Please, just- Just fuck me, Joel, please"

He hesitates, but the way you're squirming beneath him is so tempting, and the way his cock is throbbing and dripping inside of you is telling him that he needs more too.

Before you can say anything else, he's pulling back, the thick, heavy weight of him sliding out of you. You whimper at sudden empty feeling but you don't have time to complain before he's flipping you over onto your back and scooting you up the bed before climbing on top of you. You can’t help but notice how big he is, the muscles flexing smoothly in his strong arms that box you in as he hovers above you, nearly encompassing your entire body underneath his. His mouth is on yours before you can even blink, his tongue slipping past your lips and kissing you like his life depends on it.

He settles between your legs, his hips nestled in the cradle of your thighs, his cock dragging along your clit again warm and heavy, and you gasp, the sound swallowed by his mouth. You're squirming again, desperate to feel him stretch you out more and he takes mercy on you, reaching between your bodies and grabbing the base of his cock, guiding the thick head towards your entrance.

"Gotta be quiet, baby" he warns, his eyes boring into yours as he looks down at you. "Those pretty noises are just for me, yeah? Can't have anyone hearin' 'em."

You nod frantically and the next second he's pushing in, the fat head of his cock forcing its way into you and bottoming out in one smooth motion. You let out a gasp that's definitely too loud but Joel is quick to remedy it, his hand coming up to cover your mouth, his fingers splaying across your cheek.

"Shh" he shushes you, his hips rolling, the slow, lazy drag of his cock against your walls making you clench around him. Your eyes roll back, your back arching as his hand stops all the whiny little sounds you can't help but make. He continues to fuck you slow and deep, his cock sliding in and out of your soaking wet cunt, the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing softly in the room.

You can't take your eyes off him, watching his eyes squeeze shut, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing as he fucks you, his brows knitted together and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. He looks beautiful like this, sweat glistening on his skin, his jaw tight, and his eyes shut tight, his mouth hanging open with his breaths coming out in soft, barely audible pants.

"Mmm" he hums, his hips picking up speed, his cock pushing impossibly deeper. "You feel so fuckin' good, baby. Fuck."

You reflexively clench around him and a shudder runs through his whole body.

"Gettin' real tight" he pants, "Tryna milk the cum right outta me, huh? Tryna make me fill up that pretty pussy?"

You whimper into his palm, your pussy fluttering, a fresh wave of slick coating his cock, and he groans, his hips picking up speed.

"S'what you want?" he asks in a hushed tone, his hand still pressed firmly over your mouth. "You want me to fill you up? Make a mess of that pretty pussy? Breed you until you're fuckin' stuffed, baby girl?"

Your back arches off the bed, the coil in your belly so tight that you think you might pass out. He's rambling, his thrusts losing rhythm, his breathing getting ragged and choppy, his chest heaving and his thighs shaking.

"That's it" he coaxes when you tighten around him even more, "Can feel it, can feel how close you are. Go on, baby, cum on my cock. Wanna feel that tight, wet cunt cum all over my cock, please, baby."

His hips snap forward, his cock pushing deep into you, the tip rubbing against the spongy spot deep inside you that makes the coil in your belly finally snap. Your eyes roll back, a muffled, broken moan falling from your lips as your entire body convulses, your orgasm washing over you and making your toes curl as your walls flutter around his cock buried to the hilt inside of you.

Joel lets out a deep, low groan, his hips stuttering as he fucks you through your orgasm. His hand slips away from your mouth so he can grip your hips with both hands, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding you in place so he can chase after his own release. His chest is tight as he holds in his grunts and groans, but it’s barely any use with the lewd noises that fill the room as your pussy gushes around him, your slick leaking past the tight seal of your walls around him and dripping down to his balls.

"Oh, shit, baby. Christ,” he chokes out, his stomach muscles clenching as his hips slam into yours, his cock pushing impossibly deeper and harder. “Keep makin’ a mess, keep lettin’ me feel it. That’s it. Fuckin’ hell.”

You can feel his cock starting to throb inside of you and you know he’s close. And you can’t stop the words from leaving your mouth, the need to let him know just how good he’s making you feel is destroying any bit of common sense.

“Want you to fill me up,” you whine. “Please, Joel, wanna feel it.”

That’s all it takes. His jaw clenches, his nose scrunching as his eyes squeeze shut. His cock twitches and pulses as he buries himself as deep as he can get before spilling into, filling you with thick, hot ropes of his cum. His hips jerking and stuttering d you clench around him, squeezing and milking him for everything he has while he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his broken, ragged moans against your skin.

"So good,” he whimpers. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

The praise goes straight between your legs and you wrap your arm around his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. He lifts his head, his palm resting on your cheek as he lifts his head and presses his lips against yours, kissing you languidly. His hips rock back and forth lazily, pushing his cum in as deep as he can get it. You melt into the bed underneath him, the only things keeping you tethered to the earth being your fingers combing through his hair and your legs tightening around his waist.

When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, and you're both left panting, trying to catch your breath. You listen to the muffled sounds of people downstairs, the movie playing and their drunken voices filtering in through the door, and Joel must be thinking the same thing because he chuckles.

"Well" he says, his thumb rubbing back and forth over your cheekbone, "I don't think anyone heard us."

"You better hope they didn't" you retort, a grin on your face. Joel rolls his eyes. "That's a weird way to say thank you" he teases. You start to laugh, but the sound dies in your throat, morphing to a whimper instead when he starts pulling out his softening cock.

"Joel" you whine, but he doesn't stop. "Joel, please. It's-"

He's not listening, he's too focused on the way his cock looks when he pulls out. The tip slips out of you, and the rest follows, and his eyes widen as he watches a string of thick, sticky cum stretch from the tip of his cock to your cunt. It breaks, falling to your thigh, and he licks his lips. He can't tear his eyes away, watching the way your cunt flutters, and his cum starts to drip out, running down your slit, the obscene sight making Joel's spent cock twitch.

"Shit" he mutters under his breath, "Ain't that a pretty picture."

He reaches down, dragging a finger through the mess of cum and slick and gathering it on his finger before pushing it back into your cunt. You clench around the digit before he sighs and pulls it back out.

"Gonna be leaking all day tomorrow" he murmurs, almost to himself.

You whimper, the thought of having him dripping out of you all day like that has renewed arousal already seeping into your veins.

“It’s okay” he assures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take care ya. Clean you up and put my cock back in right where it belongs, how’s that sound, hm?”

You sigh, nodding, a wave of fatigue washing over you. “Sounds perfect,” you agree.

You watch as he climbs off of you and starts to move, but a sudden, sharp sound of knuckles knocking on the other side of the bedroom door makes you both freeze.

“You two are fucking disgusting!” the voice of your cousin calls out, accompanied by the sound of a couple other people giggling and laughing. “Put some goddamn clothes on and get down here!”

You and Joel exchange glances, his eyes wide and apologetic, his cheeks burning bright red as you give him a look that says I told you so.

“Alright, alright, we’re coming” he yells back.

“We’re coming! Oh, yeah we’re coming!” another voice teases, the sound of everyone bursting out laughing quickly follows.

“We’re never doing that again” Joel mutters and you can’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah right. Keep telling yourself that”

Thank you for reading!!! Plsss let me know if you enjoyed hehehe

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

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devourable · 9 months

Text

⚘ the boys next door

sfwish, mdni | tags ; poly!male yanderes x gn reader (no prns used but 'you'), manipulation, yan behavior, slight fetishization of virginity

originally this was just gonna be one character so thank mazzy for convincing me to make him a poly duo instead lmfao. ik i have things to finish but like,,, boys 🫶

not too proud of this one so ill probs revise it or make a part two at a l8r time when im feeling less rusty

the boys next door were the two that everyone knew of as a pair.

sebastian and tobias grew up together, learned together, played together, and shared absolutely everything practically since they were born. they were what people thought of when the words 'best friends' came to mind.

nothing could or would ever come between the two boys, everyone said.

so it was no shock that when you came in and quite literally got between them — by virtue of moving into the vacancies that separated their homes — their instant mutual attraction to you would do nothing but strengthen the bond between them.

it was odd. any additions to their relationship was unheard of, but...

the boys next door shared everything. you didn't think that'd exclude you, did you?

toby and sebastian were quick to befriend you when you entered their life. you were around their age, practically the only other child in the area at that; but unlike the children at school who they'd turn away from in favor of each other, they readily made you part of their dynamic.

they didn't quite understand the feelings you gave them at first, they were too young to. all they really knew is that they liked being around you, they liked talking about you, and they wanted you to themselves.

when you were young, everything became about you. their favorite games involved them being your loyal knights, or bodyguards, or any other role that involved protecting you from whatever threat their little minds could imagine up.

and when you grew tired of playing the damsel in distress? they were fine with it. whatever you wanted from them, you got. sebastian's gaming console was practically yours with how much he pushed you to play on it. toby would beg his parents to get him any toy he'd seen you show interest in; and he'd always eventually get them for you.

they didn't want you to ever be bored around them. you'd always have a good time on their watch, and they spoiled you relentlessly to the best of their abilities.

you were theirs, now! and you took care of what was yours, no matter what. that's what both of them were taught.

they grew up with you. learned with you. played with you, and of course, they shared you — even as the three of you grew up.

everyone around you saw how much they adored you, too. when asked, the two boys would proclaim how they'd both marry you in the future. it was so cute! no one saw an issue with how they always took up as much time and attention as they could from you. or how you never really seemed to be able to make friends with other kids at your school...

you had your best friends, so it didn't matter. they were all you needed.

the pair grew to love their constant close proximity to you. it ensured that they'd know what was going on in your life at all times as you grew and developed. when you weren't all hanging out together, it wouldn't be unusual for the pair to simply watch your home from their windows, glimpsing into your windows to watch you go about your life.

you were turning into a fine young adult. but you still needed their protection! they both easily surpassed you in size as you all grew up — sebastian in particular, who's height was staggering compared to both you and toby. he liked the edge it gave him, and how intimidating he could be when needed. tobias didn't have that advantage, but everyone liked him enough to respect you as his territory anyway. you were so small and sweet, what if someone saw you the way they did? they couldn't have that, they had no choice but to keep you to themselves.

it felt like you always had at least one of the two at your side at all times. so much so that it felt odd when you were without either of them. sebastian and toby being by your side was as natural as breathing and you grew to never really question their behavior.

they were just making sure you were okay when they insisted on keeping you company when you were home alone. when toby took your first kiss, it was because it only made sense — it should go to someone you trust and care about, right? and when you told the two that you were still a virgin well into adulthood (which they knew, of course), they insisted on being your first.

they knew you better than anyone, they'd know how to make you feel good. and who better to give your virginity to than your best friends?

getting to claim your body, inside and out, was one of the best moments of their lives. no one would ever get to have you the way they did.

no matter what you'd do, where you'd go, you'd always be effected by them in some way — and that's exactly how they wanted it. they'd always be your first best friends, your first boyfriends, your first everything. and you'd always be theirs.

the boys next door would always be entangled in your life. but you wouldn't have it any other way, would you?

they know you better than anyone, after all.

#🍀 the neighbors #sebastian lee #tobias lovell #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere boy #yandere boys #poly yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere male #yancore #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere writing #yandere fic #yandere x oc #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines

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whateveriwant · 4 months

Note

I know you already did the 141 boys when their wife gives birth (which was fantastic btw) but maybe if they missed the birth because of a mission or whatever else your brilliant mind can think of!

Don't give me compliments because then I'll follow you home like a cat and you'll never get rid of me 😖

Price

(This goes for all the men, really) but he's absolutely gutted to not be with you as you're giving birth

Honestly, if he had the choice, he would've rather lobbed off his own arm than miss such a momentous occasion in both your lives

It’s nothing less than the literal fate of the world that's keeping him from you, and he makes sure to reiterate that over and over again

The only thing that gives Price a bit of peace of mind when leaving you at a time like this is knowing you have a strong support system to help you through it

And boy oh boy does he put those friends and family members to use by having them constantly text him with every update imaginable

What time your water breaks, how far apart your contractions are, how much you've dilated, so on and so on. He wants to know it all

While he has to remain focused during the bulk of the mission, when he's able to, he's whipping out his phone to scroll through the literal hundreds of messages that await him

The updates are so plentiful and detailed that if he tries hard enough, he can almost pretend like he was right there beside you all along

And once he gets to the pictures of you holding your little one for the first time, well… he's not afraid to admit that he sheds a manly tear or two at the sight

Soap

He kicked up quite the storm at work when he realized he was going to be missing the birth of his child

He did everything in his power to try to get out of the mission – to try to get back to you – but, ultimately, he had no other choice than to go

But he's not just going to go gently into the night. No, he has a few tricks up his sleeve to make it as if he's still there with you in some capacity

Like Price, Soap takes comfort in leaving you with a huge support system to help while he's away

And also similarly, he's recruiting your loved ones (more so their phones) into letting him video chat with you whenever he gets the opportunity

(Does that mean he snuck his unauthorized smartphone into the middle of a battlefield? …. Yes. Yes, he did. .……....… Don't tell Price)

You'll be in the midst of a call with him and a bullet will fly right by his head and embed itself in the wall behind him

Of course, this has you incredibly concerned, worrying over how you're distracting him when he should be focused on his mission

But he assures you there's no need to fret, dear. He's perfectly safe and everything’s completely fine

(Oh, and just disregard that sound in the background, hun. No, it wasn't a bomb. Heavens, no! It was a… a… piano falling out a window)

Gaz

Even when he's away on mission during normal circumstances, he's calling home all the time to check in with you

But given your current state, now he's checking in twice as much as he usually does

Expect a minimum of three calls a day just to ensure things are still all hunky dory on your end

It's during one of these calls that your water breaks, and as you fly into a state of panic, forgetting everything you're supposed to do, Gaz has to calmly walk you through the steps of what you'd planned

He's able to talk you down and make sure you get yourself to the hospital in one piece, but then after that call, weirdly, you don't hear from him again

It's not until several hours later when you've already delivered your child that you're awoken by the feeling of someone beside your bed

You look to see who it is and it's none other than Gaz himself – still dressed in his full gear, covered in all sorts of dirt and grime, a hushed apology pouring from his mouth

He's so sorry he couldn't get there quick enough, beautiful. He left as soon as he could once he'd pulled a few strings with Price

But you don't even care about the excuse because you're quickly enveloping him in a hug. With tears in your eyes, you assure him it's alright. He's here now, and that's all that matters to you

Ghost

When he was informed he was being shipped off to a remote location less than a month before your due date, he was livid

No phone, no radio, no communication of any kind with the outside world and he was supposed to be okay with that? He very much wasn't

The higher-ups had to really hammer home the whole “safety of the world” thing to convince Ghost to go, and even when he did, he did so grudgingly

He finds that as he sits in this shoddy shack halfway across the planet from you, all he can do is keep a mental tally of everything he’s missing

Going with you to your final check ups, helping you pack your hospital bag, holding your hand as you begin to push, etc. etc. etc.

But what about things he might not know about? What if something's gone wrong while he's been away?

He can't let himself think on it too much because he'll end up putting his fist through the drywall, and he needs at least one good hand to hold his child with when he meets them for the first time

Seven weeks, four days, and nine hours after he shipped out, Ghost is on a plane back home

He doesn't stop to talk to anyone when he touches down at base (not even to report to his superiors). He just gets into his car and books it, not letting off the gas until he's parked outside your home again

And when he finally reaches the front door, an unexpected tremor passing through him as he grabs for the handle, he closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath, and walks inside, beginning the next chapter of his life

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screampied · 2 months

Text

‘ LOVE ME, LOVE ME [NOT] ! ’

ᡴꪫ‎ synopsis. on your life, you swore you hated him. that stupid smirk that curled against his lips, you loathed toji fushiguro. but how does a single kiss change that? is this hatred you feel—or is it romantic denial?

wc. 8.4k

warnings. fem! reader, arranged marriage au, slow burn (?), sharing one bed, unrequited love, degradation, praise, edging, size difference, fingering, semi public, implied multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, impact play.

“ya just gonna stand there or,” toji raises a brow, and you gave him the biggest glare imaginable. it was late at night, about a quarter past eleven and you were exhausted.

you had a long day, and the last thing you’d wanna come back home to was a guy on your bed. toji was sprawled all out, stretched all over your side of the bed, and he gives you a teasing grin. “so y’er the brat i’m supposed to marry.”

“you’re not sleeping here.” you grouse, making an attempt to shove him but it gets literally nowhere. toji stays put, glancing up at you and his facial expression was purely amused.

he hums. “oh? says who?”

“says me. now move before i—,” you chastise, crawling into the bed to move him before with quick reflexes, he gets ahold of you — and stupidly, you fall right into his chest, a sudden oof sound departing from your lips before he snickers.

“now we’re both scared, princess,” toji rolls his eyes, and you’re all propped up against his chest. he was so warm, and oh how he smelled so good..

toji’s got the biggest smirk on his lips as you’re awkwardly laid on his lap. the both of you share an intense gaze that felt like forever - and once he finally breaks the silence, he mutters, “quite a brat but i gotta admit, y’er real pretty up close.”

you shift your eyes away, and you let off a soft gasp once a hand of his brushes against your waist. toji continued to speak, and his tone was a bit more pitchy and stern. “glare all ya want dollface, ‘m not moving.”

“fucking bastard..” you grumbled underneath your breath, crawling off from his lap before he pulled you back into him.

“who’s gonna marry this bastard though,” and then he clicks his tongue, adding a snarky, “uh huh. exactly. but at least come up with better insults than that,” and it’s a long awkward pause. toji finally looks up at you again, his tantalizing grin fading before darkened irises of his lock onto yours.

it was intimate.

the eye contact was, strangely sensual… you wanted to know more about this man.

you’ve heard countless stories, especially the ones where he was known for being notorious but you’ve always pondered. out of any random guy, you got paired up to be betrothed to the infamous toji fushiguro.

he ends the silence with … a deep kiss.

everything moved at such a speed, you didn’t even realize you were kissing him until you felt his tongue run down yours. he had such a flavor, your eyes briefly closed, returning the gesture and he cups yours face. a low grunt could be heard from him, and despite it being seconds…toji was definitely addicted to your sweetened taste.

it took you a long moment before you pull away, strands of spit departing and you stutter out a timid, “w-what was that for?”

“why’d you kiss back?” he eyes you down, and he brings a thumb up to your lips, swiping against it and it was unintentionally sexy—toji stares down at your lips, as if he wanted to kiss you again, but his eyes then flicker back up towards you. “if we’re gonna be tied together, you should know how to kiss,” only to then he replies with a sassy, “…you could use some work though.”

“…shut up,” you groused, a cute pout forming on your lips as you scoot away to shove a pillow at him. “whatever. i’m going to bed. we have stupid rehearsal tomorrow.”

toji runs a hand through his hair as he snickers, watching your frustrated obvious embarrassed state. you reach to turn off the lamp, getting comfortable underneath the fat silk covers.

“aren’t ya gonna ask for a goodnight kiss?”

“fuck you, toji.”

“heh. one day, girl.”

with furrowed eyebrows, you didn’t get what he meant, and once you did—you were glad it was pitch dark so he couldn’t see your visible abashed expression.

momentarily, the two of you ended up sleeping. you’re all the way on the other side of the bed, yet due to toji being a rough sleeper apparently, he finds himself getting close to you.

regardless of being crazy in bed whilst in a deep slumber, he surprisingly didn’t snore.

you found yourself tucked right in his strong arms. you felt safe—secure. leaning into his warmth, you suddenly feel a cold sweat wash over you.

beat after beat, your heart raced and what your mind processed. it felt so surreal.

you felt a mixture of both, hot…cold…. a plethora of feelings.

once your eyes shot open, your first reaction was to wake up toji. of course, you’d ignore your feelings and go back to sleep. but something deep inside you was telling you, you need him.

“wha—” he grumbles, his tone was hoarse due to him waking up abruptly, it was around probably three thirty in the morning. he was about to reply with a usual teasing remark before he spots you, hovering over him with tears stinging in your eyes. “hey. hey…what’s the uh… matter?”

his tone suddenly went tender, you stare at toji, observing his face with blurred eyes from the tears. your eyes met towards his relaxed face, his perfectly structured chin, even his slanted scar that ran across a part of his lip.

“i— it was…” you sniffle, but for some reason, the words got trapped into your throat. sealed, preventing you from muttering another word.

“shh…it’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeats, bringing you close towards his chest. you tried to relax within his grip, he’s so gentle and drags a hand down your back soothingly. “easy, girl. i’m…here.”

judging from the continuous pauses in toji’s tone, you could tell he didn’t know what to say — what to do, but he knew he had to at least hold you.

you felt insanely vulnerable, all to a man you’ve only known for maybe what…a few hours.

his voice, it was relaxing and soft, despite its roughness. the rhythm his hand had, stroking back and forth against your back, you let off a low sigh. his cologne wafts against your nose before you slowly look up at toji, and he’s already staring at you.

“…you good?” he mutters, an eyebrow slightly raising.

“y-yeah,” you mumble, a tiny pout glossing on your lips again. it was cute — he was about to comment on it, yet you watch him start to shift away. you wrap your arms around his waist, briefly doing a head shake. “stay still, toji.”

“ooh. first name basis now?” he hums, fully complying with your request. his thumb lightly grazes near your back before you feel his chest jerk a bit from a chortle. “but okay, we can stay like this princess.”

you felt your face get hot at the pet name, why—?

just him calling you ‘princess’ was enough to make you feel such intensity. he brushes a hand back and forth swiftly. it was tender, you let off a soft sigh, any signs of nervousness leaving you completely.

“…don’t call me that.” you grumbled, your eyes shifted up at him and he rolls his eyes.

“and yet y’er still talking,” he chastised, this time a pout forming on his lips, it was cute.

the way the scar that ran across the edge of his mouth tugged together solely from the movements of his facial expressions.

toji catches you staring at him before he breathes out, “i don’t even get a thank you,” he nudges you, an attempt to lighten the mood—to perhaps earn out a smile out of you, and that he did. “get some sleep though, brat. got me hugging you, tch.”

it was a drag. reality coming to you that not only had you have to marry this man, but you had to live with him also..

multiple days passed, the two of you practically pretended each other didn’t exist.

toji was almost always working . .

albeit, he’s never told you specifically what his occupation was.

you knew he was a feared man—for whatever strange reason, but you decided to not comment on it. perhaps that was a good thing.

sooner rather than later, your wedding date was approaching. everything felt like it was going at a rapid speed.

toji was, well . . . a private man to say the least. you tried to get to know him, but he was like an empty canvas. there was something he didn’t want to tell you.

ex-wife, ex-girlfriend..?

you couldn’t help but ponder. sure, he was an attractive man. quite very much easy on the eyes. such striking features, heavily intimidating. if only he didn’t have such a huge ego. he was practically insufferable to live with. the two of you were total opposites in terms of personality.

he’d often tease you every chance he got, poking fun at you for even the smallest things.

“…wow,” toji muttered, leaning back against his chair. the moment you stepped into the room in nothing but a pretty silk dress, his eyes roamed and roamed.

it was a pretty long a-line dress. it was perfectly sewn on, hugging your curves tightly, the sash that ran across your waist. toji for once was speechless, his eyes lingered towards your entire frame. your figure—it was forever gorgeous in his eyes. for a moment, you saw a sudden look in his irises, as if he’s been in this moment before.

he has. judging from his past, but you didn’t know that.

toji dismisses a sudden flashback before focusing his attention back towards you, standing up from his chair, uttering a, “c’mere. i wanna get a closer look.”

“was that a good wow or a bad wow?” you puff out, sliding your feet across the floor towards him. you swallow to yourself, can’t help but feel a certain butterfly stir up inside you.

toji’s eyes were on you the entire time. his eyes linger down your body and seeing how the way it fit perfectly before he mutters.

“it’s whatever you want it to be, princess.”

“why can’t you just reply like a normal person?” you furrow your eyebrows—visibly trying to hide your embarrassment.

toji snickers. “you look gorgeous,” and he looks as if he wants to touch you, but he halts, tugging on his tie before trying to maintain a neutral gaze. “is this the one?”

“yeah,” you mutter, and that’s when for a brief moment. the two of you just stand there. toji’s hands were buried in his pockets, and he’s got that annoying simper resting on his face.

this man.

it was as if his irises were a mystery — pools of complete mystery. you could never read him.

toji brings a hand towards your face, and he strokes your chin with the pad of his thumb. “you know,” he starts in a rough voice, feeling how claustrophobic it almost was . . the two of you cramped up in a dressing room like this, you tried to dismiss any dirty thoughts. “i keep noticing how bad you are at eye contact, princess. you have a habit of staring at my lips instead of my eyes.

“…shut up.” you mumble, practically leaning into his touch despite your stubbornness. he smiles, derisively raising a brow.

“if ya want another kiss from y’er husband, just say that.” toji murmurs, his strokes went towards your lips. he’s the one who looks at your lips this time, almost witnessing the whine that was about to leave your mouth.

it suddenly felt hot . . . scorching.

the gaze he had on you, such a meaningless yet seductive look. as if he was forevermore captivated by your beauty, and in this case he was.

“…toji,” was all you let out, a soft pout going against your glossed lips. he looked so handsome up close. darkened strands of hair that ran down his eyes briefly, it was ruffled.

you loathed feeling like this, that stare he gave you. it started to make you feel a certain type of way, between your legs.

“yeahh?” he slyly remarks, leaning up close. just inches apart, he was so close to kissing you. you smelled mint with a slight tang of alcohol run on his breath, he knew what he was doing. “needy girl. look at that pout, so cute.”

“kiss me, toji.” you breathe, not even intending to sound so whiny.

it killed you, seeing how desperate you were for another one of his kisses. you craved it though. the way whenever his lips would hit against yours, it felt you were the only person in the world. he knew that’d be the only way to shut you up.

“look at you using your words,” he hums, sliding his thumb against your bottom lip for a final time. toji then leans in, tilting your chin a bit and his lips gently press against yours.

your lashes fluttered, feeling a certain feeling stir up inside you. you couldn’t describe it . . . again, this man.

you made it known to yourself that you wouldn’t get like this for anyone. feel this …. weak. yet with toji, he had you wrapped around his finger.

it was that easy.

just from a kiss.

a stupid kiss.

toji grips your chin, and you move back until you’re pinned against the wall. the pure feeling of the cold mirror frame skimming against your back.

toji grunts in your mouth, his tongue colliding against yours throughout each second. his hands started to roam up your body, as if he was waiting to touch on you.

graze his fingers down every inch of your pretty physique. you moan, feeling a rough hand of his slowly lift your leg up.

the soft fabric of your dress ruffles against his thigh, and your leg ends up wrapping around him.

he chuckles, deepening the kiss, you felt the very edge of his scar tickle against you. “fuck, y’er something else,” he says between kisses, and he feels you tugging on his tie.

in the background played some catchy tune — a random popular song, you felt the warmth of toji’s body grind against you.

so incredibly good, the tips of your ears started to heat up. his hand trails lower and lower until your breath hitched, feeling the tips of his fingers dance against your skin.

“you do realize we’re in public, right sweetheart?” toji whispers, breaking his lips away to kiss near your neck. he smelled intoxicating, a perfect mixture of cologne—surprisingly not a cheap kind. it smelled worth a hefty value, and it made you gnaw on your lip. “are you-”

“you talk too much,” you chastise, grabbing onto his wrist. he snickers, watching you take a hold of his grip. you drag his hand between your legs, letting off a puff. “i just—i don’t care. i want you to touch me. you— you tease me all day, ‘n i- i just want—”

toji stares at you, you’re still making his hand go down until it’s right between your thighs. raising up your dress that wasn’t paid for, his fingers brush against your panties. “…oh,” he purrs, arched brows pressing together. “you’re kinky. but okay, if my pretty wife wants me to touch her, then i’ll touch her.”

“i’m…not your wife, idiot.” you pant.

“don’t worry, girl. you will be,” he mumbles, bringing his lips towards the side of your neck.

he sinks his teeth gently, nipping at the sensitive skin to hear you moan.

you were so close to him—the way his touch sent you into a complete frenzy. toji slides your panties to the side, and you let off a whine, feeling him feel the slickness that stuck against your folds. “aw. were you wet this entire time we were out?”

you felt your face heat up. oh, you were extremely embarrassed.

he had you like this, soaking wet. you couldn’t even explain why. this man had you like this… so feral.

to think you were gonna walk down the aisle with him pretty soon. at this particular point, you didn’t care about feelings. by now, you weren’t even sure of what you felt towards toji. you just knew that you wanted him to touch you.

“so impatient,” toji murmurs, making you lean back against the wall. he was such a tease, staring daggers, sexual daggers right at you.

toji stares as you tug on his pants, you don’t even know what came of you—it was as if your body craved him. “we just had one more store, princess. you couldn’t wait?”

“…toji,” you’d pout. pulling on the thin fabric of his tuxedo. he looked so handsome. you only started to imagine what he’d look like once the two of you officially got hitched. he raises his brows, leaning towards you before you gasp once he brushes a finger towards your exposed clit. “i- i can’t fucking wait anymore. please, just—”

“watch that mouth of yours,” toji sneers, and he cuts you off with a deep kiss.

you moan, feeling entirely hot once he slowly inserts a finger inside. “nasty girl. walkin’ around this wet,” he’d grumble, your arms went over his neck as you bit your lip. “easy. relax, thereeee we go. good girl,” and his praises went straight towards your cunt.

he had such a way with words, his fingers had quite a length to it not to mention. all throughout, you felt him prod against your walls and you whined for more. “i knew we’d get along.”

“s-shut up.”

“s-shut uppp,” he mocks your tone, a raspy snicker following. he grins at the cute scowl that went on your lips before you mom again. he reached so deep, and then he added another finger inside. toji watched as you glossed lips parted, you were heavily panting. “such a mess down here. just filthy.”

he was so gentle with his strokes—a simple bowling ball grip that made your maw practically drop. it felt so good, gingerly caressing your clit. your chest heaved and heaved, and you started to whimper against his ear.

he loved whenever you did that. the sweet pitches your voice would make, it was almost melodic.

“f-fuck,” you’d sigh, trying to focus on your breathing patterns. you had to remind yourself the two of you were in public.

in a secluded dressing room.

the circular motions he created made you practically squeeze your plushy thighs together. he was so good with his hands, it made your eyes start to roll back dramatically. “right there, t-toji.”

“squeeze around me so good—wonder how you’d be with me doin’ the real thing, princess.” and the way he’d do that thing, pitching his voice into a husky rasp. it made you feel a surge of tingles coarse all throughout your body. you were essentially hugging him, your unbought dress lazily pulled up. “tell me how’s it feel, talk to me.”

his words… it was so sensual, he goes right up against your ear as he spoke. licking against your earlobe before it turns into brief nibbling. he knew what he was doing, getting you all hot and bothered.

you swallowed thickly, and he has a perfect tempo. not to fast, not too slow. by this point, both of his fingers that was shoved into your pussy was covered in your sweetened slick.

“good, f-feels good,” you’d whine out, pant after pant. your breathing became erratic—mind swollen with nothing but filthy thoughts. just the sheer reality of being fingered like this, it made you a little wet. no, it made you incredibly wet.

toji’s stimulating your clit, his formation was forever euphoric.

it was like a drug, the way you wanted his fingers slid in and out. he purposely grew quiet so you could hear the sloppy squelches your cunt made in retaliation. “listen how she just… talks back, no fuckin’ manners just like you.”

your bottom lip quivered, his dirty talk…

each word going straight between your thighs. with your back arching, you felt yourself clamp around him, a big squeeze.

it was like with the tips of his fingers, he knew how to reach every crevice, everywhere inside your folds. “the way y’er voice always gets high once i get to this spot. such a sensitive baby.”

curling and curling, toji’s fingers was going in and out of you. by this point, you were completely drenched. he was using his entire wrist, you felt the cold hand of his watch skim against your skin in the process. “i-i’m getting close, toji fuckkk.”

“yeah. bet you are,” he nips at your neck, speeding up his fingers just a bit. you felt dizzy, forevermore trapped in your mind—chasing a powerful incoming orgasm. it was no denying, your legs were just trembling by this point. he knew the anatomy of your pussy perfectly, as if he was skilled in it professionally. “i want you to do somethin’ for me.”

“huh?” you whined, still propped up against the mirror. he’s still trapped with your arms wrapped around his neck, right between your legs just barely.

toji sneaks a kiss near the inner part of your neck before mumbling, “i want you to make a mess on me. can ya do that?”

as your eyelids droop, becoming lower and lower, you pathetically nod, whimpering out a sweet shaky, “okay, okay.”

toji felt the texture inside of you…easily stretching your walls a bit with just two slender fingers. his fingers was thick though, your mouth hung open with not even coherent words coming out. just cacophonies of, “toji,” and “f-fuckk,” with many others.

he kept a gaze on you the entire time, he wasn’t sure by this particular point what he felt towards you. the noises that escaped from your lips, he wanted to hear more of it, maybe even drag out a sweet scream from you.

“t-toji, ‘s gonna…” you slur out your words, sounding like you were running a marathon.

he maneuvers circles against your clit with two fingers, tickling against your opening and you let off a whimpering, “oh my god, oh my g-godddd.”

“…y’er so loud,” he rasps, leaning in to shut you up with a kiss. it was passionate—a tang of sloppiness to it. his tongue ran against yours, and you felt a coil within you abruptly snap.

once you orgasm, it was far more than you expected. because you felt even more soaked. you shivered, a muffled orgasm pouring into his lips before toji slows his fingers down.

pulling away, he’s watching with sly eyes of the stringy cobweb of saliva depart from both lips, he huffs. “girl, did you just squirt on me?”

your nerves, you whimpered once he slide a thumb against your pulsating nub, taking his fingers out to gawk at it. how you effortlessly coated his fingers with your slick. you didn’t reply, you’re in the midst of catching your breath before toji hums.

“yeah. you fuckin’ squirted on me,” he answers his own question, about to lean in for another kiss. yet that’s when the door knocks obnoxiously.

it’s an older lady, and she’s got quite the vexed voice. “excuse me sir, the store’s closed. can you two please—”

“yeah, yeah we’re coming,” toji rolls his eyes, and you’ve never been more embarrassed.

he peppers a kiss against your forehead before glancing down at your dress with a smirk. “you’ll be a doll and pay for that, right? it’s a little damaged but i'm sure you’ve got that covered, baby.”

cheap bastard.

it’d always be moments like this between you two. except, the both of you never went all the way. toji liked to take his time with you. he wanted to make you wait—it irked you.

he was a professional at getting on your nerves, making your eyes roll to the very depths of your skull.

it was like the more time you spent with him, the more you started to feel this … feeling.

you didn’t know what it was. you couldn’t describe it. all you knew was that it felt weird.

not so much in a weird way, more of a … natural way. you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt like this.

perhaps calling it love was foolish, then again you hated not being able to describe this feeling. whatever it was.

toji started to grow attached to you — whether he was too stubborn to realize it or not.

it would be small things, calling you while he was at work just to tease you, help you get things from the top shelves… feeling him against you, just fantasizing about that made you start to throb.

preparations for the wedding felt like it was taking centuries — everything had to be perfect.

eventually, you picked out a dress. it fit perfectly, and toji hasn’t seen it yet.

sooner than you knew it, it was the day of the wedding.

the arranged marriage.

truth be told, you still barely knew the gist of everything. it’s probably been about a good half month before the day eventually comes. the two of you ended up going separately, not together.

alas, you and toji end up running into each other near the entrance of the venue.

“toji,” you’d mumble, words being caught way back in your throat.

he was suited up, so handsome. slicked down with a tuxedo. with hands buried in his pockets, his head was slightly tilted down as he gifted you with the same gaze. “we aren’t supposed—we aren’t supposed to see each other before the ceremony,” and your words trail the more he trods towards you. “it gives us bad luck.”

“hey girl,” he murmurs in that familiar rasp. his naturally ruffled hair was slightly slicked back, a few strands poking through. “you look like my wife already,”

and you felt your heart race, hearing him say that, ‘my wife.’ it made your eyebrows slightly curl in puzzlement before he strokes your cheek. “i’ve been meaning to see you anyway. this wedding is gonna last us all day.”

you stare up at him, a tiny glimmer in your eye before breathing. “…well yeah, the after party and everything. why do you-”

“the more i stare at your dress, the more i wanna tear it off,” he uttered, his voice pitches a deep low. he swipes his thumb directly next to your chin. leaning into his touch, you returned the same eye contact, and he sighs. “i don’t want any other eyes seeing this but me.”

“so take it off then,” you mutter, watching the scar slanted against toji’s lips curl into a playful grin. “it’s about time, toji.”

with an eye roll, he grabs your wrist lightly, pulling you into one of the fitting rooms of the venue.

scattered everywhere was a bunch of preparations for the wedding. multiple dresses, cakes, and even presents. yet, the two of you could care less about that.

“we gotta work on that annoying ass attitude of yours,” he breathes, not wanting to waste a split second. toji lifts you up, moving you towards the table. you wrap your arms around him before gasping.

“don’t ruin my dress, toji. ‘n ‘i’m not gonna pay for it again.” you say against his ear, hearing him smack his lips in reprisal.

“yeah yeah. i won’t ruin it, baby,” he rolls his eyes, carefully reaching beneath your back.

he slowly unzips it, watching the fabric drag down your chest before you’re almost exposed. his eyes roamed, making you feel a sudden heat pulse between your legs. he had one of the most intimidating gazes ever known to man.

once toji helps you fully get out of your dress.

his eyes avert towards between your thighs, squeezed tightly shut. “…girl,” he rasps, making your legs part briefly before flickering his eyes right back towards you. “were you really gonna walk down the aisle with no panties?

“i— i forgot,” you huff out, running a few fingers through his hair. if you weren’t mistaken, you could hear a purr come from toji’s lips. the way you massaged his scalp with such ease, your touch was everlastingly gentle. “i was rushing earlier and-”

“nah, you didn’t forget. you did this for me, didn’t you princess?” he whispers, leaning in to plant a kiss near the inner part of your neck.

his lips were so soft.

with a loud clank towards the wooden floor, your heels fell to the ground with an abrupt thud. toji was so touchy, his rough textured hands wandered all over your body. such shivers coming out of you. “y-yes,” you’d drag out, desperately longing for him to just be inside you already.

you’ve fantasized about this particular moment in more ways than you could count…

likewise, you were far too embarrassed to flat out ask toji to please you.

except for the moment between the two of you at the mall, that was the closest you’ve ever gotten. as mentioned before, he liked making you wait. he figured the wedding day would be the best day to show you how to deal with a real husband.

in more ways than one… but specifically - the bedroom.

he couldn’t keep his hands off you, it was impossible. you took the chance to gnaw on your lip, feeling him touch all over you. such rough hands, yet so tender. he starts off with kisses near your lips, chaste ones near the corner of your mouth, beneath your chin, your neck…

as he inched lower and lower, you intake a sharp breath, feeling a few strands of his hair tickle against your skin.

“pretty body all jus’ for me,” he’d murmur, an almost coo escaping from his lips. you’re propped up on the table before toji sprawls your legs apart. he leers at the way your legs, the fishnets that purely decorated it.

with his teeth, he starts to tear them off before you whine. “toji— i have to keep these.”

“y’er dress is long, baby. no one’s gonna be looking at my girl under here,” he replies, such a deep tone hovering underneath his wordings by defeault.

again, the way he addressed you as ‘his girl,’ it pathetically made you throb. a weird feeling throbbed inside of your heart ; the same feeling you always failed to describe.

to think you weren’t so fond of this egotistical arrogant man, and now—you were happily drenched for him.

time felt like it went by so fast. those two months you’ve gotten to know this man felt like two seconds. mayhaps that unfamiliar that continued to reside in your chest was…love?

just imagining that made you almost gag, but perhaps that was it.

could it be that you were falling for a guy you were arranged to spend the rest of your life with? you remember a conversation with toji, telling him that you had a bit of commitment issues.

so did he.

that caused the two of you to bond, and toji even opened up to you a bit. about his ex-wife.

he was really selective with his words, but whenever he spoke about her, his eyes always lit up.

toji knew what it was like to be in love already. you didn’t.

“always trapped up in those pretty thoughts of yours, huh,” toji snaps you back to reality.

he’s made sure not to ruin your fishnets, swiftly peeling them down with his teeth before you don’t even realize he’s already got you more soaked than you were before.

your cunt drooled for him—aching for more of his touch. the second you felt his breath fan against your entrance, he’s toying with you by blowing against your pussy.

you whined, starting to pant with your eyes flickering straight down towards him. “f-fuck. our marriage’s gonna get bad luck, toji.. wasn’t supposed to see me y-yet.”

“i’m gonna marry you tonight, princess,” he reassures you. and for a split second, he has this stare as if he’s entirely joking with you.

however, his tone always sounded deadly serious.

that rasp to it made you squeeze your thighs shut together in desperation. “nothin’ is gonna happen. we won’t get bad luck.”

and you moaned, watching him smear a thumb down your swollen clit.

it’s pulsing, and he doesn’t wait to lick a long stripe against your folds. his tongue made you swallow, already your legs started to quaver.

he lays the base of his tongue flat against your pussy, and you bite your lip, feeling the edge of his scar swipe by your entrance.

you liked that, a lot. a bit more than you should because he notices. gathering a wad of spit before he spat on your glistening folds. “ooh. ya like feelin’ my scar like that, princess? how’s it feel when i rub against you like this?”

“good...goooood,” you whined, burying your fingers into his hair. dragging him all across your folds, he laps up your slick that started to run down his chin before you whimper. “your scar. it-tickles, toji.”

his lashes close for a brief moment, and you moan once he slides a finger inside, gingerly easing his way inside, feeling you squeeze around him. “aw,”

he purrs lightly, pressing a teasing chaste kiss alongside your clit. lowering his tongue, he makes sure it’s going right underneath your sensitive nub.

toji was precise - his tongue knew every direct spot to make you sob out his name.

you didn’t even bother being quiet this time—you whimpered and mewled until your pretty voice was strained. “keep lookin’ away ‘n i’ll stop givin’ this pussy attention.”

you’re panting, heaving and heaving as your eyes trail back down towards toji.

the tip of his nose prods up against your folds, the fact that he’s nose deep…not a care in the world.

his tongue continues to loll out, lapping up every drop of your sweetened slick. it carelessly coated his mouth, the few specks of facial hair that was barely visible. it ran all over the under part of his chin. such a messy eater. but you and him both knew that.

“eyes down here, yeahhh. that’s it,” he coos, applying extra amounts of pressure with his tongue. he lies it flat down, and he was so sloppy.

gathering up strings of his saliva, flickering his eyes back towards you to give you a cocky grin. “pull on my hair some more…fuck, jus’ like that. yank it.”

toji gets hard feeling you roughly grip onto his darkened black locks. it gets tangled within your fingers, and you start to briefly massage his scalp, earning a low groan from him.

toji could eat you out for hours, without a single care in the world—just his tongue between your legs, eating you out like a starved man.

as his tongue moves upwards, you whimper out a “s-shit,” that echoes throughout the room. his thumb skims against your entrance before you feel his tongue slide its way upwards, backwards. an entire zigzag of letters. “oh my goddd, toji. ‘m gonna c-cum.”

“such a nasty fiancé. was about to walk down the aisle with no panties. the fuckin’ nerve,” he grumbles.

a pout curls against your lips once you feel his tongue slow down.

gradually, you start to move your hips by his face and he shoots you a glare that makes you pulse. toji breaks away, pressing kisses near your inner thighs now. he’s taking attention away from your clit, and you whimper. “awh. what’s with the pout? don’t like waiting huh?”

“t— toji…” you weren’t fond of being edged, of waiting. toji raises his brows, a thumb toying with your clit, stroking it before even giving it a sweet nibble. “p-please. don’t kiss my thighs, jus’ finish. wanna cum..”

“pretty please,” he corrects you, purposely slowing his pace down just to watch you squirm in such desire. your legs. “say it girl. speak to me in that pretty voice.”

it shook, vigorously.

all from the rapid strokes of his tongue. your breathing patterns became so irregular it had you gasping for hair.

the way he made sure to suck and lick over every spot. chills, shivers and a plethora of other feelings run down your body before you moan, feeling him lightly nibble against your slit.

with a shaky breath exiting your throat, you mewl out a whiney, “pretty please toji. pleasepleaseplease.”

“good girl,” he says in a smooth tone, making you let off a moan solely from the way he spoke to you.

toji lowered his words, pronouncing in such a silky way that it made you pulse. he takes a concise slurp near your g-spot before mimicking a technique with his fingers.

unhurriedly, he slides a finger into your slick entrance, still hovering his tongue all throughout your pussy before you’re just nearly about to break.

with your maw dropped wide, you came with the most tumultuous orgasm imaginable. he brushes his tongue against your slit as you ride out your orgasm, body growing limp abruptly over the table before you whine once he gets up.

“open that mouth,” he utters, getting right between your trembling legs. without even a split question, you part your lips - unaware of the kiss that he planted right on your mouth.

toji picks you up, the pretty anklet you were just idly brushing down his back. he carries you towards the sofa, still tongue tied with you—you moan in his mouth, tasting the sweetened tang of alcohol on his tongue.

“y’don't know how bad i need you,” he gruffs, breaking between kisses, strands of your own saliva departs, and the more he shoved his tongue down your throat, the more you tasted yourself. swiftly, you move your tongue beneath his bottom lip, tasting how sweet you were and it made you whine.

toji’s words rang throughout your ears like church bells. he practically treated you like a rag doll. your dress was off—and you were all exposed with just a pretty bra.

“tell me you want me,” he mouthed, getting directly between you. toji was between your legs, hovering over you with bulky arms just stretched near the sides of you. he leans in, cupping your chin, stroking your thumb. “tell me you want me, and i’ll give you all of me.”

“i— i want all of you, toji,” you pant, your eyes focusing directly on him and only him. toji was still in his tuxedo. he was so handsome, there was certainly no denying. with matching black slacks, he reached for his tie—giving it a firm pull before snickering at your answer.

“good girl,” he praises you, and you’re so impatient. with a few shuffling you hear the commotion of him unbuckling his pants — he's intentionally going slow, dragging things out to see that sweet pout form across your lips again. “goin’ as fast as i can, sweetheart. don’t give me that look.”

he was always such a tease. you kissed your teeth in annoyance, averting your eyes towards the ceiling before he’s finally through.

toji stares down, using his right hand to pry your legs open a bit. his left hand to give himself a few pumps. you glanced down, and nearly moaned at the sight of his length. he was so thick, veins ran all the way down and you were almost drooling.

he grunts, spotting you gawking at him and it only gets him ten times harder. taking a deep inhale, you stare at his happy trail. speckles of black hair decorating near his abdomen. it was sexy, toji was a well trimmed man surprisingly.

“f-fuck, look how hard you make me,” he huffs out, and that’s when he makes you turn over on your back. you were staggered a bit at the sudden change of position—yet before you could react, that’s when you felt the plump tip of his dick prod against your entrance. “damn. she’s all excited for me. fuck this wedding, i just want you princess.”

his words…there came that same feeling brewing up inside you. a soft whine escapes from your lips as you’re dumbly arched beside the sofa, sucking in a breath. he finishes gently aligning himself.

once he starts to go in, you let off a, “f-fuckkk,” that reverberated across the entire fitting room. he was big. saying toji was big, an entire understatement.

his girth had you nearly choking on your own saliva. with a single hand, he grips onto your waist, watching you gradually swallow him. “toji, you’re so b-big. ‘s really big.”

“perfect size just for you, baby,” he sighs, already feeling droplets of sweat race down the sides of his forehead.

toji’s heaving, he licks his lips at the sight of you arching for him. as each inch sinks in further and further—you could feel him stretch you out even better than his fingers ever could.

your pussy squelched, longing for him to keep going. start up a pace, do something..

“easy girl, easy,” he murmurs, just barely halfway in. you try to bear around him and he smiles, running a hand down your spine to make you whimper. “relax for me. that’s it. good fuckin’ good.”

“t-toji..” you’d moan. each set of praises he gave you made your head spin, your heart raced, thinking was so hard for you. especially with such a size as big as his. “oh my g-god, ‘m gonna cum.”

he clicks his tongue, almost in before caressing your ass. “no baby, y’er not gonna cum yet,” and then he titter’s underneath his breath. “cute little drama queen.”

he was right in some way—you weren’t gonna cum so soon, but it did feel like it.

your face lowers against the cushioned pillow, flat down and you hug against it. biting your lip, your eyes rolled into the very depths of your cranium once toji presents you with a single rough thrust.

one thrust.

one thrust was all it took to make you let off the most sweetest melodic whimper imaginable. toji wanted to hear it—again, and again, and again. if it was anything he knew, he was slowly becoming more and more addicted to his future wife’s voice.

“i just want you to feel all of me,” he starts, speaking between thrusts. your lips, spit-glossed and quavering. you whimper out, feeling his body weight press against you.

it was so provocative. so arousing, this particular position.

doggystyle but with more depth.

he’d be able to reach more in a deeper angle to where you’re barely able to formulate comprehensible sentences. “i wanna reach you in spots no one’s ever reached before, princess,” he continued, leaning right up close to you—you let off a whine, feeling his cock stretch you out with such simplicity. “will you let me do that?”

“yes, yes. please..” you immediately spat out, feeling yourself coat the lower part of his shaft with your slick. you were already drenched, so soaked from before. being propped up over the armrest of the sofa. it made you feel so lewd.

your cunt gripped all against him, gummy walls tugging back and forth tightly that it makes you whimper out. “toji, i want you. i- i want you too.”

“yeah girl. i know you do.” he replies with sass, giving your ass a brief smack—only to quickly caress it shortly afterwards. the sting, you licked your lips before letting off a sweet whimper. just a simple action as that made you throb.

toji was a big guy, once he started up a rhythmic pace, you immediately fell in love. not with him, with his strikes, his mean thwacking hits against your cunt.

or was it …?

only time could tell.

you were far too dumb to comprehend anything. all you could even fathom was how big he was. stretching your cunt out as if it was some sort of elastic band.

toji’s cock reached every crevice, you felt his tip prod against spots you didn’t even know could be reached.

“o-ohhh my fuckin’ god, fuckkk,” you’d gasp, feeling him lower his weight against you just a bit further. by this point, he was smacking his hips roughly against you.

it was hypnotizing. the way he rolled his hips at such a titillating speed, so deep. you were almost drooling—you wanted more, and more, and more. “right there, ‘s too good. fuck me right th—”

“don’t tell me how to fuck, princess.” he groans, making you lie back against the wooly arm of the sofa. his tone was so raspy and mean, you were aching each time he spoke to you.

toji’s favorite part was seeing your ass go back against him, it made him kiss his teeth everytime. the recoil.

your ass had him locked hard. just jouncing back against him. he pivots his hips before you moan once he starts to shift a bit.

“need to go deeper,” he groans, and you don’t know what he means before you feel him lean right up against you. you whimper, feeling the back of toji’s sock suddenly make contact with your neck.

“deeper ‘n deeper,” he huffs out, and you moan at the soft fabric brushing near your skin. he was fucking you with a foot pressed lightly against your neck. this angle—it was filthy.

if you weren’t drooling, then you certainly were now. he groans, each time you clamp down against him it makes his jaw tighten. “waited so long jus’ to have ya underneath me like this, baby.”

the more toji spoke, the more you disassociated. his dick did wonders.

each stroke had you gasping for air. his hits against you, the way he had his foot right by your neck. pretty lashes of your continued to flicker and flutter whilst he was fucking you insanely stupid.

“m-more, please. getting close, tojiiii.” and he finds it cute. the way you drag out your words in such a obscene way. he’s making jerk back and back against him—it elicits out the honeyed sounds from you.

“fuck back against me ‘n i’ll think about it,” he puffs out. you whine pathetically, making a cute attempt to move back against him.

it was barely any movement due to toji’s foot pressed up against your neck but you tried. he cackles roughly, teasingly sliding fingers down your back before cooing. “a for effort, baby. i’ll take it from here, yeah?”

and he does, like the true gentleman he was.

toji keeps you in that same position for a good thirty minutes until your legs were close to essentially giving out.

you came a lot, repeatedly. constantly.

over and over again until the word cum was forever the only existing word engraved into your dumb little brain. you were speechless, fundamentally losing track of your orgasms he gave you. you shuddered, each position making you covet for more. you didn’t want to stop.

not now, not ever.

“fuckin’ look at her grip on me so sloppy like,” he nips at his tongue, currently having you laid on your side. he pistons his dick in and out of you at such a tempo…it was so amorous.

he was referring to the way the strings of his and your own cum stringing together.

back and forth, so messy. he watched in awe, sliding his tongue amongst his lips before groaning. “can only imagine what our honeymoon would be like, sweetheart. i’d probably fuck around ‘n get you pregnant. maybe gift you with a kid or two.”

“t— toji,” you’d moan, and a rigid grip goes against your waist. whilst he was giving you vigorous shots from the side, you’re just hugging him tightly with your squelching walls.

the sounds your cunt made from its impact was so loud. it earned a hiss from him before he slowed his thrusts down. “do it.”

“silly girl,” he laments, a thumb stroking against the softness of your side. he was pumping you full of inches, you’re just taking it with your tongue lolled out—it felt so good.

each spot, he hit it deeply. the curve of toji’s dick, it had somewhat of an upward curve that made him reach a more thorough angle inside of you. “f-fuck, but ‘m gonna stuff you full again. ‘s that what you want? a plump pretty belly jus’ for me to see?”

you whimper, nodding your head ardently.

“use those words.” he huffs out, deepening his strokes against you. while feeling your ass jumar and clamp back by him. your walls hugged him solidly like a vice. it’s got his head spinning in circles, on a constant loop.

“give it to me t-toji, wan’ you to fill me up again,” you’d hiccup, and then he suddenly makes you lie down on your back. he gives you a smile, dark green irises staring right into you before he pulls out briefly—just before plugging himself back in.

toji swallows thickly, his jaw clenching steadfastly once he ends up cumming again. he poured such thick ropes into you.

it was warm. the way it trickled into you, he makes you grow quiet so you can hear it.

“…f-fuckin’ hell,” he husked, his head going back as he raises your leg up to give it a soft kiss. you milked him so good to where his voice started to become a bit more shaky. even a bit whiny.

toji stuttering was something new to you—and you’d be a liar if you said that didn’t turn you on. “take it all princess, saved all this jus’ for you….damn.”

he utters the last part underneath his breath, his abs flexing before he grabs ahold of his dick. it was swollen. throbbing from the stimulation before he pulled out again, this time smearing his cum all across your entrance. “always… always liked myself a messy girl.”

eventually, the two of you nearly ended up missing your own ceremony. dozens of guests came to show their support for the new soon-to-be wedded couple.

toji helped clean you up, as promised, not a damage was done to your costly dress.

the venue couldn’t have been anymore perfect. the surprise was a bit ruined figuring the two of you had seen each other right before the official wedding.

toji’s hair was a bit messed up. he runs his hands through it whilst the entire crow stands up once you start trodding your feet down the aisle.

that generic traditional wedding piano tune plays, and you’re walking with your father, the train piece of your wedding dress flowing down throughout each step.

toji has this gaze on you the entire time, hands buried in his pockets and his eyes linger. it made you nervous—something was telling you something, but you chose to ignore it. did you love him? or did you not?

once you finally made it up near the stand with toji, he grabs your hands with the most sleaziest grin. he strokes against your hands as the priest started to recite the same broad speech, “dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the holy union of…”

as he spoke, the two of you kept eyes on each other the entire time. toji towered over you, and he genuinely looked in love. he had a softness to his face, yet a smug look that never went away. your gut was telling you something—yet you couldn’t figure out exactly what.

the priest continued to speak before focusing his attention towards you. “do you take this man to be your husband, to live together, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health—forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

“i do.” you mutter without hesitation.

the priest then turns towards toji before letting off a sigh, staring back into his book. “sir. do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health—forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

toji stares lovingly into your eyes, tilting his head before he leans up close to you—you’re caught by surprise once he kisses you early. it was a deep kiss, you kissed back, wrapping your arms around him before he pulls away.

yet before he can say, “i do,”

toji makes your heart come to a stop, murmuring out the fatal words against your lips, “sorry baby, i can’t.”

#★vegasbaby.#toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro smut #jjk x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk fic #female reader #anime smut #tw sex

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prettyflyforawhitelie · 2 months

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Hi I love your work so far, do you think you could do headcannons for all the different characters of the main Hazbin Hotel cast when their lover comes to them injured? Like how they would treat you and then how they would deal with the person who harmed you. I would love to see this ahhhh 😫

Ahh of course! I love this, thanks for the request! I hope you like it!

Trope: Hazbin Hotel x Injured!reader

Characters: Alastor, Charlie, Vaggie, Angeldust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Lucifer

Warnings: Physical violence, mention of death, injured reader, blood.

author's note: hey guys! this is my first time doing one of these, and I'm still getting better, so forgive me if its a bit shabby. If you have any requests, feel free to send them in! I'm in a creative buzz rn lol. Enjoy!

🦌📻Alastor📻🦌:

The day that your attacker decides to hurt you is the day that they decide to die. Messing with the Radio Demon’s plaything is about the last thing you want to do.

Alastor often sent his shadows to follow you into town when he couldnt be with you, so the second you were attacked, Alastor could sense that something was wrong.

By the time his shadows had carried you back to the hotel, your attacker had already escaped, but luckily, his shadows saw everything.

When he rushed down to see you, he seemed rather indifferent at first. He carried you up to his room, immediately conjuring several healing ointments to heal you quickly.

He laid you in his bed, in which you almost immediately fell asleep.

He hears the whispers of his shadows, and gains all of the information he needs out of them.

With a single snap of his finger, the issue was taken care of. Rumor has it that the screams of your attackers' seemingly “random” death could be heard about 3 rings down.

While waiting for you to wake, Alastor conjures two steaming bowls of his mother’s jambalaya. Placing one on the side table next to you, he sits down next to your sleeping body and lightly grazes your head, singing soothing songs until you wake up.

😈🗝️Charlie🗝️😈:

Would of course be so very angry at whoever did this, but her first priority would be healing you up and making sure that you’re absolutely 100% okay and comfortable.

Would set you up in her bed and assure that you have anything at all that would make you feel more comfortable. Tea? Yup. Ice pack? Already got it. Cuddles? Of course!

Would definitely let you cuddle with Razzle and Dazzle for as long as you needed.

She would try her best to talk to you and figure out what happened - to figure out who did this to you.

As you told her, she seemed surprisingly… calm? She simply thanked you for telling her and left the room.

Though Charlie doesn't seem like a particularly violent person… She can get protective over the people she loves. So, let's just say she got that issue taken care of real quick. How stupid to mess with the Morningstar family.

🪽⚔️Vaggie⚔️🪽:

Anybody in her vicinity needs to watch out when she hears that her love is hurt.

Like, seriously, heads will roll. But not before she checks on you to evaluate how badly she needs to fuck up the person who did this to you.

When she sees you, bruised and bloody, she can't help but hold you so tight and cry, scolding you for getting yourself into a bad situation without her there to protect you.

Vaggie knows what it feels like to be beaten and dumped on the side of the street like garbage. She could never forgive herself if she allowed that to happen to anybody else, let alone the genuine love of her life.

When she asks for the person who did this, you can only give her a vague description. That’s alright though, she will use her former exterminator skills to scan all of Hell and find the person who dared to do this to you. She will not leave this alone until she serves you justice.

🕷️💖Angeldust💖🕷️:

Coming home from the studio to find you in his room, crying and bruised, he immediately drops whatever he’s doing and comforts you in the biggest hug ever.

Angel has plenty of experience with being abused and left to fend for himself, so he doesn't immediately resort to asking questions. No, that’s not what you need right now. You just need to know that you’re loved, beautiful, and that this does nothing to affect your worth or value as a person.

He carries you from the floor to his bed, covering you in blankets and laying next to you with Fat Nuggets.

“It’s okay baby. You can cry, it's okay.” he whispers as you sob into his chest.

He allows you to initiate the conversation of what happened, not wanting to push you past your limits.

Once he finds out what happened, he knows what he has to do. He waits until you fall asleep, and heads down to the club where your attacker happens to frequent. For once, being a famous pornstar will actually serve in his favor. He tempts your attacker to follow him, and immediately beats him to an absolute pulp.

He allows the person to live, saying “I am only letting you live so you can know how it feels. You ever try this shit again, and I will find you. Except that time, you wont leave here looking so… whole.”

♥️♦️Husk♦️♥️:

Husk is used to all the residents of the hotel bitching and moaning to him about all of their issues. With Charlie coming to him and oftentimes crying about the many failures of the hotel, tears were no foreign sight to him.

But coming from the kitchen to the bar and seeing you there, looking an absolute mess, was different.

“What the-What the fuck happened?” he yells. When you flinch, he knows that something happened.

When you explain to him what happened, he immediately needs a description of the attacker. He takes possibly the largest shot you've ever seen and storms out of the hotel.

He wishes that he could do more to protect you. Back when he was an overlord, he had power beyond anybody's imagination. He could've snapped a finger and your attacker would simply disintegrate (but not before he tortured him a bit first). But now that Alastor owned his soul, his powers were limited.

You know what wasn't limited on husk, though? His pure physical strength.

He immediately finds the guy walking on the street adjacent to the hotel (dumb, right?) and absolutely obliterates him.

As the attacker is begging for his life, he just keeps hitting, blind with rage and love for you.

When he wants back into the hotel bloody and exasperated, he sits in the stool next to you and wraps you with one of his wings.

“It’s all okay now. I’m here” he says as you lean on his shoulder, so ready to go to bed.

🐍⚙️Sir Pentious⚙️🐍:

Sir Pentious always loved coming to your room to show you his many zany inventions. Normally you welcome him in with open arms, a sweet smile on your face, but today was different.

When he knocked on your door, he was met with absolute silence, which isn't normal for you. When he listened a bit closer, though, he could hear your small sniffles. He trusted his gut and slowly opened the door, fully ready to be denied entry.

Instead, you looked at him shyly, turning away and crying. He could've sworn that he saw a… black eye?

He took this opportunity to come and sit next to you on your floor, placing his arm around you and letting you lean your head on his shoulder.

When he noticed that you were calming down a bit, he asked you what was wrong.

You explained that while you were engaged in a turf war, some ruffian beat you up, and badly. The girl you had momentarily teamed up with had left you behind, and you were left to trek back to the hotel on your own, barely able to walk.

You could see something change in his eyes.

He curled his tail around you, his cool skin calming your nerves. He assured you that he was here now, and nothing like this would ever happen to you again. He then swiftly called his egg bois to entertain and comfort you while he prepared his airship. The idiot that did this to you was going to pay, and not just in turf.

😈🐣Lucifer🐣😈:

Bursting into Lucifer’s room, the only thing you could mutter is “Help” as you fell into his arms.

He frantically carried you to a chair and tried to assess your injuries. Man, someone fucked you up, and badly. Too bad he would kill them before they could brag about their success.

He rushed to find ANYTHING that could help you. Bandages, ice, your favorite food, a rubber duck, ANYTHING.

When he finds you absolutely passed out asleep in the chair, he gently moves you to his bed and tries his best not to stir you.

As he sits watching you, thinking of your beautiful smile (and how he’ll brutally kill the person who did this to you), he observes your features with great detail.

When you wake up, you smile. Lucifer must have gone, but sitting on your table is a bowl of soup and… is that a rubber duck that looks like you?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #Charlie Morningstar xreader #charlie x reader #vaggie x reader #lucifer x reader #sir pentious x reader #husk x reader #angel dust x reader #alastor x reader #helluva boss #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel oneshots #injured reader

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cherienymphe · 7 months

Text

Bite Marks & Bruises (Roman Godfrey x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, stalking, period sex + consumption, blood, compulsion

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies

summary: Roman Godfrey is spoiled and arrogant and rude...and he gets whatever he wants.

Your life was over the first moment you stepped into The Godfrey Mansion.

The dark, gothic, and imposing structure was a staple in Hemlock Grove for as long as you could remember, countless stories being passed around at sleepovers about all manner of horrors and mysteries that probably took place in the home. Tales of shadowy figures and howling wolves and low moaning wails like whispers on the wind. None of it was true, of course, lies made up by overimaginative girls with too much time on their hands, driven to pass around falsities out of an unquenched desire to see what the infamous house was really like.

As you got older, such stories became silly to you, aware that it was just a home like any other owned by some rich woman like any other. All of its intrigue lay in its exclusivity, its secretiveness, and with maturity came the lessening desire to see inside some fancy old home. Even as you walked the halls with its inhabitants—Shelley and Roman Godfrey—the Godfrey mansion was just something you thought about less and less.

Until about six months after you graduated.

…and Olivia Godfrey was offering you substantial compensation to tutor her daughter.

It wasn’t an answer that required a lot of thought on your end. After all, you would be relaxing in a beautiful mansion and helping some seventeen-year-old with her homework while getting paid for it. With no desire—and no money—to jet off to college anytime soon, it seemed like an obvious choice. Those silly stories that you and your friends would tell each other under the cover of darkness behind closed bedroom doors were the farthest thing from your mind.

It was cold the first day you walked to The Godfrey Mansion.

It was the middle of November in Pennsylvania—air biting, leaves crunchy, and breeze gentle. Olivia Godfrey greeted you with a smile, her dark hair looking like midnight against her fair skin. The mother of two didn’t look a day over thirty, and you remembered staring at her, feeling so hypnotized by her beauty and wondering how she was old enough to have two children of graduating age. Her thin statuesque frame swayed gently with her every step, hands gingerly flailing about as she gave you the grand tour.

“All of her tutoring will take place up in her room,” she told you, tone rich and poised. “Shelley is so very particular about her space…and I’m trusting you.”

That last comment was said slowly, and she turned to face you as she said it, hands clasped together as her umber eyes connected with yours. Silence followed, and you didn’t need to be a genius to know what she was getting at. You recalled how the kids at school would treat Shelley, how they would simultaneously fear and torment her. Her daughter was protective of her space, she was protective of her daughter, and she was allowing you access to both.

“I understand,” you eventually forced out, nodding.

It was quick, but her cold visage transformed almost instantly, that ever-polite smile on her pink lips. In no time, Olivia Godfrey had turned back around and was continuing to lead you through the mansion. She droned on about the different rooms, making a point to comment on your chances of getting lost should you need to use the bathroom or something.

“Shelley must get all of her rest as growing teens do, so you won’t be staying all hours of the night, but you will be welcome to join us for dinner should you ever choose to.”

You didn’t know if you’d ever take her up on the offer, but you welcomed the polite invite, nonetheless.

You’d been tutoring Shelley for four days when you finally came face to face with him. Roman Godfrey—tall and spoiled and possessing the kind of face every girl you knew would gush over. You’d been in the same graduating class, but you were sure that you’d never talked to Roman once, not until you were in his house and eating his food, at least. You recalled walking to and from school most days, your gaze catching sight of that bright red convertible.

Since graduating, you didn’t see it as much.

After reuniting in his dining room…you saw it all the time.

“Sweetheart, you remember Y/N, don’t you?” Olivia’s articulate speech filled the air as soon as her son stepped through the threshold. “I believe she graduated with you last year.”

She continued after looking to you for confirmation, smiling at her son when you nodded.

“She’s been tutoring Shelley, and she finally took me up on my offer to join us for dinner.”

The dark-haired teenager didn’t say a word at first, slowly making his way to the table. You had never known Roman to look…bad, always dressed immaculate even while wearing the simplest of things. Shelley—a much more outgoing individual than you’d initially believed—had smiled at her brother with his approach. Their mother had started up an entirely different conversation, one you tried to be involved in, but you felt trapped by Roman’s gaze instead.

If you thought Olivia Godfrey was hypnotizing and entrancing in every way, then Roman Godfrey was absolutely paralyzing.

It was hard to look away from him, trying everything in your power to but failing every time. His dark hair was neat and pushed away from his face, perfect and put together even within the privacy of his home. His green eyes didn’t look so green, and you wondered if it was the lighting in the dining room…or something else entirely. When he finally made himself comfortable next to Shelley and diagonal from you, only then did you find the strength to lower your gaze to your food.

Dinner was a talkative affair, Olivia dominating the conversation with the occasional commentary from her son. She pulled you into the dialogue here and there, but with an oppressing gaze weighing down on you, you felt…restricted. It was purely all in your head, you knew that, but you couldn’t fight the thought that Roman was watching your every move—judging you.

You really could not get out of the house fast enough when dinner was over, hoping that your sudden skittishness was not noticeable. Roman’s gaze was something you felt on you even as you insisted you’d make it home just fine. Olivia didn’t fight you too much on it, and you were grateful, and the darkness that met you was somehow less terrifying than vibrant green eyes. It wasn’t until the next day when you realized that Roman wasn’t judging you, at all.

What he was doing was much worse.

“I really don’t mind walking.”

You told him this as he sat in your driveway, that familiar fancy red car taking up residence in it. The sun was out, and he was wearing shades and a thick jacket that made him appear bigger than he actually was. His jaw slowly moved, some gum in his mouth you presumed, and after a moment or two, he slowly turned his head to stare directly at you. Your eyes briefly glanced at his tapping finger against the wheel.

“You’re tutoring Shelley. Why would I make you walk all the way to our house when it’s not like I have anything better to do, anyway?”

He said it so flippantly, almost like this whole ordeal annoyed him, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that his mother made him park in your driveway. However, Roman never struck you as the kind of guy to do something he didn’t want to do, so his attitude only served to confuse you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, and although you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew they were fixated on you.

You could feel the heat of them despite the cold air that surrounded you.

After some time of your short impasse, a slow smirk danced along his lips.

“I could always make you…”

His voice was low, and there was something mirthful in his tone, like the idea of dragging you and forcing you into his fancy car was an entertaining one. Something in you told you that he would despite what you wanted to believe, and something else told you that he’d enjoy it very much. With that thought and a sigh, you finally conceded and made your way to his passenger side.

His eyes remained on you the whole way there.

The ride was quiet, the walk from his car to the door even quieter.

Olivia’s voice rang through the house, inquiring as to if that was him coming through the door. The sound of his voice was answer enough, and you looked away from him when he slowly took off his shades.

“…and Y/N.”

Something about the sound of your name coming from his lips unnerved you. It didn’t exactly roll off of his tongue, something mocking in the way he said it, and you stared straight ahead as you walked down the hall in search of Shelley. You didn’t dare look back, afraid of what might be gaining on you.

Roman was the kind of guy that was impossible to ignore. Not only because he was just that imposing, but also because he simply wouldn’t let you. You’d gone to school with him for years, and it wasn’t until you both graduated did you learn that he was needy and constant in his want for attention. He was disturbingly honest, vulnerable to his desire to say the first thing on his mind no matter how inappropriate.

…and he was determined to get what he wanted once he decided he wanted it.

“So what? You didn’t want to fuck off out of this town and go to college or something?”

He asked you one day as you relaxed—as best as you could within his presence, anyway—in the passenger seat of his car. He wasn’t wearing his shades, and you almost missed them when you looked over to meet his green gaze. It was so intense, and there were moments where you were sure that Roman could see right through you.

“Don’t know what I would go for,” you replied, the cold air whipping against your face.

You could feel him looking at you as you stared through the windshield, and you got the feeling that he wanted you to elaborate on that. Even if you did know how to talk to Roman, you still wouldn’t. He made you uncomfortable in ways you couldn’t even explain, and the worst thing you did was allow him to know that.

There always seemed to be some sick pleasure in his eyes, the green of them glinting with something unknown to you. He watched you like a cat would a mouse, a wolf would a deer, a predator fully amusing itself with the prey it had in its line of reach. Only, Roman wasn’t some predator. He was some guy, you reminded yourself, and you were simply some girl.

At worst, you likened Roman to that of an asshole with too much free time on his hands.

The only person spared from that was his sister.

“You’re good with her,” he commented, turning his car off as it sat in your driveway.

Your hand was on the handle, seconds away from exiting the vehicle when he spoke. His voice had startled you, used to the silence of his unwavering gaze as he watched you exit his car and go into the house. You watched him place a cigarette between his lips, the flame from his lighter brightening his face in the night. The smell of smoke followed soon after.

“Shelley,” he explained, exhaling. “You’re good with her. She likes you.”

You glanced away, squirming in your seat when presented with an actual conversation you could have with the rich boy.

“I like her too. She’s very sweet…and…even funny, sometimes.”

You shrugged when he looked at you, pulling another drag, and the longer he stared at you, the more uncomfortable you started to feel. You looked away, gaze falling to your purse at your feet, preparing to grab it and wish him a good night when he spoke again.

“My mother thinks I stare at you too much.”

His words shocked you, and your eyes widened when you looked at him again. He wasn’t looking at you, now, smoking and partaking in his cigarette. Your own lips parted, unsure of how to respond to that, and he took another drag, loudly exhaling. Roman had a habit of saying anything that was on his mind, so that wasn’t what shocked you. You were shocked because it wasn’t all in your head…

…and that someone else had noticed too.

“She’s right,” he breathed, gazing at you, now, and you swallowed.

His eyes were taken with the action, lowering and resting on your neck for a few seconds too long. It was late and dark, save for the half moon in the sky, but something in his gaze seemed to shift as he stared at your throat, eyes tracing the very top of your chest before they met yours again.

You swore they weren’t as green, now.

“I do stare,” he murmured, looking away and taking another pull—a final pull—of the cigarette between his fingers. “You’re pretty…and I sometimes wonder if you were this pretty in school.”

You didn’t know if you liked where this conversation was going, straightening and looking away.

“School was only six months ago,” you mumbled, finally speaking after some time. “I can’t possibly look that different.”

Roman chuckled then, and it was a genuine sound, and so you didn’t know if he was laughing at you or himself.

“You’re right,” he relented. “I was probably just too busy fucking cheerleaders and paying already rich girls for sex.”

You grimaced, reaching for your purse, now when he stopped you. You were alarmed by the feel of his hand on your wrist, and when you looked up at him from your leaned over position, it seemed that Roman was somewhat startled by his own actions. Like he’d always entertained the thought but never imagined he’d go through with it. He quickly let you go like you’d burned him, and you slowly sat up as he cleared his throat.

“Shelley’s gonna be hanging out with our uncle tomorrow…” he looked away. “They’re close like that, but… That doesn’t mean I still can’t pick you up.”

He said a whole lot without saying much, and you felt your stomach twist. Roman was used to telling a girl he wanted her and then…well…having her. You’d seen it many times, the way they flocked to him and preened at the opportunity to fuck Roman Godfrey, and it wasn’t that he wasn’t attractive…because he was.

…and he knew it.

Roman scared you. Everything about him seemed designed with the key purpose of repelling you. He was too observant, too sure of himself, too…creepy. These weren’t things you could overlook, and instead of helping him, you were sure that his looks didn’t help your feelings. Roman didn’t look real at times—genetically altered even—and it only made you think there was something…inhuman about him.

Something that told you he wasn’t like you…and you should be wary.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you honestly replied, and you didn’t stick around to look at his face.

You held your purse to you as you got out of his car, and you reluctantly looked at him, your sympathetic gaze meeting his even one.

“I’m just here to tutor Shelley…and…we should probably keep it that way.”

You kept your rejection soft, and you turned away from him before he could reply. You ignored the feel of his gaze boring into your back, wrapping your arms around yourself as some half assed protection against the cold. You couldn’t get in your house fast enough, and you swore that you’d been leaning against the door for at least half an hour, waiting to hear him finally drive off.

The first night Roman raped you, it was raining.

Storming, to be more specific. It was odd because it was winter, and Pennsylvania was known for its summer storms. It was why you were even at the mansion so late, Roman refusing to drive in the violent downpour and you unable to walk. Olivia seemed to care neither here nor there about the whole thing, almost annoyingly cavalier about your plight.

“Oh, darling, you know how unpredictable a bit of rain can be,” she’d said, a glass of wine in her hand. “There’s no shortage of guest rooms. Find one for the night. I’m sure Roman can be of some help in that department.”

You hadn’t missed her crooked smile, an almost wicked sight as she softly chuckled to herself. She clearly found her son’s attraction to you amusing, harmless even, while you found it uncomfortable at best. Shelley was the one to help you get sorted for the night, visible eye soft and smile even softer as she pointed out where the towels and such would be.

You hadn’t realized you’d forgotten the problem of clothes until you stepped out of the shower to find some on the counter.

You froze at the sight, sure that you hadn’t heard a soul come in. At least…no one who wanted to be heard, and you grimaced before putting them on. Walking the corridors of The Godfrey Mansion with clothes in hand felt weird, and when you made it to your chosen guest bedroom of the night, you still didn’t relax.

Nothing about the mansion was calming, and the raging storm outside only made it worse. You laid in bed for a long time, wide awake and staring at the ceiling, just waiting for your heart to stop racing and your mind to grow quiet. It felt like forever, but it happened, and when it did, you finally felt your lashes flutter.

Sleep was finally yours.

…and then you woke up.

The sharp stabbing pain had you sitting up in bed, hand pressed to your stomach at the ache you felt deep within it. The familiar ache, and you felt your heart sink, wondering how your night could possibly get any worse. You didn’t need to look at the bed to know that you’d left something behind, only searching for your purse, positive you had an extra pad or tampon or something.

Relief filled your heart, and product in hand, you made your way into the hall in search of the bathroom. So focused on your pain and finding the bathroom, you didn’t mind the dark corridor, at all. Any other night, and you might have been hypervigilant with fear, but as it were, you could only focus on stopping any more ruin of the pajamas you’d been given.

It was a noise from behind you that gave you pause, and as you turned around, all those childhood stories about the fearful Godfrey Mansion came to mind. Every manifestation of what goes bump in the night filled your mind, but as you stared into the darkness, darkness was all you were met with. Telling yourself that an old mansion was bound to creak and groan, you turned away.

…and straight into Roman.

His very presence forced a shriek from your lips, and in your panic, your hands pressed to his chest. His bare chest. You didn’t register it, at first, so focused on trying to calm your heart and relax again. Your hands were empty, your saving grace of the night on the floor, and when you took a step back to pick it up, Roman took one forward.

You paused at the action.

“Roman-.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

The question came out somewhat harsh, and you squinted at him in the darkness. It threw you off for several reasons, but mostly because you didn’t understand what he meant. As best as you could make it out in the darkness, his face seemed contorted, pinched actually—eyes narrowed, lips pursed, and gaze riddled with accusations.

“…what? Roman, what are you-.”

Your words died in the air when he forced himself closer, a strange look on his face as he eyed you. You watched his nostrils flare, another step forward from Roman, and you finally took another back. He was so close, too close, and when you blinked, you remembered that you didn’t have time to try and understand Roman tonight. Ignoring him, you reached down, and as soon as your hand was around what you so desperately needed, another hand was coming down on your wrist.

You reacted harshly, flinching and crying out, and you registered that Roman’s grip was actually…painful.

You were both standing now, Roman still holding onto you, and his nose brushed against yours as he leaned in. His hair, normally so neat and perfectly in place, was kissing his forehead. The dark strands were going every which way, and when his lips parted, a soft exhale escaping in time with a flutter of his lashes, only then did you say his name again.

As if waking up from a dream, you watched his eyes focus in on your face, really focus, and it took him some time to let you go.

Your wrist ached, his phantom touch lingering, and you held it to you protectively. You felt that you could really see into Roman’s eyes, now, and the mansion lit up from a brief flash of lightning. His own eyes glinted, and you recalled that the last time you and Roman were this close, he was trying to spend time with you outside of his sister’s tutoring.

…and you’d turned him down.

When he took a step back, he finally spoke again.

“Looking for the bathroom?”

You wondered how he knew that, but you surmised that it was a good guess. After all, it was the middle of the night, and you were roaming the corridors with a tampon in hand. At your nod, he slowly smiled at you, something mocking in it as he reached out to rest a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s over here,” he told you. “You’ll get lost without me.”

His voice was smooth, tone almost gentle, and it was like that awkward and startling moment had never even happened. His touch was light on your arm as he guided you through the darkness, and as uncomfortable as Roman made you, in your predicament, you didn’t have much choice but to follow his lead. The muffled sound of rain was all that surrounded you, and when Roman finally reached what looked like the bathroom, you relaxed.

“They say sex helps with that…”

You paused, looking at the rich boy, and his visage was serious.

“The cramps,” he continued with a raise of his brows as if you didn’t know what he was getting at.

“So, I’ve heard,” you said after some time, unsure of how to even respond to that.

When you walked into the bathroom, you were shocked by the feel of Roman ripping the tampon out of your hand. The light from the bathroom lit up the hallway behind him, the darkness on the edge of the doorway making him look…ominous. His gaze was unreadable, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

“You’re not funny,” you told him, reaching for it, but he only held it out of reach. “Roman…”

You stumbled back when he crossed the threshold, blocking the doorway completely, and irritated and in pain, you were losing your patience for his game. He could be such a child sometimes, demanding attention at the worst moment possible, and you grabbed the tampon with a quickness. Only, Roman held onto it too, and he pushed at your hand, forcing you back in the process.

His green irises glinted under the light.

“Roman…”

You words died in the air when his hand slid to wrap around your wrist like earlier, and you felt your heart…drop.

The way he stared at you, something about it was terrifying, and his eyes started to appear almost unfocused. His hand tightened, and you winced, and you were just about to say his name again when the sound of the door clicking shut reached your ears. You blinked, looking behind him, unaware that he’d forced you both so far into the bathroom with enough room to kick the door shut. Like the first day you came face to face with him again, you felt paralyzed, trapped under the crushing weight of his gaze, and you could feel your heart speed up.

His hold on your arm prevented you from moving when he kissed you.

You were in shock, feeling wholly out of control that you just stood there, unable to quite feel his lips on yours. You felt crowded by him, forced to hold still lest you provoke something impulsive, and you didn’t even register just how painful his hold on your wrist became. You only blinked when the stabbing pain deep in the pit of your stomach reminded you of your plight.

Pulling away, you pushed at his chest.

“Roman, what the hell?”

Your lower back painfully met the sink, and you simultaneously tried to lean away and push him away too. His other hand snaked around your neck, your head harshly pressing against the mirror, and you whined in frustration. His lithe frame found a home between your kicking legs, and your panic seized you when he kissed you again.

Fighting against Roman felt like a lost cause—he was stronger than he looked.

The kiss felt hungry, like he was trying to devour you, and you whined again as he pressed you against the sink more. The hand on your wrist kept your arm outstretched, and he let out a sound in between the kiss that sounded somewhat like a hiss. His breathing was heavy too, and when he finally let your neck go, there was no sense of relief.

You pushed at him as he pulled at your pants, and they were barely to your knees when Roman suddenly dropped. One hand on your leg kept you from moving, the other preoccupied with getting the other out of the borrowed pajamas. Horror and confusion were battling within you, and all you could manage to do was hit at the wall when he dipped his head between your thighs.

Horrifying and bloody circumstances aside, you didn’t want this.

You cried out his name, throat tightening, and your free leg banged against the sink cabinet. One of his hands had a death grip on your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin so harshly you knew it would bruise. He kept it pushed away, practically flat against the counter, the stretch burning in a way that made you wince. However, the feel of his tongue between your legs made for a confusing reaction.

Your head was spinning at the feel of his tongue sliding along your bloody folds, lips completely covering your mound as he sucked at you. Your eyes rolled, and it was hard to focus on the true nature of what was going on. Your toes curled under his ministrations, and your nails scraped against the wall and counter top.

“Roman, stop,” you choked out, heart beating wildly in your chest.

You finally pushed at his chest, whining in both pain and pleasure when he refused to move, only lapping at you harder. Your stomach was tightening for more reasons than one, now, and despite the cold season and cold mansion, you felt so hot. Too hot.

Roman hooked his arm under your thigh, yanking you down further, and you were in too much of an awkward and painful position to properly fight back. When your nails dug into his face, his other arm wrapped around your free leg, forcing that one where he wanted it to be too. You couldn’t even grapple with the full circumstances of Roman with his face between your legs during that time of the month, reaching out at the wall and counter in panic when he fell back, taking you with him.

Unable to move, you were forced to sit on his face, hands pushing against the wall behind him as a means to get free. That tightening in your gut was accompanied with a pleasant burn, now, and your breath hitched, lashes fluttering at that tightening coil, shrinking more and more until it had no choice but to release, making you gasp when it did.

The moan you let out was unlike anything you’d heard from yourself, shocked at the strain in your voice. You couldn’t breathe fast enough, sucking in air with a swimming vision. In Roman’s greedy consumption of you, his hold loosened, and you didn’t hesitate to push yourself off of him. You were still shaking, the remnants of your orgasm gripping you, and your eyes were wide as you looked at Roman. He laid on the floor with parted lips, slowly blinking in wonder as he ran his hands through his hair.

The entire bottom half of his face was covered in your blood.

You felt frozen, unsure of how to even process what had just happened. You were so confused and disturbed and scared, staring at Roman like he was something not of this world, and when you finally shifted, that’s when he seemed to remember your presence, green eyes landing on you with a quickness that made you freeze up, as if trying to make yourself as small as possible.

Your scream rang throughout the bathroom when he lunged for you.

Roman’s bloody face was all you could focus on as he hovered over you, pushing his cock into you over and over again. Every time his hips met yours, your chest arched up against his, back curving and eyes rolling. Roman was so silent that you would’ve swore he was possessed, but there was an awareness in his green gaze that told you he was anything but.

His hands held yours down, dark brown hair hanging into his forehead. On the off chance that he smiled, it was a bloody one, and it scared you more than anything. The bathroom floor was cool against your naked back, and through the haze of Roman’s assault, you realized—with reluctance—that the feel of his cock driving in and out of you was indeed helping with your cramps.

The inside of your thighs were a bloody mess, much like his face, and as disgusting as it was, it was the least of your worries. Roman was a lot of things, annoyingly arrogant above all else, but you never pegged him for a rapist. A freak, maybe, yes, but a rapist? No. The sound of skin slapping against skin was loud in the bathroom, and so focused on the feel of him plunging into you, you couldn’t even pinpoint when the storm had ended.

You cried out, tears spilling over as you pressed your hands against the hood of his car. You kept trying to push yourself up, but Roman’s determined hands kept shoving you back down. The moon was hidden by the clouds, no visible light shining down on his assault, a hand of his twisted at the nape of your neck.

You pressed your nails against his vehicle, and that was when he yanked you back, lips at your ear.

“Don’t scratch the fucking paint,” Roman spat, sounding very mad by the mere thought, and you insulted him several times over behind closed lips.

You’d tried to quit after that horrific stormy night in which Roman raped you on the bathroom floor. You’d given Olivia Godfrey every excuse in the book and tried to gently let Shelley down many times over, but the single matriarch simply wouldn’t hear it. She rolled her eyes in that coquettish way she tended to do, a soft smirk on her pink lips. Or she’d simply laugh you off, a sharp ‘nonsense’ soon to follow.

“Am I not paying you enough? Do you want more?”

“It’s not about the money,” you’d replied.

No amount of money in the world could possibly make up for the sick deviant that was her son.

After he came inside of you, breathless and satisfied, he’d dragged you crying and kicking all the way to his room. Any fight from you was immediately squashed down, and you didn’t know if Roman had snorted a few lines of coke or what, but no one was more shocked than you when he pushed you onto his bed, determined to continue what he’d started in the bathroom.

You’d been a dazed and abused mess when you snuck out in the early hours of the morning, half dressed and still bleeding. It hadn’t been Roman that came for you, but Olivia instead, talks of obligations and Shelley. No amount of refusal had deterred her, and you got the strangest feeling that the older woman fully knew the extent of just how her son felt about you.

You felt trapped.

By kind and sweet Shelley who broke your heart to leave, by Olivia who wanted to spoil her son with his new plaything of choice, and most of all by Roman who decided he had to have something once he wanted it. The last time you’d tried to quit, Olivia merely waved you off with a soft laugh, and when you turned around, none other than Roman had been at the end of the corridor, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

It was how you found yourself in his car, no choice but to let him drive you home. You hadn’t uttered a word to him since that night, and as you very well knew… Roman hated to be ignored. He was going to command your attention one way or another, and you hadn’t even heard him open his door after you, following close behind until his hands were on you and pushing you down onto his car.

Your forehead grazed the vehicle as he plunged his cock into you, stretching you out in your driveway for anyone to see. The embarrassment of such a thought was what kept you quiet, tears kissing your cheeks as you were forced to take his thrusts. His jeans were pulled down just enough to give him room to fuck you as he wanted, your own pants down around your ankles while he rutted into you.

When Roman came, he pressed his face into your hair, breathing you in with deep inhales. You could feel his heartbeat against your back, and you sniffed, shakily reaching up to wipe your face. Roman remained where he was for a few moments too long, just basking in the feel of you wrapped around him, and after some time, he let out a low chuckle.

It was a disturbing sound.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about this pussy since that night…” he breathed, finally pulling away.

You felt him right himself, and he was rough in doing the same to you, pulling your pants up. Once done, he rested his hands on your hips, remaining close and leaning in.

“Quit trying to quit,” he harshly said. “My sister really likes you, and if you hurt her feelings, I’ll make you choke on it.”

You stumbled back when he finally pulled away to make his way to the driver’s seat. You wrapped your arms around yourself, struggling to swallow as you accepted the truth in his words. You believed him wholeheartedly, and you trembled from more than just the cold as you watched him speed away in that fancy red car.

You knew that you wouldn’t be getting much sleep, and you hated how right you were when you were staring at your ceiling hours later. Like the day after that night, you’d scrubbed yourself until you felt raw, but even still, you could feel his hands on you. Those long fingers that were more reminiscent of spider legs than limbs.

Roman Godfrey was equally rotten inside as he was beautiful.

You discovered just how rotten only a week later when he was holding you down for the umpteenth time, a wicked smile on his lips just before leaning down. The sharp pain where your shoulder and neck met made you jerk beneath him, and beneath the cover of darkness, you just knew that the strong smell that hit your nose was blood.

You didn’t think it was possible for Roman to horrify you any more.

…but he did, and you screamed, and he only held you tighter. He was resting comfortably between your parted legs, fitting snuggly inside of you as he made a pulling sensation with his mouth. You squirmed beneath him, fighting and pushing back as much as you could, but he wasn’t deterred. You could feel his hips jerk, a gasp escaping you as he thrust into you to the hilt.

Your hands clawed at his bedding, the sound of tearing fabric reaching your ears above the low moans that left Roman. When he got his fill, you were a sobbing mess, reaching up to clutch your neck as he curved his hips into yours. You could feel some of your blood drip onto you from his mouth, and when his bloody lips met yours, you gagged.

Your disbelief was forced to be suspended with the unfortunate truth that was right in front of you. You didn’t really care about what was possible or not in that moment, only wanting to get away from him. Roman seemed entertained with your struggle, fighting with your hands as he fucked you, a tight grip on your wrist. The other hand danced down your body, light touches and skin grazes along the way.

“Look at me,” he murmured, drunk off the taste of you. “Look at me.”

His bloody hand on your face forced you to do just that, and his calm voice stopped you from shaking. Even in the dark, it was like his green irises were all you could see, and the color was so calming—so soothing—that when he told you to relax…you did.

You felt so at ease as he slowly thrust into you, pulling out until only the tip of him remained before pushing all the way back in again. The feel made you sighed, and Roman sighed too, a soft hum escaping him. Deep in the back of your mind, you were still terrified of the dark-haired boy, but despite that, you just felt so calm.

“Good,” he softly purred. “Good girl.”

One of his hands rested on the headboard above you, the other pressed into the pillow beside your head. You were so relaxed that all you could do was stare up at him as he surged over you again and again, retreating with every pull of his hips and driving forward with every thrust. Relaxed, you were more able to focus on the sound of his cock sinking into you, the squelching noise reaching your ears as your body fought to cling to him and keep him from leaving each and every time.

Dazedly, you reached up to touch your neck again, the smell of blood strong, and as you lifted your hand to look at it, Roman leaned down to cover your fingers with his mouth. The hum that met your ears was one of appreciation, and when you came for the first time that night, you were met with another.

“You’ve had enough?” he wondered, hand pressed into your stomach as he drove his hips against yours. “…or you want more from daddy?”

His voice was low and gruff, strained with emotion as he basked in the tight and warm feel of you. It didn’t really matter what your answer would be for Roman had already decided to fuck you well into the night as he wished. When you came for a final time, his hands were leaving bruises into your hips, and you were ripping his sheets apart.

The woods of Hemlock Grove seemed extra thick and hazardous tonight, as if it was their sole purpose to slow you down and trap you for him.

Bite marks and bruises littered your skin for months before you finally cracked. Months of walking into The Godfrey Mansion with fear, tutoring Shelley and distracted the entire time by thoughts of Roman. Wondering when he’d come to collect you, what corner he might pop out of, when you might feel the brush of his touch along your shoulder. You didn’t stay for dinner anymore, unable to sit across from Roman and have him stare you down as he reminisced on the feel of you coming around him, bleeding and broken.

Olivia Godfrey pretended not to notice Roman shadowing you like a ghost, like a grim reaper come to collect what he felt he was owed. She smiled that coy smile and waved around those waifish arms, all the while nursing a cigarette or a drink, fully aware of what her spoiled son got up to under the cover of darkness when no one could see your abuse at his hands.

Your last period had been your last straw, shuddering at the memory of Roman keeping you prisoner on top of him as he ate you out so long that it started to grow painful at some point. When he finally sank into you—in more ways than one—you couldn’t even try to enjoy it, too overstimulated to the point where you kept trying to get away.

Roman was sound asleep when you ran.

…but he was wide awake in time to run after you.

You truly didn’t even know where you were going, so set on just getting away from the terrifying boy that you just let your feet carry you. The biting air cut at your skin, and the leaves crunched beneath you. It was only moments ago when his voice had rang through the trees, your name bouncing off of the trunks as he desperately called for you.

“I can smell you!”

That fact did not deter you, sure that you could escape him. Every whip of a branch cut into you, and you knew the blood that you felt was the very same blood he smelled. The steep inclines and downward slopes of Hemlock Grove slowed you down, tiring you out, and your chest hurt from your harsh sobs. You had just pulled yourself up a small hill when you fell to the ground.

You were not alone.

“Y/N,” Roman snarled, a guttural edge to his voice that made you cry harder. “Get back here!”

He screamed it so passionately and loudly that it actually made you wince, and your vision was blurred from your tears as you clawed at the ground, fighting to get away from him. His fingers dug into your pants, preventing you from moving as much as you wanted, and despite the fact that you knew no one would come, you screamed for help when he crawled up your body.

He slammed your head into the ground, impulsively, and you saw stars in your vision. He succeeded in what he wanted, halting your movements for a time as you fought to collect yourself. In that time, Roman had already covered your frame, chest completely pressed down on your back. His hand closed around your throat, pulling your head back some.

“Don’t be stupid,” he roughly told you, lips at your ear. “Don’t be fucking stupid.”

You clawed at the dirt and leaves as his other hand reached beneath you, sliding into your pants with ease and cupping you. He made a noise of appreciation at the feel, and as Roman told you that you’d never escape him, he sank his teeth into your neck.

In your despair, you accepted this truth.

#roman godfrey #roman godfrey x reader #hemlock grove #roman godfrey fic #roman godfrey imagine

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